"Why do I feel less like an Elden Lord and more like some kind of Elden Cannon King?"
When everything was finally over, Lloyd glanced at Melina—who had already returned to her usual calm, expressionless composure—and clicked his tongue.
Recalling how she had looked and acted just moments earlier, then seeing her now—serene and detached as if nothing had happened—he couldn't help but marvel yet again. No matter how many times he saw it, that contrast was always startling.
"You're the one who picked this."
Fastening the buttons on her blouse, Melina sat back down at her desk.
Lloyd stepped beside her, picked up a few documents, and flipped through them idly.
On the Fourth Technological Revolution and Its Extensions
Ecological Survey of the Lands Between: Altus Plateau Edition
Shadowlands Development Plan and Haligtree Sector Construction Progress
She might demand a lot, but her work—and the results she delivered—fully justified her "high salary."
Thorough. Reliable. Exceptionally capable.
Without her, Lloyd couldn't imagine how much more effort overall coordination would have taken—much less his current ease of semi-retirement.
Of course, the biggest reason she handled everything so earnestly was because she liked the work. Otherwise, he'd never have allowed himself to "exploit" Melina for his own convenience.
In fact, there were times when it was the other way around.
"Need a hand? Or maybe I should assign you a few more assistants..."
"No need. Just don't make things worse."
Her refusal wasn't distrust. Melina knew Lloyd meant well—but she also knew how easily his "special nature" could create unexpected problems that would be a nightmare to clean up later.
Besides, before Lloyd chose to fade from public life, they had already spoken about his philosophy: that humanity shouldn't always rely on divine guidance. She agreed wholeheartedly.
To her, cutting ties didn't mean rejecting the gods entirely. But if mortals called upon divine aid for every little thing, then civilization itself would lose its meaning.
At least, that was how Melina saw it.
"But with this much work and all these issues, you can't possibly handle it alone..."
"It's fine."
Melina shook her head, tidying her papers as she spoke.
"Before you came, I already sent someone to find that old woman."
"Barring any accidents, the message should have reached her by now."
"She'll probably be back around this time tomorrow."
The "old woman" she referred to, of course, was a certain peasant woman surnamed Ma.
After her daughter took over her position, that woman had happily retired—dragging along a certain former Highland warrior in the process.
But it wasn't long before the old barbarian came to Lloyd again, asking for something to do.
He didn't say why, but Lloyd could tell at a glance. The man looked thinner, duller, drained of spirit—while the village woman beside him seemed completely rejuvenated, practically glowing with golden light. That alone told Lloyd everything he needed to know... including exactly who Melina inherited her "second form" from.
In short, after that, the old villager officially retired, while the barbarian took on some light duties—more to keep busy than out of necessity.
As for sitting idle? That was always going to be difficult.
After all, a life spent on the battlefield doesn't easily adapt to peace. Having no wars to fight made the old man restless.
But that was fine.
Even without sending him outside the Lands Between, Lloyd could always find worthy opponents for Godfrey—like a few of those crusty old souls haunting the Dark Soul realm.
And after long reflection, Godfrey himself realized brute strength alone wasn't enough in this new age. So while serving as headmaster of the Warrior Academy, he began to study—or rather, had Serosh study for him.
"You know my background," Godfrey had said. "What was it you called it again…?"
"Oh right—Intelligence 11. No aptitude for learning."
"Exactly. So since Serosh's always with me and handles everything that's not combat, if it learns, that means I've learned too."
That was the Highlander's shameless logic.
And Serosh's response?
"I have no objections," the former Beast Regent said sincerely.
"After all, no matter how exhausting study can be, it's still better than being used as a sacrifice every other day."
That about summed up the couple's situation.
As for their children—
The eldest, Godwyn, now served under Nito. Though technically second-in-command, given Nito's temperament, Godwyn was effectively the true Lord of Death in the Lands Between.
Incidentally, the once "Strongest Stone" had now become the Death Dragon—and rumor had it, she had even married Death itself.
As for his two younger brothers—
The younger one was no longer known as the "Lord of Blood," but as the "Chief Executive of the Blood Cross Group," better known by his nickname, "The Blood-Handed Divine Healer."
He had invested heavily in establishing an academy in Liurnia of the Lakes—the very Blood Therapy faction Lloyd had encountered before. He also maintained close collaboration with Stormveil's grafted-limb medical system and built solid connections with Leyndell's Incantation faction.
As for his stubborn older brother, although Lloyd's reforms had long since ended the Lands Between's discrimination against the Omen—and many in the capital had wished him to stay—he ultimately chose to leave, traveling to the Land of Shadow to study the ways of the Hornsent folk.
