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[Elden Ring: My Ending] Chapter 23
🕑 Added 2024-12-22 22:43:23 +0000 UTCWas Queen Rennala of the Full Moon a waifu? A silly question. Of course, she was. But it was important to understand that waifus came in many forms, and one's attitude toward them could vary greatly. Where Kosta had pitied Irina, he admired Ranni. Or take Melina—she could evoke both pity as a burned girl without a fleshed-out story and admiration for her selflessness.
If he wanted, Kosta could describe every waifu in detail, and Rennala was no exception. Her story was deeply tragic and, in some ways, pathetic. She hadn’t been defeated in combat but through a cruel betrayal. As if that wasn’t enough, her daughter was "dead," one of her sons had turned into some grotesque snake-like abomination, and another had fallen victim to the schemes of a nasty little boy who wanted to make him his consort.
Kosta sympathized with the queen, reasonably considering her fate utterly dreadful, and wanted to help her at least a little, even though she was the queen of casuals. Yet, even with this sympathy…
He couldn’t say he felt the same warmth toward her as, for instance, Melina. Perhaps it was because Rennala was the mother of one of the best waifus, and Kosta simply didn’t want to make an already strange situation even stranger.
Socially, Kosta, despite his recently boosted perception, was still hopelessly awkward. And most importantly, he knew it.
The only thing that usually saved him was that the social aspect of the current Age wasn’t all that important. Instead of thousands of words, there would be thousands of rolls. Perhaps a few parries with a shield and disrupted casts. When the time came—real parries. And maybe a few words thrown in for good measure: after all, since arriving in the Lands Between, Kosta had managed to allocate a few points into Charisma through sheer practice.
A charisma he needed to muster right now.
The sizeable palace was desolate but surprisingly clean. Clearly, the sorcerers minimally maintained the mad queen’s quarters, which didn’t justify them much, of course.
Then again, much of what the Tarnished did was hard to justify, but thankfully, everything could be resolved through rolling and breaking the concentration of dissenters.
As Konstantin strolled through the empty halls, he noticed many portraits, including those of the royal family. He was quite taken aback to see a painting of the Carian family in its entirety.
With some effort, the Tarnished could recognize them all.
Rennala sat on her throne, smiling happily beneath her signature tall crown.
Radagon, with his red hair, stood beside her, his expression cold and indifferent. For some reason, his torso was bare. Naturally, Konstantin nodded respectfully—clearly, this great warrior also believed in carefully managing equipment weight.
Radhan, a mountain of muscle, whose eyes still gleamed with intelligence.
Rykard, looking disheveled, with overgrown red hair and a scruffy beard, unaware that he would one day allow himself to be consumed by a dubious snake for questionable power.
And finally, the not-yet-ethereal waifu. Like the rest of her family, her hair was a fiery red, and even in the painting, she appeared comparatively petite (1). However, it was all relative—the entire family was over two meters tall, and that wasn’t even their limit. Had Kosta been on the painting, he’d have looked like a small child in comparison.
Then again, the size disparity suited Kosta just fine: the smaller he was compared to his opponents, the easier it was to dodge their attacks. Any experienced Soulslike player knew that the larger the boss, the easier it was to defeat them. Conversely, the smaller and more humanoid they were, the harder they were to beat. A rule with exceptions, but one that worked reliably enough. The Orphan of Kos (2) could attest to that, not to mention… someone else, much closer to home.
Any tryhard knew that at some point, you became the living embodiment of this rule, making previously tough enemies hear boss music when you showed up. (3)
Interestingly, the two gloomiest figures in the painting seemed to Konstantin to be Ranni and Radagon. It appeared they had always been the most reclusive and unsociable of the family.
“These little details were sorely missing in the game,” Kosta remarked as he continued onward.
Soon, he reached massive doors. The faint sound of singing drifted to Konstantin’s ears. The atmosphere had subtly shifted.
It had grown much darker, more oppressive. Not crushing, but filled with an ineffable madness—pure despair that soaked into the palace walls.
Unfortunately (in every sense), Konstantin had played Bloodborne more than once. Unless it was some kind of endgame or a waifu’s tragic questline, he immersed himself in atmospheres of madness and despair like rolling through a swamp: familiar and heartwarming, though it somehow still filled the poison meter and slowly drained his HP, and he’d run out of consumables.
