Onyx raised a hand, droplets of rain wetting his hand, his other maintaining a loose hold on Torrent's reins as he lazily trotted across the bridge connecting Limgrave to the Weeping Peninsula. It was still void of life. With the blood and viscera washed away, it was almost peaceful in a way. The skeletal remains scattered all across it lent an ominous tone of warning to any who attempted to head any further south.
Though another type of life was very much present, Onyx's gaze sweeping over the golden spirits of knights. Some remained on guard, ignorant of their passing, while others kneeled before the distant Erdtree, hands clasped in prayer.
A shame. He'd half expected for misbegotten to be manning the structure. It would've been interesting to see if they'd seize the chance to take the region for themselves and what sort of society would sprout out of that. Maybe they were opting for a more subtle approach, some gatherings of them coming together out in the Peninsula's wilds.
Or they could still be following their rage and roaming about for any to kill.
"Tis the fate of all who remain beneath the Golden Order. Eternal stagnation." Marika's words echoed within his head, a sharp sense of dissatisfaction bleeding between them. "A fate thou could change."
It was obvious where she was going with that. Go follow in the path set out before those called tarnished and use the Elden Ring's power for himself. Something he was sure would accomplish the obscure goal she kept close to her chest.
Whatever she wanted, it had nothing to do with helping others. Not the demigods she called children or any of those who faithfully worshipped her.
All were selfish to some degree. It was a natural consequence of wants and desires. That applied to him far more than most. But Marika? She embodied selfishness in way he couldn't say was particularly uncommon among those looked up to as gods.
Not necessarily a bad thing if you asked him but to those who clung to the idea that she would one day return to change all that was going on? They'd be horrified to learn she felt no sympathy for them. Not even the miniscule pity looking upon Melina drew from her was spared for them.
If what they wished for ever came to pass, whatever salvation they got from it would only be a consequence of Marika satisfying her own desires. As it would be for any further suffering.
Blind faith, more often than not, was a recipe for disappointment and a perceived betrayal.
A presence, a good distance behind them, drew his attention, Onyx turning to look over Melina's hood.
Bloodlust. Lots of it. And it'd been trailing them for quite sometime.
Onyx swung his leg over and dropped off of Torrent's saddle, the Grafted Blade drawn from among the things Torrent caried. Melina followed his lead, dropping just behind him as Torrent faded away with a shake of his head.
The bloodlust drew closer and closer, a distant figure taking shape. Face obscured by a hood, they moved with speed, their dark robes flapping about as they sprinted onto the bridge. There was a contradictory nature to the bloodlust released by the figure and the elegant nature of their clothing, those dark robes emblazed by dark gold patterns with dark red gems adorning different parts of it.
Whoever this was-
The figure's hands shot up, a pair of crimson blades sent flying their way. With a swing of the Grafted Blade, Onyx dispersed them, the blood that made up the arcs splattering the bridge, the light overhead drizzle already beginning to dilute it.
-they weren't the average run of the mill traveler.
The figure, a man, didn't lose any momentum in that attack, already ducked to avoid that slash from the Grafted Blade, a pair of daggers poised to surge forward. He abruptly twisted on his heel, narrowly avoiding a slash to the neck from Melina's curved blade as she dove out from behind Onyx, and threw himself into a backstep, the daggers in his hands swung once more.
Melina, blade taking on a golden glow, did the same, an arc of golden light shooting out only a moment after the X shaped blades of blood sent their way. Despite the slight delay, the projectiles met in the center, blood splattering about and golden blade fading away.
Their attacker landed, spinning his daggers about. They were bloody, perpetually leaking the crimson substance yet at the same time absorbing it back into itself. The result was a mesmerizing glow of blood that traveled like rivers throughout the dark metal of its jagged blades. That was no weapon meant to protect oneself or take down any armored threat.
Its only purpose was the rip and rend flesh no matter the target.
Though his hood hid most of his face, the demented smirk spreading across the man's face ensure that even those dull to it would be faced with the bloodlust he carried. He and those daggers were undoubtedly a match for one another.
The man shot forward.
Onyx did the same.
With a presence like that, whatever led him here, the man's desire was simple. Kill. And Onyx, well, he wouldn't say no to a fight. Especially not one that would show off unique weaponry like that.
Range and power were on Onyx's side, his opponent forced to duck and bend around his slashes. Though he proved to be agile, those evasions did not see him unharmed, grazes cutting through his robes and leaving behind shallow cuts. He was quick to adapt, however, those grazes coming to a swift end as he realized the Grafted Blade and its myriad of blades couldn't be treated as an ordinary greatsword.
As Onyx brought back his weapon for another slash, the hooded man ducked in only for to be met with a sharp knee. Proving to possess reflexes a match for his agility, the blow was absorbed by his crossed forearms rather than his face, the jagged end of one of his daggers slicing through the back of Onyx's knee just as the blow sent him staggering back.
An ordinary dagger wouldn't have had any chance of piercing much beyond the skin, his mana acting as his true defense. The burn of a shallow cut spread across the underside of his knee, his step haggard as it returned to the bridge.
Just like he thought. Those daggers were something special alright.
The hooded man was quick to try and take advantage, already throwing himself forward, this time poised to drive those daggers through Onyx's neck. Without the rapid swings of his greatsword to deter her, Melina was quick to take over, the curved guard at the base of her dagger used to redirect one of his while she avoided the stabs of the other.
Onyx stood, the slash to his knee already healed, a distant presence entering the range of his senses from the same direction their attacker came from.
This time their attacker stayed his ground, engaging Melina in an exchange of slashes and stabs. With two daggers at his disposal, the advantage should've been on his side, and, in a way, it was, the rapid slashes keeping Melina on the defensive. It was just something she had little issue employing, blade used to deflect one of his daggers while her free hand threw off the path of the other through quick taps and brief grabs to the wrist.
