JohnnyZ
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[My Ending] Chapter 7
🕑 Added 2024-11-28 09:24:24 +0000 UTCI’ve finally built up the backlog for My Ending! I’ll be posting all the chapters (up to Chapter 13) in the next few minutes.
The release schedule is still undecided—either 2 chapters per week or 3—but I’ll be posting at least one more chapter this week to get things rolling.
Tiers remain the same: +5/+10 chapters for subscribers.
Thank you for your support, and I hope you enjoy the story!
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Saying goodbye to Blaidd turned out to be a bit harder than Kosta had initially expected. The half-wolf had quickly grown accustomed to the idea that, with the Tarnished, they never got lost, always managed to find rare plants and items, and—truth be told—Blaidd simply enjoyed having someone to talk to.
The mighty warrior, who usually preferred silence, proved to be the perfect companion for such moments. Kosta would never have guessed how challenging it was for a demigod's servant to take care of his fur and deal with parasites. Blaidd often complained about how hot it was under his armor, especially during shedding season—though during the shedding, he was actually grateful for his gear.
Of course, such things were not the kind of stories Blaidd could share with women, let alone with his mistress, whose shadow he was sworn to be. These were the kinds of conversations that could only happen between two confident, grown men—though one of them seemed a bit unhinged, and the other was, well, half-wolf.
Not that it bothered either of them.
"We had a good run, Kosta," Blaidd said, striking his broad chest with his fist. "If you ever need my—"
Oddly enough, Blaidd cut himself off, noticing the look in the man's eyes. The demigod's servant burst into booming laughter, his mood lifting in an instant.
"Madman! You're a true madman, Tarnished! I'm glad I befriended such a noble warrior as you! I hope you'll overcome every hardship that lies ahead. I'll pray for you to topple Godrick the Grafted as soon as possible. That scoundrel has had it coming for a long time. I'm sure many of his own men will even support you and hail you as the new Lord of the Winds, haha!"
Kosta sighed wistfully.
"They’ve gotten way too skittish just as the farming was getting good..."
Blaidd laughed even louder.
Over the past few days, entire squads of Godrick’s followers had been scouring the Weeping Peninsula, overturning every stone and combing through every ruin in search of the now-infamous warrior on his spectral steed. This relentless pursuit had initially caught Kosta off guard—and then filled him with joy.
Blaidd knew his strange new friend was a skilled fighter, but he never imagined the Tarnished would fearlessly face entire prepared groups of heavily armed soldiers in the open.
Soon, everyone in the region would know: if Konstantin the Tarnished started undressing, there was no escape.
The disappearance of just one cavalry squad was enough to end the manhunt. In fact, when Kosta encountered lone patrols searching for new victims for their master, they now fled at the mere sight of him.
Especially when they saw the charging man start to strip.
Not worth it, they’d decide.
Blaidd eventually calmed down after his fit of laughter, adjusting to a more serious demeanor. After all, he was, first and foremost, a servant of a demigoddess.
"I almost forgot your reward," Blaidd said, pulling a Somber Smithing Stone from beneath his cloak. "A rare find! Don’t you dare say I don’t keep my promises, haha!"
Kosta nodded, sending the reward to a place only he understood.
He had recently started wondering how to improve his weapons. Most of the time, he came across common junk—still useful for cutting down relatively ordinary people and creatures, but not enough for the long haul.
He couldn’t keep poking enemies to death forever. It wasn’t challenging; it was tiresome, wasting time he could spend seeking out or aiding the few good things that existed in this cursed, hardcore world. Sure, he might do another run-through someday with nothing but a basic piece of iron, but that could wait for the endgame. For now, he needed weapons capable of dealing greater damage to all kinds of enemies, physical or magical.
Kosta wasn’t the first warrior to face this problem, so it wasn’t surprising that the locals had long ago figured out how to create gear that could wound anything. Smithing Stones like these allowed blacksmiths to grant ordinary equipment truly unique properties.