For a true Soulslike player, however, that only added a special spice. Everyone knew real hardcore players fell in love with swamps through deep-seated hatred.
Much like the games themselves.
Placing his hands on the massive doors, Kosta felt their resistance. It would have been much faster to use casual energy, but Kosta preferred to honor every door and gate opened in all FromSoftware games. They would forever hold a place in his heart.
The faint whispers and barely audible singing grew louder. The sight before the Tarnished was breathtaking: a mesmerizing library filled with stacks of books. At its center, enveloped in golden light, a towering woman hovered in the air.
Clutching an amber egg, she murmured something incomprehensible.
Below her, young women with identical faces crawled on the floor, laughing as if they couldn’t stand. Copies of one another. The worst part was how beautifully and appropriately the reused assets were presented. Condemned to death and rebirth, they lacked full consciousness.
But that didn’t stop them from noticing the intruder.
Turning sharply toward the sound, the wide-grinning young women with identical faces crawled toward the unflinching, half-naked Tarnished, stopping directly in front of him, staring up into his face.
Their smiles widened even further.
“Warm, warm, hehe…”
“So warm, so warm! Do you want to play? Play?!”
“Hehehe…”
“…hehehe…”
“Hehehe!!”
Their high-pitched laughter echoed through the library, making the already unfriendly, dark place feel especially eerie and unnatural.
Kosta, as if oblivious to it all, carefully made his way toward the golden-lit queen, avoiding the crawling figures. The laughing girls reached for his legs, their giggles never ceasing, but the man ignored their attempts.
Could it be that the casuals hadn’t intervened when he won, thinking the queen herself would stop him?
Kosta didn’t want to fight a waifu—especially not the mother of one of the best waifus. This was one of those rare cases where a true Soulslike player wanted to skip a boss entirely.
“Hush, little culver.”
A soft, deep, surprisingly gentle and loving voice echoed from the queen. It calmed Kosta, soothing him like a mother’s embrace.
“I'll soon birth thee anew, a sweeting fresh and pure...”
From all sides, identical copies began crawling toward Konstantin, loudly and cheerfully, yet eerily monotonously chanting:
“Sleep tight, child, swaddled in Mother’s amber… Sleep tight, child, in Mother’s shadow you shall rise… Sleep tight, child, swaddled in Mother’s amber… Sleep tight, child, in Mother’s shadow you shall rise…”
Kosta coughed into his fist uncertainly. Normally, by force of habit, he’d already be breaking faces, but this time, he had to improvise and step out of his comfort zone.
“I want to talk.”
The laughter grew louder. Rennala finally turned her attention to him, her gaze lowering slowly.
“Do you wish to be reborn, dear one?” (4)
She didn’t seem surprised to see the half-naked man standing there. Her voice remained tender, deep, and soothing.
“Maybe later,” Kosta replied flatly. “I—”
He reflexively dodged a book that nearly hit his head. Then another. And another. And another…
Konstantin caught one of the flying books and sent it back at its source. The giggling girl who got hit staggered, then collapsed with a foolish expression on her face.
At best, she’d only suffered a concussion.
“My child…”
Rennala’s whisper, dreamlike and detached, seemed to signal the others. They started singing again, and books began to rise into the air—dozens of them.
Kosta, seeing the incoming area-wide attack, realized the situation was escalating far too quickly.
The symbol of casual authority—a staff—appeared in his hand. With a chilling dzzing that sent shivers down the spines of tryhards, beams of golden energy formed behind him and shot toward the singing girls.
Konstantin, knowing the treachery of area attacks, immediately dashed backward, seeking cover behind countless columns and stacks of books.
Every Soulslike player had heard the legends of how Miyazaki designed area attacks. One popular tale claimed that the genius game designer was inspired by the unpredictable movements of his father’s belt during childhood. These attacks supposedly bypassed textures and invincibility frames, reducing even the most hardened tryhard to a helpless child staring at the red YOU DIED screen and screaming at the injustice.
Luckily, the world around Konstantin was occasionally fairer.
