Darkscythe Drake
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Rise, Ye Tarnished Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2025-09-20 18:16:25 +0000 UTC“Umm… not to burst your bubble, but are you sure this is safe?” Issei asked.
Motohama scoffed and tapped the notebook with his pen. “I’m telling you, there’s nothing to be scared of. Everyone at school uses the clearing on the west side of the forest; this is the east side. Nobody comes here except me. Besides, better somewhere with open space than inside a building where the roof can collapse on our heads anytime soon, right?”
Issei nodded, though he kept glancing between the trees. “I’m not saying this is a bad place, but…”
“What’s wrong?” his friend asked, raising an eyebrow. “Getting cold feet?”
He looked down at his arm before sighing. “A little. I mean, I woke up today kinda hoping this was a really shitty dream.”
Motohama’s eyebrow twitched, and the pen in his hand trembled. “Dude, this is the single greatest moment of our lives! Our gateway to the paradise we and every basement-dwelling chuuni always dreamed of. I know for a fact you would’ve enacted every scene in shonen anime by now. What’s different this time?”
Now, Issei didn’t mind his friend’s enthusiasm; if anything, it provided a little boost of self-assurance. And in general, Motohama was right. There was still a part of his brain nerdgasming at the fact that he was fulfilling one of his childhood dreams and was ready to pounce on it with the experience of a seasoned gamer. Unfortunately, one dark cloud overshadowed all those excited thoughts.
“I nearly died.”
Even as he said the words, his hand instinctively reached for his neck. He could still feel the…devil’s crushing grip. If it wasn’t for his sudden twist of fate, that would’ve been the end of it. Left to die (hell, the guy said he was going to eat him) in some abandoned alley, with no one to find out why.
These powers awakening at the brink of death…not a pleasant implication.
‘Huh, guess anime protagonists get over that shock of dying before getting isekai’d. I sure hope that happens soon,’ he thought sardonically.
Motohama’s eyes widened as his face flashed pale. “Oh...oh shit, you’re right. Sorry, bro.” He bit his lip before speaking in a reassuring tone, albeit a hesitant one. “H-Hey, I know this looks scary, but think of the positives. Like, you can do magic now! Real magic! You said yourself the bastard got his just desserts because of that. Imagine what else you could do!”
Issei shrugged, though his lips were in a tug-of-war between up and down, matching the turbulent thoughts in his head. “If you say so. How do you wanna do this?”
“Hmm, well, I was thinking we’d go over what we know and work our way upwards,” he said, toying with the notebook in his hands. “For now, bring out the seal and the dragon.”
Nodding, Issei clenched his fists, and the weapons appeared on his arms. Despite everything he’d said, the sight of the Grafted Dragon brought a massive smile to his face.
“Okay, try giving it a few swings. It’s a Fist-type weapon, so I’m not expecting much from simple attacks.”
Steeling himself, cocked back his fist and began punching the air. The first swing caused him to stumble and nearly fall over from the sheer force, eliciting a chuckle from Motohama, who failed to maintain an innocent expression when Issei glared at him.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”
“You try and swing this thing around, it’s not exactly a sweatband!” he snapped.
“Yeah, yeah, you suck at exercising, we all know that. You’re gonna have to change that now, so hop to it!”
Issei pouted but nonetheless complied. ‘I know I’m not fucking Matsuda or that freak of nature Kiba, but I don’t suck that much, do I? It’s not like I’m failing gym…but the coach always gives us dirty looks. Wait, I think that’s because of the peeping. Maybe I should ask Matsuda for advice…but in disguise? He always says how girls with huge honkers like buff guys. If I tell him I’ve seen the light, he’ll gladly jump in to help after rubbing it in my face.’
Finally, Issei stopped swinging and hunched over, panting his life out as the sudden loss of breath hit him. He glanced at his friend, who was gaping in open shock.
“Holy…Issei, how did you do that?”
“Do…do what?”
“That!” he exclaimed, gesturing at him. “All of a sudden, you started pulling out all those weird wrestling moves! I tried grabbing your attention, but you were totally zoned out!”
Picking himself up, Issei raised an eyebrow at his friend as he panted. “What the hell are you on about? I was swinging the thing like you asked me to.”
