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[Elden Ring: My Ending] Chapter 39
🕑 Added 2025-02-05 04:05:19 +0000 UTCJust like their previous encounter, the hunter of the undead was grim. He clearly wasn’t thrilled about being intercepted by the strange woman, who had arranged a meeting with an even stranger bearer of two—no, now three—Great Runes.
Had anyone else sought his audience, he likely would have refused. But since it was Konstantin himself...
D could be as reclusive as he pleased, but he wasn’t a fool. Nor was he one of those fearless knights who solemnly raised their swords in the name of the Golden Order over yet another living corpse, grimly ignoring the monstrous being that had, in just a few short… or long…
D furrowed his brow.
…months… or a year… or less than a year…
In short, within a comparatively brief period, this being had sent two demigods straight into the golden light of the Erdtree, while also casually subjugating the entire Academy of mad sorcerers and their lunatic queen using magic.
The list of accomplishments seemed trivial only to a sweaty Soulslike player, who considered such feats a mere checklist for any sufficiently determined (or deranged) gamer. But for the few remaining inhabitants of the Lands Between who still retained a shred of reason, Konstantin was nothing short of a monster.
And now, this monster—who should already have been headed to the capital to claim his rightful title—needed him.
“You sought a meeting with me?”
D tensed further. He had only seen Konstantin once before, and the unflappable man had undergone significant changes since then—whether it was his eyes, now tinged with a golden hue, or something as simple as his height.
D had never heard of any Tarnished, or anyone else in the Lands Between for that matter, growing visibly stronger in such a short time.
Konstantin nodded.
“Yes. Can you take me to Gurranq, the Beast Clergyman?”
D flinched, almost reaching for his sword. Few knew of their connection. To be precise, no one should have known. D didn’t recall mentioning it to anyone aside from his brother. But then again, he and his brother shared a soul, after all!
The monstrous Tarnished became even more frightening in D’s eyes.
However, the knight understood all too well that any attempt to resist would be futile.
“You seek the power of the beast?” D asked, scowling under his helmet.
But why would someone already possessing such overwhelming strength need Gurranq’s power?
Konstantin seemed to understand D’s inner thoughts and sighed wistfully.
‘That’s why I hate going back to old quests over-leveled…’
“I don’t need the power of the beast,” Konstantin said calmly. “I need his hunger.”
The man’s concise response made D blink stupidly.
“Hunger…? The Clergyman won’t speak unless…”
Konstantin not waiting for D to complete his thought, pulled a Deathroot from his inventory.
“By Marika’s tits, put that thing away!” D exclaimed, recoiling in visible discomfort.
Unfazed, Konstantin handed the required quest item to the hunter.
It seemed Marika’s tits were more popular than he had anticipated.
Was it difficult for D to escort Konstantin to the Clergyman? Not at all. Not only had Gurranq been searching for someone to take on D’s duties, but after asking a few questions, the hunter found the Tarnished’s request noble: the curse under Stormveil Castle truly was a problem, one that wasn’t so easily solved.
Even a warrior and sorcerer as powerful as Konstantin would rather find an expert—a being that consumed the very concept of death for breakfast, lunch, and dinner—than risk stepping into a trap that would fill his status bar and impale him on a spike sprouting beneath his feet. No chance of survival there(2).
The Beast Clergyman resided in the Starry Wasteland, but for two Tarnished, that wasn’t much of a hurdle. The still-unseen Finger Maiden that followed Konstantin escorted the pair directly to the heart of the refuge: a chamber inhabited by one of the most battered beings in all the Lands Between.
Gurranq, the Beast Clergyman—or rather, Maliketh the Black Blade, slayer of demigods, shadow of Queen Marika herself, and her eternal servant.
And at the same time, the epitome of asset reuse. The sheer number of theories explaining the simultaneous existence of Marika’s shadow in completely different locations made even the most desperate lore enthusiasts’ heads spin(3).
Konstantin’s mind involuntarily creaked under the weight of speculation:
‘An illusion couldn’t consume Deathroots, nor would there be any point. Is he some sort of avatar?’
