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[Elden Ring: My Ending] Chapter 32
🕑 Added 2025-01-19 03:27:48 +0000 UTCGreyoll’s Dragonbarrow had long lived up to its name: it was home to dragons, including Greyoll herself.
Once a great dragon matriarch, the mother of those now called devolved ones (1), Greyoll had been afflicted by rot, leaving her grounded and unable to fly. All she could do now was pray for the day when a resourceful ‘farmer’ with a bleed and frostbite build would come to end her suffering.
...Though, ideally, not one who would reload the area before her death—that would just be insulting.
To be fair, Greyoll’s thoughts didn’t exactly run along those lines, but the sentiment was the same.
Perhaps her life would have ended long ago if not for her offspring guarding her relentlessly, ensuring her torment stretched on indefinitely. The situation was so contradictory and maddening that all the ancient dragon could do was wait for someone strong and brazen enough to challenge her—a hunter, not a farmer.
Wait. Wait. Wait. And Wait…
For the Lands Between of the current age, such endless waiting was the norm. So much so that no one truly believed it would ever end.
And yet, strangely enough, everything ends eventually.
Greyoll slowly opened her ancient eyes, her decayed vision picking up the faint sound of her foolish children snarling. They were rushing at intruders, the usual "arrogant fools" who dared disturb their mother's slumber.
Typically, such encounters ended quickly. Even as degenerates, her children were a nightmare for most humans. Who wouldn’t fear an ensemble of reused assets with oceans of health, identical attacks (including those frustrating AoEs!), broken hitboxes, and sizes so massive that the camera would often spin out of control(2)?
This, however, was different.
Greyoll could feel it—one by one, her children were falling.
Someone was defeating them. More than that, they were being defeated without being killed—a feat requiring far more effort than a straightforward fight. This intrigued the dragon matriarch.
Her vision, blurred and long since dulled, still managed to pick up a human figure weaving amidst her panicked offspring. Was he… rolling through their flames?
"Has the rot finally overtaken my mind?"
For the first time in countless years, Greyoll felt… discomfort.
And she wasn’t alone. Nearby stood another human figure, though for some reason, it inspired a deep sense of revulsion and rejection within her—a familiar feeling. Strong enough that the great dragon let out a weak growl.
Rot.
The strange man (if he was even human) made quick work of her children. He was too fast, too agile, too strong… too absurd… The man didn’t care about AoEs or fiery onslaughts. Even when somehow cornered, he would summon a spectral steed that instantly carried him into the air, seemingly leaping off the very wind.
Was this a true dragon hunter? He knew them too well, predicting their every move. To do so, he must have slain not one, not two, but dozens of dragons before.
If this was how her suffering would end, it was not the worst fate. At least she would be killed by a worthy warrior, not a bleed-and-frost farmer.
The man and the living embodiment of rot approached her, allowing Greyoll to get a closer look. Only then did she realize that what she had assumed to be the physical manifestation of rot resembled a human far more than the peculiar man.
For the first time in an eternity, the ancient dragon felt something other than rage—fear. Brief, fleeting fear.
Kosta, grumbling as he extinguished his smoldering clothes again, hadn’t expected any reaction from her. He simply wanted to test something.
But the reaction came.
"Why… why did you spare them?"
The voice that echoed in Kosta’s mind carried the power of a fearsome, fire-breathing dragon. Yet it was weak and weary, a shadow of its former strength.
Kosta shrugged.
“You could have died(3).”
What nonsense! Did he take her for a nurturing mother who couldn’t bear the loss of her degenerate offspring—offspring who refused to let her die in peace?
Nonsense!
This tiny creature, smaller than her claw, pitied her?!
“The rot has left her no choice, Konstantin,” Millicent murmured, her voice tinged with sorrow. “What a terrible fate…”
Greyoll’s frustration surged anew. She was being pitied by a living embodiment of rot? Rot?! This human insect in a woman’s body thought she could fool her? Greyoll would not be deceived so easily!
"Kill me," the dragon said coldly. "My death… will grant you… power beyond… your wildest dreams…."
“That would have been more relevant at early levels. I’m overleveled,” Konstantin replied matter-of-factly, his tone thoughtful. “Also, I’m not a fan of dragon-heart builds(4).”
He turned to Millicent, his gaze softening.
Clean, no longer hungry, and dressed in fresh clothes, the red-haired girl had truly blossomed. Not entirely, of course—but still, the transformation was remarkable.
Her perpetual state of being in bloody, tattered clothing during their journey through the Lands Between had been a constant source of irritation for him.
Initially, Millicent had been shy about accepting such… gifts. But the determination of a Soulslike player was not so easily denied.
She now had things she’d never dared to dream of. Even the desolate beauty of the Starry Wastes had taken on a new charm for her—despite her familiarity with the region.
