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Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.
FYI, I somehow managed to fuck up adding 5 to the right stats in the previous chapter but I have fixed it from this point on and accounted for it.
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Melina sat hunched on a rock, arms resting on her knees, hands stained crimson. The spiked flail lay beside her, equally soaked in blood—most of it Greyoll's, some of it from the occasional bat that had dared get too close. Her expression was a mixture of exhaustion and slow-burning regret, the kind of look only a three-hour dragon bleed farm could inspire.
Tarnished, meanwhile, was still going.
Shirtless and covered head to toe in blood, his upper body was slick with red, the light sheen of sweat and old dragon ichor making him gleam in the sunlight like some unhinged pagan war god. His pants were now nearly black from hours of gore.
He stood at Greyoll's massive, unmoving flank, swinging his Uchigatanas with the determination of a man who had long since passed the threshold of reason and was now powered purely by spite and muscle memory. Melina's rot-cleansing flame had saved him from corruption more times than he could count.
In his system display, Greyoll's health bar was now a paper-thin sliver—maybe ten percent left, if that.
Behind him, Melina groaned. "When art thou going to finish this madness? It's been three hours!"
Tarnished just chuckled cheerfully, not breaking rhythm. "Shouldn't be much longer. Last bleed proc was twenty minutes ago. Can't be that far now!"
Melina groaned louder and slumped back down.
He finally paused for a moment, wiping some dragon gunk off his forehead and reaching into his pouch. From it, he retrieved a familiar golden item, a Gold-Pickled Fowl Foot. The one he had… Appropriated from Patches not too long ago.
'Wonder where that bald bastard is now,' he mused. 'Was what I did to him a bit much?'
There was a brief pause as Tarnished considered that question, before he shook his head with a self satisfied smirk.
'Nah. The bald-headed bastard deserved it.'
He bit into the fowl foot.
[Status Effect: Rune Acquisition +30%]
A faint golden glow surrounded him, humming near his health bar as the debuff from Greyoll's ancient scream lingered just below it.
Marika's voice purred into his thoughts, amused and skeptical.
"If he is truly as important as thou claimed… then thy constant may become quite the thorn in our side. I should hope thou art ready to reap what thy bullying hath sown."
Tarnished smirked internally. 'Let him try. I know all his tricks.'
He resumed slashing.
Greyoll let out a guttural, trembling groan—a sound so deep it rumbled the air around them. The Elder Dragon cried out once more, her voice rolling across Caelid like a thunderclap.
Melina sat up, alert. "Is it done?"
Tarnished turned mid-swing to answer when another geyser of blood erupted from Greyoll's side, catching him full in the chest and launching him across the dirt like a cannonball. He hit the ground with a muddy splat, rolling several feet before groaning.
"Ugh…"
Rot clung to him immediately, its toxic presence burrowing beneath his skin.
"Hold still." Melina appeared at his side, kneeling quickly and placing glowing fingers against his chest.
"Flame, Cleanse Thee."
[Scarlet Rot: Cleansed]
She began to ask, "Is it-" but trailed off as they both turned to look.
Greyoll's body trembled.
Then, slowly… she began to disintegrate.
Cracks of golden light split across her flesh as her colossal form broke apart like ancient stone, fading into dust and Grace. The runes inside her soul, unspent and godlike, burst free in a blinding explosion of light.
Tarnished's eyes widened as hundreds—thousands—of rune fragments shot into his body like falling stars. He staggered back, forced to close his eyes from the sheer brilliance of it.
Golden light surged into his chest, overflowing with warmth and power. His body trembled under the strain.
Melina shielded her eyes. "I think… I think that's all of them."
He slowly opened his eyes, blinking as the last bits of golden dust faded into the air. His system pinged with a sound more dramatic than usual.
[+134,420]
[Item Acquired: Heart of the Ancient Dragon Matriarch]
His jaw dropped.
