There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I'm also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW
Glory to my Proofreader: Solare. For he is one who points out mistakes and acts as my favourite wall to bounce ideas off of.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
For a long beat, the courtyard fell into stunned silence.
Caelan and his men stood frozen, eyes wide, backs stiff, the weight of John's proclamation crashing down on them like a great hammer. The flicker of flames from between his fanged teeth, it was no trick of the light, and that only deepened their terror.
The sheer audacity of the man. The gall to stand before armed soldiers and calmly declare his intent to storm Stormveil Castle, kill their Demigod liege, and tear a Great Rune from his cooling corpse?
It sent shivers down their every spine.
Even the Mad Pumpkin Head behind them shifted uneasily, a low, almost confused groan emanating from its iron helm.
Melina let out a small chuckle under her breath, arms folded as her expression softened slightly.
"I always knew that would eventually be part of your plan." She muttered beside him, hazel eyes flickering with amusement. "But hearing you say it aloud like that… it's something else."
Millicent, meanwhile, lit up like a child offered a legendary sword for their nameday. Her lone hand clenched in a giddy fist as her eyes sparkled.
"That's so exciting!" she whispered, almost bouncing on her toes. "I'd love to see how strong a Demigod really is!"
Marika said nothing at first. Floating on a soft ripple of Grace at his shoulder, she merely smirked, arms folded beneath the royal curves of her divine form. Her sharp eyes glimmered with private amusement, though she wisely chose to save her commentary, for now.
Sir Caelan, however, had finally blinked his way back into the moment.
He stuttered as he stepped forward. "T-That's… quite some ambition you have there, s-sir…?"
The draconic-eyed Tarnished tilted his head slightly, lips curving into a restrained smirk. "My name is John. Just John. It's short for Johnathan."
Above him, Marika made a sound suspiciously close to a snort. He could feel her trying not to laugh. A faint tremor rippled through her divine presence, and he heard her voice in the back of his mind, struggling for composure.
'Zip it.' He hissed inwardly, jaw tight as a vein twitched along his temple. 'Don't make me break character.'
"I have no idea what thou meanest." She replied sweetly, feigning innocence with exactly zero believability.
Caelan, oblivious to the divine banter, scratched at the back of his helm, murmuring, "John… I've never heard of anyone by that name before."
John coughed lightly into his hand. "Not surprising. I wasn't born in the Lands Between. I come from… a land far, far from here."
A ripple of discomfort passed through the gathered soldiers.
Not from here?
The idea struck them like a thrown stone. He was something foreign, alien, dangerous. The man already looked unlike anyone they'd seen, with his white-streaked black hair, eyes that burned like molten gold swallowed in starlight, and a presence that bent the air around him.
Now they had confirmation: he truly didn't belong. He was a walking unknown.
"O-oh… I see…" Caelan muttered, visibly shaken. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to ask more, to press for details. But something in John's gaze stopped him cold. He took a deep breath, steeling himself.
"My men and I…" He began, voice low. "We swore our allegiance to Lord Godrick. Normally, we'd be obliged to kill you for uttering such treason aloud."
He looked past John to Melina and Millicent. Then back to John's burning stare.
"But I know when we're outmatched."
He lowered his hand slowly from his hilt.
"Trying would only lead to slaughter. So instead, I offer you this: We give you the half of the Dectus Medallion… and we pretend we never saw you here. On one condition."
John arched a brow, his interest piqued. There was a glint of curiosity in his eye, and a quiet hum at the back of his throat as he folded his arms.
He was both impressed and amused.
Even now, knowing they stood no chance, this knight had the brass to try bargaining. Bold, if nothing else.
'I could wipe this fort off the map in seconds with a single Ekzykes' Decay.' he thought idly. 'None of them would survive the Rot.'
From somewhere behind his mind, Marika's voice echoed with faint admiration. "Still he asketh thee for aid, knowing full well it may be his end. I find myself… impressed. There is courage in him. And conviction."