“Swinging is what your little stumble was. After that, it was like…” Motohama pushed up his glasses and bit back a curse. “I knew I should have recorded this on my phone! But no, we can’t have the government finding evidence! Screw that, we’re witnessing history! Next time, I’m getting proper recording equipment and we'll document everything!” He inhaled sharply and pointed a finger. “Do it again!”
Holding back a sigh, Issei cocked back his fist and began punching. Yet after his third punch (could it be even called a punch with a weapon like this?), he noticed something unusual about his movements. A sloppy punch sharpened, and his shaky right hook didn’t throw him off his feet. His stance felt grounded, and the same calm from the day before swept over him, despite the alarm bells in his head ringing like crazy. Finally, he drew back his fist and thrust it forward. The dragon’s maw snapped open the moment his arm straightened, bathing the air in roaring fire. The flames billowed in the air for a few moments before dispersing, leaving nothing but embers and the dragon’s lingering growl.
Issei blinked, still with his arm outstretched, as the full sequence of the moves he pulled off played back in his head. His jaw dropped, reeling from shock, and he slowly lowered his gaze to his feet, which were locked in a ready stance straight from every martial arts anime he’d watched.
“...shit, you’re right,” he said quietly. “But-how- I never took martial arts classes! I don’t know the first thing about fighting outside of TV and games!”
After picking his own jaw up, Motohama furiously returned to scribbling down notes. “Definitely a zone moment, it was like a trance…come to think of it, I’ve seen some of those moves before.”
“Really? Where?”
“From the game, where else? I’ve used the Grafted Dragon for a short while before moving on to infinitely better weapons-”
“HEY!”
“But Fist-type weapons have a distinct moveset, and some of the punches you just threw looked exactly like the ones in the game.”
“Huh, for real?” Issei asked and gaped at his arm. “So...even though I’ve never used something like this in real life, I can do it now? That’s…useful.”
“An understatement, my friend,” Motohama said. “It’d be a huge pain in the ass to learn how to use a severed dragon’s head like a boxing glove…that’s a sentence I never thought I’d use in real life.”
Even as he tried to settle into an idle stance, Issei could feel the phantom sensations gently guiding his arm to where it was supposed to be.
‘Creepy…it’s almost an autopilot jammed into my body.’
Motohama hummed and tapped his notebook again, his glasses glinting in the sunlight. “Okay, I think I have an idea of what’s going on, but I want to run some tests. Can you swap to your sword?”
“Sure thing,” Issei replied, and the dragon vanished in the blink of an eye before his fist closed around his broadsword. “Let me guess, you want me to start swinging?”
“Should we add mind-reading to your list of skills? I don’t think that’s in any scroll or prayerbook in Elden Ring.”
“Ha ha, ease up, king of comedy,” Issei retorted. He then repeated what he had done with the fist-type weapon, only this time he tried swinging the sword around like he was in an action movie. It sucked at first, and he was sure that if the kendo club saw what he was doing, they’d thrash his ass for the mockery alone.
But soon, those strange pushes and pulls on his limbs returned, correcting his form and filling within him an air of…certainty? At one point, he even grasped the sword with two hands and spun around in a wild slash. He kept going until his body could no longer keep up, out of breath and staring at the sword with ever-growing bewilderment.
“I think I’m starting to see the full picture,” Motohama said, his voice holding back some awe.
Gulping, Issei was quick to nod in agreement. The blade’s rippling metal reflected his eyes, now rimmed with gold. Swordplay, much less western swordplay, was yet another skill he’d never considered learning in real life, and now he could apparently do it.
“Switching to two-handed midway…makes sense. Forget the fact you can two-hand any weapon in the game, it’s still a sword.” Tapping his lip with his pen, Motohama hummed. “Do you have any other weapons in your inventory?”
“A lot, actually. Every chest and drop I got from enemies.”
“Try and tag into…you went through Stormveil? Then Rogier’s Rapier. It’s a thrusting sword, so it’ll have a brand new moveset.”
“The rapier? I used it a couple of times for the skill, but I didn’t like the moveset. I like slashing better. But we might as well try.” Closing his eyes, Issei imagined the rapier tagging into his hands.
“…um, dude? Are you constipated?”
“I’m trying here!” Issei shouted, still trying to imagine the weapon in his fist. But no matter how much he tried, the weight in his fist didn’t change. When he opened his eyes, the broadsword was still there.