It wasn't some lofty dream to "make the Hornsent great again," but rather a personal mission to unearth the lost legacy of their culture, using that knowledge to atone for the sins of their ancestors.
It wasn't his duty, and no one blamed him—he was, after all, one of the victims of prejudice and abandonment.
Given his mule-headed stubbornness, once it became clear no one could dissuade him, they simply let him go. Yet to everyone's surprise—including Morgott himself—despite his limited education and lifelong resentment toward the Hornsent, he displayed extraordinary aptitude for their craft. He needed little instruction; a single glance at unfamiliar texts would cause runic patterns to form naturally in his mind.
"If he had been born among the Hornsent, he would have been hailed as a Saint Son. The Gate of Divinity wouldn't have gathered dust for a thousand years, searching for a worthy successor…"
So mused Midra.
Now, after years of study, Morgott had become a true Hornsent Sage—his mastery even surpassing Midra's own.
And just as he had suspected, while the Hornsent civilization had ultimately decayed and lost itself to madness, it still held a wealth of wisdom for those who came after—knowledge invaluable to the study of history and the evolution of civilization itself.
Today, though his dislike for the Hornsent remained, through that study Morgott had also become a respected Professor of History, renowned across the Lands Between. He was often invited to lecture and speak, and his academic prestige was considerable.
...
As for Messmer, once the guardian of the Land of Shadow, he now held no official post.
Tired of endless battle and bloodshed—and at heart, too gentle for the wars he'd fought—Messmer had submitted his resignation once the Land of Shadow was pacified. He retreated to the site of the old Numen Village, taking up hammer and nails to rebuild it—slowly, by hand—the same village that, though long abandoned, still held his fondest memories.
"When the village is rebuilt," he had said, "I want to plant flowers—lots of them."
"When they bloom, could I trouble you to take a bouquet to my mother? Maybe it'll ease her heart a little…"
"Me? Personally? That... doesn't seem appropriate."
"For one thing, if I appeared before her alongside something from the Numen Village, it might stir up old memories she'd rather forget."
"And besides… Rellana isn't fond of me being near her mother."
But Messmer didn't blame her.
One was a hopeless mother-con, the other had enough maternal instinct to drown a saint. Nothing improper ever happened, of course, but Rellana could never relax when both of them were in the same room.
Not to mention the complicated family tree—Marika's other half, Radagon, was her sister's husband, and she had married the son of her sister's husband's wife…
In short, things between Rellana and the "village woman" were awkward, to say the least. Messmer understood, and never pushed it.
...
With the brothers accounted for, that left only one—an androgynous Empyrean.
After Lloyd had stabilized the Haligtree—and admittedly, governed it far better than she ever had—Miquella, even after confronting her inner fears, chose not to return there. Instead, she remained in the Royal Capital, using her vast knowledge to serve as Dean of the Incantation Academy.
But...
"Hm, good answer, Shura. You get a gold star."
"Stamo got hurt? Don't worry—I'll heal you right away."
"It's alright. Even if your grades aren't the best, you still have so many wonderful qualities..."
"If you're feeling sad, you can cry here. I'll keep your secret..."
Indeed, Miquella was brilliant—both as a theorist and a teacher. She treated her duties, and her students, with absolute care and devotion.
Yet precisely because of this, as the Incantation Academy's performance soared under Miquella's guidance, another… tendency within it began rising just as quickly.
Miquella is the kind of man who could be my mother.jpg
That, however, was none of Lloyd's concern.
After spending a quiet moment with Melina, Lloyd left the office.
He first went inside the Erdtree to stroke his little Elden Beast, then checked in on Metyr and the other Fingers—still working overtime to stabilize the rapidly evolving laws of the Lands Between. After reassuring them all, he teleported again.
This time, he arrived at the Haligtree District. There he found Seriel, gathered the Sisterhood, and while conducting some business, discussed their current duties. Once he confirmed everything was in order, he stood and departed.
...
Next, he appeared inside the dungeon.
After much effort—and with considerable help from Nepheli and Roderika—the issues within his inner realm were nearly resolved. Though not yet complete, it was only a matter of time.
Most of the realms—once separate—had already merged, forming a vast, unified world, larger even than the Lands Between themselves.
And it continued to grow.
The Lands Between prospered.
The Dark Soul Realm remained steady, and ever improving.
Old friends awoke one after another from the fragments, facing a brand-new world—some in joy, others in confusion.
But regardless of their feelings, there was hope now. And there was a future.
The only problem, perhaps, was that considering the average moral standards of those from the Dark Souls world, Lloyd didn't quite dare to let them roam free and mingle with the inhabitants of the Lands Between. Instead, he used the Gate of Divinity to establish a controlled connection between the two realms—a window that only those who passed his trials could cross.
