Dragons were a once-glorious race, the very embodiment of power. Even Flying Dragons with their diluted bloodlines still drew countless warriors to challenge them, one after another. Those warriors sought nothing but to bathe in dragon blood, the symbol of a warrior's glory, and claim a dragon heart that beat with the thunder's roar!
Now a new challenger had arrived before Agheel. Agheel opened his enormous eyes from slumber, savage power seething within his amber pupils. Though he was only a descendant with a diluted trace of the Ancient Dragons' bloodline, the blood of an overlord still flowed within him.
The Tarnished met his gaze without a shred of fear and drew the curved sword from his back, his eyes blazing with the thirst for battle. It really had been a long time since I last hunted a dragon.
Agheel rose and threw back his head with a roar. His deep, thunderous cry sent waves rippling through the shallow water.
"Here he comes... Torrent, let's go!" Agheel slammed his enormous wing claw down at the Tarnished and Torrent. The nimble Torrent instantly leaped onto it, while the Tarnished plunged his curved sword into the wing membrane. As Torrent ran, the Tarnished dragged his blade along, carving a gruesome wound through the membrane. Agheel glanced at the little creatures on his wing claw, then flung rider and steed into the air with a sweep of his wing. Scorching dragonfire followed.
But Torrent kicked off from thin air and landed steadily. Even the Tarnished could not help praising that reaction.
"ROAR!!!" A trace of blood-red stained Agheel's amber eyes. He was clearly enraged. Ignoring the wound in his wing membrane, he beat his enormous wings and soared high into the sky, unleashing a breath far more terrifying than before. The lake water it struck evaporated instantly, leaving only scorched earth behind.
When Agheel saw that his breath had missed the Tarnished, he shifted his body and dove toward them. His enormous bulk and tremendous speed produced a terrifying sonic boom. At that moment, he was like a cannonball the size of a small mountain.
But Torrent was faster still. He raced away well before Agheel could strike them, even securing an opening for the Tarnished: the brief moment of disorientation when Agheel crashed into the ground. Torrent immediately dashed up beside Agheel, and the Tarnished sprang from the saddle onto the dragon's back.
The Tarnished drove his curved sword into Agheel's back and wrenched it upward. Blood sprayed at once, the fountain of dragon blood drenching him from head to toe. Feeling the pain in his back, Agheel began to thrash.
"A Flying Dragon's scales really don't compare to an Ancient Dragon's." The chief reason Ancient Dragons were so powerful was their nearly indestructible scales. The scales of Flying Dragons had long since degenerated, their hardness nowhere near that of their ancient ancestors.
Agheel flew into the sky in agony, careening wildly in an attempt to throw off the person on his back.
"Easy there..." The Tarnished plunged the curved sword in his right hand into Agheel's back to keep himself from being thrown off. With his left, he drew the Uchigatana and delivered a slash that tore through the air toward the already wounded wing membrane.
With a mournful cry, the wing membrane finally became incapable of supporting flight. Agheel lost his balance and plummeted like a kite with a snapped string.
"Rrrgh...!" He glared viciously at the Tarnished as he climbed down from his back, but he no longer had much strength left to resist. Even breathing fire would send terrible pain through his back.
The Tarnished had not chosen his targets at random. When a dragon breathed fire, the pressure inside its chest spread into its back, and those earlier attacks would prevent Agheel from using his breath freely.
"You fought both of us alone. You certainly didn't disgrace a dragon's dignity." The Tarnished reached out to stroke Agheel's head, as though acknowledging him. Under that touch, Agheel's gaze gradually softened. He seemed to have accepted his death.
Dragons, even Flying Dragons, yearned for battle. They fought and killed as well. To die at the hands of someone strong was better than fading away in lonely decline. Perhaps they, too, longed for an honorable death of their own.
Then the curved sword split Agheel's skull, ending his life. Afterward, the Tarnished took the still-beating, scorching dragon heart from his chest.
"I remember dragon worship began after Godwyn befriended the dragons. I think there was something similar with Flying Dragons... I heard dragon hearts were the way to do it." The Tarnished examined the heart in his hand. He had only heard of the practice and had no idea how to use one.
"Do I just eat it?" He was about to put it in his mouth when Yura stopped him from the side.