He wanted to dismiss it as “unimportant,” just like many other details he’d ignored, but…
No. Damn it, this mattered!
Konstantin groaned internally as the theories piled up.
Was Maliketh simply moonlighting as the Beast Clergyman in his spare time, running a successful business in the crumbling Farum Azula? Instant long-distance travel was common enough in the Lands Between—why shouldn’t the Goddess’s shadow use it?
Or was it the result of space-time manipulation? Farum Azula existed outside conventional realms, and Maliketh might have split into two entities?
Or…
The mental groaning grew louder as Konstantin, like countless Soulslike players before him, wrestled with the intricate plot crafted by a brilliant game designer.
If he weren’t standing directly in front of Maliketh, he might have been able to push the thoughts aside. But with this embodiment of asset reuse glaring at him, there was nothing he could do!
Thankfully, none of this inner turmoil showed on his face.
“I’ll take my leave,” D said. “You know what to do, Konstantin of the Tarnished.”
Konstantin nodded calmly, still deep in thought.
D sincerely hoped the madman wouldn’t try anything weird. Who knew what might cross his mind?
Now alone in the sanctuary’s hall with Maliketh, even Melina had refrained from following her chosen one, knowing that the Goddess’s shadow would inevitably notice her.
Konstantin held out a root that emanated an unnatural darkness, offering it without fear to the massive wolf-like figure.
Gurranq, sniffing the root, trembled and let out a guttural growl. From beneath his tattered robes, a long arm emerged, reaching for the root.
Konstantin watched as the outstretched hand shook and claws extended, as if ready to attack him at any moment.
Once again suppressing his instincts, the Goddess’s shadow accepted the offering, greedily tearing into it with his teeth. Within seconds, the root vanished.
“More… I am not sated… Give me more… death… Tarnished… and I shall grant…”
“Underneath Stormveil Castle lies something that should interest you. I don’t need your power.”
Konstantin’s calm voice cut the Clergyman off mid-sentence.
It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to him with such tranquility and… neutrality. Most of the Clergyman’s followers, few as they were, feared him—and rightly so.
For the first time, Maliketh, who had scarcely paid attention to the Tarnished’s presence, lifted his head and met Konstantin’s gaze.
Did Konstantin expect the beast to suddenly snap and lunge at him?
No. But that didn’t mean he was opposed to it.
Without hesitation, Konstantin rolled out of the way of Maliketh’s frenzied attack, staring at him in surprise.
For his part, the beast seemed momentarily stunned. His rage gave way to genuine confusion.
“Where… where is your clothing…”
Previously clad in tattered, singed attire, Konstantin now stood before him wearing nothing but a loincloth.
Kosta shrugged nonchalantly.
He took the shadow of the Goddess seriously enough that he couldn’t help but respond. One could even say this was the Tarnished’s way of showing respect.
“I’m still working on that reflex. Don’t mind it. Keep going—attack.”
His clothing reappeared on his body as if it had never been removed in the first place.
Maliketh growled.
He didn’t quite understand what initially provoked his fit of rage. It was extraordinarily difficult to control himself, and something about the strange Tarnished triggered his instincts—caution, even fear.
The casual intensity radiating from Kosta’s very essence couldn’t escape the shadow of the Goddess.
This man was too dangerous.
And soon, the beast was utterly convinced of it.
Maliketh was fast. Insanely fast and ferocious. The slayer of demigods didn’t bear his title without reason, posing a deadly threat even to the mightiest of the Goddess’s children. A shadow of her caliber couldn’t wield anything less.
But it seemed Konstantin hadn’t gotten the memo.
Like a wild animal, Maliketh dashed after the man across the hall, swiping at him with clawed paws and his ceremonial blade—a weapon capable of slicing even divine flesh.
The problem was that to slice something, you had to hit it first!
Even by the standards of the Lands Between, the beastly priest was ancient, having faced hundreds, if not thousands, of the most skilled and absurd warriors and sorcerers. Their techniques were often so bizarre that any attempt to describe them was doomed to fail.
But… the Tarnished’s style was different. Maliketh could have described what was happening but the description would have made the situation all the more absurd.