John let a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, but didn't glance her way. Instead, he nodded slowly toward Caelan.
"Alright. I'll hear you out."
The collective sigh that passed through the fort was almost comical. Caelan visibly slumped, just a bit, and even the Mad Pumpkin Head turned slightly, seemingly less hostile.
Melina relaxed at his side, letting out a quiet breath through her nose. She had half-expected the courtyard to erupt in flame. Millicent, still grinning, leaned a little closer, watching with open intrigue. She was enjoying the show.
Caelan squared his shoulders, swallowing back nerves.
"Thank you." He said, voice regaining a bit of its steel. "It's not a small thing I'm about to ask."
He stepped forward once, just enough to close the conversational distance.
"There's an old village… Ruins, really. In the forest. When the Rune Bears came through, they razed part of it. Some of them have made it their den now."
He grimaced.
"We managed to drive most of them off. But we lost a lot of good men. Too many. And we can't afford to lose more. But we can't let those beasts stay there. The villagers, my people, they're just down the hill. If those bears settle in…"
John nodded slowly, catching on. "You want us to clear them out, right? Drive them off or kill them?"
Caelan's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Aye. That's the request."
He hesitated.
"I know I've no right to ask, especially after everything. But I have to try."
John clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed by the situation. Rune Bears were a menace. He hated fighting them in the game, and that hatred hadn't lessened one bit in this world. But… a clean transaction? No bloodshed? And an easy route to the medallion?
He turned to Melina, raising a brow. She met his gaze with calm determination and gave a firm nod.
He looked next to Millicent. She smiled brightly, as though the idea of bear-hunting was a delightful afternoon stroll.
John turned his eyes back to Caelan, his draconic gaze steady and unreadable. Then he gave a short nod.
"I'll do it," he said, voice low and final. "We'll deal with the Rune Bears, but only under 2 stipulations."
Caelan's posture straightened slightly, a glimmer of hope bleeding into his voice as he asked, "Truly? What do you ask in return?"
John lifted one finger, holding it between them like a contract being drafted in the air.
"First, I'm not hiking all the way back up this godsdamned hill just for the Dectus Medallion half. Either hand it over now or have someone follow us with it. I'm not particular." He said bluntly, his smirk returning with just the right edge of smugness.
Caelan blinked, clearly not expecting such… practical demands.
John tilted his head slightly as he raised a second finger. "Second... you wouldn't happen to have any spare steeds, would you?"
There was a beat of silence. Caelan's brows knit together slightly, confused by the odd pairing of requests. Still, he answered the second question first, perhaps because it was simpler.
"We do, actually. One spare mount that lost his rider during a scouting mission near the Weeping Peninsula. A strong creature, but it hasn't been ridden since."
Despite the grim story, John's eyes lit up with mischief. Everything was lining up far too well. He could almost hear the dice rolling in his favor.
Caelan hesitated for a moment. He glanced back at his men, then down to the worn earth at his feet. After a deep breath, he lifted his eyes again to John's.
"I'll go with you."
A ripple of tension swept through the soldiers behind him.
"Captain-!" one called out, his voice tight with concern. "You can't! If something happens out there-!"
Caelan cut him off sharply with a raised hand. "If they meant to kill me, they could've done it here and now. No need to wait for the forest."
John turned slightly, his smirk widening as he angled his burning gaze toward the concerned soldier. His slitted azure-gold eyes flared with cruel amusement.
"He's right, y'know?" He called out, his tone light but undercut with fangs. "It'd be shockingly quick. Though… not so painless."
The soldier paled and stepped back, saying nothing more.
Caelan didn't waste time. He turned fully and barked, "Get the Dectus Medallion from my quarters. Ready my steed. And prepare the spare for our guests."
The soldier nodded stiffly and sprinted off to follow orders.
The wait was short. Within ten minutes, the man returned leading two horses: One armored bay steed with a deep scar down its flank, and a smaller, sturdier chestnut with calm eyes. He also held a small, velvet-wrapped bundle.