"Wait! Don't swallow it just yet."
"Yura? You're still here?" The Tarnished was somewhat surprised to see him.
"Yes, I have some business here. I'm looking for someone, though that isn't important to you. What I wanted to tell you is that if you wish to gain a dragon's power, you shouldn't simply swallow it. Find an altar. Consume the dragon heart there, and you can obtain its power."
"An altar?"
"Yes. Southwest of here, in Limgrave, there is a Dragon Communion Altar on a small island. There is one in Caelid as well."
"I see. Thanks."
"Think nothing of it. However, there is something I wish to ask you." Yura lowered the brim of his hat, but his eyes never left the Tarnished.
"Why do you carry the scent of a Bloody Finger?"
"A Bloody Finger?" Another term I've never heard before, right off the bat. "I don't know anything about these Bloody Fingers you're talking about, but I do know the Mohgwyn Dynasty."
"What?!" Yura's expression changed sharply.
"I'm not sure whether this has anything to do with your Bloody Fingers." He took the Pureblood Knight's Bloody Finger from inside his clothes.
"That's it... the scent of a Bloody Finger...! Why do you possess such a vile thing?!" Yura grew agitated, uncontrollable fury burning in his eyes.
"When I first arrived in the Lands Between, I met someone called Varre. I killed him and picked it up from his body."
"Varre...? Could he have been a Bloody Finger?"
"I don't know whether he was a Bloody Finger. All I know is that they called themselves servants of the Mohgwyn Dynasty."
"Bloody Fingers... the Mohgwyn Dynasty..." A creaking sound came from Yura's hand as he tightened his grip on his long sword.
"I don't know what grudge you have against them, but calm down first. Don't get so worked up that you keel over."
"...I lost my composure. I simply cannot tolerate those villains... Fortunately, you aren't one of them." Yura let out a breath. He had chosen this moment to question the Tarnished because he had just finished battling a Flying Dragon and would be exhausted. If he truly was a Bloody Finger, Yura would have a chance of killing him. Thankfully, he was not.
"I must also warn you: if you encounter a Bloody Finger, show no mercy... They slaughter without cause, craving the wounds and blood of others... They must not be allowed to remain in this world."
"Of course."
"Then farewell... I still have something to do. Perhaps we'll meet again." Yura lowered his gaze to the long sword in his hand, turned, and walked away.
"...Hatred, huh." Watching Yura's retreating figure, the Tarnished could see the anger and resentment suppressed within him. It seemed he had a story of his own.
"Never mind. If he wants to talk, he will. If he doesn't, there's no point forcing him."
The Tarnished arrived at the Site of Grace North of Agheel Lake, and Melina appeared beside him.
"You and Torrent work very well together..." Melina's voice was as calm as ever, making it impossible to tell whether she was congratulating him or meant something else.
"Haha, looks like this little horse-goat is no ordinary mount either."
"...Do you wish to obtain a dragon's power?" Melina asked, looking at the Tarnished covered in dragon blood.
"I could give it a try."
"A dragon's power is great, but also dangerous. Please do not pursue it too far..."
"I know. Any power has to be handled carefully." The Tarnished rolled his wrist.
"..." Melina fell silent.
"..." The Tarnished said nothing either. Everything around them went quiet at once, an awkward atmosphere settling over them.
"In all these years, this is the first time I've met someone as quiet as you." In the end, the Tarnished was the first to start another conversation.
"I am not good at expressing myself..."
"..." The conversation died again. A few caws from the crows only deepened the awkwardness.
"It... actually went dead..." The Tarnished was speechless.
"Please do not forget our accord." The girl raised her head. Though expressionless, her face was still beautiful. A pair... no, a single eye shining with gold watched the Tarnished.
"You really don't budge an inch, do you, girl? Are you made of wood?"
"..." At the word "wood," Melina involuntarily stiffened, then clenched her hands beneath her cloak.
"All right, I'll stop teasing you." The Tarnished clapped his hands and stood.
"Are you setting out?" Melina rose with him.
"The Stranded Graveyard... the place where I first met you. You know the door up above that's sealed by an Imp Statue?" the Tarnished asked Melina, and she nodded.
