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Tarnished made his way through a stone corridor, his boots echoing over old, bloodstained flags. Nearby, a group of battered warriors nursed their wounds, their conversation full of groans and curses about a dragon somewhere on the outer plains.
The sound of heavy hammer-blows rang from the next chamber. They were deep, rhythmic, and oddly soothing.
He passed beneath a wide archway, stepping into the familiar glow of the forge. There, hunched beside an anvil twice the size of any normal man's, sat Smithmaster Hewg. The Misbegotten smith was a strange, almost pitiable figure.
He was huge, stooped with sinewy arms thick as tree trunks and a twisted, leonine face framed by grizzled hair. His fingers were long and deft, more talon than hand, and his bare feet gripped the stone floor like claws. The iron shackles around his ankles were scuffed but unbroken.
Hewg's sharp, intelligent eyes darted up from the sword he was working on as Tarnished approached, greatsword slung over his shoulder. The smith's gaze lingered for a moment, shrewd but not unkind.
"Huh, you're a new face..." Hewg grumbled, his voice like gravel tumbling in a bucket.
Tarnished gave a friendly nod. "That I am."
The smith gave a dismissive shrug, his great shoulders rolling beneath his tattered smith's apron. "Hm. No matter, it's all the same. I assume you're here for that weathered blade of yours, if you could even call it that anymore. Lay out your arms. Let's get smithing."
Tarnished couldn't help but chuckle, setting the battered greatsword onto the anvil. "Promise I didn't wear it down this much. It was like this when I got it."
Hewg snorted, not looking up from his inspection. "Mhm... I'm sure you did."
He turned the greatsword over, his long fingers running the length of the blade, prodding its edge and flexing the tang. Satisfied, he looked up, his eyes sharp beneath heavy brows. "I've got much work to do with your blade. You got smithing stones ready? I'll need a fair few to get started, and some runes too."
Tarnished grinned, pulling out the bundle of smithing stones he'd bought from the merchant and stacking them neatly by the anvil. He then focused, pulling out about 4,000 runes and offering them up. The runes glimmered in his palm for a moment before fading into Hewg's.
Hewg studied the supplies for a moment, then nodded gruffly. "That'll do. I'll get to work on your blade as soon as I finish a few other projects. As you can see…" He gestured around at the stacked weapons, "my hands are quite full at the moment."
Tarnished, slightly surprised but understanding, nodded. "No problem. When do you reckon it'll be done?"
Hewg hefted a straight sword from a pile, checking its balance before setting it aside. "It'll be done by next morning at the latest. If it takes any longer, you'll have my apologies."
Tarnished's eyes lit up. "Perfect. I'll leave you to it then, Hewg!"
Hewg nodded, already distracted by his work as Tarnished turned to leave. As he crossed the threshold, he barely missed the smith muttering under his breath, "I never told him my name… How did he know it?"
He shook his head, dismissing the thought. "Must've heard it from some other Tarnished." Hewg rumbled, then turned his focus back to the steady rhythm of his hammer.
Tarnished made his way back into the main hall of the Roundtable Hold, his footsteps echoing off the polished stone floor. The warm, golden glow of the great bonfire of grace cast long shadows across the ancient table. There, standing with her back half-turned, was Melina. She watched the crackling flames, her expression soft with introspection.
He called out as he approached, a faint teasing note in his voice, "Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."
Melina turned, a subtle smile gracing her lips as she shook her head. "No, not at all. I had an… interesting conversation while you were gone. Insightful, in a way."
She gestured back over her shoulder, and Tarnished followed the motion to see Brother Corhyn at the far end of the hall, deep in the midst of instructing another Tarnished on the finer points of Two Fingers incantations.
"Oh? Made a friend already?" Tarnished asked, grinning.
Melina rolled her eyes, "Acquaintance at best. We merely exchanged a few thoughts on Faith and Incantations. He's quite… traditional."
Tarnished snorted, "That tracks. Was any of it actually useful?"