"What-?! I… is that…?" He fumbled for words. 'Wait, even the heart drop is different. I didn't just get 5 normal dragon hearts, what the hell is this?!'
Marika's voice was calm, as she appeared in front of him with her hand at her hip to look over at where the Elder Dragon used to lay.
"Thou didst just slay Greyoll. The Greyoll. Mother of all dragons. Quite frankly, I'm surprised thou didst not earn more. But I suppose her soul hath dwindled rather significantly over the millennia since the Shattering."
Tarnished stared at the number on his screen, a small, almost shaky grin spreading across his bloodied face. "This is… this is more than twice what I expected."
Melina exhaled beside him, a rare smile ghosting across her lips. "Well… thy madness paid off. We gained more than we bargained for."
He turned to her, curious. "What do you mean?"
She pointed forward, he followed her gaze.
And there they were.
All five dragons.
Perched atop the rotten hills that Greyoll used to lay on and looking down at the two of them, their hollowed eyes burning with rage.
"Oh…" Tarnished muttered.
Melina sighed. "Turns out… they're not completely blind."
Tarnished stood slowly, never breaking eye contact with the five dragons glaring down at them. Their massive forms shifted with mounting fury, wings twitching, talons scraping the earth. The low rumble of their growls echoed like distant thunder. He rose to full height, back still slick with Greyoll's blood, and turned his head ever so slightly toward Melina.
"I have a plan."
Melina blinked. "Okay… what is this plan?"
He took a deep breath, still watching the dragons as he spoke. "It's a plan passed down through generations of my family. A time-honored technique that has never failed me… or any of my ancestors."
From behind him, Marika's astral form flickered into view, arms crossed, leaning forward with amused curiosity. "A technique passed down through thy bloodline, thou say? I am intrigued. What plan could boast such legacy?"
Melina, however, was less patient. Her eyes narrowed. "Wait… don't you have amnesia?!"
He frowned and barked at her. "Does that really matter right now?!"
She threw her arms up with an exasperated groan. "Well, what is it?! Hurry up, I don't think they're thrilled about us butchering their mother!"
He finally turned to her, raising one bloodied finger and lowering his voice dramatically.
"Listen… and listen well since I won't say it twice. You must follow this plan to your final breath."
She shouted over the rising screeches behind them. "Out with it!! They're coming down on us any second now!"
A shadow passed over Tarnished's face as the sun was blotted out by massive wings. Then… he chuckled.
Melina raised an eyebrow. "What-?"
Before she could finish, Tarnished suddenly reached forward and grabbed her hand tightly. She flushed, eyes widening in confusion.
"Wh-what are you-?"
"RUN. THE FUCK. AWAY!!"
He spun on his heel and sprinted, dragging her along with him as five dragon roars exploded behind them. Melina shrieked in fury as the ground quaked under the dragons' charge.
"This is your plan?! This is a TERRIBLE PLAN!!"
"BAHAHAHA! IT NEVER FAILS!!" He shouted giddily as he pulled her up the nearest hill, dodging rotten roots and jagged stone. Their blood-covered footprints smeared the slope as they bolted upward, the dragons tearing through the ruins behind them.
Melina glanced ahead and immediately knew what was coming next.
"Mine champion, I fear you have quite the strange yet amusing obsession with jumping off of cliff sides~!" Marika commented in his head, her complete and utter amusement at their current predicament was quite obvious in her voice.
"Oh no… No no no no…" she said, breathless. "Why do I feel like you're about to tell me we're jumping off that cliff?!"
Tarnished flashed her his signature grin—the kind of grin that got people killed in every timeline.
"I am about to tell you that. Hold tight."
She gaped at the sharp drop that loomed over the other side of the hill. "There's no way! I am not jumping down that, this is insane-!"
"Hey!" He called out cheerfully, his voice barely audible over the rabid screeches of the dragons behind them, squeezing her hand tighter as they neared the edge. "It's either this or we try reasoning with five very pissed-off dragons!"
