Fia under attack

"I said," the Tarnished enunciated, "I. Do. Not. Trust. You!"

Gideon Ofnir acted as though he had heard nothing and continued talking. "As a show of sincerity, I'll give you a piece of intelligence for free. Stormveil's recruitment in Liurnia has already provoked the displeasure of the Raya Lucaria Academy. Those arrogant sorcerers believe you have plundered their property and encroached on their interests. They are preparing to retaliate against Stormveil."

The Tarnished frowned. "When did I plunder their property?"

Gideon Ofnir gave a single answer. "Albinaurics."

"The Albinaurics I recruited were all wild... living out in the wild..."

"That may be so, but as artificial life-forms, Albinaurics have never had any right to freedom." Gideon Ofnir shook his head. "The first generation is another matter; they were created by an ancient civilization. But the Second-Generation Albinaurics are the Academy's improved product. Those sorcerers have always regarded them as private property, taking them for experiments when needed and leaving them to fend for themselves in the wild when not. Recruiting Second-Generation Albinaurics is like taking things from the Academy's garbage bin. They may be garbage, but while the sorcerers can throw them away, you can't just take them."

"How do you know all this?" the Tarnished asked.

"I told you. I have the finest intelligence network in all the Lands Between."

"You planted informants in the Academy?"

"I have informants in every faction," Gideon Ofnir said. "I am the All-Knowing, and the All-Hearing as well."

"Got it." The Tarnished headed deeper into the Roundtable Hold, where the Great Epee was embedded.

Gideon Ofnir called after the Tarnished, "Work with me, Tarnished! The Academy has vast resources. Stormveil is no match for it. Only by joining forces with me will you have a chance of victory!"

The Tarnished neither looked back nor stopped walking. "My answer hasn't changed. I don't trust you."

Gideon Ofnir was furious. He had never imagined that a lack of credibility would one day leave him in such a predicament. He had already offered ample benefits. Were they really worth less than something as meaningless as trust?

Left with no other option, he called out one last time, "Come find me if you change your mind. My offer will always stand."

The Tarnished remained utterly unmoved.

Gideon Ofnir was still the same old Gideon Ofnir. He only wanted cooperation to preserve his own strength, then reap the rewards once the Tarnished and the Demigods had battered each other senseless. The same old schemer's playbook.

The Tarnished was no master strategist, but had particular strengths and a rhythm and pace of fighting to follow. There was no need to voluntarily play on someone else's home turf.

Their brief conversation ended there. The Tarnished retrieved the Great Epee left behind in the Roundtable Hold. While leaving, the Tarnished suddenly remembered Irina's request: the Medical Team needed more Prayer Catalysts. If memory served, the Roundtable Hold sold them.

Yes, sold them.

Even with the Elden Ring shattered, commerce was still thriving. Capitalism was simply too powerful.

As for the person selling the goods, "persons joined together" would have been more accurate.

Two withered old women knelt in a corner. They had been conjoined since birth, and who knew how many years they had lived? Even the muscles of their vocal cords had completely shriveled, leaving them capable of nothing but raspy wheezing.

They shared a single walking stick. A blanket lay before them, covered in all manner of merchandise: weapons, armor, and, naturally, the catalysts needed to cast Incantations.

The Tarnished had no idea where these goods came from. But handing the old women a "bell bearing" left by the dead allowed one to buy the deceased's possessions. Judging by that miraculous ability, this was probably another god's idea of a joke.

The Lands Between was like a piece of meat on a chopping board. It really attracted flies... gods.

The Tarnished picked through the merchandise and soon found the desired item: a little piece of iron that could hang from a finger. Just as sorcery required a Staff, Incantations required a "seal" like this.

[Finger Sacred Seal]: A Sacred Seal bestowed by a Finger Maiden, serving as a catalyst for Incantations. Its effectiveness is greatly diminished so that ordinary people can use it as well.

"How much?" the Tarnished asked.

"Eight... hundred..." the old woman answered in a dry rasp.

Not too expensive.

"How many do you have?" the Tarnished asked again.

"How... many... do... you... want...?"

"I'll take however many you have."

"I... have... as... many... as... you... want..."

"You... forget it." The Tarnished had no time to go around in circles. Leveling up had consumed 980,000 of the previous million runes, leaving 20,000. All of it went toward Finger Sacred Seals: 800 each, for a total of twenty-five.