“I want to try something. Do you remember what I asked you?”
“I’ll find the medallion, Konstantin,” Millicent said with a smile.
She knew he didn’t truly need her help. Yet he kept involving her, offering her opportunities to fight rot-afflicted creatures, assigning her tasks like keeping watch while he slept (though she suspected he didn’t actually need sleep), and even letting her take charge of cooking. Simple meals, given their circumstances—and her one-handed limitations—but he still expressed gratitude. Konstantin pushed himself time and again to give her a sense of purpose.
Melina and Sellen had… strong opinions about his behavior.
Their shared journey through the Starry Wastes had been brief, but Millicent knew she would treasure it forever. For a girl born under the curse of rot, these were memories she couldn’t afford to lose.
She didn’t need to be told twice. Clutching her curved sword, she bravely bypassed the massive dragon and headed toward the fort. Though she wielded her weapon in her non-dominant hand, she still had plenty to show.
Konstantin and Greyoll were left alone. Almost: Melina and Sellen were ever-present, but their presence hardly fazed him.
The Tarnished stared into the ancient dragon’s weary eyes.
The Starry Wastes had already given him so much. He had farmed so extensively that even the rot-afflicted creatures had stopped attacking. When they spotted the unflinching Tarnished and the red-haired girl at his side, wearing an expression as though she were on the best date of her life, they preferred to flee—on legs, claws, or whatever else they had.
With every attribute he leveled that related to his intelligence, Konstantin found himself entertaining new thoughts.
Thoughts came clearer, more fluidly. Concepts formed in his mind that he’d never have considered otherwise. Though the core of his thinking remained as it was when he first awoke in this world, his perspective was broadening.
At first, he reevaluated the behavior of the beings around him, no longer treating events solely as “quests.” He continued calling them quests out of habit, but the meaning had shifted.
Then, he reconsidered casualness itself. Became more attuned to the emotions of the creatures he encountered. This newfound awareness didn’t solve his problems—it only compounded the psychological strain on the beleaguered hardcore-casual.
And now, in recent days, as he hunted alongside Millicent, consuming an immense influx of runes from the living and the dead, steamrolling through the Starry Wastes, another shift was beginning to take place.
Perhaps Konstantin was the only Tarnished who had ended so many lives in such a short span. He was certainly the only one capable of absorbing and channeling runes into himself with such monstrous efficiency.
As for the Great Runes that constantly fed his power—keys to reshaping the Lands Between—they barely needed mentioning.
"I’ve been meaning to try a certain prayer, but I didn’t have enough casual energy to use it," the man said, seemingly to no one in particular.
"What… what are you talking about…"
Greyoll could barely comprehend what this unshakable creature before her was saying.
"Now I have enough," he continued, "and I feel like I can use it. I want to try helping you."
The ancient dragon would have laughed at such an absurd claim, but for a variety of reasons, she couldn’t. Greyoll did not believe help was possible for her.
The man’s expression shifted imperceptibly. He looked unusually thoughtful.
"The thing is," Konstantin mused, "I’ve started looking at ‘prayers’ and ‘spells’ differently. And my power… too."
With Millicent’s arrival, his lessons with Sellen had grown less frequent, but he had already grasped the core of casualness: visualization.
Wasn’t he doing this all along? His power was clearly different from that of typical casuals. Still, he had been unknowingly "visualizing" effects similar to theirs.
Without much thought about his actions, Konstantin had been practicing casualness successfully. But now, with strange thoughts intruding unbidden, he was beginning to see flaws in his approach.
To be honest, Konstantin felt like he was unexpectedly diving into cut lore and content, forming theories, and trying to connect dots that no one had planned to connect…
He was undergoing one of the most terrifying transformations in the Soulslike community: awakening the seeds of a great and terrible lore scholar. The kind whose hours-long breakdowns of meaningless armor set descriptions captivated casuals, tryhards, and even those who’d glitched through boundaries to emerge from the basement, those who Must-Not-Turn-On-The-Timer.
Even those unfamiliar with Soulslikes had heard of these sages and, before they knew it, found themselves absorbed into the community. They became part of the endless attempts, oceans of suffering, triumphs, and challenges.
Was there ever any doubt about the inherently horrifying nature of lore scholars?
"I don’t understand…"
"In Soulslikes, that’s normal," Konstantin replied evenly. "Are you ready to take a risk?"
Let’s just say Konstantin, a veteran of bleed and frostbite builds who also dabbled in… farming, felt a twinge of guilt toward the dragoness.
Greyoll bared her teeth weakly at the Tarnished’s question.
Risk?
Her entire existence was agony. She understood that even if she died, her suffering might continue in some form. The rotting Golden Order, with no room for Destined Death, would not allow her to fully escape.
The offer from this being cloaked in a human guise was laughable.