“Okay, we’ve met our first stumbling block,” Motohama said cautiously. “Wait up.” He pulled out his phone and showed Issei a picture of the rapier in-game. “Maybe you need a reminder. You did say you haven’t used the weapon in a while.”
Issei took a few seconds to absorb the image before trying again. Alas, nothing changed, and the pointy sword was nowhere to be seen.
“Hmm, this is interesting,” Motohama muttered and began pacing back and forth. Leaves rustled under his footsteps, and only the trees witnessed their pondering. “You can’t summon the rapier…any other weapons?”
Taking a deep breath, Issei tried calling on every weapon he remembered collecting. A limited number, considering his progress in the game was limited to everything south of Stormveil and west of Caelid, but nothing worked. A mace, a twinblade, even a simple dagger he remembered looting off a random corpse didn’t work.
“Nope,” he grumbled in frustration. “Just these three and the shield from yesterday.”
“And what’s so special about them?” Motohama asked, having resumed his note-taking. “I mean, the Grafted Dragon is a Legendary Weapon, and the Godslayer Seal is unique enough, so it would make sense they’d be special, but the Brass Shield and the sword are items you can easily loot off soldiers in Limgrave with a little grinding. And it’s not Ashes of War; you used Barricade Shield.”
Humming, Issei unsummoned the sword and began to fiddle with the Godslayer Seal strapped to his left hand. The intricate stone carvings on its surface proved a nice yet small focus as he dwelled on the answer, before he recalled something. Namely, his status screen from the game.
“Hey, Motohama…” Issei began. “These weapons: the dragon, the seal, all of them…they’re in my current loadout. So what if-”
“You can only summon what’s in your equipment loadout in the game right now.” Motohama finished, his eyes threatening to pop from behind his glasses, and he quickly scribbled another note. “Shit, why didn’t I think of this sooner? If that is true, then there’s a limit to what you can do…what spells do you have equipped right now?”
“My spells?” Issei furrowed his brow and rubbed his chin. “Urgent Heal, Black Flame and…Dragonfire,” he trailed off.
A gust of wind blew past them as the final word sank in and lodged a stone in their stomach.
“...yeah, let’s put a pin on that,” Motohama hurriedly said, and Issei was quick to nod. No matter how much it’d be awesome to summon a dragon’s head that spews raging hellfire, the catch was…it was a giant dragon’s head spewing raging hellfire. In a grove. With flammable trees and grass all around them.
A forest fire was the last thing he wanted to start today.
“Right, but we can try the other two!” the superpowered teenager followed up. “If this place is as safe as you said, we should be fine!”
Motohama stared at him, then at his seal, before shrugging. “Eh, why not? Say, are you wounded?”
“No. Why?”
“Unless you wanna cut yourself, there’s no point in trying Urgent Heal other than pretty lights. That leaves us with Black Flame.” He bit his lip. “It’s risky, but worth a shot. What do you think?”
Issei hummed and stared at his left arm. “Well, this is the Godslayer Seal. Seems kinda poetic, no?” And a fireball sounded cooler than a golden light show. “Where do you want me to throw it?”
“Um, try holding it in your hand, maybe? In Elden Ring, you can’t normally cancel spells, but after seeing you wield weapons with a level a skill you’ve no business possessing, I want to test something else. If not, aim at the ground, away from the trees—and me, please.”
“Alright.” Issei raised his left arm high and concentrated on the seal. Admittedly, he had no idea what he was doing.
‘Maybe it works more like the game than I thought it would? There’s a spell slot, I have a seal, so that only leaves pressing the button.’
But nothing happened. And from the way Motohama was staring at him, he was looking more and more like an idiot with each second.
‘Come on, work! Flame on! Abracadabra! Black Flame, activate! Is there even a magic word? Is there a gesture? Do I need to praise the sun?’ He glared at the seal as if it held all the answers to his problems. ‘Come on, how do I even use this -’
Darkness.
War.
Decay.
False ones, conquerors, thieves.
Servants of flesh, receive my blessing. Draw thy blades and hone thy bodies. Seek bound Death so I may bind it to my essence.
The gloam comes for thy eternal sun, and I am its monarch, fair and sharp with eyes of the abyss.