Konstantin rolled. No matter how perfectly executed, the essence remained the same: rolls. Nothing but rolls! And that encapsulated the entirety of what was happening.
‘What… what is this technique?!’
The hall was crumbling before their eyes. Claw marks scarred the columns, and tiles shattered underfoot.
The beast’s rage, with each failed attempt to catch the rolling madman, gradually gave way to genuine bewilderment. Once again, he swung his ritual blade, confident this time that the Tarnished couldn’t possibly roll away, but…
Instead, too focused on catching the elusive figure, Maliketh crashed headfirst into a pillar.
Bam!
The hall fell into a grave silence.
Completely unscathed, Konstantin approached the dazed wolf, who had just seen countless stars and nebulas. His gaze was contemplative.
“Hmm… I wonder if it’s the poise that broke or the 50% health threshold(4).”
Maliketh peeled himself off the pillar, shakily regaining composure. His muzzle turned awkwardly toward the unflappable… man.
“This is the first… the first time I’ve seen someone… roll through space and time…”
Maliketh slumped onto the cracked floor, his earlier pain and fury now replaced by a sense of surprise and confusion. These fresh, long-forgotten emotions gave him a brief respite from his eternal struggle.
Hearing Maliketh’s words, Kosta shook his head.
“I haven’t gone out of bounds yet(5).”
Naturally, Maliketh had no idea what Kosta meant. Not that Konstantin was particularly seeking understanding.
“Why… why didn’t you attack… my hunger… my sin…”
“We’ll fight someday, just not yet,” the Tarnished replied with a smile.
Maliketh couldn’t fathom where the Tarnished soul’s friendliness came from, let alone what exactly the man meant.
A flicker of interest stirred in the shadow of the Goddess.
“Then… then…”
“I’ll guide you.”
The Black Blade blinked dumbly.
Perhaps the impact with the pillar had been strong enough—or maybe his sheer confusion over the situation was intense enough—that the beastly priest refrained from asking any further questions and simply agreed.
After all, his current form was only a fragment of the whole, and distance was no obstacle for him.
Even shadows of the Gods, having absorbed the concept of death itself, needed to stretch their legs once in a while.
Soon enough, the priest realized why the mad Tarnished had sought him out.
“A relic… death… I cannot forget…”
Something massive, resembling a disfigured head, referred to for some reason as a relic.
Konstantin nodded indifferently. The piles of corpses surrounding it didn’t faze him, nor did the pervasive stench in the air. What bothered him more was that this abomination was destroying the castle—and thus, the home of his waifu.
He wouldn’t have had the strength to deal with this before, but now things were different. If Gurranq refused, Konstantin was ready to deal with it himself. At least, that was the plan.
Fortunately, it didn’t come to that.
As if entranced, the Goddess’s shadow approached the thing that had been ruining the once-majestic castle for years. It didn’t take much guessing to figure out what happened next.
While it couldn’t satisfy the cursed servant of the Goddess entirely, the peculiar dish, at the very least, diversified his diet.
Kosta nodded in satisfaction.
Before long, the residents of the castle noticed the changes. The air became cleaner, the oppressive atmosphere began to lift, and sunlight pierced through the dark clouds. Morale among the castle’s inhabitants improved, and it wasn’t long before they realized what had happened—or at least, those still capable of realizing it.
Aside from Irina’s blindness, only one major problem remained in the castle.
“And where is my morning bath?”
“It’s still heating, my lord.”
Kenneth wrinkled his nose in dissatisfaction.
“Taking too long.”
Bok bowed apologetically, lowering his head.
The heir of Limgrave wasn’t in any rush to leave. To be honest, he didn’t really have anywhere to go. His fort had been looted, most of his servants were dead. It was likely they were now wandering as undead, and it was doubtful they’d obey his orders.
Even if they did, what was the point? Could Kenneth spend his days sitting idly in his ruined domain, surrounded by the living dead? And that’s without considering the effort it would take to rebuild the fort.