With payment made and goods received, the Tarnished figured this was a decent place to source supplies. They had every kind of weapon and armor. Though all were basic models, they were more than sufficient to equip ordinary soldiers.

Hoping to build a good relationship, the Tarnished asked the old woman, "I'm the Tarnished. What should I call you?"

"...For... got..."

"Having no names makes conversation rather awkward. How about I give you some?"

"As... you... wish..."

With their consent secured, the Tarnished began thinking.

After a moment's thought, inspiration struck. "You're twins, and sisters too. How about Maple and Bell?"

The twin old women: "..."

"Don't like those?" the Tarnished continued. "How about Rem and Ram?"

"..."

"Chocola and Vanilla?"

"..."

"Eimi Fukada and Sora Shiina?"

"..."

"Xiao Xiyue and Xuanyuan Mingzhu?"

"The... first... ones... will... do..." The twin old women could take no more.

You make me revise it again and again, churn out a whole pile of options, and then ask for the first version?

Can all the clients in this world just drop dead?

The Tarnished rolled both eyes. "Fine. From now on, you're Maple and Bell."

After bidding Maple and Bell farewell, the Tarnished headed to the other side of the Roundtable Hold.

This was where Deathbed Companion Fia's former room stood. In the corridor outside was a forge, where a Misbegotten blacksmith hammered away all day, repairing and strengthening weapons for the Tarnished who came and went.

Misbegotten were despised. Gideon Ofnir had placed Fia's room next to the Misbegotten blacksmith because he considered them the same sort of thing. If the Misbegotten was farming equipment, Fia was riding equipment.

An educated man really was an educated man. He could insult people without a single swear word.

The Tarnished stood before the Misbegotten blacksmith, watching him hammer away at the anvil.

"Haven't seen you before." The Misbegotten blacksmith glanced at the Tarnished, then lowered his head again. "Doesn't matter. The work's the same regardless. Bring out your weapon. I'll strengthen it for you."

Instead of producing a weapon, the Tarnished offered an introduction. "I'm the Tarnished. And you?"

"Hewg. Hewg the blacksmith." His answer was flat, as though all his attention was focused on the repeated hammer strokes.

"Then, Mr. Hewg, would you come work for me in Stormveil? Rest assured, we'll pay you properly and provide food and other necessities. We'll also handle setting up the smithy. You'll have ample materials and a larger, more advanced forge."

"No," Hewg answered immediately.

"Why?"

"I'm a slave." Hewg rattled the chain around his ankle. "I must forge a weapon capable of slaying a god. That is the purpose of my existence, and the vow I made to Goddess Marika."

"You can forge weapons in Stormveil too."

"No. A god-slaying weapon can only be forged in the Roundtable Hold."

"I understand." The Tarnished did not push him further, settling for the next best thing. "If I need it, may I bring weapons here for you to strengthen?"

"Yes. Remember to bring your own Smithing Stones."

"Thank you."

The Tarnished left with a smile.

The Tarnished had known Hewg would be difficult to persuade. One attempt had proved that right.

The old blacksmith wanted to forge a god-slaying weapon. To fulfill that task, he had never taken a single step outside the Roundtable Hold, right up until his death.

As the Erdtree burned and the Two Fingers who had established the Roundtable Hold died, this place carved out of the void had crumbled too. Hewg had thought he would never fulfill his mission, unaware that he had long since forged a weapon capable of slaying a god.

Not a Greatsword, nor a giant hammer, nor a Club.

The god-slaying weapon Hewg had forged was the Tarnished!

That was how it had gone last time, and it would be the same this time.

But the Tarnished was still far too weak. Once stronger, once forged into that weapon capable of slaying a god, the Tarnished would come back for the old blacksmith.

With the Great Epee retrieved and enough Sacred Seals purchased, the Tarnished touched the enormous Site of Grace and teleported back to Stormveil.

Yet the moment the Tarnished returned, Rogier delivered bad news with a grave expression: "Fia's injured?"

The Tarnished frowned. "Did a villager attack her?" Fia's line of work was controversial, after all.

"No." Rogier shook his head and gave another startling answer. "She was attacked by the dead."

A Deathbed Companion had been attacked by the dead?

That was as absurd as Goddess Marika, bearer of the Elden Ring, smashing the Elden Ring herself... uh, since the Goddess had actually done that, a Deathbed Companion like Fia being attacked by the dead suddenly seemed fairly reasonable.

