"..." Yura's eyes widened in shock, and he struggled to recover. The killing intent he had just felt from the Tarnished was like an endless, malevolent blaze. Merely standing near him had made his skin feel as though it were burning.
"What a pain. Where did this shitty faction full of half-wits even come from?" They were all lunatics. Not a single normal person among them.
"Sorry you had to see that embarrassing side of me." Only then did Yura come to his senses and pull his wide-brimmed hat lower.
"The Lands Between are only so big. Finding someone shouldn't be hard."
Unless... that person is dead. The Tarnished glanced at Yura, then leaned against the rock wall beside him.
"Yes... you're right..." Yura lowered his head, his expression troubled.
"Oh, right. You've already gained the power of a dragon, haven't you? Truly remarkable." The draconic might of the Tarnished's dragon claw was formidable.
"Thanks to you." The Tarnished gave a faint smile.
"You said you were looking for me. Did you need something?" Yura seemed to have emerged from his gloom as well, remembering what the Tarnished had said earlier.
"You seem to have been here for a while. Is there anything nearby that's especially effective against Omens?"
"Well... have you encountered a powerful enemy connected to the Omens? I'm sorry, but I don't know of anything. Hunting Nerijus alone has left me exhausted..." Yura shook his head.
"All right. I'll keep looking myself." The Tarnished did not press him.
"Wait. I don't know myself, but I recently heard about someone who seems to be a traveling merchant. He might have what you want, or at least know about it."
"The Wandering Merchant?"
"No... I hear he's a Tarnished too."
?
"Oh... where is he, then?"
"See that cave up ahead? He seems to be staying there." Yura pointed ahead. Several shaggy-haired Wandering Nobles roamed the area, and beside them stood a large cave.
"Good. Thanks. If you ever need anything, come find me." The Tarnished took out the Tarnished Furlcalling Finger, plucked a leaf, and inscribed his symbol on it.
"Then I'll gladly take you up on that."
After bidding Yura farewell, the Tarnished headed toward the cave he had indicated. Unlike ordinary Those Who Live in Death, the surrounding Wandering Nobles showed no intention of attacking him. They merely wandered aimlessly with spears in their hands, clearly little more than walking corpses.
"They'd be better off knowing nothing but fighting." The most terrifying change a person could undergo was losing interest in everything. For these Wandering Nobles, even death was a luxury beyond their reach.
The Tarnished paid them little attention and walked straight into the cave. Just inside, he spotted two unnaturally neat patches of grass arranged by the entrance. Someone had clearly placed them there, and they almost certainly concealed traps. He jumped over the grass and surveyed his surroundings. Sure enough, several people wrapped in tattered cloth lived inside. They were asleep at the moment. In that case, any traps hidden in the grass were probably bells or something similar meant to wake them.
"Bandits?" Judging by their equipment, they were clearly outfitted for ambushes, with everything designed for ease of movement. He then looked around the cave. Although its entrance was large, the cave itself was not particularly spacious, nor were its passages complicated. There were only two smaller branching tunnels, and one was a dead end.
The Tarnished headed into the other tunnel. After walking for a while, he saw torchlight ahead. This chamber was comparatively spacious and well furnished, presumably the leader's quarters. A chest sat beyond the campfire. Keeping his guard up, the Tarnished approached it and opened it, only to find a simple set of Cloth Garb inside.
"Pretty poor. Where's that traveling merchant?" Just a set of shabby clothes? Has he already left?
"Oh, oh, oh?" Just then, a somewhat sleazy voice came from behind and above him. "Trying to steal someone's things without a word, are you? Thieves like you deserve divine punishment!"
"Huh?" The Tarnished looked toward the voice and saw a bald man leap down from an opening above, holding a spear and a large wooden shield.
"Well... ah, so that's who it is. Of course it's you."
"What's that supposed to mean? Don't act like we're friends. I'm going to teach you a lesson!" The bald man raised his greatshield and charged at the Tarnished. The Tarnished merely shook his head helplessly and drove a kick into the wooden shield, sending him flying.
"Long time no see... Patches."
"Ha... huh? Wait, that strength..." Patches was dazed. How did he send me flying with one kick? What the hell? Then a numbing sensation spread through his left arm. It felt familiar. Scratching his bald head, Patches muttered to himself.
"Ah?! B-B-B-Blaidd?!" Patches sprang to his feet and ran over to the Tarnished, pinching him here and poking him there.
"Get off." The Tarnished slapped him at the sight of his obnoxious antics.
"No doubt about it. That strength-you really are Blaidd." Patches held his cheek as he spoke.
"What? What are you talking about? What do you mean, 'really'?" Patches's words left the Tarnished utterly confused.
"Oh, mate, don't tell me you haven't heard?"
"Heard what? Spit it out." The Tarnished urged him on.
"You died in the Land of Fog back then, didn't you? And you know me. I've always had a keen nose for danger."
"Bullshit. You're just a schemer." Patches was a crafty old bastard. There was no scam, lie, or swindle he would not resort to.
"Heh heh heh, mate, don't put it like that. I call it seeking good fortune and avoiding disaster."
