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[Elden Ring: My Ending] Chapter 34
🕑 Added 2025-01-24 03:40:16 +0000 UTC“You’ll get used to it… like I did…”
Blaidd was ready to howl at the moon—not willingly or with any pleasure, but out of sheer despair.
Of course, the half-wolf was glad to find a friendly merchant amidst this nightmare (what was he even doing here?!), but the problems weren’t getting any smaller.
He was lost. Completely and utterly lost in the Siofra River.
In the distance, Blaidd could see the towering city of Nokron, right in front of him, yet he had no idea how to reach it. He had tried every possible path, inspected every bush, struck a few suspicious stones out of frustration, and even stumbled upon some oversized, terrifying stag. None of it brought success. Worse yet, the poor half-wolf had wandered so deep into the wilderness that…
He forgot where the entrance was.
Blaidd had even tried contacting that cursed Seluvis, but the sorcerer was preoccupied with his own issues. Apparently, some old enemy had decided to hunt him down, forcing Seluvis into hiding for the time being.
Considering how well Ranni’s territory was defended, this enemy must have been incredibly dangerous.
The sworn brother of the demigoddess wasn’t all that surprised—knowing Seluvis, the man had definitely done something to deserve it. Serves him right!
But there was a catch.
What was Blaidd supposed to do now?!
Going to Iji was too embarrassing. The old giant had often warned him since childhood to be cautious when wandering off alone. At the time, Blaidd had found it insulting…
"Awooo…" — he let out a sorrowful howl.
"You’ll get used to it," the merchant repeated serenely, continuing to play his musical instrument. (1)
Blaidd covered his snout with a hand.
It still stung, even now. He wanted to let out an indignant whine, but his pride wouldn’t allow it—not in front of Iji. How could he ever look the old advisor in the eyes afterward?
Usually, Lady Ranni could help in situations like this. She never laughed at his… peculiarities. But she was resting after her long vigil, and while she could still watch over events in some capacity, she refrained from intervening. Blaidd couldn’t bear to trouble her during her recuperation.
"Awooo…"
The merchant nodded in satisfaction, his tranquil tune continuing. The mournful howling of the half-wolf added a surprisingly fitting undertone to the melody.
Blaidd had no idea what to do. At first, he’d held onto some hope that his new companion—recently and fatefully sworn into Lady Ranni’s service—might join him, but the man never showed up. Either they had somehow missed each other, which seemed unlikely, or…
No, Blaidd had seen enough of the Tarnished to know that calling him inconspicuous was laughable.
At the very least, that oversized stag wouldn’t have dared act so brazenly. In fact, it would probably be hiding somewhere by now, praying to all the Outer Gods that the undressed warrior-sorcerer wouldn’t find it.
Blaidd gazed up at the false stars of the immense underground city.
He could only pray to the universe for a sign. Any sign at all, dammit!
"I need a hint! Anything will do!"
Did Blaidd actually expect the universe to answer him? Probably not.
But it did.
For a brief moment, Blaidd thought he heard something—a distant sound growing closer. Maybe it was just his imagination.
But it wasn’t.
The last thing Blaidd managed to say, as he saw a massive celestial object tearing through the false stars deep underground, was:
"Huh?"
BOOM!
Meanwhile, the merchant didn’t stop playing. The arrival of the meteorite made an excellent addition to his tune.
The Wailing Wastes. That was the name befitting the place where the festival’s organizer had led the participants. A dead land where no grass would grow for hundreds of years. A battlefield filled with countless corpses, endlessly feeding the mindless demigod who had lost the last shreds of his sanity.
At the center of this hellscape, Kosta felt more comfortable than ever. The same couldn’t be said for the others.
"This fight won’t be easy."
Melina observed from the sidelines. She hadn’t felt this tense even when her Tarnished stormed Stormveil Castle alone. Back then, she knew she could pull him out of any danger. The Academy…
The Academy was better left unmentioned. His journey there had been far too peculiar.
Now, however, the stakes were different. If Kosta were to fall, Melina doubted she could help. Radahn was far too powerful. Not only was he an exceptional warrior, but he was also a master of magic (unsurprising, given his lineage), wielding gravitational sorcery like no one else.
He might not see her or even sense her presence, but gravity didn’t care. It would crush her spectral form without a second thought. She could use her “trump card,” but even Melina couldn’t predict the consequences of such an act (2).
