Joining Castle Morne

[Incantation: Golden Vow]: One of the incantations of the Erdtree Faith. Raises attack power and defense for the caster and nearby allies. An ancient incantation passed down among the knights of Leyndell, said to have bolstered the morale of knights on their campaigns.

In the distance, the Leonine Misbegotten roared as well, resting the Grafted Blade Greatsword on his shoulder.

With both sides ready, the battle began.

The Leonine Misbegotten charged on all fours like a wild beast, using his momentum to add force to a vicious swing of the Grafted Blade Greatsword. The Tarnished raised his Brass Shield and blocked the blade with a clang. The impact sent both of them reeling backward, but the castellan leaped out from behind the Tarnished, thrusting his Halberd forward and punching a hole straight through the Leonine Misbegotten's shoulder.

Blood gushed out. The Leonine Misbegotten grunted, but the pain only stoked his ferocity. Rather than retreat, he pressed forward, swinging the Grafted Blade Greatsword down in another crushing blow. The Tarnished stepped into position just in time and raised his shield to block it. The castellan struck again with his Halberd, piercing the Leonine Misbegotten's left leg.

The Leonine Misbegotten staggered, while the Tarnished and the castellan worked in perfect harmony. One defended, the other attacked, leaving their enemy no chance to fight back. In moments, they had stabbed seven or eight holes in his body. With a whimper, he leaped backward out of the fray.

"Hah... hah... not bad with that shield, kid." The castellan had already been exhausted, and that flurry of attacks had left his stamina dangerously low.

The Tarnished shook out his numb arm and joked, "You flatter me. Your lordship's halberd-plus-eight is pretty impressive too."

The old man bristled, once again insisting that it was a Halberd +8, but a sudden blast of air erupted in the distance, sweeping across the sea and beach.

The Tarnished and the castellan both looked toward its center. The Leonine Misbegotten stood with the Grafted Blade Greatsword raised high, his body wreathed in an ominous red glow and both eyes turned bloodred.

"It's Oath of Vengeance! He's used the Grafted Blade Greatsword's power to strengthen himself!" The castellan's expression grew grave.

The Tarnished tightened the straps on his Brass Shield and stepped forward. "Phase two, huh? I'm used to that!"

"ROAR!!!"

The Leonine Misbegotten roared and charged again. He was far faster now. The Tarnished had barely raised his shield when the Grafted Blade Greatsword came crashing down.

Clang! Steel collided with steel in a deafening crash.

The Tarnished grunted under the tremendous force. Though unhurt, he was sent tumbling backward. Before he could fully rise, the Leonine Misbegotten swung again. The Tarnished had no time to raise his shield a second time. The sword slammed into his chest, launching him like a cannonball into a stone pillar on the beach, which snapped with a thunderous crash.

The Leonine Misbegotten swung a third time, but the Banished Knight's Halberd thrust in at an angle, catching the lethal blow in the nick of time.

The castellan successfully drew the Leonine Misbegotten's attention, and the two immediately exchanged a clattering storm of blows.

The Tarnished got up, drank a flask of Crimson Tears to restore himself to full health, and hurried back into the fight.

Strengthened by the Grafted Blade Greatsword, the Leonine Misbegotten was now an entirely different opponent. His attack, defense, strength, and speed had all risen dramatically. Tui could still read his sword swings and raise his shield to block, but every collision sent him flying. The battle-hardened castellan, on the other hand, could match the Leonine Misbegotten, trading blows as his Halberd clashed repeatedly with the Grafted Blade Greatsword.

Once again, brute force knocked the Tarnished's shield aside, and a sweep of the Grafted Blade Greatsword sent him flying. His wounds were worse this time. He had to drink two flasks of Crimson Tears to recover fully, leaving him with only one of his original four healing flasks.

The Leonine Misbegotten's swordsmanship had not actually improved. The Grafted Blade Greatsword's enhancement alone had made him unstoppable. Simply put, he had no skill, just stats. The Tarnished was only level 16, and the overwhelming gap in raw power left him no room for clever tricks.

While Tui caught his breath, the castellan began losing ground. As a veteran of countless battles, he had stats on par with the Leonine Misbegotten, but prolonged fighting had exhausted him. He was already at the end of his rope, while his newly strengthened enemy was at his peak. After a few more clashes between Halberd and greatsword, the Leonine Misbegotten gained the advantage. Seizing an opening, he knocked the castellan's Halberd away, then raised his greatsword and brought it down toward the man's head.

Damn!

The castellan's expression changed drastically as he watched the blade descend.

But the Tarnished suddenly appeared in front of him, raising his shield to block the fatal strike.

The heavy Grafted Blade Greatsword smashed into the Brass Shield with a deafening clang. Its terrifying force sent both the Tarnished and the castellan flying, tumbling across the beach for a long distance. When they finally stopped, both spat out blood.

After one battle after another and now this devastating blow, the castellan truly could no longer stand.

"Run... kid, run..."

The castellan struggled to speak through his bloody coughs.