While Kosta had already stumbled upon a few pieces of unique gear in the Weeping Peninsula, turning down something as valuable as this felt wrong. It would also put the surprisingly kind-hearted half-wolf in an awkward position.
"Good, good," Blaidd said with a satisfied grunt. "This is where our paths part, Kosta. Oh, almost forgot—if you head north to Raya Lucaria and meet the honorable blacksmith there, who’s, uh... on the larger side."
Even though the Tarnished already knew how large the "honorable blacksmith" was, he couldn’t help but briefly wonder again just how big someone had to be for even a giant half-wolf to call them "large."
Blaidd continued:
"Tell him I sent you. He won’t refuse to help. That’ll be my way of repaying your kindness. This junk I gave you isn’t nearly enough of a reward after everything we’ve been through together! Well, that’s enough talk. Time to part ways."
Without waiting for a response, Blaidd turned and sprinted off. The simple-hearted warrior didn’t know how to make graceful farewells.
Kosta watched the half-wolf go, squinting thoughtfully.
"When he loses his mind and tries to attack Ranni—I’ll knock him out. As many times as it takes." (22)
After all, Blaidd was just too good of a guy for Kosta to simply ignore his tragic fate.
Melina, observing from a distance, cast him a strange sidelong glance with her one visible eye, her lips pressed into a thin line. He was thinking about her again.
The girl was still displeased by his overly enthusiastic reaction to the arrival of the lunar demigoddess. She couldn’t even explain to herself why it had bothered her so much.
Maybe if she hadn’t been dragging items from all over the Lands Between for her Tarnished…
But she was!
Steeling herself, Melina silently manifested beside her chosen one.
“There’s been a commotion at Stormveil Castle, Konstantin,” she said. “Rumors say that amidst the chaos, other Tarnished have infiltrated it. The castle is now more heavily defended than ever.”
Her tone was so cold and detached, it was as if she were a reanimated corpse.
Which, in a way, wasn’t far from her usual manner—except for one small difference.
Kosta turned to Melina, slumping his shoulders in melancholy. What could be more painful than disappointing a waifu?
At least he no longer rolled instinctively whenever the maiden chose to spontaneously appear before him. The real-world Melina of the Lands Between was much more talkative. Far more.
Lately, she seemed to be appearing more and more frequently.
“I already apologized…”
Melina said nothing, vanishing back into the immaterial.
Kosta slumped even further, consumed by unbearable guilt and torment. He hadn’t considered until now how helping one waifu could hurt another—and vice versa.
No matter how great a warrior he was, saving and aiding the few beautiful things in this world was a far more difficult task than any trivial battle.
Straightening up, he pulled himself together.
Even if it was the path of a martyr, he was ready to see it through to the end. His will was unshakable. What kind of Soulsliker would he be otherwise? This was what defined him.
“We’re ready to storm the castle,” Konstantin suddenly declared.
Melina barely restrained herself from manifesting again to stop the madman.
She had just said that Stormveil was better defended now than ever! A siege? Alone? Against an entire army? She had meant to suggest waiting for a better opportunity, not charging headfirst into danger!
Sure, Kosta had grown much stronger recently, but even the mightiest warrior could be overwhelmed by sheer numbers—unless, of course, they were a powerful demigod.
A sudden realization struck Melina.
She herself had told him about a broken girl in a crimson cloak, Roderika, whom she had found on the way to the castle. Strangely enough, Melina could vaguely recognize her: once, the girl had been part of a royal family from some land across the sea. However, rumors said she had been exiled when it was discovered that, like all the other outcasts who journeyed to the Lands Between after the first king, she had become Tarnished.
A few loyal retainers had followed her, only to meet the fate that awaited the most of Tarnished in the Weeping Peninsula: they became part of a Grafted Scion. Roderika was the sole survivor, driven mad by what had happened.(2)
Only the Greater Will knew how long she had wandered alone before settling in an abandoned shack. Her survival to this day could only be described as a true miracle.
