A Decrepit Demigod #7

As the young man crouched near the catacomb's exit, his hands firmly grasped the weathered handle. With a determined strength, he began to raise the heavy door, inch by inch, allowing light to trickle into the darkness of the catacomb. The dimly lit chamber gradually filled with the warm embrace of sunlight, dispelling the shadows that had enveloped him moments before.

As the door opened wider, a pleasant breeze whispered through the narrow opening, carrying the fragrance of wildflowers and the scent of the outdoors. The young man could feel the coolness of the air brushing against his skin, a refreshing contrast to the damp atmosphere within the catacomb.

With a final grunt effort, the young man fully opened the door, revealing the scene that awaited him outside. His eyes widened in awe as he beheld the picturesque landscape before him.

The young man stepped forward, emerging from the depths of the catacomb into a breathtaking sight. A vast green field extended before him, stretching across an uneven rocky terrain. The ground beneath his feet was adorned with patches of vibrant yellow leaves, creating a beautiful mosaic of color against the backdrop of nature's canvas.

Amongst the rocky outcroppings, majestic yellow-leafed trees stood tall, their branches reaching high. Their leaves rustled softly in the gentle breeze, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the landscape.

Directly ahead, to the north, the young man's gaze was drawn to the skeletal remains of a once-grand church. Time's passage had worn away at its structure, leaving only crumbling walls and empty window frames. Yet, even in its ruined state, an air of mystery and history clung to its weathered facade.

Beyond the church, the young man's eyes were captivated by the sight of an ancient castle. Its stone walls, weathered and aged, stood proudly despite the passage of time.

The castle exuded an aura of strength and resilience, a silent witness to the stories and struggles of generations long past. A massive stone bridge, weathered and worn in places, connected the castle to the land, although sections were missing, creating a treacherous path to traverse.

To the west, the young man saw the edge of a cliff, its rocky precipice dropping off into a vast expanse below. The wind carried the distant sound of crashing waves, a reminder of the untamed beauty that lay beyond the escarpment.

Turning to the east, the young man observed giant chunks of stone debris scattered across the landscape. It was a testament to some cataclysmic event that had taken place in the distant past, forever altering the once-pristine surroundings.

Taking in the breathtaking scene before him, the young man felt a sense of awe welling up within him. He stretched his limbs, relishing the freedom of movement after the confinements of the catacomb. A blissful smile graced his face as he took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the pure, invigorating air of the outside world.

Having had enough fresh air, the young man stepped forward, his eyes falling upon a figure in white robes and a white face mask standing beside a Site of Grace. The man's garments were stained with dried blood, a stark contrast against the pristine white.

The young man quickly moved toward a nearby Site of Grace. With a gentle touch, he ignited the site, activating its latent power, before turning his attention to the masked man.

The young man approached the figure, a wide grin spreading across his face. He eagerly extended his hand to greet the masked man, his eyes gleaming with over-excitement. "Oh, it's so good to see a friendly face!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.

With a quick pat on the masked man's shoulder, the young man continued, "Well, erm, your face is more creepy and friendly with that mask, but I suppose it'll do. We can't be too picky in these lands, can we?"

The masked man, taken aback by the young man's enthusiasm, made a visible effort to conceal his discomfort. He cleared his throat and responded with audible amusement, "Quite the enthusiastic Tarnished, are we?" The corners of his masked lips twitched slightly, forming a fleeting smile.

His gaze swept over the young man, assessing him silently before resuming his words. "Come to the Lands Between for the Elden Ring, hmm?" The masked man continued without waiting for a reply, his voice carrying a knowing tone. "Your enthusiasm will serve you well. No shame in it."

The young man nodded eagerly, his eyes sparkling with determination. "Yes, yes, the Elden Ring, of course. You got any tips for fresh meat?" he probingly added, trying to gleam any hint from the masked man before him.

The masked man nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes studying the young man carefully. "An admirable spirit, indeed," he remarked. "Unfortunately for you, however, you are maidenless. No advice can change that as quickly as you might wish, I'm afraid..."

"Without the guidance of a maiden, without the strength of runes, and without an invitation to the Roundtable Hold..." the masked man trailed off, a note of finality in his voice. "...You are fated, it seems, to die in obscurity."

The young man's enthusiasm seemed to wane at these words. "Well, that sucks," he muttered, looking down. However, he quickly regained his composure and lifted his gaze to meet the masked man's eyes.

"But wait," the young man interjected, a spark of curiosity reigniting within him. "You mentioned something about advice... even if it isn't quick, it will do..."

The masked man's lips curled into a knowing smile, his eyes gleaming behind the face mask. "Indeed, there is one shining ray of hope for even the maidenless..." he replied, placing a hand over his chest. "...Me, Varre. Take heed to listen. Are you familiar with grace?"

The young man's eyes flickered with renewed curiosity as he listened intently to Varre's words. He nodded, feigning surprise at the mention of grace, even though he was well aware of its significance.

"Yeah, grace, I know about it," he replied, a touch of calm lacing his words. "That golden light that guides us and points us in the right direction. It's like our compass or something."

"Indeed, grace's guidance holds the answers we seek," he said, his voice tinged with reassurance. "It will lead you, Tarnished, to the right path to follow, even if it happens to be your grave..."

The young man's eyebrows furrowed, his curiosity piqued. "So, grace will reveal the way forward, huh?" he pondered aloud. "And besides my grave, where else would it lead me?"

Varre nodded, appreciating the young man's straightforwardness. "To Castle Stormveil, over on the cliff," he confirmed. "Grace's guidance will reveal the path forward, most certainly..."

"There, you will face many parrels—traps, creatures, and relics of old. At the end, you will find the decrepit demigod, Godrick the Grafted, jealously guarding his great rune. Only then will you realize whether Grace is guiding you to your destiny or the grave..."

A spark of determination gleamed in the young man's eyes as he absorbed the information. "Traps, creatures, relics, and a demigod, huh?" he mused. "Sounds like quite the adventure, but I suppose I don't have much choice, do I?"

Varre replied with a nod, acknowledging the young man's understanding. "Indeed, you don't have much choice," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of sympathy. "But it's time you set off, I should think..."

'This guy is as useless here as he was in the game...' The young mused, barely resisting the urge to scoff, having failed to gleam any valuable information from Varre.

the young man kept his thoughts guarded as he nodded. "Thank you," He said, his tone sounding genuinely grateful. "I'll heed your word and see where grace takes me..." He concluded as he turned to leave.

As he took his first steps away, the young man heard Varre's voice once again, calling out to him. "Tarnished!" Varre exclaimed, his tone urgent. The young man halted, a puzzled expression crossing his face, and turned back to face the masked man.

Varre's gaze met his, and there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes as he asked, "Before you go, young one, may I know your name? It's only fair since you know mine..."

'Well, that's new... Varre seemed to have zero interest in my character when I played the game...' The young man thought. Still, he quickly gathered himself and replied.

"You can call me Adrian," he replied confidently with a smile.

"Adrian, the Tarnished," Varre repeated. "I shall remember your name... May grace guide you on your journey..." He concluded, turning away from Adrian as if losing interest.

Adrain raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he turned around and resumed walking.

...

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