Lucian bent down to pick up the second Ornamental Straight Sword lying on the ground. He examined it carefully—the tip had been slightly damaged from the fierce thrusts against the enemy's shield, but it wasn't anything too serious.
Satisfied, he sheathed the blade and blew into the whistle ringed on his finger. With a familiar neigh, Torrent came galloping back down the hill where he'd wandered off to nibble on berries.
Lucian glanced around and soon spotted a nearby tent. He tore it down and began gathering the scattered weapons and shields left behind after the skirmish. Earlier, he hadn't bothered looting the corpses—mainly because he had no way to carry everything. But with Torrent, a real, living packhorse at his side, things were different.
He tallied the equipment:
4 standard Royal knight Greatshields
2 Brass Medium Shields
4 Royal Knight Straight Swords
2 Battle Picks
A few torches were also scattered around, but they were old and nearly burnt out—he discarded them without a second thought.
Originally, there had been three or four spears, but they'd all been shattered during mounted combat. They were too dangerous in enemy hands, so he'd made a point to break them during the fight.
"Oh, right. I almost forgot this one," he muttered.
Lucian picked up the armaments left behind by the knight he had slain earlier: a broad-tipped spear and a large golden shield.
Names floated before his eyes as he touched them—Partisan and Gilded Greatshield.
The spear featured a wide, blade-like tip, making it equally capable of stabbing and slashing. The greatshield, once proudly carried by knights sworn to Godrick, was a heavy, cumbersome piece of equipment. Its golden plating had long since flaked away, leaving behind a dull, battered surface.
Lucian couldn't use all these weapons himself. Maybe he'd keep a few, but the rest? He planned to sell them to Kale, the merchant. That should net him a decent haul of runes.
The armor on the corpses would've fetched a good price too, but Lucian had his limits. At the very least, he'd let his enemies keep some shred of dignity.
He moved on to the front of the checkpoint, where a massive carriage stood parked.
It towered above him, painted a pitch-black shade and adorned with the same white funeral candles found in graveyards. Lucian knew what these were. These weren't carriages in the traditional sense—they were mobile coffins.
In the Lands Between, nobles teetering on the edge of death would ride in these carriages, drifting across the realm in search of death itself, praying for release from their cursed lives.
From what he could tell, this one had been abandoned. Its passengers were either gone or already departed on their grim pilgrimage.
He circled around to the rear of the vehicle. Beneath the carriage was a small compartment—a storage space for funerary offerings. Since the nobles it belonged to weren't actually dead, Lucian didn't feel guilty raiding it.
Inside, he found a massive sword: a Lordsworn's Greatsword.
It was a standard-issue weapon, longer and heavier than the straight sword. When wielded with one hand, the form became awkward. It was clearly meant to be used with both hands.
At the second carriage, he repeated the process, prying open the storage and retrieving a Flail—a heavy spiked iron ball connected by chain to a wooden handle.
He gave it a cautious test swing and nearly smacked himself in the face.
"Yikes… not enough dexterity, huh?" he muttered, rubbing his cheek.
Every time he found a new weapon, he had to test it manually to see if he met the stat requirements. But it was never clear which stat was lacking, and that annoyed him.
"Maybe when I meet a blacksmith later, they'll be able to tell me exactly what's needed for each weapon" he thought aloud.
Continuing his sweep, Lucian approached the final notable landmark—a small ruin. Beneath it, a locked iron door led to a dim basement. He pulled it open and descended into the gloom.
At the center of the chamber sat a single chest, dim light seeping from its seams.
He opened it—and was nearly blown backward by the sudden gust of wind that surged out.
Inside were two items: a small satchel of gray, translucent crystals, and a Whetstone Knife, etched with subtle, arcane patterns.
This was Ash of War – Storm Stomp, and the Whetstone Knife.
With this, he could now attach Ashes of War to his weapons, replacing or enhancing their skills. The Whetstone Knife also allowed him to adjust weapon affinities, altering their attributes.
He turned the Storm Stomp over in his hand, thoughtful.
It was a basic combat skill—plenty of the enemies in Stormveil Castle knew how to use it. It shouldn't have caused that strange gust of wind from earlier…
His eyes narrowed in recollection.
That time atop the Chapel of Anticipation, when the wind had surged without warning…
Lucian reached into his pouch and retrieved the Ashes of the Stormhawk King.
"Was it you?" he whispered. "Were you trying to tell me something?"
Storm Stomp had once belonged to the same faction as the ancient Storm King. It wasn't unthinkable that there would be some kind of resonance between them.
But whether the ghostly wind had been a message or merely a moment of memory stirred by an old ally, Lucian couldn't tell.
The ashes gave no reply.
He sighed, shaking his head. Until he obtained a Spirit Calling Bell, there was no way to know for sure.
Back on the surface, Lucian made one last sweep of the checkpoint, ensuring he hadn't missed anything. When satisfied, he bundled up all the loot—an absurdly heavy pile—and tried to load it all onto Torrent.
As he fumbled with the weight distribution, a familiar voice rang out.
"Wait a moment. You are not seriously thinking of making Torrent carry all that, are you?"
Melina appeared beside him, her brows slightly furrowed.
"That much gear? No way he can haul it all."
"I mean... yeah, I know it's a lot" Lucian replied, blinking innocently. "But it'd be such a waste to leave it behind."
Melina sighed, exasperated.
"I forgot to tell you—items can be stored in the Grace."
Lucian's eyes lit up. "Really? That convenient?"
But then he paused. "Wait a minute. Aren't there still people who can see the Grace? What if they take the stuff I leave inside?"
"That won't happen," Melina said, taking a moment to phrase her explanation.
"The space within Grace is completely independent. When you rest at a site of Grace, you disappear from the world. Even if someone else rests at the same site, you won't see each other."
"And each person sees a different guidance from the Grace. For instance, some Tarnished sent by the Church of the Two Fingers receive instructions not to become Elden Lord—but to serve the Fingers themselves."
Lucian nodded. That made sense. If the spaces were all separate, then his stash would be safe.
He tilted his head, curious. "So... does Grace have any other functions?"
His mind was already spinning with possibilities. The Lands Between were huge. Traveling back and forth on horseback would be a nightmare. Could teleportation be possible?
Melina hesitated.
She hadn't planned on telling him this so soon. Despite his performance in the last battle, it was still too early to determine if he was truly fit to follow the path of Grace—to become Elden Lord.
Melina knew what lay ahead. The beings he would face… gods, demigods, monsters born of madness. If Lucian lacked the will to persevere, no amount of strength would save him.
But he'd asked. And so she answered.
"There is one more ability. You can teleport between any sites of Grace you've touched before."
She looked at him seriously. "But to use that ability, you must call me while resting at Grace. I shall guide you."