Had her Tarnished timed this based not on logic but on…
The arrival of a waifu at the right place and time?
The single visible eye of the false Finger Maiden darkened.
Sensing her unease, Konstantin made his way to the nearest Site of Grace. One of his many abilities was an uncanny sense of direction, thanks to how clearly he could see the flow of grace, stretching from one Site to another.
He sat down beside the Grace, staring at it in fascination. Melina watched as the Grace’s energy reached out to him, nourishing and restoring him. She had never seen this force be so kind to anyone. Perhaps only Queen Marika herself could rival it in this regard.
In this way, he was more suited to becoming the next king than anyone else.
But even she didn’t yet understand just how deep Konstantin’s connection to Grace truly was.
He extended a hand toward the energy, drawing it closer. Like a loyal puppy, it curled around and within the Tarnished.
Melina had to admit to herself that she was mesmerized by this terrifying display of mastery.
Sometimes, she thought that before losing his mind, her chosen one had been not just a great warrior but a great sorcerer as well. How else could she explain his deft handling of such a rare and difficult-to-control power? Such precision required immense experience with supernatural energy. Finger Maidens were crucial for most Tarnished for a reason—only a handful could channel runes into themselves as effortlessly as Kosta.
She had seen him struggle with this before, failing to master it. But now, stronger than ever, he did it so easily it was as though he had always known how.
Yet… why did he hate magic so much?
And clothing?
“I used to think the mechanic for traveling between Bonfires—uh, I mean, Sites of Grace didn’t work,” (3) Kosta muttered. “Turns out, I just didn’t have enough levels.”
Melina didn’t have time to process what he meant. Instead, she stared in horror as a powerful stream of energy surged through the Tarnished, lifting him into the flow of Grace and whisking him away.
Reflexively, she followed.
“Impossible! Impossible! He couldn’t have…”
Thousands of thoughts raced through her mind. Before she knew it, their surroundings had changed. They were back at the very beginning of his journey, at the first Grace where he had rested.
In the distance, the majestic Stormveil Castle loomed.
Melina, without realizing it, manifested before a satisfied Kosta. The shocked maiden met the gaze of the carefree man, who lazily began to stretch, clearly preparing for…
Something insane.
Konstantin, sensing that his sudden actions had gone some way toward mending things with his waifu, performed a gesture Melina hadn’t seen in ages—something personal and intimate.
Standing straight, he raised his hands, pressing the right to his chest while extending the left outward.
The gesture of Outer Order. (4)
She didn’t even question how he knew it. She simply accepted it.
“I understand, Konstantin,” she murmured softly before disappearing again.
‘Am I completely useless?’
As if hearing her unspoken thoughts, Konstantin summoned Torrent, his faithful steed, with a whistle. Climbing atop his spectral horse, he smiled.
“Thanks for your help, Melina. Without you, I wouldn’t have been able to complete all the quests. You’ve given me confidence.”
Without another word, he signaled Torrent, speeding toward the castle with breathtaking swiftness.
Melina sighed as she watched him leave. Once again, her Tarnished was about to irreversibly alter the Lands Between, indifferent to the schemes and intrigues of its most powerful denizens.
Because, in the end, what are plans and machinations compared to the rolls of a true Soulsliker?
Still, she resolved to ensure her champion learned to wear proper clothing.
Especially in battle.
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A suffocating madness filled the air. The cries of countless souls, unable to reincarnate, echoed all around. Shattered bodies littered the ground—those who failed to become part of the twisted Grafted Scion.
But for Gatekeeper Gostoc, it wasn’t the sight that he hated most.
It was the smell.
The putrid stench of decay and rot filled the air, repugnant and unbearable.
And he loathed it just as much as the one responsible for it—someone who had drenched Stormveil Castle in this miasma long ago.
In the midst of this eternal madness stood a true giant, his grotesque form radiating terror.
