The blonde girl appeared again, as if she had stepped from the folds of reality without a sound.
Alistair didn't flinch. Her sudden arrivals no longer surprised him. He had grown accustomed to her vanishing and reappearing like a whisper in a dream.
He studied her a moment, then asked, "So what you're saying is, if I want to strengthen one set of 'laws,' I need to commit to using that system in battle? I can't draw power from both at once?"
"You could say that," she replied.
He didn't truly understand what she meant by "laws." But the mechanics reminded him of game systems. One set for Dark Souls, one for Elden Ring. Independent. Non-overlapping.
Alistair considered the implications.
Fine then. He would prioritize the Elden Ring system for now. His Dark Souls stats were already maxed, with nowhere left to climb. If he ever hit a wall, he could always return to the old framework, like switching accounts mid-play.
And more importantly, he had discovered during the last battle that while the two systems didn't share progress, they did function simultaneously.
It was like stacking buffs.
Hold a weapon that scaled with both Strength and Dexterity, and apply bonuses from both systems. Buffs, attribute effects, damage reduction—all overlapped. The synergy was terrifying.
Right now, the Elden Ring system didn't grant much. His only noticeable benefit was a minor boost in execution damage.
But later?
Once his Elden stats rose, once he collected powerful talismans, armor, legendary sorceries, and miracles, he could combine it all—two systems running parallel, both fully powered.
It was an intoxicating thought.
Of course, that was a long way off.
Right now, he didn't even have a maiden to help him level up. His Rune count was pitiful—just a few hundred from slain soldiers and hollows.
"Let's find a way out of here," he muttered.
Alistair did one final sweep of the cave. No hidden paths, no treasure, no secrets. He retraced his steps, climbed back up, and returned to the platform where he'd first fallen.
As for that strange creature from earlier?
It had said something about kinship, about chaos flame. But Alistair had only been in this world for a single day. He didn't understand the context, and truth be told, he didn't remember half of what it had said.
That too was familiar.
In Souls-like worlds, no one ever spoke plainly. Riddles, cryptic prophecy, metaphorical mumbling—it was par for the course.
Trying to decipher it all would only give him a headache.
Better to stick with what he knew.
He reached the wooden door ahead, climbed the short flight of stairs, and pushed it open.
A stone corridor awaited him, like a mausoleum's threshold. Torches flickered on the walls, their flames white and still.
Directly ahead floated a golden Blessing, identical to the one from earlier. To the right stood a ledge, overlooking a platform below. It was sealed behind a faint wall of mist.
As he approached, a system prompt flickered.
[This area is sealed by an Imp Statue.]
Imp Statue?
Alistair glanced around and spotted two squat, grotesque carvings nearby. One bore a small sword-shaped key embedded in its head. The other had an empty socket.
He reached out.
[Insufficient number of Stonesword Keys.]
Locked content. A familiar disappointment.
Still, not all was wasted. Near the base of the Imp Statue lay a corpse with a glinting item. He reached down and claimed it.
Three items flashed into his inventory:
Furlcalling Finger Remedy
Tarnished's Furled Finger
Finger Severer
He examined them briefly.
Write summon signs. Invite allies. Or banish them.
A new skin for an old system.
After stashing the tools, Alistair resumed his search. Once satisfied that no secrets remained, he touched the Blessing again and pressed forward.
And then, something unmistakably familiar came into view.
A round stone lift. A pressure plate at its center.
He stepped forward and activated it.
The platform began to rise.
As he ascended, feeling that old, slow grind of a Soulsborne elevator beneath his boots, every lingering doubt vanished.
This was Dark Souls.
The lift stopped.
A heavy iron door loomed ahead. Alistair checked for alternate routes, hidden alcoves. Nothing.
He approached, grabbed the edge, and pushed.
Clang.
The gate rose with the groan of rusted metal. As the bottom edge lifted past his knees, golden sunlight spilled into the chamber. It climbed slowly, illuminating his armor, his hands, his face.
