JohnnyZ
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[Elden Ring: My Ending] Chapter 55
🕑 Added 2025-03-16 09:24:09 +0000 UTCWatching Master Smith Hewg at work had been fascinating from the start, yet even after weeks, months, a year—perhaps longer—it never truly lost its allure. The old smith was an artist; there was simply no other way to describe the weapons he crafted for the Tarnished.
Drawing raw material from smithing stones, Hewg transformed even the most ordinary metal into blades capable of withstanding blows and sorceries from the strongest beings in the Lands Between. The weapons given to Tarnished were mere blanks, rough forms intended to be reforged into something greater. It was an incredible and unique process—one that, for some unknown reason, was slowly driving the blacksmith insane.
"You need to rest, Master Hewg," Roderika said softly.
"Yes, yes, just a moment…"
But no matter how much she pleaded, he never stopped. Lately, the master smith had spent less and less time resting, devoting more and more of his effort to a single blade—one that had once belonged to a certain Tarnished. Although, at this point, there was probably nothing left of what Konstantin had originally given him except for its outer shape.
"You said the madman was still growing, didn’t you?" Hewg muttered. "I have to account for that…"
Roderika bit her lip. "Master, please… take a break."
"Just… a little longer…"
But the ringing of metal never stopped. The old smith kept hammering relentlessly, obsessively. Roderika hated watching the man who had given her purpose slowly lose his own sanity. And she couldn’t do a thing about it.
Should she ask Konstantin for help? She didn’t know if he could, but she also couldn’t ask anyone else. Lately, the Roundtable Hold felt emptier than ever. If before, she could at least catch glimpses of Nepheli, D, Rogier, Diallos, and even their leader, Gideon Ofnir, now… even the solitary deathbed companion, who never left her room, was gone.
Unfortunately, Roderika didn’t fully understand that the final phases of all the quests had begun. She couldn’t even go to the old maidens for help—they were too busy grooming the Two Fingers, paying attention to nothing else.
Frustrated, she scoured the entire Hold, at one point stumbling upon a sealed projection of something terrifying—but she didn't dare speak to it. Eventually, it got so bad she even considered talking to Alberich, who, incidentally, was a hostile spirit(1) lurking in the lower levels of the Hold.
For the first time, Roderika seriously thought about leaving the Roundtable Hold to search for help. But she was afraid to leave the old smith alone. Something told her he wouldn’t stop until he finished what he had started.
Sighing, she turned toward the exit.
"I’ll wait a little longer," she decided.
She knew Hewg didn’t have all the smithing stones he needed, and Konstantin probably knew it too, meaning he would likely visit again soon. If he didn’t, she’d have no choice but to find help herself; she owed Master Hewg too much to simply stand by and do nothing.
And yet… where was everyone? Didn’t anyone need their spirits strengthened anymore? She’d even offer a discount! After all, she had been given a purpose, hadn’t she?
…Hadn’t she?
Roderika nearly sniffled, realizing for the first time how it felt to struggle finding work in your chosen field.
Panic. Melina never expected to feel panic after the battle, when her chosen Tarnished finally stepped through the gates of the capital. Originally, Lyndell was supposed to be the place where she would part ways with him. But those thoughts were long gone. Now, her mind was occupied with something else entirely.
Too lost in nostalgia, gazing at the once-glorious city where she had wandered countless times as a child, she failed to notice that the Tarnished was searching for something. And searching relentlessly.
He scaled heights, studied the massive corpse of the petrified ancient dragon(2), and even created several projections, sending them out to various points in the city. So it was no surprise that eventually, he found the right trail. One leading to the long-abandoned catacombs.
Lyndell was an ancient city. Only Queen Marika herself knew how many old ruins and hidden passages lay beneath it.
Back in its prime, the Erdtree Sentinels ensured no one could wander into the places too dangerous for ordinary people.
But now?
There was no one left to enforce the rules.
Most of the seals had broken.
The illusions had faded.
The Sentinels were gone.
And the wards had failed.
The moment Melina realized where Konstantin was headed, she abandoned all attempts to avoid speaking with him. Of course, neither she nor even the witch was pleased that he had recklessly thrown himself into battle, gotten stabbed and burned—and hadn’t even warned them beforehand. But the place he was heading to now? That changed everything.
Melina pressed her lips together. She had every right to sulk like a proper, self-respecting spectral maiden of unknown age. But that would have to wait.
"You know where you’re going, don’t you, Konstantin?"
Her voice was steady, controlled—but Kosta still heard the fear beneath it. He glanced at her skeptically, making her shrink back. His gaze was too intense.
"I trust you, but… chaos—" (TN)
Melina, glaring at him, didn’t expect him to use her own tactic against her—didn’t expect him to look at her that way—didn’t expect to suddenly feel like she wanted to sink into the ground…
…well, even deeper underground…
"…Sorry."