John stepped forward, taking the bundle with practiced hands. As he unwrapped it, the familiar half of the Dectus Medallion gleamed in the sunlight, ancient bronze etched with the swirling sigil of the Lift.
"Perfect," he muttered, stowing it away into his pack.
Then he turned, gesturing to the spare steed with a grin. "This one's yours, Millicent. Consider it your new riding companion."
Millicent blinked, then brightened as she stepped toward the horse.
"What about you two?" She asked, glancing between him and Melina.
John gave a knowing chuckle, whistling low and sharp through two fingers.
A crackle of spectral blue light split the air as Torrent materialized before them, hooves crunching into the dirt. The spirit steed nickered once and pawed the ground as John approached and patted its side.
"We'll be riding Torrent." He said, flashing Melina a grin over his shoulder. "As we used to, before you joined us."
Millicent smiled softly, running her hand across the horse's mane. "I don't remember ever riding a horse before… but I'm happy to learn. If you're willing to teach me?"
John gave a short laugh. "I'd be happy to."
They spent a few minutes showing her the basics. How to control the reins one-handed, how to balance her weight, and how to signal the horse with just a nudge of her knees. Millicent picked it up quickly, her natural dexterity making the learning curve gentler than expected.
When she was ready, John mounted Torrent first, extending a hand behind him. Melina took it without hesitation, pulling herself up and settling behind him. Her arms slid around his waist, firm but unintrusive, her body warm against his back.
With a nod from Caelan, the small party began to move.
The four riders moved as a silent procession through Mistwood Village, the clatter of hooves muffled by the packed dirt and old cobblestone beneath them. The villagers watched from behind shuttered windows and woven herb bundles hung from doorways, whispering to each other as the Tarnished and his strange retinue passed by.
John, seated atop Torrent with Melina behind him, led the small group, followed by Millicent on her own newly assigned steed and Sir Caelan riding at the rear.
The road beyond the village wound like a serpent through the heart of Mistwood. Dense trees leaned overhead, branches stretching and overlapping like a great wooden cathedral. Vines hung from twisted boughs, thick with moss and damp with dew. Golden sunlight filtered through in fractured rays, cutting through the mist that clung to the ground in patches.
The air was rich with the scent of earth and old bark, and in the distance, they could hear the chirps of birds and the rustle of smaller beasts fleeing at their approach. The deeper they went, the quieter it became.
'Too quiet,' John noted, narrowing his eyes.
But before they reached the ruins, Marika's voice shimmered into his thoughts again, gentle but curious. "Thy conduct with Caelan and his men… It surprised me."
John raised an eyebrow but didn't turn his head. 'Surprised how?'
"For a moment…" She muttered, a small smirk evident in her voice. "Thou were somewhat… intimidating. A noble from the capital would have even described you as 'radiant with authority'. I daresay, you could have even been considered a little frightening. I did not expect that from thee."
John blinked, then scoffed in mock offense. 'Hey, I'll have you know I was a theater kid back in high school. Played the big bad in a senior production of Blood Will Tell. I've had plenty of practice with intimidation and aura farming.'
Marika's golden form flickered into view in his mind's eye, lounging lazily on her ribbon of Grace, arms folded under her chest. Her elegant brows rose.
"Theater… kid?" she echoed, her tone like a scholar trying to parse an ancient dialect. "And this aura farming? Is that a type of sorcery?"
John chuckled under his breath. 'Not exactly. Theater is performance. Stage acting. And 'aura farming' is just… a way to describe playing up your energy or presence. Mostly learned from anime and manga.'
She raised one delicate eyebrow higher. "I know not these terms, 'anime' and 'manga', but I assume they are forms of entertainment?"
He nodded slightly, guiding Torrent around a collapsed wagon overrun with ivy. 'Yeah. Basically. Illustrated stories and animated ones. A whole world of them. Thousands of examples to draw from if you ever wanna look cool or… Y'know. Menacing.'