When the door fully opened, he stepped into a world transformed.
Rolling hills of green. Warm light filtered through trees. Wildflowers in bloom. Birds flitted between branches. A gentle breeze danced over the earth.
Peaceful. Pastoral. Alive.
Alistair stared in silence, eyes wide.
A long pause passed before he breathed out, barely audible.
"Holy hell. It's like honey."
***
Of course, Alistair knew this wasn't Majula.
Though he'd been banished from the cycle more times than he could count, he was a veteran of Dark Souls II. He knew the real Majula when he saw it.
But there was no better word.
After ages spent in the simulation, surrounded by rot and madness, even a moldy swamp began to feel like paradise. Hollows had become handsome. Anything not drenched in poison or cursed blood looked like heaven.
From Dark Souls to Bloodborne, even Demon's Souls and Sekiro, he'd seen all forms of desolation.
He'd expected more of the same here.
Instead, he was greeted with light. Color. Life.
No fetid sewer. No decaying undead. Just sun, grass, and space to breathe.
It left him speechless.
"What's wrong?" asked a soft voice behind him.
He glanced at her. "Nothing. Just... stunned."
He turned fully and said, "I never asked your name."
"I don't have one."
She paused.
"But if it helps, you can call me Alice."
Simple. A common alias. Nothing sacred.
"Alice," Alistair repeated.
He nodded, though part of him flinched. The name carried a certain weight in a world of despair. But he let it go.
With that settled, they were faced with the obvious next question.
Where to?
Alice had mentioned a "distortion," but had no idea where it originated. Alistair, for his part, was still essentially a newcomer.
But the world itself provided a hint.
Not far away, a golden Blessing floated. And beside it stood a figure clad in white, face hidden behind a smooth, pale mask.
Alistair knew the type.
Opening bonfire. Melancholy companion. Probably cryptic and sarcastic.
He started walking toward it, intending to ignite the Blessing and gather intel.
But before he touched the light, the masked man spoke.
"Oh, you're one of the Faded, aren't you?"
His voice was silky, slightly mocking.
"You've come to the Lands Between in search of the Elden Ring. You needn't deny it. I already know. It's always the same."
He eyed Alistair up and down.
"But how sad... No maiden. No guidance. No Rune empowerment. No invitation to the Roundtable Hold..."
He leaned forward.
"You'll die nameless and alone."
Alistair blinked.
Was this guy for real?
He was used to this kind of greeting. From snide clerics to manipulative knights, every Souls game had its share of opening jerks. This one just wore white.
Still, Alistair was more interested in the content of his words.
Maiden. Faded. Lands Between. Guidance. Rune. Roundtable. Elden Ring.
He recognized "maiden." He had one. Or at least, her ashes.
And the title "Faded" had been used before. Seemed like his current status.
As for the rest...
"What's the Elden Ring?" he asked.
The masked man tilted his head.
"You don't know?"
Alistair shrugged. "Memory loss."
The man paused, evaluating him.
Eventually, he relented.
"Well then, lucky for you, you've met me—Varé."
His tone shifted, becoming strangely theatrical.
"The Elden Ring is the source of all law. The foundation of order. The key to becoming Elden Lord."
"Whoever claims it, claims dominion over the Lands Between."
He pointed to the Blessing.
"You see that golden light? That's guidance. It points you toward the Ring's location. A path only the Faded may walk."
Alistair glanced at the Blessing.
Sure enough, a subtle stream of golden energy extended from it like a ribbon, leading away into the landscape.
He followed it.
Over a rise, he saw a ruined chapel in the distance.
And in front of it, patrolling the slope like a silent sentinel, was a knight in golden armor astride a massive steed, bearing a gleaming halberd.
Alistair narrowed his eyes.
Mini-boss, no doubt. Elite enemy. Probably a skill check.
He turned back to Varé.
"Say... any idea where I can find a maiden?"
***
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