Most of the countless books, now speeding through the air, collided with physical obstacles, failing to reach the nimble Kosta. Some he dodged outright, a few he rolled away from, and others he swatted aside with his staff, as though shooing away pesky flies.
As he fended off the last few books, the earlier ones began rising again. The girls’ chanting grew louder, clearly displeased that more of their sisters had been knocked out by casual energy.
Konstantin understood what the world demanded of him. He understood—and immediately did what he did best.
The staff, freed from gameplay limitations, became a makeshift club, landing with satisfying thunks on the heads of the girls. The unholy dzzing of spells transformed into painful thuds, sending the oohing and ahhing copies into a deep slumber.
No worries—they’d be reborn later anyway.
The previously oppressive atmosphere turned into an absurd theater: Konstantin, dodging, rolling, and evading the endless books thrown by giggling girls, dashed across the library, teaching them an alternative application of magic.
Even his new club broke. Time to farm more smithing stones.
All the while, Rennala hovered above, cradling her amber egg, watching the chaos with a detached, dreamy gaze. She took no action, her eyes clouded, her voice still singing.
Konstantin had never considered himself a particularly good person—he wasn’t—but the surreal wrongness of the situation made him want to end it as quickly as possible. Maybe even apologize. To everyone.
Striking the last grinning copy was especially hard. As she pelted enchanted books at him, she smiled innocently, as if merely playing. Unfortunately, Kosta didn’t appreciate her game.
Thunk!
The final girl slumped to the ground, joining the eerie, absurd pile of unconscious (only unconscious, right?...) bodies. But the man had no time to catch his breath—the queen’s barrier shattered.
Unlike the game, her magic wasn’t slowly undone. It broke entirely, and Rennala didn’t gently descend—she fell. Kosta nearly went gray on the spot, sprinting with all his might toward the woman.
If he dropped a waifu—the waifu, mother of one of the best waifus—then…
The Celestial Dew might not help. He’d never forgive himself.
Thankfully, he caught up in time, barely managing to catch the enormous woman, nearly toppling over under her weight. Konstantin, once again underestimating Rennala’s size, almost choked.
This wasn’t the kind of trial he wanted, dammit! This wasn’t even the right kind of trial! His head barely reached her waist!!!
Rennala’s hazy gaze swept over her surroundings, as if oblivious to the bodies of her “daughters.”
“My dears, it’s time to be reborn… my dears…”
She seemed utterly unconcerned that she was being held by a small, half-naked Tarnished who had knocked out dozens of her creations.
Kosta gently laid the queen’s body on the floor, exhaling deeply.
He had to act quickly. He had an idea of how to reach the mind of the maddened queen.
“The Ring. The Dark Moon Ring. It’s here, isn’t it?”
It felt like he’d spoken a magic phrase. The queen, who until now hadn’t even noticed Kosta, froze for a moment.
“The Ring of the Dark Moon? Why would you need it, dear?”
“For a creatively reimagined best ending,” Kosta replied sternly.
Konstantin had a hunch why Ranni hid her... survival from her mother. Perhaps it was justified back then—or maybe not; who could say for sure? The Tarnished wasn’t a lore expert. But now, there wasn’t much sense in hiding anymore.
Most likely, the lunar demigoddess was simply afraid of meeting her mother in person. It was understandable—had Ranni extended a hand, even a puppet one, during Renalla's time of need, the queen might not have been so consumed by grief. But her daughter had chosen not to, ensuring everyone believed she was out of the picture.
“The best ending?” Renalla clutched the amber egg in her hands. “I don’t understand… I…”
Her gaze began to flit about nervously. The mention of the ring belonging to her daughter seemed to ignite a much-needed spark in the heart of the hollowed, abandoned mother and queen.
No one could comprehend just how desperately Renalla needed hope.
She turned her eyes to the side. Among the countless books was an unassuming chest. With so much clutter in the library, it would’ve taken Kosta hours to find it on his own. There were literally dozens of similar chests scattered around!
Konstantin nodded resolutely and headed toward the chest.
He couldn’t open it just yet; it required a key. A key that could only be obtained when the lunar demigoddess herself provided guidance. But that didn’t stop Kosta from doing something else.