Melina hummed, thoughtful. "Some insights were of value. But… Brother Corhyn lacks the vision to see beyond the dogma of the Golden Order. He is clever, but not brave enough to consider the world outside those lines."
Marika's voice drifted in, dry as ever. "Blind faith. How utterly predictable, though useful. Still, I suppose a flock must have its shepherd, however short-sighted."
Tarnished shrugged. 'He's not the kind to handle anything that might shake his world, anyway. He's all conviction—until you show him something that doesn't fit. Then, well, the collapse is… impressive. In a sad way.'
"Hmph. Typical. Too many of those in the Order." Marika mused, her tone sharp. "Men who'd rather die than admit they could be wrong. A sorry lot to say the least."
Melina glanced at him. "Did you find us a room?"
He nodded, fishing the key from his pouch and flashing it with a smirk. "Got us set up for a week, room 69. Two beds, a real bathroom. 2,000 runes a night, but considering our haul, we're doing fine."
Melina raised an eyebrow, but didn't object. "A rather expensive, but prudent. At least we can rest properly. Thank you."
He grinned and motioned for her to follow. As they walked, Tarnished took in the sprawl of the spectral fortress around them. There were new wings and corridors, unfamiliar faces, more rooms and hallways than he remembered from the game.
'This place is massive… Looks more like the capital's Roundtable than the one I remember. Except, you know… even bigger.'
"It would have to be." Marika chimed in, appearing for a moment at his side as they moved through a pillared hall. "When the Two Fingers seek to gather every blade and mind of promise to their cause, a mere council chamber will not suffice. This is a reflection of what I built, once. But 'tis been reshaped by their power. An anchor for the desperate, the faithful, and the lost."
Tarnished nodded, eyeing a few new NPCs and a couple of doors he definitely didn't remember. 'Makes sense. You want an army, you build a fortress.'
They reached their room at the far end of a lantern-lit corridor, stopping in front of a sturdy door marked with a brass "69". Tarnished smirked, stifling a laugh as he twisted the key in the lock. Marika, appearing as a golden shimmer perched atop the lintel, sighed with a long-suffering look.
"Truly, I shall never understand the peculiar humor of mortals…"
He chuckled as he moved to push the door open. "Come on in, Melina. Home sweet home for the next week."
The door to their new room swung open, and Tarnished took a moment to appreciate what his runes had paid for. The space was comfortably large by any standards, especially compared to the cramped inns and tumbledown ruins they'd slept in before.
Two sturdy beds, wide and inviting with thick blankets folded at the foot, sat against opposite walls. A small round table stood between them, with a battered but well-cushioned couch flanking one side. To the far end was a door leading into a private bathroom, the telltale clink of old pipes echoing faintly within.
Soft light from a pair of enchanted lanterns gave the room a golden, gentle glow, somehow both welcoming and quietly lavish.
Melina stepped inside, looking around in silence. She strode across the room and, after briefly patting both beds to test their softness, picked the one further from the door.
She sat with a sigh, crossing one leg over the other. Her shoulders visibly loosened, the weariness of the day slipping from her for just a moment.
Tarnished followed, grinning. "Not bad, huh? You like the room?"
She pressed a hand into the mattress again, as if testing its comfort for a second time. "It will do. Better than most places I've rested, at least."
There was a small smile there, barely visible, but it lingered for a beat.
He let out a low chuckle and started stripping off his Night's Cavalry armor, shaking out his shoulders. "Perfect. Hey, after you're done settling in, want to teach me some magic? Or am I still too much of a dunce?"
Melina tilted her head, considering him. "After I take a bath," she said, rising and heading toward the bathroom. She paused in the doorway, squinting at him. "I am sure I don't need to say this, but if you even think about peeking… I'll gouge out those draconic eyes of yours and make you eat them."
Tarnished laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "C'mon, Melina! What do you take me for? I'm not some pervert with nothing better to do!"