O Golden Queen, your Order cannot stand. Transcendent, you and your divine kin stand above all.
But know this, herald of Order:
Even gods can burn.
Heat flashed through his arm. A rumble filled the air, and just as Isse’s hand twitched, a roaring black flame erupted from his hand. It writhing abyssal flames cast no shadows, yet heat warped the air, and its white heart seemed to swallow the light around it. He’d seen normal fire before, but this…this wasn’t normal fire colored black like in that chemistry lab he took. Nothing burned, but it kept pulsating and growing. It was almost…hungry. Devouring every atom of oxygen around him and throbbing like a heart in his hand.
“I’m seeing Black Flame in real life…” whispered a trembling Motohama, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes and his notebook threatening to fall out of his hand. “That’s it, I can die happy now.”
The fire danced over Issei’s palm, coalescing and blazing with an eerie howl. The teen stood transfixed at the sight, the wonder of actual magic captivating him. Then, a flash of heat ran down his arm. Panic blasted through any wonderment as the fireball pulsated in time with his thundering heart.
“Shit, this thing’s gonna blow!” Issei exclaimed, snapping Motohama out of his own stupor.
“Cancel it or throw it!” Motohama barked, running behind the treeline.
Issei tried to splay his palm open, thinking it would cancel the fireball, but it availed to nothing as the black flames grew hotter with each second. “Uh, disperse! Cancel! Stop!”
The flame shrank, retracting its tendrils -
And exploded in Issei’s palm.
“AAAHH!”
Issei fell to the ground, clutching his hand as his body wracked with pain. He’d once burned his hand on the stove by accident, but this was on another level!
“Oh fuck - Issei!” He heard footsteps and a hand pressed against his back. “You okay, dude? What’s the damage?”
Hissing, Issei slowly looked down at the pained limb. Searing red marks marred his palm, and the sight of peeled skin brought bile to the back of his throat. The Godslayer Seal was undamaged; not even the rope tying it to his hand had burned.
Motohama swore up and down. He looked around desperately, but never letting go of Issei. “The street’s not far. We just need to walk it, and I can call 119, so hang in there -”
“Wait!”
His friend sharply turned to him, bewildered as Issei slowly pushed himself up. He panted heavily and his arm throbbed like a balloon, but a numbness had fallen over him. “I-I’m fine, it’s nothing.”
True enough, the pain was fading rapidly. Far too rapidly to be normal. But it still hurt, and his skin was very much damaged.
“A fireball exploded in your hand, Issei. Of course you’re not feeling anything!” Motohama exclaimed, turning green as he stared at Issei’s burnt arm.
…he had a point. But despite the grotesque sight and the odour of burnt flesh, the searing pain had morphed into a dull tingle. And thanks to the absence of pain, a thought bloomed in his mind. If Motohama’s theory was correct…
“...I’m going to use Urgent Heal. Looks like I didn’t have to cut myself after all,” Issei said, moving out of Motohama’s grip. An absurd chuckle escaped his lips; a cut would’ve been far less dramatic compared to what had happened. “So… should I?”
Motohama’s jaw dropped again as he looked at him like he was nuts. He opened his mouth to argue, but only a single, choked whisper escaped before he forced his jaw shut. His next words were hesitant, even fearful.
“I mean…if you think it could help, then go ahead.”
Giving his friend a shaky nod, Issei winced as he clenched his left fist again. This time, he tried to imagine the image of the golden orb of Urgent Heal. He hadn’t used the spell much in the game, even during the beginning when he had no offensive spells, but he always appreciated it when the circumstances came up.
‘A good heal would be nice right about now, so please, whatever’s causing this, work!’
Another tingle ran up his arm, and he felt himself slightly crouch. The aching pressure from his bruns suddenly spiked and -
Thy duty awaits, Tarnished. Let no wound or scar impede thee. So sayeth the messengers of the Will.
A bright flash radiated from the Seal, and golden script shone beneath his feet. A surge of warmth radiated throughout his body, a far cry from the ravenous hunger the Black Flames displayed. Immediately, flesh began to knit itself before his eyes. The previous numbness morphed into a pleasant tingle, and in a few seconds flat, the burns on his palm had vanished completely, with only faint marks to indicate that his mishap had even occurred.