"That's where I'm going next. I have a feeling there's something good in there."
"...Understood." Melina returned to the Grace once more.
"Hiss..." Staring at the spot where Melina had vanished, the Tarnished drew a sharp breath. He simply could not get a conversation going with this girl. We're traveling together, after all. I can't stand it if things are always going to be like this. I'll have to think of something. Just as he was about to touch the Site of Grace, he noticed movement in the bushes nearby.
"Is anyone there? Please help me..." As though sensing the Tarnished's gaze, the bush actually spoke.
"What's going on...?" The Tarnished approached the bush and found that it did indeed look different from the others. The surrounding bushes were all green, while this patch had a reddish tinge.
"Could it be a magical disguise...?" The Tarnished slapped the bush. With a puff of smoke, a small, gaunt, hunched figure appeared.
"Wh-why did you suddenly hit me? That was awfully mean." The little fellow crouched, clutching his head.
"Weren't you the one asking for help? You were under a spell." The Tarnished studied the little fellow before him. He was a Demi-Human, and an intelligent one capable of human speech at that.
"Oh, oh, I remember now. Someone cast a spell on me and turned me into a tree. You were helping break the spell. Thank you for your help. My name is Boc," the Demi-Human began to introduce himself.
"You're a Demi-Human? Why are you here?"
"Ah... I-I wasn't welcome among the others in the cave, so they drove me out. They even turned me into a tree. S-so I'm very grateful to you."
"I see."
"I'm sorry. When they drove me out of the cave, they stole everything important I had. This is all I can offer to thank you." Boc took out a pile of mushrooms.
"Mushrooms, huh." Without hesitation, the Tarnished reached out and accepted the mushrooms Boc offered.
"I'm terribly sorry this is all I have. But please wait for me. I want to go back to the cave and steal my things back. Then I'll definitely be able to help you. P-please don't turn me away when I do." Boc's voice trembled.
"Hold on. You said they drove you out of a cave. Was it the Coastal Cave to the northwest?"
"H-how did you know? Yes, that's the place."
"That's the only Demi-Human hideout around here. The next one is all the way out on the Weeping Peninsula."
"Does that mean you've been there?"
"Yes. The Demi-Humans there joined up with the ones from the Weeping Peninsula. I cleared the place out to put down their rampage."
"I-I see... Are they all dead...?" Boc lowered his head, looking rather sad. Though they had bullied him, they were still his own kind.
"What did they steal from you?"
"A keepsake my mother left me... a set of sewing tools. It means a great deal to me." A hint of tears crept into Boc's voice.
"What a coincidence. I have it." The Tarnished smiled faintly, walked to the Site of Grace, and retrieved the Sewing Needle he had picked up earlier.
"This is it, right?" He held the tools out to Boc. A moment later, Boc hugged them to his chest, tears streaming down his face.
"Yes, yes, this is it... This is it. Thank you, thank you." Boc thanked him through his tears.
"It was no trouble. Don't get so worked up. You said you could help me once you had this, right?"
"Yes, my benefactor!" Boc stopped crying. "I'm a tailor... I can help sew your clothes."
"Oh, that sounds good." A tailor might seem insignificant, but the fabrics made by a skilled one could hold wondrous power. "All right, come with me, then."
"R-really...? You don't mind that I'm a strange Demi-Human?" Boc was surprised. He had never expected the person before him to actually accept him.
"Why would I mind that? Let me ask you something. You can speak, right?"
"Yes..."
"And you can communicate with me without any trouble, right?"
"I think so."
"Then that settles it. You can talk to people, and you think the same way we do, so why would I discriminate against you? Aside from your body, how are you any different from us? I don't judge people by their race."
"Ah... Th-thank you! I, Boc, swear absolute loyalty to you!" This was the first time anyone other than his mother had accepted him. His way of thinking, so different from that of other Demi-Humans, had caused his own people to bully him and even steal his mother's keepsake. Now that he had finally found someone else who would accept him, Boc was overwhelmed.
"All right, find somewhere to wait for me. I have something to do at the Stranded Graveyard." The Tarnished interrupted the sniffling, tearful Boc and gave him his instructions.
"Yes! I'll be waiting for you. Have a safe journey!"
Before you continue