"Where is she?"

"With the Medical Team. Miss Irina is treating her."

"Come on. Let's go see her."

The Medical Team.

When the Tarnished and Rogier arrived, Irina happened to be coming out.

A certain Elden Lord who wished to remain anonymous shuddered instinctively, but still mustered the courage to ask, "How is Fia?"

Irina's cheeks reddened slightly too. "Fortunately, she was brought in promptly..."

The Tarnished's heart lurched. Was it that serious?

Then Irina continued, "Otherwise, the wound would have healed on its own."

The Tarnished: "..."

The Tarnished glanced at Rogier, and the spellsword gave an awkward smile.

"I just... got carried away worrying."

This is why simps never come to a good end!

The Tarnished inwardly roasted him, but this was Roger, after all. What else was there to do but indulge him?

Pushing open the door, the Tarnished found Fia calmly drinking Golden Sunflower tea, while D crouched in a corner, looking utterly lost and muttering to himself.

What was going on here?

Had Fia given in to her animal urges and forced herself on D?

Fia shook her head. "I didn't."

The Tarnished was startled. Holy shit, could the Deathbed Companion read minds too?

Fia shook her head again. "No. I'm simply rather good at guessing what men are thinking."

The Tarnished was speechless. You're having a conversation with my brain waves, and you still claim you can't read minds?!

"What's wrong with D?" Rogier asked.

He moved closer and heard D muttering in a daze, "I actually saved that witch, and did it without thinking. Have I already added her to the list of people I must protect? Impossible. Why would I protect a witch? This must be a dream. Yes, this must be a dream. Heh heh heh heh..."

Rogier: "..."

The Tarnished: "..."

Fia shrugged. "As you can see, D isn't physically injured. It's his heart that's wounded. Having protected a witch like me seems terribly difficult for an upright gentleman like him to accept."

Getting this confused over something like that... why was everyone around me such a weirdo?

Fia answered, "Probably because you're a weirdo too."

Hit right where it hurt, the Tarnished's mouth twitched twice before hastily changing the subject. "What actually happened? How did you get injured by the dead?"

"Because the one who injured me wasn't dead." Fia sighed softly and recounted what had happened.

Today, she had gone to the catacombs to recruit as usual. As usual, D had accompanied her to make sure this witch wasn't plotting anything.

The two interviewers had entered the catacombs and made their way down. A few malfunctioning imps had blocked their path, but D, a fully armored knight wielding a Greatsword, had dealt with them easily.

Fia had soon recruited quite a few fine employees from among Those Who Live in Death. D had recorded their details, and then they had continued toward the deepest part of the catacombs.

The deepest part was where the Erdtree's roots lay, and where bodies were returned to the Erdtree. There were more corpses there, and thus more potential employees. It had always been their destination.

Perhaps because it was close to the Erdtree's roots, "borrowing" the power of the Golden Order was easier there. As a result, spirits and all sorts of other things often occupied the place. To keep it for themselves, they invariably attacked intruders without distinction. This was where D proved his worth. As a knight, he was very good at making people see reason.

Today had been no different. Fia and D had reached the deepest part of the catacombs together, and D had prepared for combat. But upon entering the spacious hall where the Return to the Erdtree ritual was performed, they had found it empty.

There were no spirits, nor any miscellaneous magical constructs.

"Lucky us." D had turned to Fia. "Come in, witch. Time for you to work."

Fia was accustomed to the name and completely unbothered. She had entered the ritual hall and was about to communicate with the dead to begin recruiting when a cold glint suddenly appeared behind her. A hazy figure wielding a curved black blade had thrust violently toward the center of Fia's back.

Shocked, D had shoved Fia aside. She had fallen and scraped her hand, while D had driven the suddenly appearing enemy back with a swing of his sword.

"So you were the one who injured Fia!" the Tarnished scoffed.

"That's not the point!" D snapped, embarrassed. "The point is the attacker. Not only was she elusive, agile, and incredibly fast, she could also turn invisible!"

"Invisible? Now I know which catacombs you went to." The Tarnished rubbed at the chin. "The Black Knife Catacombs, right?"

"Black Knife? Could that invisible person have been...?"

"Exactly. She's one of the infamous Black Knife Assassins. Godwyn was taken down by nine badasses just like her."