The two were a match in terms of agility, the man favoring a ferocious assault that was nullified by Melina's flexible and precise defense. It was clear which one would reign victorious, however.
Melina showed no signs of sweat or loss of breath. The opposite rang true for their attacker.
The flowing blood within his daggers gathered as his strikes were fended off, the man himself realizing the disadvantage created by their opposing styles, the weapons pulled away and crossed back past his shoulders. Rather than taking a risk and going for a stab, Melina backed off, landing beside Onyx.
The man's daggers rocketed forth, a storm of blood blades sent forward.
Onyx stepped forward as Melina slipped behind him, the Grafted Blade stabbed into the bridge and used as a shield against the many slashes. They were far stronger than any that knight commander at Fort Haight managed but the barrage didn't last long.
"It was true." The man said, daggers held at the ready as he slowed his breaths, the faint drizzle around them unable to conceal the sweat dripping down along his chin. "A maiden who fights along her tarnished."
It sounded like they had something of a reputation building.
"As I've said, thine's feats will draw the eyes of many." Marika said, smug satisfaction joined by a sort of disgusted disappointment aimed at their attacker. "This degenerate is but an opening act to what awaits. Likely a sacrifice to see what thee is capable of. Finish the fool and be done with it, we know not who watches."
A fair point he supposed. Either way, he'd gotten to see those weapons in action, so he didn't mind wrapping things up.
"What fun! Killing the two of you will-" While the man spoke, Onyx reached for his back, pulling his, up until now, unused halberd from his back.
He took subtle aim.
Then paused.
That distant presence had closed in, their rapidly approaching steps splashing in forming puddles of water and blood. A louder splash alerted their hooded attacker as the latest to join the fight leaped through the air, a glint running along the length of the ferociously long blade poised to sever their hooded attacker's head.
Something their attacker's honed reflexes would not allow, the man cutting his threats short and twisting around, daggers raised to do far more than intercept, the blood running through them gathering once more.
Onyx raised his arm, all subtly tossed aside as he chucked his halberd forward.
It cut through the air. Then flesh and bone, a loud scream filling the bridge as the weapon burst through the hooded man's knee. The slash of blood he'd prepped flew wide, its force sending the tattered ends of the katana wielder's clothes fluttering. However, it did nothing to stop his advance, the elongated blade striking true.
The new arrival landed, the head of the blood user rolling between them and leaking all the while.
"My thanks." The man said, his voice gruff, yet in stark contrast to their attacker, perfectly neutral, giving away no such desire for conflict. He raised his katana, blade placed within his inner elbow and the well worn cloth of his clothes dragged across it, what little blood the smooth beheading left behind wiped away. "You provided me the perfect chance to do away with him. Nerijus was not one to go down easily."
His face was hidden beneath the cascading metal pattern of a hat Onyx recognized as a kasa. It, like the rest of his plated armor and the tools store on the belt around his waist, were foreign compared to what he'd seen of the domineering society in these lands. Still, the revolted downward gaze he spared the severed head wasn't missed.
"In truth, I was not sure I'd make it in time. By the looks of it, he'd been tracking you both for some time." The man revealed, hat tilting back up as his gaze returned to them. "To have fought this cessblood and survived, that alone is commendable. I am Yura, hunter of Bloody Fingers." He finished the introduction with the slightest bow of the head.
"Onyx." He said, returning the gesture. "These Bloody Fingers are some kind of group?"
"Fellow tarnished held in thrall by cessblood. The zealots stalk their own." He shared with a nod. "I've heard word of a dark haired tarnished steering up trouble with Godrick's knights, something few have the nerve to do in recent times. I assume that is what drew Nerijus to you. So long as you stay that path you are certain to encounter more of them."
His tone dropped, a warning edge to his words. "Just remember, there can be no kinship with their ilk. Their madness precludes it. Do not allow emotion to stay your blade."
His piece said, Yura turned, sheathing his long blade and heading back towards Limgrave only to pause beside Nerijus' fallen corpse. "Perhaps this is unnecessary but one last word of warning. Stay clear of the Lake of Agheel should you return from the south. A great dragon roosts there. A creature as fearsome as it is majestic."
This time, as he took off, Yura did not stop, the bridge left behind for Limgrave.
Well, this was quite the first encounter with the tarnished everyone was mistaking him.
Onyx stepped past the bleeding head and knelt beside the corpse, prying the daggers from its grasp. A strong stench of blood clung to them, the liquid continuing to flow within it, heedless of its wielder's death. A weapon infused with the inherent ability to manipulate blood yet free of that outside influence those who cast such magic drew on.
Interesting how the people themselves were so dependent on drawing their power from such things yet weapons like these existed. He was curious about whether or not these daggers were the exception or the rule.
He found no proper sheath on the corpse, eventually opting to keep them tightly bound in some bandages that were being slowly bloodied, before ripping his halberd out of the corpse's leg and rising up.
Good thing he'd stopped.
Whatever state Sellen's physical form was in, he didn't need a bloodthirsty killer interfering in the matter.
XOXO
(A/N: First encounter with a bloody finger, meeting with Yura, new weapons, and info on a dragon. Chapter covered quite a bit. Next week will be a pretty big focus on our sorceress Sellen.
Speaking of next week, I believe I'll be setting a powerstone goal since I don't have anything planned next weekend. I'll lock it in next monday and let you guys know for sure. Either way, be prepared to throw some powerstones for an extra chapter that week. Thinking of setting the goal to 150 or 200. Probably 150 since this'll be the first time I do one since my first ever one.
See you all in the next one.
And of course, the plug. Join us at patreon .com/thirdratewriter if you want to throw some extra support my way and get early access to chapters. I would be pleased to have you.)