“Whoa…” Motohama leaned in closer and examined his hand. “I will never diss healing spells again.”
“You and me both,” Issei muttered. “That was a close one. I don’t think I could’ve explained those burns to Mom and Dad.”
“Good point,” Motohama nodded, his eyes lingering on the Godslayer Seal. Issei felt him shudder, and he slowed, thinking Motohama was crying. But the growing smile on his friend’s face dashed those concerns.
“Is something funny?”
Motohama threw back his head and laughed, nearly throwing his glasses off. “This is fucking amazing! We saw real magic! From Elden Ring! The greatest game in history, and you’re casting spells straight from it!”
Issei rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. “I know, you said that before. What, the Grafted Dragon and the sword didn’t count?”
“No! Er, yes, but - you know what I mean!” He then shoved his face into Issei’s with a gleam in his eyes bordering on manic. “I’ve been putting this off, but do you think I could get powers like you did? I’d burn every magazine and figurine I’ve collected if it meant I could cast Haima’s Gavel! I’ll respec my whole build to do it!”
“Whoa, first, personal space, dude!” Issei cried out as he pushed his friend away. “Second, in case you forgot, I nearly died when I got these powers, and we still don’t know how I got them exactly!”
Flipping through his notebook, Motohama muttered to himself with the speed of a bullet train before he perked up. “I’ve got an idea! It’s crazy, but if it works, it’ll be worth it!”
Issei raised an eyebrow. “I’m already not liking it. What’d you have in mind?”
“Try to kill me!”
Cicadas chirped in the background, and a gust of wind shook the trees behind them.
“You’re joking,” Issei deadpanned.
“I’m serious, bro!” Motohama flipped to a page and pointed to a sentence circled in blue. “It makes total sense! It’s how it goes in isekai anime, and that’s what happened to you! If we can replicate what the devil did to you, then maybe -”
“Motohama, I nearly died!” Issei shouted, slapping his forehead. “Are you even listening to yourself? There’s no try. If I hurt you, and it doesn’t work, you’ll die! There’s no way in hell I’d do that!”
“You can use healing incantations! If it does go wrong, you can always-” Motohama cut himself off, his face twisting. “...No. No! You’re right, this is crazy! What the fuck was I thinking? …But it’s magic, man. Surely you get me, right?”
A chill swept through Issei as he rubbed his neck. He recalled the devil taunting him with wicked eyes, his grasp so tight he almost broke Issei’s spine.
“Trust me, no matter how cool you think this is, dying is the last thing you want to do to get it. You know what I saw as the bastard choked the life out of me?” he hissed. “Nothing. No goddess coming to reward me, no shinigami, no gates to hell or heaven - nothing but darkness. I won’t forgive myself if we try this and you end up there because we were stupid.”
That’s a lie. You saw the tombs. The coffins. The grace of gold.
But Issei couldn’t tell him that.
‘I don’t know if it's a fluke or anything else…but this is not something I want him to dig into. My heart stops beating just by thinking about that place.’
Motohama blanched and quickly nodded. “Ok, you’ve made your point. No recreating a truck-kun experience.” After a few seconds, he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Sorry, man, I got a little too excited.”
“It’s fine. We shouldn’t rush this too much. Maybe if we keep studying this, we could figure out if you can get Elden Ring powers too,” Issei suggested. “Then we can spill the beans to Matsuda!”
“And when he asks why we didn’t tell him, we’ve got the perfect excuse!” Motohama’s grin returned. “I’m game!” The two high-fived each other and laughed, the previous tension being quickly forgotten. Issei was glad for that; Motohama was a true friend for helping him with this, and he owed him big-time. Offering a little hope was the least he could do.
“Should we test anything else?”
Motohama paused and tilted his head. “Hmm, just one thing for now. You know how in anime like SAO and those LitRPG comics, the characters can see their status and equipment menus? Try to summon one.”
Issei blinked in surprise; he’d read many of those LitRPGs (both light novels and manga, naturally) and was familiar with the trope. Could it really be that easy?
He cleared his throat. “Status.”
Nothing.
“Um, open menu? Open inventory? Access menu? Check status?”
The view in front of him remained unchanged. Only trees and the odd bug fluttering in the shadows.
“Well, it was worth a shot,” Motohama sighed and rubbed his chin. “So your loadout is stuck to the one in your game…that’s a twist.”