She lingered in the doorway for just a moment, giving him one last warning look, before closing the door firmly behind her. The faint sound of running water soon followed.
Marika materialized, lounging languidly atop Melina's freshly chosen bed. She looked the picture of casual royalty, golden hair tumbling around her as she propped herself up with an elbow. "I could teach you everything she knows, and far more, my champion. The breadth of my wisdom is… How would you put it? 'Built different' from the rest."
Tarnished paused halfway through unstrapping his gauntlet, looking over at her with a wry grin. "Yeah, you probably could. You're a Goddess, after all…"
He resumed undressing, setting his armor neatly at the foot of his bed. "But nah. I want Melina to teach me. You know, bonding exercise and all that."
Marika arched a delicate eyebrow, shifting on the bed as though trying to get comfortable. "I think I'll regret even asking, but why?"
He smirked. "It's an excuse to get closer to her, obviously. Why waste a golden opportunity like that?"
She gave him a long, silent look before shrugging. "Figured as much. If you ever get tired of trying to court my daughter, let me know. I can teach you actual incantations. After all, I taught her, and everyone else in these lands, what they know."
Tarnished found himself almost hypnotized by the casual, goddess-like ease with which she lay there, her effortless grace somehow both regal and approachable. He realized he was staring and quickly looked away, muttering, "Uh-huh…"
Marika giggled, the sound like wind chimes over crystal. "Careful now, my champion. Save your ogling for later. You wish to court my daughter, don't you? Try to keep your eyes on the prize."
He glanced back at her with a faint blush, half-amused, half-flustered. "That's kinda hard with you around, y'know?"
"If there's one thing I like about you, my champion," she teased, "it's that it's not that hard to guess what you're thinking most of the time."
He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he tossed his chest piece onto the bed. "Not that hard when you can just read my mind."
Her smirk grew, her eyes glinting with mischief. "I could tell exactly what you're thinking, even without it."
He sighed, half-exasperated, half-impressed. "Can you blame me? You're literally a Goddess."
Marika's laughter chimed again as she turned onto her back, gazing up at the ceiling. "No~… I suppose I cannot~…"
Just then, the faint sound of running water stopped, and the bathroom door creaked open. Melina emerged, her hair still damp, looking refreshed and, despite herself, a lot more relaxed. She met his gaze, quirking an eyebrow in silent question.
Tarnished straightened up as Melina stepped out of the bathroom, his fingers running through his wild hair as if to collect himself.
"Alright, my turn! I think there's still some dragon blood in my hair." He said, brushing past her with a smirk.
Melina just shrugged, arching an eyebrow in silent amusement, and moved to sit at the table, running a comb through her damp hair.
He closed the bathroom door, quickly peeling off the last of his armor until only his Land of Reeds grieves remained. The small room filled with steam as he twisted the taps and waited for the water to run hot. While it warmed, he caught a glimpse of himself in the misty mirror.
He paused, tracing a finger across his chest, over the new molten glow of his draconic heart. Each pulse shimmered beneath the skin. His veins were glowing with a low, volcanic orange, proof of his transformation. He watched it for a moment, mesmerized by the steady, powerful rhythm. Draconic and undeniably alive.
Then his eyes flicked down, curiosity getting the better of him. He hesitated, then lifted the waistband of his pants and peeked inside. His grin widened. "Haha! Nice! I'm bigger in this world too!"
Just as he basked in that small victory, Marika's golden astral form materialized right over his shoulder, her expression was curious with eyes glinting with mischief. "Godfrey was bigger."
Tarnished's satisfaction dissolved into a deadpan stare. He let his hand drop, glancing back at her with a flat, unimpressed look. "You and I both know that's not a fair comparison. That man's built like if a brick shithouse had a baby with a bear, which then had a child with a particularly good-looking giant. He's barely human!"
Marika only tilted her head, her lips curving into a knowing smirk. "And after what you've done with Dragon Communion… Neither are you, my champion."
He rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "Alright, enough outta you for today."