Marika hummed in intrigue.
"I did not take thee for the theatrical type." She said with a faint smile. "There is more to thee than thy dog's glare and womaniser tongue. Thou art full of surprises."
He chuckled softly, not loud enough to alert the others. 'There's more to me than good looks, you know. Even with you stuck in my head, I doubt you've seen everything.'
Marika tilted her head slightly. "I have not. Contrary to what thou may assume, I cannot simply leaf through thy mind like a book in a scholar's archive. I read thy surface thoughts, interpret thy immediate reactions. The rest is... closed to me."
John blinked, surprised. 'Huh. That's… honestly kind of comforting. No offense.'
Her golden brow arched in response. "Thou art unhappy with our bond?"
'Not at all,' he replied sincerely. 'You're great company, really. I just mean… It's nice to know there's still a little piece of me that's just mine. That not every thought, every memory, every screw-up or regret is laid bare for someone else to poke at.'
Marika was silent for a moment. Then, her form shifted subtly in his mind's eye, her arms relaxing and her gaze softening. She reached up and tucked a golden lock behind her ear, revealing more of her neckline as she leaned forward, unintentionally revealing just a touch more divine skin.
"I get that," she murmured. "Truly."
He didn't say anything in return. He just rode on, the forest thickening around them.
The path began to curve, veering toward a shattered stretch of road overrun by gnarled roots and crumbled stone. Thorny bushes grew in tangles, and the trees here were darker, thicker, older. Shadows clung like wet cloth to every inch of bark.
Then they saw it, the Mistwood Ruins.
Collapsed stone structures overgrown with ivy and moss. Ancient archways stood like skeletal ribs, marking the entrance to what had once been a thriving settlement before the Shattering tore it apart.
Bits of broken statuary lay among the wreckage, arms, heads, old banners torn and sun-bleached. Patches of claw marks carved deep into stone and trees alike told them what now made this place home.
Massive paw prints, bigger than any wolf or lion, dented the softened dirt between the cobbles. Some prints were fresh. Others filled with water. And scattered among them, half-eaten carcasses of deer, boars, and… less animalistic shapes.
Melina tensed behind John. Millicent slowed her steed and narrowed her eyes. Even Caelan drew in a breath, his expression tightening beneath his helm.
The scent was unmistakable. It was of wet fur, blood, and their distinct, musky dung.
The stench hit John like a battering ram, slamming straight into his face like the hand of a god who'd skipped washing for a millennium.
'How is it possible that they're worse than in the game?' He groaned, voice warped by the hand clamped over his nose. "Ugghh… God… It smells so fucking baaaad..! Why did I have to get enhanced senses…?"
Marika groaned alongside him, her divine nostrils pinched shut with a look of divine offense. "Agh, by the Erdtree, 'tis worse than I remember! What is this accursed stench?! It's like all the bowels of Caelid gathered here to die! This is thy fault, mine Champion! if thou hadst not evolved with those blasted draconic senses, I wouldn't be sharing in this reek!"
'I never told you to share my senses!' John barked mentally, eyes narrowing in exasperation as his lip curled. 'You just do! This ain't my fault, dammit!'
Millicent, only slightly pinching her nose, tilted her head. "It smells bad, sure, but I don't think it's that bad…"
Melina, as ever composed, gracefully pinched her nose and nodded. "His senses are likely enhanced far beyond ours. His perception of the scent would be… intensified."
"Ohhh! I see!" Millicent perked up with a sage nod, making John groan again.
Their path through the Mistwood ruins was half-walked, half-endured. Moss-choked stone arches jutted up from the cracked cobblestone like forgotten ribs of a long-dead beast. Vines strangled what remained of rooftops. Bone piles and torn branches scattered the area. They were fresh, gnawed clean, still steaming.
Caelan led them quietly, his hand never leaving his sword's hilt.