“If that’s true, maybe if I change my loadout in the game-”
“It’ll affect the loadout in the real world,” Motohama finished, then grimaced. “Kinda inconvenient, don’t you think?”
Issei shrugged. “I agree, but if that’s how this works, then what can we do?”
His friend smacked his fist on his notebook. “We head back to your house, equip something small, like a dagger, to your character, then we see if you can summon it. While we’re there, we’ll see if you can use items too.”
Issei perked up. Items! Of course! Wait, he already had some items in the game, including a pair he never left without, so could he…
He stared at his right arm and focused, imagining a particular item that every fantasy game player hailed and scrambled for salvation. In a flash of golden light, a fairly large vial appeared in his open palm. It was as heavy as a full water bottle, inlaid with golden carvings surrounding the sloshing red liquid within.
“YES!” Issei yelled in triumph, lifting the vial upwards to the heavens. “One Flask of Crimson Tears successfully summoned!”
Motohama laughed at his friend’s joy and observed it closely. “Guess that answers that question!”
Issei beamed and goggled at the flask. The light within faintly bathed his palm red, and a warmth similar to Urgent Healing heated his hand.
“Come on, let’s get out of here! We need to see what else we can do! The world’s our oyster, dude! Let’s not be total NEETs and waste it!”
Issei giggled, excitement radiating from his gold-rimmed eyes. With a mental push, he unsummoned the flask and the Seal before bounding after his bespectacled friend.
‘Maybe this won’t be such a bummer after all!’
-x-
“...this accursed Gremory territory. A fucking shithole…how much longer will I need to stay here?”
Water dripped from leaking pipes. The stench of sewage permeated the air. In the dark, hidden among ruined furniture and grime, a hideous form shifted. Concrete shrieked under talons, and baleful red eyes glared at the sunlight streaming from the door. Once, they would have basked in the sun, enjoying its radiance and all under it. A simple life, one so distant it might as well belong to another person.
A life that was changed when temptation came knocking, garbed in inhuman beauty and batlike wings. An offer was made, and how could they resist when they heard the terms? Riches, power, pleasure, the world in their palm of their hand. All in exchange for servitude.
They made the choice and never looked back. Only, as decades passed, resentment stirred in their chest as the true relevance of their position became clear. A showpony, an ornament, and a useful thug in their colosseums. At first, they didn’t mind too much. Fighting was a showcase of power, and life’s joys always followed power. But the master didn’t like it when her tools grasped beyond their “station”. She gave them a warning, just one. She had thought it enough. The burning whip, lashed upon their back a hundred times, was deemed a sufficient warning.
Enraged, they stewed in silence. Watching as their master collected and discarded slaves like the chess pieces they were so named after. Only her Queen was exempt, and she partook in her master’s sadism and indifference toward their comrades’ fates. It was hard to tell which one boiled their blood more.
Finally, after a pass at a devil their master had eyes on - a mere flirt and dance, nothing more - their fate was decided. Such impudence could not be allowed before the scion of a Devil Pillar. So the penalty was clear: their powers drained, and their souls snuffed out.
So they escaped, fighting through those who’d dare stop them. Hiding in the human world, under a sun that scorned their presence. Their body, once statuesque and carved by rivers of blood and sweat, deformed into a monstrosity. And just their luck, they were in the territory of an even more powerful pillar, one who had risen in the Underworld and not fallen into shadow.
“When can I eat? If I go out, they’ll see me. I need to lie low until I can head north. Mt. Yotei is supposed to be no man’s land for the devils.” Their belly rumbled, echoing in the damp warehouse, and they hissed at it. “But I can’t move! I need food! Just one bite and I can-”
Then, the smell came. One so potent it froze them solid.
“...such power…not holy, not even demonic…” they sniffed the air. “But the purity! I’ve never felt anything like this! And human too! Unclaimed!”
For the first time in years, a true grin broke out, filled with jagged, sharp teeth.
“If I could eat that…no more hiding! I will return and have my vengeance on that whore! Here and down in that pit they call a world!”
Metal groaned as they rose, flexing their power. They had to nab it before the guardians of the territory came, and then, no one could stop them!
No one!
No one!
“Hope you enjoyed that power, human…you won’t be for long.”