Placing his hand on the chest, he sent it, along with all the other junk before it, to one specific place he knew well.
He wasn’t bound by game mechanics.
Renalla stared in shock at the chest that had suddenly vanished.
“The ring… the ring belongs to my little Ranni…”
She was so stunned that, for a brief moment, her localization improved. Or was that a term of endearment? Who could say...
“That’s exactly why I need it.”
Kosta’s firm, unwavering response caused the queen’s heart to skip a beat. She realized what the Tarnished was trying to convey: her little girl—she might still exist in their world. Intact.
Tears streamed down Renalla’s face as she clutched the amber egg containing the Great Rune as tightly as she could.
From the egg, darkness began to seep out. More and more of it—a thick, impenetrable void that seemed like the very embodiment of the cosmos, a starry night illuminated by a radiant, mesmerizing Moon.
Renalla, captivated by the sight, whispered:
“Oh, little Ranni, my daughter. Weave your night into the fabric of existence…”
“Second phase?” Kosta blinked. “But…”
The answer came to him on its own.
A voice spoke, unmistakably belonging to Ranni, who had decided to intervene. And the reason for her actions was vastly different from what had occurred in the game.
“A soul so bold and presumptuous.”
Kosta could swear his waifu currently sounded like a sulking, offended little girl.
“What grand tale will you spin after your death? Of the last queen of Caria, Renalla Full Moon. Of the grandeur of her sorcerous night. And of how you dared covet my ring without asking! Prove you have the right to such audacity!”
The darkness consumed the library entirely, transforming the surroundings beyond recognition. An illusion so terrifyingly vivid it was indistinguishable from reality.
Naturally, both Melina and Sellen couldn’t help but watch what was happening. The false Finger Maiden and the illusion of the exiled sorceress exchanged bemused glances at the pouting lunar demigoddess beside them, neither daring to say a word.
Her eyes blazed with righteous fury, wounded pride, and barely concealed embarrassment.
Melina frowned, beginning to suspect the true significance of the ring.
She decided she wouldn’t intervene to help the Tarnished. Not a chance. He wanted a tough opponent? Let him choke on it!
Sellen, enchanted by the terrifying spellwork bordering on divine intervention, chuckled mischievously.
“What a dramatic bunch!”
Konstantin, meanwhile, now stood face-to-face with not the sorrowful, deranged, abandoned mother and queen but a true monarch—the Headmistress of mad astrologers, sorcerers who studied living stars, willing to go to any lengths for their research and power.
Towering above him, Renalla gazed at the Tarnished with calm and confidence—the same calm and confidence one might have when squashing an annoying insect.
Konstantin glanced around, sensing that if he wanted, he might be able to break the illusion. Something whispered to him that it was possible. After all, he had over-leveled a bit.
But what Soulslike player would pass up such an opportunity? Words couldn’t describe how thrilled Konstantin was by his waifu’s actions! He hadn’t dared to dream of battling the real Renalla!
And the man knew exactly how he wanted to defeat her.
Astrologers were practically the ultimate class in the game. Most bosses couldn’t do much against properly stat-distributed casuals, letting themselves be sniped from a distance. Casuals were terrifying, and unfortunately, that was an undeniable fact.
But there were rare exceptions where even casuals struggled to progress.
Renalla had almost complete resistance to magic. Moreover, like any casual, she was a ranged combatant, leaving little room for victory in an honest fight without spirit summons: her spells obliterated them faster than they could act.
Konstantin remembered the pain casuals endured when they encountered Renalla. They got to experience a tenth of what every true Soulslike player went through, bringing them a step closer to God. And the man knew this to be true.
After all, he himself had once delved into casual play.
With a wave of his staff, Konstantin bowed deeply to the queen. Startled by the unexpectedly noble gesture from the half-naked Tarnished, she nodded briefly, acknowledging the madman as her opponent.
“Does he intend to defeat the queen with sorcery?” Melina whispered, shocked.
Sellen could barely contain herself, her eyes alight with curiosity. Ranni huffed, puffing herself up even more, though it seemed impossible to get any puffier.
The queen had no intention of starting with a polite exchange of minor spells. Her staff flared to life, conjuring a terrifying spell. A spell that scared little tryhards, bragged about by casuals on forums, recounting how they easily defeated most bosses where regular mortals struggled.