Greyoll locked her weary gaze on his calm gray eyes. She saw in them a faint light—not the repugnant glow of gold, but something warmer, more natural.
"Yes…"
Neither Melina nor Sellen could fully grasp what Konstantin intended. They suspected he planned to use his power somehow, but how exactly…
They were about to find out.
Konstantin nodded and smiled. Then, beneath him, a glowing triangle covered in radiant circles appeared. He spread his arms, raising his left hand while lowering his right(5).
Melina’s heart skipped a beat.
Konstantin invoked the Law of Regression, a creation of Radagon.
He couldn’t say he agreed with the "law," which symbolized the stagnation of the Golden Order. Yet he could still use it. While regression was not inherently good in a broader sense, there were moments when it could prove useful.
After all, who doesn’t long to recall times when the pain wasn’t there?
Konstantin believed that the Law of Regression, as he understood it, could help bring such memories to life.
Fortunately, he needed no catalysts(6).
A wave of light engulfed both him and the dragoness, washing over her massive form before dissipating.
At first, Konstantin frowned, disappointed by the lack of visible effects. But then he heard a low growl from Greyoll. It started quietly, then grew louder and louder.
Of course, Greyoll recognized the fundamental prayer of the Golden Order. An ancient dragon like her couldn’t not recognize it. And the fact that it had been used on her filled her with a fury so intense she could barely contain it.
The pain made her lift her enormous head, glaring down at the unflinching man from above.
And then she realized what she had done.
"What?"
Konstantin, seeing the results, suddenly raised his hands to the Sun and shouted:
"Praise the Sun!!!"
Greyoll, too weak to hold up her massive body, lowered her neck, staring incredulously at the being whose form was now bathed in energy resembling forsaken gold, yet distinct from it.
Energy beyond the reach of mortals.
Lowering his hands, Konstantin met the dragon’s now much livelier gaze.
"I’ll come back occasionally and repeat the process until you can fly again. The casual principle is too draining to use frequently. Think of it as my way of compensating for all the runes I farmed…"
He seemed slightly uncomfortable—just the faintest bit. Of course, neither Melina, Sellen, nor Greyoll could understand his words.
The great dragoness slowly closed her eyes, the corners of her massive mouth curving upward slightly. Perhaps it was the relief of feeling better for the first time in ages—or perhaps the sheer absurdity of the situation.
"Fortissax… may have been… right(7)..."
Soon, a somewhat battered but triumphant Millicent returned from the fort, carrying the other half of the medallion they needed.
Now it was complete.
Their journey continued. Slowly but surely, they made their way toward the site of the promised Festival of War, clearing out everything in their path.
The Starry Wastes had not known such silence in ages. The countless rot-afflicted creatures, once so confident in their dominion over the land, now fled at the sight of this unstoppable force. A king had come to reclaim his domain.
Millicent, however, saw things quite differently.
The cursed girl had never received so much care and attention in her life. Konstantin supported her in battle, let her finish off foes, and even allowed her to rest at night, knowing he would watch over her. As if that weren’t enough, he lavished her with gifts: beautiful clothes and ornaments she could never have dreamed of owning.
Sometimes, Konstantin would disappear briefly but always return with something new.
And every time she woke, she felt just a little better. Her body felt lighter, her wounds healed faster.
She knew he was trying to help with her affliction, and that knowledge filled her with a happiness she had never known. Even if his efforts ultimately failed, Millicent felt she owed him her life—and beyond.
There was just one downside. A downside that, had Melina heard it, would have made her choke with indignation.
Millicent was far too shy to handle such attention.
Naturally timid and quiet, cursed with rot from birth, she had never seen herself as someone who could attract anyone’s notice.
The attention she now received exceeded even her wildest dreams.
After all, what warrior wouldn’t dream of finding someone to fight rot-ridden monsters alongside?
The more Millicent traveled with Konstantin, the more she realized that they were never truly alone. This didn’t upset her—she had already received so much. Instead, it made her curious. The more she learned about the man, the more questions she wanted to ask.
Soon, her curiosity was satisfied.
“Have you found out why you can’t cure her completely?” Melina’s soft voice drew Konstantin out of the sea of thoughts swirling in his head.
Millicent was asleep nearby, not far from the campfire.
“I have a theory,” he replied.
For some reason, despite all his power, he couldn’t fully heal her. The rot seemed to have integrated itself into her being. As for fully restoring her arm, that was an even more distant prospect.
Melina wasn’t surprised by his thoughtful response. She carefully sat beside him and removed her hood.
“You’re very gentle with her.”
What surprised her more was how quiet the Starry Wastes had become. Normally, the air was filled with the screeches and groans of rot-afflicted creatures. Now, even the sky seemed strangely clear—Konstantin’s aim was too precise.