‘Dangerous. Unbelievably dangerous.’ Melina’s spectral heart pounded as it never had before.
"Why do all these self-important big shots always want to keep everything under control?"
The relaxed voice of Sellen’s illusion, perched as usual on Melina’s shoulder, made the servant’s brow twitch.
"Your illusory form doesn’t let you perceive the world as I do. This place… is dangerous."
Melina bit her lip, feeling an invisible weight pressing down on her shoulders. Gravity itself seemed to bear down on her. From somewhere far off came an ominous howl and dreadful growling.
Sellen adjusted her illusory crown, gazing skeptically at the daughter of the Goddess. She opened her mouth to respond but paused, then smiled—a soft, knowing smile that only a woman could manage. Her voice dropped to a silken whisper:
"Ah, you’re right… Your emotions must have peaked when that mighty warrior and sorcerer sent his energy coursing into you… Perhaps the echoes of those feelings still linger, don’t they? How unfortunate that I can’t fully experience the same sensations right now…"
Sellen clearly anticipated a reaction from Melina, deftly leaping from her shoulder just in time to avoid the servant’s iron grip. Given Melina’s frazzled state, it would’ve been easier for Sellen to dispel her illusion entirely rather than risk capture.
But she wouldn’t miss this spectacle for the world. Unlike Melina, who was desperate to control the situation, Sellen harbored no doubts about the Tarnished’s victory.
After all, he had brought that charming red-haired maiden with him to the battlefield. The exiled sorceress didn’t believe Kosta would have done so without reason. It wasn’t madness—it was purpose.
Melina huffed indignantly and pulled her hood back up.
She couldn’t afford to let emotions overwhelm her. Not just because she had promised to watch over Millicent if needed, but for another reason entirely.
Through the crimson, rotting sky, a faint lunar glow was visible. Melina could sense the subtle presence of a power that could belong to only one witch. Ranni didn’t even try to conceal her unseen watchfulness.
She had to bear witness to her brother’s potential liberation, sending her regards through slumber.
And she had arrived just in time, as the festival participants reached their destination.
"We’ve arrived."
The voice of the castle castelan, a loyal retainer of the demigod, was heavy with pain and unshakable resolve.
Through the miasma of rot, they saw a silhouette consuming yet another corpse. A true giant, seated on a tiny, half-rotted horse that somehow persisted in its miserable existence.
How many countless soulslikers had laughed at the image of General Radahn, only to be utterly humiliated by him after endless attempts?
Sure, the fight with the general could be trivialized with the summoning of allied phantoms, but even the most casual players understood that without help, they wouldn’t stand a chance against him (3) . Eventually, no one laughed at the infamous general anymore.
Konstantin never laughed—whether he was a sweaty hardcore player or a sweaty casual.
“Wait here.”
Kosta stepping forward caused everyone to look at him in surprise—everyone except, perhaps, Millicent, who only gave a faint smile.
She had known from the very start he would say something like that.
“I never doubted you, buddy,” Patches raised his thumb in a nervous chuckle. “We’ll just… hang back over here, yeah?”
Stepping onto the battlefield seemed to have completely drained Patches of his initial enthusiasm. He had shown up hoping to scavenge something useful, but now… well…
Let’s just say he had slightly underestimated the danger of the situation.
“Madman,” rumbled the warrior with the massive hammer slung over his back. There was no disdain in his voice, only a genuine attempt to help. “I’ve heard of you, but not even your strength will be enough to take down the general on your own.”
Kosta shrugged.
In truth, the warrior who had spoken was, by all accounts, a good guy—a helper to countless Tarnished.
A shame he didn’t have a proper questline(4). It probably would’ve been interesting.
“It’s his right,” rasped the swordsman from the Land of Reeds with a dry laugh. “It’ll be fun to see how the demigod’s magic turns him into a bloody smear…”
Millicent’s expression darkened.
The swordsman’s laugh grew more unhinged, even giddy.
‘Typical bleed build,’ Kosta thought calmly, shrugging again.
The rumors that bleed build players had a higher than average percentage of madness weren’t just rumors.
“Are you sure about this, Konstantin?”
Kosta turned his head to Alexander, understanding how important it was for the Iron Fist warrior to participate in this fight.
“You’re not leveled enough yet.”
Alexander, if he could, would have slumped in shame. Somehow, he felt the weight of the man’s words, and they cut deeply.