"Shoo, shoo!" He waved a hand through her spectral face. "Go on, let a man have his privacy in the bathroom, will ya?"
Marika's laughter trailed after her as she faded from view, her voice teasing and light. "As you wish~! But don't do anything indecent in here while I'm gone~"
He slumped under the hot water, letting it pour down over his newly draconic form, muttering tiredly under his breath, "Freakishly hot bitch…"
Her voice echoed in his mind, playful and just a little smug. "I heard that~!"
He snorted and called out in exasperation, "I fucking know!"
…
Tarnished strolled out of the bathroom, a towel draped around his neck, beads of water still glistening on his bare chest. He wore only his pants, casually drying his hair with one end of the towel as he entered the room. Melina, seated on the edge of her bed, turned to look at him, and immediately her face was swept over by a deep crimson blush.
He paused, quirking a brow and flashing a fanged smirk in her direction. "What?"
Without missing a beat, Melina tossed a neatly folded bundle of clothes straight at his face. The shirt and trousers thudded against him, making him stumble a step or two. He peeled the clothes away, staring at them in mild confusion before looking back to her for explanation.
She crossed her arms and glared, though her cheeks were still tinged with pink. "Have some shame and put on a shirt, will you? It's… Embarrassing…"
Tarnished just grinned, giving her a sly, teasing look in return. She shot back a death glare, one that could have melted steel if she'd had the magic for it. He surrendered with a shrug and slipped on the shirt, taking a bit more time than necessary just to watch her face.
Melina exhaled and shook her head. Then, collecting herself, she stood and moved to the center of the room. She lowered herself gracefully to the ground, sitting cross-legged and patting the floor in front of her.
"Well? Come here," she said, her tone softening into something almost eager, almost teacherly. "If you're truly set on learning magic, you'll need to focus. Sit down, Tarnished."
He obeyed, dropping cross-legged to the floor across from her, ready for his first lesson.
Melina gathered herself with a breath, and the flickering firelight from outside the window played over her delicate features. "Very well, listen closely."
She lifted her hand, palm up. A small golden spark danced briefly in her palm. "Magic, here in the Lands Between, is not one simple thing. It is not simply shouting strange words or waving a staff. It is the shaping of the world's hidden forces—sometimes through reason, sometimes through faith, sometimes even by blood."
She closed her hand, letting the golden spark fade. Her tone became more thoughtful.
"There are different ways to wield magic. Sorcery, for instance, is a study of the stars, the moon, and the very laws of reality. The scholars of Raya Lucaria use Glintstone, crystallized fragments of the stars themselves, as a vessel for their 'Primeval Current.' Sorcery is a thing of the mind. The stronger your intellect, the greater your control over it. It is magic shaped by logic, study, and understanding."
She drew a soft breath, then let her hands rest together in her lap. "Incantations are… different. They are rooted in faith, not logic. They are prayers, invocations, bargains. When one calls on the Erdtree, or on dragons, or on the power of rot or fire, they do not shape the world: They beg for a miracle."
"The strength of your faith determines how much the world listens. There are incantations for healing, for fire, for rot, for blood, even for blasphemy." She demonstrated such by summoning a small flame within the palm of her hands. "The power you channel depends on what you serve."
Melina's eyes then became serious. "There are forbidden magics too. The power of Destined Death, drawn from Death itself. The blood magics of Mohg's ilk, which bargain with life essence. The Frenzied Flame, madness and chaos incarnate. And of course, Dragon Communion, which you know all too well. These magics often use the body itself as a vessel, or special catalysts like seals or staves."
She leaned closer, her expression focused. "The true source is always the wielder's soul. Magic in the Lands Between is not just a tool, Tarnished. It is a pact. It asks a price. Sometimes that price is devotion, sometimes knowledge, sometimes your very own being. Every spell you cast is a bargain with the forces you invoke."
She sat back, studying him with a clear hazel eye. "So… Which wellspring will you choose to drink from first? And are you willing to pay the price it asks?"