The Comet Azur.
An energy beam powerful enough to bore a hole through the Tarnished’s body shot from the queen’s staff toward Konstantin.
As though in slow motion, Kosta watched the horror of the Lands Between hurtling toward him and did what he did best—well, apart from parrying.
A roll.
The illusion of the true queen tilted her head in surprise. Her spell was fast, but that didn’t stop the man from dodging it. Most who stood in the Head of the Academy of Raya Lucaria’s way would have ceased their miserable existence by this point.
For some reason, Konstantin was certain that if the queen were to meet her younger sister, she’d probably say something like, “Too slow, sister.” (5)
Not that it mattered much right now.
Konstantin, like a mirror of the queen, mimicked her staff movements—just as fluidly, just as precisely, as if he’d performed them thousands of times before.
The queen, realizing what the Tarnished was about to do, widened her eyes in surprise and leapt backward. Rightfully so: a gigantic beam of golden energy, like an unstoppable force of nature, obliterated the spot she had just been standing in.
The Comet Azur, somehow imbued with the power of the Sun. A legendary spell, one only the most elite sorcerers—casuals of the highest caliber—could wield. And Konstantin cast it as though he’d just scratched himself with the staff moments earlier.
To say that the women watching were stunned would be an understatement. The man who had all this time portrayed himself as the ultimate warrior suddenly demonstrated mastery over magic that only the strongest and most skilled mages could dream of.
The Tarnished’s combat potential was already terrifying. In close combat, he was a machine, an unstoppable force of destruction. Even his skill with a bow and simple throwing knives was enough to frighten.
But now it was clear: their Tarnished, if he so desired, could instantly transform into a fearsome mage of immense power.
What would happen if he began combining his skills as both a sorcerer and a warrior?
Who—may the Greater Will and Queen Marika the Eternal preserve them all—had this madman been before?
It was obvious that Konstantin had come from some distant place. Yet that didn’t stop him from knowing and mastering so much, as if he’d scoured the entirety of the Lands Between a dozen times over, personally getting to know every being of any interest.
This wasn’t something mortal, no matter how talented or powerful, should be capable of. Add in the man’s other absurd talents—his faith, the aura of raw power radiating from his spells—and any doubts would only linger in the minds of the most brainless of undead:
Konstantin the Tarnished was a vessel for the will of an Outer God. A God the Lands Between had never encountered before.
“The Sun,” Melina whispered.
And they had yet to grasp what that would mean for them. The arrival of Outer Gods had never been accompanied by anything good. They all waged war for dominance over this world through mortals, and it was always catastrophic.
Ranni raised her gaze to the Moon, now the foundation of the illusion.
The situation was growing more complex, and it was unclear what the Tarnished would ultimately become for them—a blessing or the most terrible of curses.
The duel between Rennala and Kosta was only beginning. Spells swirled around the man and woman like mad things. Cold blue clashed against warm gold, annihilating one another.
They exchanged spells as though they were participants in some strange ritualistic dance. The queen’s illusion moved as if gliding over water, her every motion imbued with the grace and power of a mighty sovereign.
Konstantin, as if playing along, responded with equal elegance. Patience was the reward of sorcerers: one could not simply fire off spells recklessly—well, unless they were absurdly over-leveled. Most of the Tarnished’s stats had been invested in his body, and only recently had he begun compensating with casual sorcery talents, which meant he couldn’t afford to overwhelm her with magic alone. Not against Rennala.
He only cast a spell after dodging the queen’s powerful magic. Similarly, the queen herself avoided his attacks, refusing to be hit. Their duel was mesmerizing, fully showcasing the mastery of both combatants.
But all things must end.
“Come forth, Oathsworn Giant!”
The queen struck her staff upon the ground, summoning the energy of spirit ashes. Before them loomed a giant, once enslaved by the queen, who had never found release even in death.
Kosta extended his hand, and a Spirit Calling Bell materialized.
He had no regrets about accepting it.
With a resonant chime, a spectral albinauric woman appeared before him, seated on the ground.
“I’ve been waiting for your call, Konstantin.”