Sure, it was possible: he could find new servants, push past his disgust to make the undead work, and begin gradual reconstruction. Limgrave didn’t experience harsh winters, so at least the cold wouldn’t be an issue.
But why bother, when he could just stay at Stormveil Castle?
The castle was better protected than ever, filled with reasonably intelligent beings he could talk to, had no food shortages, and had an abundance of vacant rooms.
And, most importantly, he now had hot baths every morning.
After all, he was the heir of Limgrave. That pitiful Godrick had only been a disgrace Kenneth had reluctantly tolerated.
Now that Godrick was gone (or, if they even kept the corpse—Kenneth doubted it—he was just a decrepit undead sack of meat), Kenneth could focus on what he truly deserved: rest. Permanent rest.
Unfortunately, Kenneth’s flawless strategy had some flaws, and they weren’t shy about making themselves known.
“My lord?!”
Boc’s nasally voice made Kenneth grimace. He was about to turn and demand what the little runt wanted, but the creature suddenly forgot about Kenneth’s very existence and dashed ahead.
It didn’t take the rightful heir long to see who Bok was running to.
Kenneth felt a chill freeze over inside him.
The intimidating Tarnished, walking in his direction with his usual unflappable demeanor, filled Kenneth with a strange sense of foreboding. Adding to this was the dark-skinned woman walking beside him, her sharp gaze scanning their surroundings.
Unexpectedly, Nepheli locked her eyes on Kenneth, who flinched under her scrutiny. A vicious grin spread across the warrior’s face(6).
Although it was still a secret for now, it wouldn’t remain so for long: the rightful heiress, a descendant of Godfrey himself, the first Elden Lord, had come to claim what was hers.
Kenneth swallowed nervously, sensing the problems advancing toward him on two legs.
Boc, entirely forgetting his usual reluctance to show himself to Konstantin, fell to his knees before him.
“May I ask you something, my lord?!”
Konstantin froze.
“Yes.”
Bok sniffled, paying no mind to how the situation might appear to others.
“Do you mind if I call you ‘Your Majesty’? I… I’ve heard that you and o-other Tarnished are competing for the title… the title of Elden Lord! I’m sure the throne will be yours, and… and I’ll be just so happy, for a kinder soul is nowhere to be f-found… W-well…” Boc hesitated for a moment. “W-with the exception of your handmaiden… So please, grant me this. Let me address you as such…”
The man blinked dumbly.
Naturally, Melina stood a little to the side, observing the situation with a stony expression. Hearing Boc’s speech, she barely held back a melancholy sigh, turning her gaze toward the increasingly suspicious Kenneth, heir of Limgrave.
The recently arrived Irina, Edgar, and Gatekeeper Gostoc were yet to grasp what changes awaited them in the castle.
Though the gatekeeper already had his guesses.
“So, my lord, am I allowed to graft him a bit, or not just yet?!”
The Altus Plateau was closer than ever.
(1) Gurranq will not speak to the player unless they bring him at least one Deathroot.
(2) Unfortunately, we know little about the "Death" status effect. Despite its key significance in the Lands Between, the game doesn’t elaborate on it much. Personally, I only discovered the existence of the "special death animation" near the end of the main game—and even then, purely by accident. Example: YouTube link.
(3) While the game doesn’t outright state that Gurranq is Malekith, the number of both subtle and blatant hints leaves even the most skeptical lore scholars without doubt. Unfortunately, FromSoftware doesn’t explain how the player, after completing Gurranq’s questline, meets his "full" version in a space where conventional concepts of time and space don’t exist.
(4) During trading, Gurranq will go berserk and attack the player. By either staggering him or reducing his health to 50%, the beast calms down and resumes trading.
(5) Out of bounds refers to going beyond the map’s limits or clipping through walls using game exploits, often used by speedrunners to shorten playthrough times.
(6) At the end of Kenneth’s questline, he appoints Nepheli as the new ruler of Stormveil Castle, seeing her as a strong and fair leader with, as hinted heavily throughout the game, the appropriate lineage. While Kenneth’s logic is hard to argue with, some details of how he reached this conclusion can be open to interpretation.
Comments
White Wolf
I love this story
