At the first light of dawn, the reorganized caravan pulled away from the river valley.
An escort of twenty Storm Knights broke away from the main body, tasked with the somber duty of returning the wounded and the fallen to Farum Azula. The remaining force moved northeast toward Karen City in a tightened, defensive formation.
At the vanguard, Elder Morel cleared the path. Elder Atok, still nursing minor wounds from the night before, brought up the rear. Greyoll and Agheel remained mounted on their scale-maned horses, flanking Luthier's carriage like twin shadows. With two High Wyverns and two Ancient Dragon Elders on high alert, even a direct assault by a demigod would struggle to breach the line.
Inside the carriage, Luthier sat with his Dragonscale tachi and the confiscated Godskin Stitcher resting across his knees. His palms brushed against the cold metal of the blades as his mind replayed the life-and-death struggle of the previous night.
It had been his first time witnessing a true "Hero" of the Lands Between fighting at full capacity. Samuel's strength, speed, and the sheer volume of primordial power within his incantations had eclipsed Luthier in every measurable way. The Noble had even held a slight edge over Elder Atok. If the forty-eight Elders of the Sky Castle were the benchmark for "Hero" rank power, that Godskin Noble had sat comfortably in the upper tiers of that class.
Using that as a baseline, Luthier began to grasp the terrifying reality of the demigods who would fight the Shattering—and the even higher peaks of Marika the Eternal, Radagon of the Golden Order, and Godfrey, the First Elden Lord.
They were monsters. Their strength far exceeded the limitations of the game's animations. His "knowledge" was a guide, but in this reality, the masters of the Lands Between were not bound by hitboxes or scripted AI. If Radahn truly possessed the power to arrest the very stars, then seeing a Godskin Noble move with such terrifying grace meant that a meteor-caller like the Starscourge would be a force of nature beyond comprehension.
Luthier summoned his data panel within his mind. Since his arrival, he had spent countless hours trying to find a practical use for it, only to conclude it was little more than a mirror reflecting his current state.
But this time, as his focus locked onto the shimmering text, a deafening roar echoed through his soul. It was the sound of a thousand temple bells tolling at once. His vision blurred, the interior of the carriage dissolving into streaks of light, until a vast, infinite starry sky unfurled before him.
"What in the..."
It took thirty seconds for his brain to restart. Luthier surveyed his surroundings. He stood on a surface as black and smooth as a mirror, extending into an endless horizon. Above him, the sky was a graveyard of cold, dim stars—charred remains of celestial bodies that looked like solemn tombstones in the dark.
In this space, both his soul and his physical projection felt like a grain of sand in a boundless ocean. He looked up at the constellations, overwhelmed by a sense of profound, ancient sorrow.
He eventually pulled himself back to reality, his heart hammering against his ribs. He took a staggering step back, his leg striking something solid. He sat down instinctively, and a high-backed chair—the very one from his study in Farum Azula—materialized to catch him. As his arms fell, a familiar desk shimmered into existence beneath his wrists.
Luthier paused, a thought crossing his mind. He reached out into the empty air and closed his fingers. A teacup appeared in his hand, filled with warm, fragrant tea. He took a sip; the temperature and taste were identical to the tea he had drank just yesterday.
He spent the next few minutes experimenting. Almost any physical matter he had encountered in the Lands Between could be projected into this space through sheer force of will. Common items, rare minerals, even specialized weapons and armor he had seen appeared instantly.
He found he could even manifest living "puppets"—Storm Knights, Raya Lucaria Sorcerers, or Trolls. However, these beings were hollow husks, devoid of any soul or independent thought.
When he tried to manifest legendary heroes or demigods, the ability failed. He could not replicate Radahn's Greatswords, the Godslayer's Greatsword, or Marika's Hammer. It seemed his Focus was immense here, reaching a level where he could manifest anything that did not touch upon the fundamental laws of the world.
Luthier exhaled slowly, looking at the space with a new perspective. His mental power here was nearly omnipotent, yet one thing remained unchanged: the "extinguished" stars above him. He tried to light them, to change the color of the sky, or to mask them with new light, but the dead stars remained cold and unresponsive.
"Is there not a single one still burning?" he muttered.
Just as he spoke, he caught a faint glimmer. One star in the center of the firmament and another on the northwestern fringe flickered with a light so weak it was almost imperceptible. Only his heightened mental state allowed him to distinguish them from the surrounding void.
Luthier focused his intent on the central star. It tore across the sky like a comet, coming to a halt directly in front of him. Close up, the star appeared to be made of a glass-like material, and within it sat the silver-white silhouette of an Ancient Dragon.
Luthier's breath caught. The dragon was himself—his transformed state.
Radiance spilled from the star, weaving into a glowing screen of light.
Name: Luthier Saux
Race: Ancient Dragon (Royal)
Level: 60
Available Rune Points: 15
Attributes: Vigor 30, Mind 15, Endurance 15, Strength 25, Dexterity 20, Intelligence 9, Faith 15, Arcane 10
Skills: Ancient Dragon Combat (Untrained), Storm Arts (Untrained)
Legendary Abilities: Dragonblood Inheritance (Locked), Memory Battlefield (Unlocked)
The sight sent a jolt of adrenaline through his system. He had looked at this panel a thousand times, but this was the first time "Available Rune Points" had appeared.
The Dragonblood Inheritance was the birthright of the Saux lineage; as his Mind grew, he would eventually unlock the secrets of his blood. But this Memory Battlefield—this space—was the key. It seemed the ability to "level up" was a function of this mental realm.
Luthier forced himself to stay calm. He didn't know how he had earned these points or how to get more, so he had to spend them where they would count most. If he were ambushed again, he couldn't rely on his enemy being conveniently weak to a sleep pot.
"Vigor to 40," Luthier decided.
Ancient Dragons were defined by their physical resilience. Their stone-like scales provided a natural armor that few weapons could pierce. If 99 remained the hard cap for attributes, reaching 40 in Vigor would ensure he wasn't simply erased by a stray shockwave from a true powerhouse.
He invested the remaining 5 points into Strength, bringing it to 30 to better leverage his draconic physiology.
As he confirmed the choice, a torrential wave of heat surged through his limbs. Supported by the psychic weight of the Memory Battlefield, Luthier felt his heart expand and beat with the force of a war drum. His bones felt denser, his muscles tighter, and the feedback from his nerves became sharp and powerful.
He admired his new Level 75 status, his face flushed with the rush of power. Then, his eyes snagged on a single, jarring number. His excitement vanished.
"Damn it," he hissed. "I forgot to at least get my Intelligence into the double digits."