Kosta shrugged and, unconstrained by game mechanics, rang the bell again. A haunting wolf’s howl echoed as the spirits gifted to him by Ranni made their return.
The man had no doubt that Latenna had grown bored inside the bell. Sadly, the mechanics of the real world prevented him from forgetting about someone.
The astonished woman, surrounded by spectral wolves, climbed onto one of them. While it was far smaller than her “other half,” these spiritual beings could easily bear the albinauric’s weight.
Now fully battle-ready, the huntress wasted no time, firing enchanted arrows into the pained giant, who growled in rage.
She was ready to make this a glorious hunt.
Konstantin and Rennala once again faced one another.
“Summoning the spirits drained much of my casual energy,” Konstantin said calmly. “I could try to defeat you with magic alone, but then I wouldn’t be able to show you something. My apologies.”
Even his slight over-leveling wasn’t enough yet. Unfortunately, to truly reach his ending, Kosta would need to grow much stronger. He understood that and was prepared to offer this world an unspeakable sacrifice to over-level himself.
Rennala’s illusion said nothing. She was connected to the true, broken queen, who saw the events unfolding as if she herself were battling the Tarnished.
Words weren’t necessary: any experienced Souls player knew this better than anyone else. In the real world, however, that concept was apparently foreign, and dialogue was constantly demanded of the poor tryhard.
The staff vanished from Kosta’s hands. Replacing it…
Was a hammer.
Rusty, old—clearly once the possession of one of the countless fallen warriors of the Lands Between. It wouldn’t last long; it could break from any stray strike.
Luckily, it would suffice.
At the sight of the hammer, the queen’s eyes widened. Her entire body flinched, and she took a step back. The slight figure of the Tarnished before her changed subtly. His body language grew rougher, colder. Even his gaze hardened, a stark reminder that, above all, he was a warrior, not a sorcerer.
And, most importantly, the previously half-naked man now had pants. Though his chest remained bare.
The image was complete.
For a fleeting fraction of a second, the thought flashed through the queen’s frenzied mind: it was as if Radagon himself had appeared before her once again.
“Why?”
Ranni’s whisper made Melina flinch. She turned her head toward the brooding demigoddess, roughly imagining the emotions of a daughter abandoned by her father alongside her mother.
But the answer came quickly—for all of them.
Kosta, gripping the hammer in his hands, began advancing toward the queen—slowly, inexorably. The illusion tied to the original queen, feeling the fear rise from the depths of its soul, struck the staff against the ground once more.
“Come forth, Oathsworn Dragon! Come forth, Oathsworn Beasts!”
Ignoring the summoned spirits, the man gradually picked up speed. When the dragon spewed a torrent of fire at him and the beasts lunged to attack…
Konstantin executed a single, flawless roll, effectively ignoring the spirits, and then leaped higher than any human could. As he rose, he swung the rusty hammer, now glowing with the radiance of the Sun—a radiance that could destroy the weapon at any moment.
Rennala could not mistake what she saw for anything else. Whether she wanted to or not, tears began streaming from the queen’s eyes.
The outcome was inevitable.
The image of the Tarnished suspended mid-air, with the Sunlit hammer poised above him, became the final sight for the unwilling spectators and the queen’s illusion before the hammer struck the ground, obliterating the entire illusory domain.
BOOM!
Soon, the Lands Between would face yet another upheaval.
Footnotes:
(1) Images of a living Ranni, except for the model of her charred corpse that players can find when completing her questline, do not exist in the game. This, however, doesn’t stop players from making assumptions.
(2) The Orphan of Kos is considered one of the most difficult bosses in Bloodborne.
(3) Boss battles are accompanied by musical scores, background music specifically tied to them or the encounter. There’s a belief that sufficiently sweaty tryhard players have their own BGM that is audible to anyone who encounters them.
(4) The original dialogue from the game is “Is it thy wish to be born anew?”. I rephrased it a little bit to be in line with the rest of the dialogue that doesn’t exist in the game. (I might be wrong though but wiki didn’t have any)
(5) Rellana—a boss from the DLC, who ventured into the Shadow Realm and, according to the lore, is Rennala’s younger sister and DLC equivalent of Malenia.