“You think I… I’m not strong enough?”
“You’ll understand,” Kosta said solemnly. “Leveling up matters too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, friend.”
“...Hey, that’s my li—”
Millicent clamped her hand over Patches’ mouth with such force that he nearly fainted.
“Friend?” Alexander’s voice wavered as he grew emotional. He hadn’t expected such kindness from the mighty warrior-mage.
After all, they had only met once. And though Kosta claimed Alexander had given him valuable advice, the jar warrior still didn’t think he had done anything extraordinary.
He didn’t even realize how much he meant to the Soulslike community.
“Yes, we’re true friends now, Konstantin the Tarnished… Fine, I, Alexander the Iron Fist, will trust you and wait! But if I think you’re struggling…”
“I’ll gladly accept your help,” Kosta nodded.
“Deal!”
Neither the silent knight in rounded armor nor the Finger Maiden reacted to Kosta’s words. But Jerren, the castle castelan, furrowed his brow.
“Without you, defeating the general will be very difficult, Tarnished. I respect your courage, but…”
Kosta’s gaze sharpened.
“You think I’m going to mess up in front of my waifu?”
Millicent, whether she wanted to or not, shyly looked away.
Her benefactor embarrassed her far too often.
Jerren, for his part, didn’t fully understand the Tarnished.
“You…”
“I said I won’t lose.”
The cold, unwavering tone of Konstantin’s voice left Jerren with no choice but to fall silent and ponder for a moment. Eventually, he reluctantly nodded.
“Have it your way, lad.”
If need be, they would intervene. As long as the Tarnished didn’t die immediately. Surely, someone who held two Great Runes wouldn’t go down so easily, right?
Konstantin strode forward with resolute steps, not a trace of fear on his face.
And yet…
“Armor could be a hindrance. This set’s nearly falling apart anyway.”
Melina opened her accursed eye. The moon in the sky flickered… strangely. Millicent’s face flushed crimson as Kosta casually stripped down, leaving himself clad only in a loincloth, before striding even more determinedly toward the demigod.
Sellen chuckled gleefully.
How this loincloth had survived all of his rolls was a mystery even to the Outer Gods, but one thing was clear—now, the Tarnished was dead serious.
Losing—even if it meant annoying some of the waifus (but not all!)—was not an option. He’d get dressed after he won.
The mindless demigod didn’t take long to notice the approaching Tarnished. Interrupting his feast, Radahn sharply turned to face Kosta’s unflinching form.
At times, Melina couldn’t help but marvel at Konstantin’s unshakable composure. Even if it was madness a hundred times over, his courage was something even the mightiest warriors would envy.
Radahn was terrifying—his appearance, his strength. Even the bravest, most fearless warriors could barely endure the gaze of the rot-consumed demigod.
Unfortunately, no one thought to mention this to Kosta.
Radahn’s steed rose up beneath him, turning in place. Barely able to stand, it always found its footing again, promising to fall for the last time only when its friend was defeated.
They had sworn to die together in battle.
The mad demigod, driven by instinct, slung an ancient, massive bow from his shoulder and reached for equally colossal arrows. While his movements might have seemed clumsy and slow, that assumption would be a fatal mistake.
“Run!”
Melina didn’t know if she had shouted the word aloud or not. Though she understood she couldn’t reach her chosen Tarnished in time, she still subconsciously stretched out a hand, and…
Thankfully, her help wasn’t needed.
For a moment, time seemed to freeze.
Kosta, watching as an arrow accelerated by gravitational magic hurtled toward him at unimaginable speed, unexpectedly bowed—a nod to his favorite tradition.
Then, springing upright, he leapt into the air and summoned Torrent.
Mounting the spectral steed mid-jump, Kosta narrowly dodged the arrow, as if he had anticipated it all along.
To his mild surprise, no second arrow followed. Instead, the Tarnished locked eyes with the demigod. For a fleeting instant, something flickered in Radahn’s gaze—an ember of surprise breaking through the all-consuming rage.
Radahn was a warrior to his very core. He might have lost his mind and started feasting on the corpses of his allies and enemies alike, but his essence hadn’t changed. Something deep within him compelled him to remain on the battlefield, to see this fight through to its inevitable conclusion.
And now, this once-noble warrior who had valued honor and strength above all else had, instead of greeting his opponent properly, attacked dishonorably. Yet the one who had challenged him didn’t flinch, didn’t flee, didn’t rage at his actions.