Tarnished eyes were glazed and his head spinning from the absolute torrent of magical theory Melina had just poured into him. Behind him, Marika lounged with a graceful ease on his bed, an amused and warm smile tugging at her lips.
She watched her daughter for a long moment, then nodded in clear approval. "How proud I am of thee, Melina… Even without my guidance, thou art as sharp as any scholar in the Royal Capital. If only we could reawaken thine Demigod blood and restore thy memories, and thy powers…"
Tarnished, still a little shell-shocked from the lesson, looked over his shoulder and mumbled, 'Tell me what these powers are, then. Maybe I can help you brainstorm something.'
Marika hummed thoughtfully, reclining a bit further. "Add it to our ever-growing list of tasks, my champion. Hm… So much to do, so little time…"
He looked back to Melina, shaking off his confusion. "Alright. I'll start with the fire monks' incantations. That's the type where I can eventually learn 'Flame, Grant Me Strength,' right?"
Melina arched a brow at him, surprised by his decisiveness along with something else, then nodded. "It is. But…"
He leaned in, eager. "Can you teach me?"
She nodded again, but her tone grew more solemn. "I can. But first, as with all faith-based magic, you must choose something, someone, or some force, to place your faith in. Incantations require Faith for a reason: to cast them, you must devote your belief to a concept, and offer a prayer to it."
She gestured, ticking off her points on her fingers. "Some Tarnished pray to the Erdtree, some to the Golden Order, some to the Two Fingers, and some even to Queen Marika herself… or to the Greater Will. Before you can walk the path of incantations, you must choose what you will pray to."
Melina's eyes softened with understanding. "Take your time. It isn't a small thing. Speak to me when you have chosen."
Tarnished nodded and fell silent, deep in thought. He tried to summon any sort of reverence for the familiar forces of this world, but nothing stuck.
The Erdtree meant little to him. The Golden Order? Not exactly a source of inspiration. The Two Fingers? Please.
Marika, still lounging on his bed, watched his inner debate with a blend of amusement and anticipation. Then she stood, drifting up beside him. "Hello? Thou hast an actual Goddess in thy company. What other being in this world could be more deserving of thy prayer?"
Tarnished blinked, looked up, and then smirked. 'Come here for a sec. Stand in front of me.'
She raised a delicate brow, surprised by the directness, but stepped in front of him regardless, one hand placed unconsciously beneath her breasts, accentuating her natural poise and grace.
He looked her up and down, his gaze pausing at her chest. Marika glanced down, then back at him, suddenly catching on. "No… Surely not… Right?"
Tarnished just grinned, eyes glinting with mischief as in that moment, made his decision. With all the seriousness he could muster, he offered his prayer to "Marika's Tits", picturing them adorned with the radiant Elden Ring.
He felt something fundamental shift deep in his soul. An overwhelming energy surged within him, followed by the sharp ping of a system prompt.
[Congratulations! You have chosen your Concept of Prayer and Faith: The Divine Bosom of Queen Marika the Eternal, adorned with the Elden Ring. You have unlocked your innate wellspring of faith magic.]
Another prompt flashed:
[Notice: You have chosen an extremely compatible and holy concept to offer your prayers to. As a result, your Faith has been dramatically enhanced.]
A final notification appeared, stating:
[+10 Faith!]
Marika stood utterly dumbfounded before him, her face cycling through shock, disbelief, reluctant amusement, and a trace of irritation. "I do not know whether to be impressed by thy shamelessness, humiliated by thy perversion, or flattered by thy honesty… I am, genuinely, at a loss for words…"
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Author's Note:
Let's be honest for a second now, if you had the opportunity… Wouldn't you also pray to Marika's Tits?
I know I would!
As for the explanation on Elden Ring's magic system, it's the best I could think of. Hopefully you like it :3
Anyways, Stones please.
…
Next Chapter Title: There is a Goddess Living in my Head.
…
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