That's when they saw them.
Three massive Rune Bears lounged in the center of the ruins, slumped between collapsed towers and broken pillars. Their fur was matted with mud and dried blood, their snouts twitching the moment the party drew near.
Their eyes, small, furious, yellow pinpricks, snapped open. Every single one locked onto John first and foremost.
He stopped in his tracks, one brow rising, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Looks to me like they've recognized the alpha threat." He muttered dryly, cracking his neck.
Marika, amused despite herself, let out a sharp snort. "How bold of thee to assume 'tis thy mere presence they fear. Mayhaps they simply mistook thee for one of their own, given thy feral scent."
He ignored her quip with a huff. "Let's see how they like this…"
John dug deep. Not into mana, not into his muscles, but into that core, into the molten power of his Immortal Heart. The intrinsic power born of his evolution, the gift given by the Elder Dragon herself.
He opened his mouth and roared.
What escaped him wasn't human.
It wasn't even wholly dragon.
It was a screech from another age. Deep, warbling, ancient and soul-trembling. It shook the ruins. Pebbles rattled, birds fled the treetops, and even Melina flinched. It wasn't quite Greyoll's roar, but it was close. Something was missing… yet something new was brewing within.
And it did its job, just not the one he was expecting.
The Rune Bears recoiled, their eyes shooting wide with their ears pinned down. Their hulking bodies trembled as then, one by one, they turned and fled, crashing through stone and brush in a panicked stampede, vanishing into the deeper woods.
Silence spread for a moment. A long, awkward silence.
Melina was the first to break it, rubbing her temples with a tired sigh. "I was joking when I said you barked back at a monstrous dog yesterday." she muttered dryly. "I didn't expect you to try and outdo the stupidity of my joke."
The dam broke.
Millicent burst into laughter, her one hand clutched to her stomach. "That was hilarious! Terrifying, but hilarious! That roar sent shivers down my spine!"
Caelan let out a strained laugh, trying to appear unfazed but visibly green in the face. "By the Erdtree, I think I almost lost my stomach…"
Marika's laughter echoed in his head like chiming bells. "Only thou would face down a pack of Rune Bears and decide that outscreaming them was the proper strategy."
John couldn't help but laugh too, wiping his mouth as the last ember from his roar fizzled in the air.
A soft ping sounded in his mind. His system lit up:
[Greyoll's Roar (Intrinsic) – Function Discovered: Bestial creatures with a weaker soul than the user will flee or submit upon hearing this roar. Stronger creatures may resist, but suffer a debuff to damage output in addition to the usual defenses lowered.]
"Well that's… useful." He muttered with a grin.
Then, a voice echoed through the empty forest. It was deep, gravelly, and calm.
"I thought a dragon had made its way to Limgrave's forests." the speaker said from above. "You caught me by surprise, I had feared the worst for a moment."
A massive thud followed as something heavy dropped from the treeline overhead.
The ground shook slightly under the impact.
The figure stood tall, just taller than John by a few inches, broad as a tree trunk and clad in dark wolf-fur leather armor reinforced with pale silver mail. A long tattered cloak fluttered behind him. His face, half-wolf, half-man, was sharp and noble despite the beastly edge. Ears flicked under his wild mane. He carried a massive greatsword resting on one shoulder, his yellow eyes gleaming with wary amusement.
He was Blaidd, the Half-Wolf. Sworn shadow and brother of Ranni, the Witch.
He rose to full height and met John's gaze.
"The name's Blaidd," he declared with a wolfish grin. "I'm looking for a man who goes by 'Darriwil'. What's your name, dragon warrior?"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note:
The best boy finally makes an appearance. The next chapter is quite good too, me thinks.
Anyways, stones please
…
Next Chapter Title: Draconic Dumbassery.
…
If you want access to all my stockpiled chapters, up to 16 chapters ahead, as well as special privileges on Discord among other things, you can go do so on my Patreon!
Join at patreon.com/Helios539