"Enough. What are you trying to say?"
"I did my best to steer clear of all that danger, but it got me in the end anyway. Still, I woke up before the rest of you. One of the first from our generation, or so I thought at the time. So I went back to my old trade."
"Wait. You're the one who stole my things?!" Patches's old trade was taking valuables off corpses, an even more direct approach than grave robbing. The Tarnished grabbed him by the ear.
"I-I was planning to... no, no, no! I was planning to guard your grave. After all, you know what we're like. We're best mates!"
"..." The Tarnished released Patches's ear. "And then?"
"I went to your grave, but your things were already gone. I didn't even know who'd done it. Then things got really strange."
"Not long after I woke up, I went to the Lands Between. And guess what I heard?"
"What?"
"I heard that Blaidd, the White Wolf War-ghost, had teamed up with a few Tarnished to establish an organization called the Roundtable Hold."
"Huh?" What the hell? I hadn't even woken up then.
"See the problem, brother?" Patches rubbed his bald head.
"Someone stole my identity?"
"Mate, you know your standing among the Tarnished was every bit as high as Godfrey's. Your identity's a prize worth stealing. Add in your missing belongings and the fact that hardly anyone's seen your real face, and it doesn't seem that unlikely, does it?"
"Unbelievable." He had never imagined someone would steal his identity and even establish this Roundtable Hold.
"What else? He hasn't done anything embarrassing in my name, has he?"
"Ah... not really. But apparently he's been saying he longs to become a god's shadow. Basically pledged his loyalty to that lot."
"What the hell? That's what he said?"
"He even said that's why he's called the White Wolf War-ghost." Patches snorted with laughter.
"Wonderful. And people actually believed him?"
"Mate, don't forget, the Tarnished coming to the Lands Between now are descendants of that original lot. There weren't many who knew you well to begin with, and after all these generations, naturally plenty of people believe it. Still, your reputation really is something. You've still got quite a few followers."
"Very nice... robbed my grave and stole my identity. You'd better hope I never catch you." The Tarnished was annoyed. Apparently, a man could not even enjoy peace after death.
"Heh heh, now that the real one's here, the people of the Lands Between will get to know you all over again. As far as I'm concerned, that fellow's nowhere near your level. Imagine wanting to run off and become someone else's lackey."
"After all, even though you, Marika, and Godfrey were sworn siblings, you were never beneath either of them."
"Enough flattery. I've got something else to ask you." The Tarnished waved a hand, cutting off Patches's endless praise.
"Oh? What's that?"
"Do you have any items that work against Omens? I've run into some trouble."
"Even you run into trouble...? Oh, right. None of us have the strength we used to."
"Just tell me whether you've got anything."
"Heh heh heh, you've come at just the right time. Fate really does keep bringing us together, mate. I've got something here that might be useful." Patches rummaged through his pack and took out a black, cursed object that radiated a faint golden power.
"You recognize these, don't you, mate? Shackles that restrain omen blood. They passed through quite a few hands before coming to mine. I'll sell them to you cheap."
"...These Shackles..." The Tarnished took them from Patches, his brow furrowing.
"What's wrong? Won't they work?" Is this sale about to fall through?
"No. They're perfect. Couldn't be better." The Tarnished took out some runes and handed them to Patches.
"Thanks for your business. Heh heh heh."
"Stop laughing like such a creep. Tell me, are those bandits outside your accomplices?"
"We just work together a little." Patches casually settled into a squat.
"That pose really is a classic..." That squat seemed to have become Patches's signature.
"Why not try it? It's comfortable."
"I'll pass. I need you to do something for me." The Tarnished looked at Patches seriously.
"What is it? We're brothers, after all." Patches thumped his chest.
"Help me find the man impersonating me. I can't spare the time right now. Since you wander around with nothing to do, you should have more freedom to act than I do."
"That? Easy enough. Payment?" Patches held out his hand.
"You'll get it when the job's done." The Tarnished knocked his outstretched hand aside. As if he did not know what this fellow was like. Patches would not take his money and run, but he would probably drag his feet.
"All right, all right. We've known each other for ages. I'll do it for you, okay? I'll do it. But make sure you pay me once it's done."
"Don't worry. I'm not you." The Tarnished gave Patches a sidelong look.
"So what are you doing now? Fighting your way into Leyndell?"
"No."
"I'm going to slaughter the Greater Will."
"Oh... slaughter the Greater..."
"Huh?! H-have you gone mad? Did that fellow steal your brain too? Don't go getting yourself killed!" Patches was so frightened that he fell onto his backside.
"Look at you. Knowing me as well as you do, I don't believe you couldn't have guessed."
"Well... ah, fair enough." The man before him had never been one to meekly follow the rules. Above all, he sought freedom. The Greater Will's oppression of the Lands Between had probably crossed his bottom line.
"If you've made up your mind, there's no talking you out of it." Patches sighed. "Don't die."
"Heh. If I really do die, I'll have to trouble you to gather my old friends and embed my gravestone in the Erdtree."
Before you continue