42. In the Name of Salvation (4)

Leyndell, Royal Capital.

This place had once been where the Erdtree's blessing was thickest, and beyond the city, the Altus Plateau had been breathtakingly beautiful before the Elden Ring shattered. Whenever a breeze blew, the golden-glimmering wild grass would stir gently, swaying together with the towering trees.

Back then, people could live for a very long time. They did not need to worry about death, did not need to worry about anything—they were the people blessed by the Erdtree, the favored ones who had received divine grace.

But—

The Ring shattered, and a war soon rose in its wake. The demigods began slaughtering one another, and all The Lands Between was plunged into the flames of war, which even reached the foot of the royal capital for a time.

A sigh sounded from a corner of the royal capital. The mutant who had once fought Angron slowly rose from his chair, reached out, and plucked a withered yellow leaf that had fallen from the sky. Around him stood many chairs of unequal size.

He gazed at the fallen leaf with sorrowful eyes. After grace had gone, even the trees were no longer full of life—much less people.

The golden people were slowly rotting—they were still alive, for that was the blessing of the tree, but they were rotting from within. Even he, Morgott, the last king, could not reverse it.

This renowned king, whom very few had ever seen, was not as tall and imposing as the legends made him out to be.

He was indeed very tall, but his appearance was like that of an evil spirit. Twisted, savage horns jutted messily from his head, and the skin of his body was gray like broken stone. He was tall, yet all skin and bones, with a long tail hanging