She wasn’t used to obeying anyone. Listening? Sure. But submitting? No. Blind faith in anyone but the Goddess and her own mother was completely foreign to her. She was forgotten, stripped of her status, denied the title of demigod—but she was still one of the first daughters of the Queen.
And yet, the longer she spent with him, the more she felt like there was a greater will overshadowing her own. She could have seen it as suffocating. But… it was more like a hand keeping her from stepping off a cliff. Which, in fairness, didn’t change much.
"I was convinced this was just a game mechanic," Kosta muttered, studying the massive doors.
The space around them felt unstable. The doors themselves were so wildly different from the rest of the catacombs, as if they had never belonged in this place. Charred flesh clung to the walls, leaving little room for interpretation.
Melina didn’t understand his words—but she was getting better at understanding his intent. After all, they had come so far together.
"We don’t know when exactly this passage appeared," she admitted. "We tried to destroy it, Konstantin(3)..."
But they couldn’t. Even with the Goddess’s power, they couldn’t. Because what was inside… wouldn’t let them.
Kosta placed his hand on the doors.
Hot, he noted.
They didn’t budge. And he knew why.
The Three Fingers were the ultimate tryhards, rejecting clothing as a concept(4). And, well… that was fair.
His clothes vanished, as expected. Kosta touched the doors again.
This time—
They opened.
There was no need to describe the expression on Melina’s face when she realized what the Frenzied Flame required to let them inside. Unfortunately, she wasn’t given time to fully process it before she was forced into action.
“Konstantin, please…”
The man turned around, surprised to find his waifu pressing against his back, pulling him away.
“I saw how much you enjoyed that bath,” Melina said calmly. “If this is truly your will, then I can…”
“There’s no need for dramatics,” Kosta replied, completely unfazed.
“…Huh?”
Reluctantly peeling the determined waifu off himself, he let a fresh set of clothes materialize on his body as if they had never disappeared in the first place.
In his hand, Mog’s trident appeared—the sturdiest piece of metal he had on him at the moment. He couldn’t exactly leave it lying around on the battlefield, could he?
The persistent whisper in his mind shifted, its tone turning sweeter, more feminine. But a true waifu enthusiast would never be swayed so easily.
‘Just because you can be a woman doesn’t make you an instant waifu. Get yourself a proper quest and some actual backstory, then we’ll talk.’
‘…Tch!’
Ignoring the infernal grumble of frustration, Kosta strode toward the Three Fingers, who eagerly awaited another Tarnished bitter enough to embrace the world’s misery.
Unfortunately for them, a true waifu enthusiast, in a world where waifus must survive and absolutely will not be left in suffering, could never be bitter by default.
Melina was about to follow him, but suddenly, she had to shield her single open eye as a blinding light erupted from the darkness.
And then came the scream.
A wretched, soul-piercing, utterly monstrous sound, so terrible it bypassed physical perception entirely. Melina clutched her ears despite knowing it was pointless—this was no ordinary scream. It was as if the very fabric of existence itself was shrieking in horror, resisting with all its might.
But no force of will in the Lands Between was stronger than that of a Soulslike player and a waifu protector.
The wail faded. The light dimmed. Trembling, Melina lowered her cursed eye, unable to close it, and hurried toward the darkness, where she soon found the Tarnished, calmly seated next to the lifeless husk of the Three Fingers.
Now, even if he wanted to, he could never accept the Frenzied Flame.
“Are you satisfied now?”
Melina was grateful the witch wasn’t here to witness this—she didn’t want her to see how her legs buckled, how she foolishly sank to her knees, or how tears welled up in her eyes.
Who could have guessed her chosen Tarnished would descend to the Three Fingers solely to destroy them—for her sake?
Konstantin, watching his seemingly content waifu, smiled just as contentedly himself. But his gaze soon shifted elsewhere.
Found it.
A fresh influx of runes, including a Great Rune, gave him another stat boost. Creating multiple projections at once was now even easier.
He hadn’t planned on starting Dung Eater’s quest, but ending it the way he saw fit?
Yes. Absolutely.
So focused was he on his projections that he barely noticed when Melina quietly snuck up behind him, pressing her weight against his back. Without a word, the False Finger Maiden kissed him. Then again. And again. Not wanting to let go, completely forgetting where they were—or whose corpse they were next to.
The Frenzied Flame had never been defiled quite like this before.
Before long, they set off toward the one who had surely grown impatient waiting for them—Morgott, the Omen King.
Blackguard Big Boggart had no issue with seeing Konstantin again—after all, the Tarnished had praised his cooking highly. But that didn’t mean he wanted the lunatic to just appear beside him like some omnipresent phantom.
Unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened.
Boggart, busy tending to his fire and making sure his crabs were cooked to perfection, caught a glimpse of something materializing next to him. At first, he ignored it. Then…
“The smell is dulled, but still delicious.”
“By Marika’s tits!!!”
The completely neutral comment from the projection sent the ex-prisoner into a full-blown panic, nearly overturning his culinary masterpiece.
Kosta gave him a strange look.
“You forgot me already?”
“K-Konstantin of the Tarnished!” Boggart blurted out. “By the gods, could you not appear out of nowhere like that?!”
“I don’t devote as much attention to side quests as I do to the main ones,” the man stated, utterly unbothered.
Boggart opened his mouth to argue, but the words never left his throat. Not because he was afraid of getting his skull caved in by a madman with a club, but because…
The lunatic Tarnished was smiling.
What’s wrong with him?
Boggart remembered their last meeting well. He remembered how this madman looked at him—as if he were nothing. Like a piece of disposable meat, something to be tossed aside the moment he became inconvenient.
That look was gone now. The change was hard to describe, but…
The Tarnished seemed more alive. More human, in a way. Though Boggart still wouldn’t call him a person, not after all the rumors he’d heard.
“Here for food, Your Majesty?” Boggart asked, returning to his seat and removing his helmet.
Judging by what he’d heard, it was probably about time to start addressing the lunatic like that. If not now, then soon.
“Konstantin. Kosta is fine,” the man grumbled. “Yes. But also for something else.”
In the end, both the shrimp and the crab ended up tasting bland to the projection, leaving him mildly displeased. But seeing Boggart practically beaming with pride, Kosta decided to keep this to himself.
Their meal didn’t last long.
“Thanks.”
“Ha! Glad you liked it, Your Majesty!” Boggart laughed. “So, what else brings you to me?”
He never got an answer.
The moment the words left his mouth, the projection of Konstantin was suddenly in front of him, grabbing his shoulder.
Before he could react, a surge of grace engulfed them, teleporting them to an unknown location.
But Boggart quickly realized exactly where they were.
A familiar, rancid stench filled his nose, making him recoil in disgust. Horror seized him.
“W-where did you take me?!”
He nearly shrieked, scrambling behind the unshaken projection of the Tarnished. He knew this place. He knew this place. There was no mistaking the filth-stained walls of this putrid cell. The decay, the agony—so intense that even an ordinary man would hear the distant wails of tormented souls.
The souls of those who had suffered at the hands of the wretch inside.
A grotesque figure sat in the corner, repeatedly slamming its head against the wall, muttering incomprehensible gibberish.
“I wanted to show you that you don’t have to be afraid anymore(5),” the projection said calmly, stepping toward the Dung Eater.
The cursed fiend took notice but didn’t react—until Kosta got close.
Then, suddenly, he twisted his head toward him and screeched.
“I am the Dung Ea—”
Or at least, he tried to.
Boom!
Boggart collapsed onto the floor, staring in shock at the crumpled corpse of the Dung Eater. His head had exploded—splattered across the cell walls like an overripe melon.
“W-wha… y-you…”
Kosta looked down at his fist, now glowing with golden light, before turning his gaze to the ex-prisoner.
“Praise the Sun.”
“…What?!”
“Praise the Sun.”
Kosta raised his arms skyward, his stare demanding obedience. Trembling, Boggart hesitantly raised his hands in the same gesture.
“I-I praise the Sun! I do! Is that right?!”
Konstantin lowered his arms, unsatisfied with the lack of conviction in Boggart’s eyes. He sighed, sitting beside him.
“Maybe I need a different approach.”
Boggart gulped.
He had a very bad feeling about this.
(TN) The original uses the word “chaos” (“хаос”). It is not “The Flame of Frenzy”. Frenzied Flame is officially translated as: “Яростное Пламя”
(1) Alberich the Furious—an aggressive phantom, a scythe-wielding sorcerer you can fight in the Roundtable Hold.
(2) In the game, the required location can be found in a well beneath the corpse of the petrified dragon.
(3) This is just speculation: the game doesn’t mention whether the Goddess’s bloodline ever did anything about the “pig” beneath the capital or when exactly he even appeared, so let’s chalk it up to creative interpretation. Pretty sure I mentioned at the start that this was an AU?
(4) This isn’t just another clothing joke… well, not entirely: the doors do only open if the player undresses. Otherwise, you can’t interact with them at all.
(5) During the course of his questline, the Dung Eater kills Boggart.
Comments
White Wolf
I think the three fingers came due to the slaughter of the merchant caravan. It is said that they worshiped an outer god and marika because of which they were slaughtered and the dying of them brought the frenzied flame into the three fingers