At first, few managed it. But as time passed and order was restored, more and more succeeded, and the exchanges between the two worlds steadily increased.
As for Hamlet—just as Alice had once said—over time, and with the ever-growing influence of Alice's Library, that place had become completely absorbed by it, turning into a realm accessible only to him and his Covenant followers.
It was, to say the least, a place hard to describe.
"I know there's no one else around, but could you all at least try to behave a little..."
"No, I can walk by myself, I don't need you—hey! Don't pounce on me!"
"Elizabeth! How many times have I told you not to teach others your weird games!"
"Hmm... Chaos, you've been behaving well lately. Good children deserve more rewards..."
And it wasn't just those Lloyd had once taken in. Some old friends from the Dark Souls world, resurrected from their ashes, had also made this place their home.
"Hey, Seath, where's that smug attitude from before? What happened—run out of stamina already?"
"No, Sister Friede, I don't think 'Heaven and Hell' refers to Black Flame and frostbite..."
"No, that's not the Abyss... oh, forget it. If you've devoured it, then you've devoured it."
In short—there were a lot of people. So many that Lloyd had to open up an entirely separate timeline just to keep them all organized.
After finally escaping the chaos, he pushed open the door to his chamber and stepped into the Roundtable Hold—or rather, into Alice's Library.
After years of development, the place had changed beyond recognition. The space was larger now, and the once-empty shelves were filled with books from floor to ceiling.
At the center of the great hall stood two figures.
One wore an eyepatch; the other had golden hair. When Lloyd approached, both turned their gazes toward him.
"What are you two talking about?"
"The next stage," Alice said, glancing around and nodding to herself.
"It's not completely finished yet, but the knowledge we've gathered is enough to compile a complete 'Book of You.'"
"My book?" Lloyd asked.
"The previous chained battle already stabilized you—it suppressed the risk of another self-detonation. Based on that, if we create a new, complete Law of You, then even without my help, you'll be able to finish the process on your own."
"In other words, once this book is done, your problem will be completely solved. The rest is just a matter of time."
As she spoke, Alice raised her hand. A beam of light blossomed in her palm, drawing in every book from the surrounding shelves. They fused into the radiance one after another until it condensed into a pitch-black shard—far greater than any that had come before.
"I thought we were talking about a book?"
"It's not your first time, Lloyd. You know how this works."
After that brief exchange, Lloyd reached out and touched the black shard once more.
Darkness swallowed his vision. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in a silent, ashen world. Before him burned fading embers, and a familiar figure rose amid the gray—a man with his own face.
Cinders flared. The tattered cloak danced in the dying sparks.
Before a desolate kiln, where only the last flicker of fire remained, the other Lloyd grasped the Coiled Sword and slowly rose to his feet.
Creak... creak...
Embers burned. Ash drifted.
To complete the new order, the old one had to be broken.
Which meant...
[The Soul of Cinder]
The spiral flame once consumed the whole of the old world.
Lloyd stared at the ashen figure before him. After a moment of silence, he drew the same weapon.
The world at its end. Time's last horizon.
Himself, facing himself.
This was where everything began—and where everything would end.
"It's time to move forward."
His voice was soft, half to his other self, half to himself.
"Lloyd."
Steel met steel. Flame erupted. The dawn of a new era rose with the clash.
Their silhouettes crossed, then parted—standing back to back.
A faint click.
The old Fire Lord raised his hand, watching cracks spread across it.
Then his form shattered—
Ash scattered, sparks dispersed.
The earth trembled. The world began to collapse.
Through the crumbling remnants of the old order, the ashen figure walked forward, step by step, until he reached the place where it had all begun.
The flame was gone.
In its place lay a gray book.
Lloyd stood before the pit, staring at it in silence for a long time.
"I have to go," he said at last—just as he had at the very beginning.
But this time, he wasn't mad.
No phantoms came to say farewell.
"Then... I'll do it myself."
He picked up the book, looked toward the collapsing world, and whispered:
"Goodbye."
The words fell.
The world shattered.
And Lloyd's figure vanished.
...
"Looks like you did it."
"Yeah."
After a brief silence, Lloyd lifted his head and handed the book to Alice.
"Alright. Begin the conversion. Once it's stable, we can finally breathe easy."
Alice accepted the book—but didn't immediately begin.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said after a pause, glancing between the book and Lloyd. "It's just… this is your first book. You should be the one to name it."
"A name, huh..."
Lloyd thought for a moment, then looked at Alice, then at the Fire Keeper standing nearby. He took the book once more.
Flames ignited at his fingertips, searing across the surface—burning through past and future alike—as he carved the name into it.
The Elden Lord of Cinders
He looked at the title, nodded in satisfaction, and said simply,
"That's the one."
(The End)