But the Tarnished did not run. He drank his last flask of Crimson Tears and planted himself firmly in front of the castellan.

"Hang in there, old man. Irina will be heartbroken if you die. Leave the rest to me!" The Tarnished's voice did not waver.

The castellan had no idea where the Tarnished's confidence came from. Even more astonishingly, the Tarnished discarded his weapon.

With a swish, his heavy thrusting sword sank into the sand. Then he tossed aside his Brass Shield.

Only then did the castellan notice that the Tarnished's left hand was twisted out of shape. The bones were clearly broken.

"Your hand..."

"It's fine. Just a scratch. I'll sit at a site of grace later."

As he spoke, the Tarnished began stripping off his armor. Helmet, breastplate, gauntlets, greaves-he tossed them onto the beach one by one, until only a loincloth remained around his waist.

His sculpted body stood revealed, every muscle flawless. The castellan could tell at a glance: only the finest of warriors could possess such a physique!

"How could mere armor compare to a body forged through countless trials?" the Tarnished said, picking up the weapon he had just obtained in Castle Morne—the Greatsword!

The castellan could not help asking, "What are you doing?"

"Simple." His broken left hand hanging at his side, the Tarnished gripped the Greatsword in his right hand and rested it on his shoulder, lowering his stance. "He enters phase two, I enter stage two!"

The castellan: ???

He was utterly confused, but Melina, who had been watching the battle while invisible, looked thoughtful.

The Leonine Misbegotten roared again and charged, bringing the Grafted Blade Greatsword straight down. The Tarnished rolled nimbly, slipping past the blade as he swept his Greatsword sideways, leaving a bloody cut across his enemy's waist.

The castellan's eyes widened. Melina nodded, her suspicions confirmed.

[Stage one: raise the shield. Stage two: put down the shield. The Tarnished had now entered stage two.]

And it was not just his shield that the Tarnished had put down. He had also shed the heavy restraints of his armor.

His defense had dropped to zero, and the Leonine Misbegotten could probably cut him in half with a single swing. But even the fiercest attack meant nothing if it could not hit its target.

If an attack could not be blocked, dodge it.

The Tarnished's reasoning was that simple.

Almost naked, he had attained the highest degree of mobility. Under the Leonine Misbegotten's frenzied assault, he rolled one moment and hopped backward the next. The Grafted Blade Greatsword slashed past him again and again without so much as grazing him. Meanwhile, the Tarnished slipped in attacks as he dodged, carving wound after wound into the Leonine Misbegotten with his Greatsword and rapidly draining his enemy's stamina and health.

After a fruitless barrage, the Leonine Misbegotten grew furious and, finally, exhausted. Panting heavily, he had no choice but to pause for breath.

The Tarnished seized that opening immediately and launched his counterattack.

Seeing that the Leonine Misbegotten had spent his strength and had yet to recover, Tui raised his sword high and leaped, flipping through the air and using centrifugal force to deliver a downward slash.

"Lion's Claw!"

The Greatsword cleaved hard into the Leonine Misbegotten's shoulder. Blood sprayed as he screamed and stumbled backward, but his panicked movement only left him more exposed. The instant the Tarnished landed, he raised his sword and leaped again, flipping through the air and using centrifugal force to deliver another downward slash.

"Lion's Claw!"

The Greatsword struck again, drawing another scream from the Leonine Misbegotten. He desperately tried to escape the Tarnished's reach, but that only gave the Tarnished an opportunity to pursue.

"It's called Lion's Claw because it's made for killing lions! Spamming weapon skills is what makes a lord!"

For the third time, the Tarnished raised his sword high and leaped, flipping through the air and using centrifugal force to deliver a downward slash.

"Lion's-Claw!"

In a flash of blood, the Leonine Misbegotten was beheaded. His head flew high into the air while his headless body stood frozen, a fountain of blood spurting from its neck, before it crashed to the ground.

Clang!

The Tarnished planted his Greatsword in the beach, picked up the Grafted Blade Greatsword, and raised it high. "Great Enemy Felled! Castle Morne is victorious!"

Three days later, on the beach.

Flames from an enormous pyre soared into the sky. The remains of everyone who had perished in Castle Morne's rebellion were cremated. In their place, countless new gravestones now stood on the little beach, silently bearing witness to history just like the old ones.

Irina knelt before the pyre, reciting prayers and offering the dead a final blessing-the girl had survived.

The castellan led the surviving soldiers in solemn mourning-this father had survived too.

The Tarnished felt as though he were dreaming. He had truly changed the "past."

Before he could fully come to terms with that reality, the castellan approached him.

"Traditionally, the dead should be taken to the Tombsward Catacombs for the Return to the Erdtree ritual. But under the circumstances, we don't have enough jars, and after that incident with the Prince of Death, returning to the Erdtree has become nothing more than a distant hope. All I can do is keep their bodies from lying in the wilderness to be desecrated by beasts, and give their ashes a proper burial."

The Tarnished nodded. "You had no other choice. You've done well."