He simply bowed, as if he hadn’t even noticed.
The demigod, consumed by fury, cast aside his bow and arrows, drawing his massive curved blades from his belt. Lifting his head along with his trusty steed, they howled in unison, greeting their opponent.
No—opponents. After all, Kosta had Torrent by his side. Unlike with others, the Tarnished had no intention of refusing his companion’s help.
After all, Radahn himself was with his loyal friend. It was a matter of mutual respect, not some two-hour boss-killing challenge with bare fists at level one.
In Kosta's hand appeared the symbol of casual mastery—a staff that he pointed at his opponent. Rocks nearby began spinning, lifting into the air.
He was determined to defeat the one who held back beasts embodying the stars with the power of gravity—using gravity itself. This was the boldest challenge Konstantin could ever make.
And Radahn appreciated it, letting out an even louder howl. His rage shifted to anticipation for a glorious battle.
It’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment when the two warriors on their loyal mounts charged at one another. Perhaps it was immediately after the general's battle cry, or maybe they allowed themselves to savor the fleeting calm. But one thing is certain—the ground beneath the witnesses of the battle began to quake.
Then, what followed was something even those who had witnessed the Tarnished’s power from the very beginning could not have anticipated.
The two masters of gravitational forces clashed, creating fractures. Chunks of decayed earth exploded outward, scattering across dozens of meters and forming craters.
“Horizontal strike.”
Torrent, obedient to his rider's will, pushed off the air, disregarding the ground crumbling beneath his hooves, and darted to the side, ending up directly behind the demigod.
Torrent was too fast.
“Vertical strikes. Whirlwind combo. Vertical strike, whirlwind…”
The landscape transformed. Craters continued to appear one after another. Flattened pieces of earth, controlled by gravitational magic, lunged toward the combatants, only to be intercepted by opposing forces, repeating the cycle endlessly. The destruction came so rapidly that, soon enough, the entire battlefield—over which the riders sped on their loyal mounts—became a chaotic mess of jagged chunks of land torn apart by monstrous magic, leaving not a single flat patch of ground.
“Madness…”
Jerren felt as if he were watching the clash of two demigods once more. But this time, the opponent of his lord was… a mere Tarnished?
Patches, choking on the dust that had risen, coughed.
“Couldn’t the guy be a bit more careful…”
The warrior with the massive hammer glanced at the bald bandit hiding behind him and shook his head.
He didn’t mind helping someone in need, but this one was… slightly irritating.
“Unbelievable…”
Alexander clenched his fist, realizing that his friend hadn’t asked them to stay back simply because he didn’t want to seem like a casual.
It was because the demigod wouldn’t have left them a chance.
One hit from a blow like that, and Alexander would’ve shattered, his insides spilling out…
He clenched his fist even tighter, glancing around.
They were surrounded by the corpses of fallen warriors—hundreds, thousands.
“You’ll see, my friend. My strength will grow even greater! Just wait until our next meeting…”
The swordsman from the Land of Reeds said nothing, merely observing the battle. The same could be said of the lifeless Finger Maiden and Millicent.
The gravitational distortions clashing with one another made it nearly impossible to discern any of the warrior-mages’ movements, turning the scene into an incomprehensible, destructively chaotic maelstrom.
Yet it gradually became clear that this battle was far from equal.
With every passing second, Radahn's gravitational field weakened. At first, tiny pebbles began slipping through, pelting the demigod at incredible speeds.
Then larger stones—miniature meteors, hundreds, thousands of them, summoned as if from the cosmos itself.
They tore into Radahn’s body, embedded themselves in his bones, and some even pierced straight through, burying into the ground behind him. Yet the mindless demigod paid them no mind, consumed not by madness… but by the battle.
The greatest battle of his life.
Kosta could have easily taken out the weakened steed of Rennala’s son, leaving Radahn without his loyal companion. But the Tarnished refrained. Not a single spell targeted the demigod’s friend—they were all aimed solely at the warrior himself.
To the very end.
Radahn could not have asked for more.
At one point, the combatants stopped, facing each other from opposite ends of a small island that, by some miracle, had remained untouched by their battle. Only during this brief pause did it become evident that Kosta’s body was covered in numerous cuts from the flying debris. But these wounds, almost mockingly, healed right before their eyes, leaving no trace of blood. Konstantin’s body glowed with the light of the Sun.