The man shrugged. “It seems like Millicent needs it more than most.”
Though his reply sounded composed, Melina could hear a warmth in his voice that hadn’t been there before. She wondered how things might have unfolded if she had met this version of the Tarnished from the very beginning.
It would’ve been boring, no doubt.
Strangely enough, Millicent didn’t evoke any negative emotions in Melina. If anything, she felt pity and, on rare occasions, a slightly irritating fondness. Cuteness was a weapon too unfair to wield, whether against men or women.
“You’re getting closer to your goal,” Melina murmured. “You’ve surpassed every expectation I had, even in my boldest dreams, Konstantin. You’ve become a symbol of hope for me. But please, don’t forget to be careful.”
Melina dreaded the upcoming clash between the terrifying demigod and her chosen Tarnished. A demigod who commanded the stars.
The Lands Between might be a mythical place, but it rarely bent to ordinary logic. It was steeped in the otherworldly.
She hadn’t expected to admit as much, even to herself. Luckily, unlike Millicent, Melina wasn’t timid—she simply had… issues with communication.
As long as Konstantin sat upon the throne, she could believe that the mysterious Outer God wouldn’t accomplish anything catastrophic. The thought was so absurd that, coming from anyone else, Melina might have regarded them with cold disdain.
Konstantin pondered her words briefly, then allowed himself a smile as he met the gaze of, perhaps, one of the best waifus.
“I already told you—I won’t let you die, Meli-Meli.”
“I asked you not to call me that…” Melina sighed wearily.
Still, it didn’t take long for her to forget the silliness. Her heart warmed at the thought that he remembered his promise to save her, no matter how fantastical it sounded. Then again, Konstantin had already performed so many miracles that… maybe…
Melina clenched the ring on her hand.
Yet she knew better than to lose herself in dreams. In a way, such thoughts frightened her: she had devoted her existence to a singular purpose. She didn’t know what she would do if that purpose ceased to exist.
“I have… a question. The Goddess and Queen Marika… to you, what is she…”
Konstantin interrupted her by unexpectedly grabbing her hands. Melina, startled, nearly dissolved into spectral intangibility. She was about to ask why he had touched her scarred, burned hands so suddenly, but then…
Warmth.
His hands faintly glowed as a living heat began to seep into her body.
For a brief moment, Melina understood why Fia, the companion of the dead, had such a… visceral reaction to the warmth she drew from men.
The warmth was so tender, so soothing, so overwhelming that the spectral maiden, entirely unused to such sensations, stupidly opened her mouth, her eyes misting from sheer bliss.
Konstantin’s energy was too warm, too gentle, too potent. It was utterly unlike the cold, alien power of sorcerers.
“It’s working…”
The Tarnished’s voice snapped her out of her uncharacteristically… improper state. Realizing what he meant, Melina looked down at her hands. The burns had faded slightly.
Konstantin, caught up in the mechanics and theories of his newfound ability, finally glanced at her. He froze.
Breathless, her face flushed, her misty eyes wide open, and her accursed eye glowing faintly—Melina locked gazes with him before letting out a high, indescribable sound and vanishing into intangibility.
“I was curious…” Konstantin muttered to himself.
Sellen’s loud voice pulled him from his thoughts. “I must say, I’m intrigued…”
He turned toward Millicent, who was staring wide-eyed at the miniature sorceress perched on her shoulder, too stunned to speak.
For the first time in ages, Konstantin, lost in his experiments and theories, had let his guard down.
But judging by the situation, it could’ve been far worse.
Not long after, they reached the Redmane Castle—the gathering place for warriors and sorcerers across the Lands Between who were brave enough to challenge a mad demigod.
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(1) This is the term that was used in the original to describe dragons. I am unsure what is the correct translation is so for now I will keep it as is until I hear from the author.
(2) Dragons in the Lands Between are numerous. Far too numerous. Despite minor distinctions among individual units, for the most part, every dragon encounter feels like a repeat of the same enemy. Their movesets, behavior, and combat tactics don’t change. A vast majority of players, having defeated one dragon, simply choose to ignore the rest.
(3) Greyoll can be killed in two ways: by slaying the dragon herself or by eliminating the dragons guarding her. For each guardian dragon slain, a portion of Greyoll’s health bar depletes.
(4) In the game, there are "Dragon Incantations" that can be acquired in exchange for the hearts of defeated dragons.
(5) The incantation that removes all accumulating negative effects can be learned from Brother Corhyn or Miriel, Pastor of Vows, if you hand them the Golden Order Principia prayer book.
(6) To use incantations or sorceries, catalysts are required.
(7) Fortissax is an ancient dragon defeated by Godwyn the Golden, Marika’s firstborn, who later became his close friend. Fortissax remained loyal to Godwyn, even in death.