Adorned in tattered, filthy golden robes draped over his monstrous frame, he resembled a nightmare given flesh—a creature that defied the very concept of demigods.
Twisted, multi-armed, and bloated. His many hands writhed and twitched, seemingly struggling to free themselves from the tormentor who enslaved them.
This was the true face of the Lands Between.
The scene of terror was completed by the monster’s ultimate masterpiece: a colossal dragon’s head, its empty gaze seemingly peering straight into one’s soul. The head still held a faint glimmer of the defeated dragon’s will. Godrick stood before his prize, staring at it with an enraptured expression, dreaming of the day he would graft it onto himself and achieve perfection.
‘A pathetic coward and a wretch,’ Gostoc sneered inwardly, though his face wore its customary servile smile. Obsequious and polite as ever, he spoke.
“My lord… vile Tarnished have infiltrated the castle. Like rats, they skulk within the walls, plotting something sinister. Perhaps… they plan a covert attack on you.”
Gostoc silently prayed for the souls of these warriors and sorcerers, though he had no faith in their success. Countless Tarnished, guided by Grace, had snuck into the castle before, only to meet gruesome ends. Those few who escaped capture changed nothing; with every Tarnished defeated, the odds of Godrick the Grafted, weakest and vilest of the demigods, being brought down grew slimmer.
The Tarnished had tried everything in this world that is frozen in time: besieging the castle with small but organized armies, forming alliances, luring the Great Rune bearer into traps, even poisoning him or seeking outside help.
Nothing worked. The demigod, who never left the safety of his domain, remained an insurmountable wall for the Tarnished, though it didn’t stop new challengers from occasionally testing their strength.
Godrick ignored the gatekeeper, his eyes still fixed on the dragon’s head—his personal masterpiece. It wasn’t quite ready yet, but soon…
Soon, he would make himself the equal of the true demigods. Let them reject, despise, and hate him; he could no longer stop now.
Seeing that his master was not paying attention, Gostoc sighed and continued.
“There’s more, my lord. Approaching the castle is…”
Gostoc hesitated, unable to find the right word. The figure in question had become the subject of too many rumors—strange, conflicting, and terrifying.
“…a madman, my lord. A lunatic who stole a relic from Castle Morne. They call him Konstantin. Konstantin of the Tarnished.”
Godrick seemed to snap out of his reverie, slowly turning his head toward the trembling gatekeeper. In the demigod’s eyes burned the bright light of madness.
“Approaching?”
Gostoc swallowed hard and nodded quickly.
“Rapidly approaching, my lord! Alone! Charging straight through! He’s moving fast!”
For a moment, the demigod froze, struggling to comprehend the meaning of Gostoc’s words. Even Godrick wouldn’t dare charge headlong through his own minions alone.
It was suicide.
Who in their right mind would launch a single handed assault on the castle? It made no sense. A fool would be killed long before reaching the first line of defense.
And yet…
For the first time in a long while, Godrick felt fear—sharp, irritating, and deeply unsettling. Unbidden, the images of those who had forever scarred his pride and filled him with helplessness flashed in his mind: the demigod who commanded gravity, and the demigoddess consumed by rot.
He turned his gaze back to the dragon’s head staring at him.
He needed to prepare immediately.
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(1) In the game, Blaidd the Half-Wolf becomes possessed during his questline, likely by the will of the Two Fingers, which can influence the mind of a demigod’s shadow. There is no option to save him.
(2) Roderika’s quest involves meeting her on the way to Stormveil Castle and helping her regain her confidence.
(3) Sites of Grace in Elden Ring function like Bonfires in Dark Souls. Many players refer to them as “Bonfires” for simplicity or habit.
(4) "Outer Order" is a gesture Melina teaches the player if they rest at the Site of Grace in the "Minor Erdtree Church" location. The funny thing is that Russian localization butchered the translation by calling it “Outward calm”. So Kosta is basically saying “chill, girl”.
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