"I HATE YOU!!"
"BAHAHA! I LOVE YOU TOO!!"
Together, hand in hand, they launched off the hilltop just as a searing gout of dragon flame scorched the path behind them.
They slid down the decline at breakneck speed, dirt and rot kicking up in wild clouds. Tarnished laughed maniacally the whole way down, the echo of dragons shrieking overhead and the absolute madness of it all trailing in their wake.
The two of them hit the bottom of the hill hard, tumbling into a heap of blood, dirt, and breathless adrenaline. A fine spray of rot-dusted soil kicked up around them before settling quietly in the still air.
As the dust cleared, the familiar, comforting glow of a Site of Grace pulsed just ahead—the same one Tarnished had activated hours ago at the edge of Dragonbarrow. Both of them groaned, limbs aching, heads pounding, pride very much intact.
Slowly, they rolled over and looked up at the cliff they had just launched from. High above, silhouetted against the fading red sky, the five dragons screeched and flapped in frustration, still scanning the air, searching… but clearly unable to locate their prey.
Tarnished let out a long, grateful sigh. "Looks like the overgrown lizards lost us."
Melina let herself collapse fully into the grass with a tired grunt. "Never… Never do that again."
He laughed, eyes still on the sky. "Oh come on, it all worked out in the end, didn't it?"
She turned her head slowly, dead-eyed, and smacked him hard on the back of the head.
"Why-" smack "-didn't thou simply summon Torrent and ride us away?!"
Tarnished blinked, then rubbed the back of his skull sheepishly. "You know… That is a great question. And a fantastic idea that I really, truly wish you had told me before I had to outrun five very pissed-off dragons."
Melina stared at him, face utterly blank. "Idiot."
A familiar golden shimmer flared beside her, and Marika appeared in her usual posture—arms crossed beneath her chest, hips cocked to one side and golden hair cascading over one shoulder. Her smirk was slow and lethal, her tone drenched in amusement.
"An apt description," she said, her eyes flicking over Tarnished like a cat watching a toy mouse skitter.
Despite himself, Tarnished smiled at the sight of her. He turned to Melina and shot her a finger gun, completely undeterred. "But I'm a lovable idiot, right?"
She stared at him for a long moment… then blinked.
"…Idiot."
He clutched his chest dramatically. "So blunt! You wound me, Melina~!"
"Careful, my champion," Marika purred. "I fear a few more jabs with thy meager level of Vigor and thou might just keel over dead."
Tarnished laughed aloud, the sound echoing faintly through the otherwise silent grasslands. In his head, he muttered, 'On the topic of Vigor…'
He turned to Melina and grinned. "Alright. It's about time. Let's turn my runes into strength."
Melina blinked, then nodded. "About time."
Together, they stepped toward the glowing Site of Grace. As they sat down beside it, the warmth of Grace enveloped them like a low-burning fire. Melina turned to him gently.
"Give me thy hand."
He offered it wordlessly. She cradled it with both of hers—soft, comforting, steady. A quiet, warm light began to form around her palms, threading into his soul. The moment was still, the sky quiet, the dragons far above silent now in their rage.
She then whispered softly, like a prayer between breaths.
"Share them with me: your thoughts, your ambitions, the principles you would follow."
He closed his eyes and felt the runes take root within the deepest reaches of his soul, their path guided by his will and Melina's magics.
[STATS PAGE – Level 34 with Radagon's Soreseal Equipped]
Name: John Elden Ring
Class: Samurai
Level: 34
Talisman: Radagon's Soreseal
Vigor: 28 (Ah, thou finally resembleth someone difficult to kill. A milestone, truly.)
Mind: 11 (Still not one for thinking, I see.)
Endurance: 26 (At last, enough breath to fight like a man instead of wheezing like a sickly hound.)