Even so, it was the first time he had sustained actual injuries. This opponent was far more formidable than he had expected.
And that only excited the Soulslike player within him.
Clearly, Radahn—born with the spirit of a true Soulslike player—felt the same way deep down. And he wanted to show it, to unleash every ounce of strength he had left. The pinnacle of magic he had achieved through years of training.
Could Kosta insult his opponent by not revealing another pinnacle of casual magic—the one old casuals whispered about to their grandchildren, trembling as they recalled spamming Azur’s comet?
Of course not.
“I have to show him the apex of casual gravitational magic, Torrent,” Kosta murmured, patting his steed’s mane.
Torrent, content with the battle into which the man had drawn him, obeyed, returning willingly to the whistle.
He had gotten more than he could have hoped for, almost breaking his spectral hooves. What could be better?
Radahn, patiently waiting for the Tarnished’s spectral steed to vanish, crossed his swords. Then, leaning forward, he gathered all the strength he could muster…
And, atop his tiny steed, he ascended into the sky, disappearing into the crimson clouds.
Millicent’s mouth fell open.
“A?”
This “A?” is what every small casual and hardcore player utters the first time they see the gigantic demigod ascend on a miniature horse.
However, Kosta was entirely unfazed. He raised his staff and slammed it into the ground.
A glowing, casual seal ignited beneath him.
“What magic is that?” Melina frowned.
Had Sellen been nearby, she could have answered. But she was as far away as she could be, hiding her illusory face in her hands, having a strong sense of just how horrifying the spell Kosta intended to cast truly was.
Casual magic that could surpass even Azur’s comet. One of the most terrifying casual spells ever bestowed upon mages.
THE METEORITE OF ASTEL.
From the heavens, like a falling star, the demigod descended toward the unflinching Kosta. Without Torrent, there was no way to evade—but the Tarnished didn’t intend to.
At the very moment when the demigod, atop his tiny steed, collided with the earth…
Roll.
Explosion!
Dust erupted, obscuring the scene. For a few agonizing seconds that stretched into eternity, it seemed as though the Tarnished had fallen. But…
By rolling, Kosta became invincible.
The dust settled, revealing the figure of the unflinching, entirely unharmed Tarnished, having rolled through space, time, and logic itself.
Radahn’s eyes widened. He had no time to act before Kosta slammed his staff into the ground once more.
And for the demigod, this meant the end.
In the sky, directly above the Tarnished, golden glowing portals appeared. Absurdly massive, they blanketed the entire firmament. A power no mortal could wield.
Unless, of course, they over-leveled.
"Git gud. Level up for the DLC."
Kosta earnestly hoped that the vengeful little boy, most likely watching the proceedings, would help fully restore his sanity.
This was the last thing the demigod heard before the golden meteorites began hurtling out of the portals at immense speed, consuming him entirely.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
BOOM!!!
Countless meteorites obliterated the battlefield, already ravaged by the two warrior-mages, leaving an eternal imprint of their clash on the Starscourge Wastes and all of the Lands Between. The sky, once blanketed with rot, cleared to reveal the radiance of the Sun.
Konstantin, his body literally aglow with casual energy, leisurely stowed his staff into some space only he understood. Then, under the heavy, suffocating silence, he waited for a moment before raising his arms to the Sun, which now outshone the surprisingly large, luminous Moon. Stars began to fall from the heavens.
"PRAISE THE SUN!!!"
Melina belatedly realized that she too had raised her hands to the Sun. As had Sellen and Millicent (though with only one hand), as well as everyone else who had witnessed the battle.
...except for Patches, of course.
Another mighty foe, long deserving of rest, had been defeated.
Somewhere in the distance, a sorrowful howl echoed—a mournful cry from the half-wolf.
______________________________________
(1) “Nomadic Merchant's Tune”: Link to YouTube video
(2) In the lore, it’s never explicitly stated what this cursed eye does or how it works, though FromSoftware emphasizes its significance in the Frenzied Flame Lord ending. Why, what, and for what purpose—these remain mysteries left to the interpretations of loremasters, who have many and varied explanations.
(3) General Radahn is the only boss in the game who can be defeated with a team of allied NPCs.
(4) Great Horned Tragoth. Technically a hostile NPC, who can be killed by completing another questline, he is officially described as a noble warrior aiding those in need. Unfortunately, that’s all the information available about him.