"In the end, I'm an unworthy lord. It was my incompetence that brought them such terrible deaths." The castellan sighed, then changed the subject. "Tarnished, how about staying here to help me?"

"What?" The Tarnished blinked.

Over those three days, the Tarnished had introduced himself and learned that the castellan's name was Edgar.

Edgar spoke earnestly. "I intend to rebuild Castle Morne. Even in these difficult times, a fortress can shelter many people. But I'm old, and the Misbegotten rebellion proved it. A new Castle Morne needs a new castellan-someone younger, stronger, and more powerful. You're the best candidate."

The Tarnished opened his mouth, but Edgar interrupted him. "Don't be so quick to refuse. I can see that you have exceptional talent for battle. You simply need more experience. Castle Morne can only have a future under a young man with a future as bright as yours. Don't worry about not being up to the task. I won't dump this mess straight into your lap. You can start as my knight-captain, and I'll teach you everything I know as we work. You needn't worry about the soldiers either. Your outstanding performance has already earned their trust. They'll be delighted to have such a powerful knight-captain."

Seeing that the castellan had already arranged everything, the Tarnished did not know whether to laugh or cry.

He teased, "A castellan can't appoint another castellan, can he? Don't you need to ask Lord Godrick first?"

It was only a joke, but Edgar unexpectedly gave an extremely serious answer. "Ever since the vile practice of grafting took hold in Stormveil Castle, Godrick has been a sinner who disgraces the golden lineage. His refusal to aid Castle Morne has only proved that he no longer deserves our loyalty. Godrick is obsessed with false power and cares nothing for whether Castle Morne lives or dies. But if legitimacy truly concerns you, don't worry. I have a way to obtain an official letter of appointment from him."

Though the Tarnished had no desire to become Castle Morne's castellan, Edgar's confident words piqued his interest. "What way?"

Edgar patted the sword case beside him. "This."

The Tarnished asked in surprise, "The Grafted Blade Greatsword?"

"Exactly." Edgar sighed. "The Grafted Blade Greatsword is Castle Morne's greatest treasure, but it is also its shackle. You had to shed your armor to defeat the Leonine Misbegotten. Castle Morne must shed its duty to protect this sword before it can move toward the future. The new generation shouldn't be held back by the responsibilities of the past. So I intend to send the Grafted Blade Greatsword to Stormveil Castle in exchange for your official appointment. Don't worry. Godrick is obsessed with power and utterly shortsighted. If he can obtain the Grafted Blade Greatsword, he certainly won't begrudge us a mere letter of appointment."

The Tarnished broke into a cold sweat.

Despite Edgar's assurances, he had truly begun to worry.

A single Leonine Misbegotten had been that powerful with the Grafted Blade Greatsword. What would happen if Godrick got his hands on it?

He hurriedly stopped Edgar and rejected his offer. "Sorry. I don't mind lending a hand, but I won't become Castle Morne's castellan."

"Why?" Edgar asked. "Is Castle Morne too small for you?"

"No." The Tarnished thought for a moment and decided to tell the truth. "Actually, I'm the Elden Lord."

"..." Edgar visibly froze, but soon filled in the gaps with a story of his own. He nodded. "So Castle Morne really is too small for you."

"How on earth did you reach that conclusion?!"

"Didn't you say you wanted to become Elden Lord? With ambitions that encompass the world, of course you wouldn't think much of this little patch of land."

"I don't want to become Elden Lord. I already am the Elden Lord! Would you listen properly?"

"It's good for young people to have great ambitions, but you mustn't reach beyond your grasp. How about this? Start at the bottom and gain experience here in Castle Morne. That way, when you become Elden Lord, affairs of state won't overwhelm you, and you'll truly be able to benefit the world!"

"I told you, I am the Elden Lord! I don't need to start at the bottom! Do you understand or not?"

The Tarnished was almost driven mad, but Edgar turned a deaf ear and proceeded to announce to everyone:

"Everyone, Sir Tarnished will be joining Castle Morne as our knight-captain..."

The crowd immediately cheered. Just as Edgar had said, the Tarnished had already won everyone over with his valor.

But the Tarnished genuinely had no intention of becoming castellan, much less knight-captain. He was about to refuse in front of everyone when Edgar continued:

"The Tarnished will be responsible for Castle Morne's military affairs, and..." Edgar glanced at Irina. "Personally protecting my daughter!"

Everyone paused, then broke into knowing, good-natured smiles. Irina was mortified, blushing all the way to the tips of her ears.

By announcing such a duty in public, the castellan was clearly grooming Sir Tarnished as both his successor and his son-in-law. No one was a fool; they saw through it immediately.

The Tarnished, however, was furious. You're even using a honey trap to recruit me? Am I really that shallow? That lecherous?

With all the fiery spirit of youth, the Tarnished immediately raised a hand to stop the crowd's teasing. His expression turned solemn as he declared:

"Your subordinate pays his respects, Lord Castellan!"

There was no helping it. Age and experience won out. Edgar truly knew how to read people!