Strength: 23 (Impressive, for a stablehand. When thou canst lift a Colossal blade without weeping, we shall speak again.)
Dexterity: 26 (Nimble, yes. Much like a particularly determined squirrel.)
Intelligence: 9 (Still a dunce.)
Faith: 8 (Piety remains a foreign concept, unfortunately.)
Arcane: 8 (A fitting neglect. Even thou must realize it is wasted on thee.)
[-130, 764 Runes]
The runes entered him like a tidal wave of warmth and weight, flowing into his bones, reshaping muscle, deepening breath. His body tightened—not bloated, but compressed and refined. His arms grew thicker, his core stronger, every fiber honed.
When the Strength increase hit, he felt his tendons twist and fortify like coiled springs. When Endurance surged, his breathing deepened, more efficient. His lungs felt like bellows. And Vigor… oh, Vigor spread like fire through his veins, steady and unshakable.
Tarnished let out a low, satisfied chuckle, a wide grin spreading across his blood-and-ash-streaked face. The sensation was incredible. It was like being reborn, one sinew at a time.
To his left, Marika manifested with her usual regal air, her arms folded tightly beneath her chest as she arched a golden brow.
"Truly? Still thou refuseth to level Faith? I hath instructed thee time and again—how can I teach thee the proper magicks of the Golden Order if thou remainest a heretic with naught but brute strength and squirrel-souled dexterity?"
He cracked an eye open and smirked at her. 'As nice as that would be, I need to cover all my bases first. I'm not even sure if the soft caps are the same or even exist in this universe, but I made sure to hit both Strength and Dex soft caps. Then I pumped the rest into Vigor. It's leveling 101: if you haven't hit the caps yet, always level Vigor.'
Marika blinked once.
Then again.
"…Nerd."
He sat bolt upright slightly, mock-offended. 'Excuse me?!'
She only stared at him, eyes half-lidded and smug.
He shook his head, chuckling under his breath again. The rush of transformation settled into his limbs like cooling steel. He opened his eyes—just as Melina opened hers, a moment behind.
Her face was dusted with pink, her hands still gently cradling his, though she quickly let go and looked away. "Art thou… happy with the results?"
He smiled at her—genuinely, warmly, no teasing behind it for once. "Yeah. Thank you so much, Melina."
She blinked, then turned her face farther away. "I merely perform my duty as thy maiden..."
He grinned wider, not letting go of the moment. "Not just for that. But for putting up with all my nonsense."
She scoffed and stood, shifting her hair behind one ear in a subtle but telling gesture.
"It is nothing," she murmured. "It is… simply my duty."
Marika let out a long, almost despairing sigh, her projection hovering just behind Melina.
"How… How is my daughter so easy to court? And thou… Thou art a demon, to worm thy way into her heart with such foolishness."
Tarnished laughed to himself as he stood, brushing dust from his greaves. 'Hey, my grandma always said the girls would be fawning after me one day. Looks like she was right… just not in the way she thought she'd be.'
He snapped his fingers and summoned Torrent, the spectral steed manifesting in a flicker of gold and ash. He mounted with ease, then turned to Melina, extending a hand down to her.
She stared at it for a moment, then sighed—and took it. He pulled her up behind him, and she settled in with quiet resignation.
Behind them, Marika tried—/tried—to sound disinterested.
"She simply hath not had much romantic experience. Thou just… got lucky."
He smirked as Torrent began to trot forward.
'Nah.' He replied with a sly grin on his face. 'I got Rizz now.'
There was a beat of silence from the astral goddess.
"…What in the name of mine Order is a 'Rizz'?"
Tarnished just laughed, steering Torrent into the crimson horizon like the chaos-propelled gremlin he was.
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Author's Note:
If you know before this fic existed, you would know that I am physically incapable of not adding references and memes into my works.
Some may call it crack, I call it PEAK!
Also, give me all your stones, my children.
…
Next Chapter Title: An Old Friend.
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