Demigod Once More
The sheer drop off point along the coast separating the Church of Dragon Communion from the shores of Limgrave served as absolute nightmare fuel. In a land were people are stuck in their bodies unless fed to the roots of the god tree, plunging into the dark abyss of the ocean depths means you stay stuck there for all time, or until someone learns how to do some proper bottom trawling.
As such, I wisely took Air Aspect to jump the gap between the shore and the island the ruins of the church lay atop.
The stone chapel and its draconic statuary were surprise surprise… shattered. Just like everything else in this world. Despite the fallen roof and knocked down walls, the altar built in the stone dead embrace of a long passed dragon survived. The graceful yet jagged beast bore little resemblance to the feathered Agheel from which I took the still beating gravel strewn heart in my hand.
Not one for dawdling I touched the heart to the altar and got to chow time. The gravel was actually a nice bit of crunch in the otherwise wet meal.
Bon Appetit.
My spirit lifted from my body as I went on a trip across the omniverse to a familiar wasteland covered in the blood and bodies of the fallen as millions of warriors of every variety fantasy and science fiction battled it out as a large band on a massive stage played what had to be the most Metal song ever and high above a blazing light grew and formed into the Eternal Firebeast who's howl of resurrection ended the trip.
I arrived back at my body transformed yet unchanged to the naked eye, my flesh mingled with that of Ormagoden and my lifeforce increased by a brutal amount. A piece of my demigod body restored by the Metal as Hell act of eating a still beating dragon heart, and a new quest began.
I flew back across the narrow but deep bit of sea between the island and shore and rode back home to start writing instructions for the continuation of the repairs and the continued isolation of the newly uncovered deathly rot in the depths of the fortress. A rot with a face. A giant face.
The disgusting putrid mass of undead flesh set the hairs on the back of my neck to upright attention and I wouldn't delve into the area again until I'd restored my divine fire breath and could purge that whole place hard with the flames of a primordial god. Fortunately, we'd managed to quarantine that unholy place before the face or its ulcerated guardian could kill anyone, barricading the passage and guarding it at all hours.
Honestly the amount of ridiculous shit we uncovered with every restored passage makes me wonder why the hell anyone would ever set up shop here, but at least the monsters were regular sources of runes just like the many scattered across the lands I now own. With my ability to turn runes to strength for my men, such fights had changed from dangerous chores often willfully ignored into acts of incredible reward.
Slowly but surely we were exploring and conquering these southernmost of the Lands Between, and as my men conquered they returned to me with runes and I charged a premium to then empower them to go out and get more. A beautiful cycle that only increased as the light in my men's eyes rekindled that in the eyes of the husk like citizens, renewing their minds and bodies just enough for them to join my army and begin the journey to true restoration and laying the foundations for our eventual crusade to take the city Godrick so coveted, his home bathed in rays of gold.
I finished my instructions and entered my workshop to hammer my sword up to +6 and slapped the Sacred Order Ash of War - given to me by one of my more promising knights - on it while setting the sword to sacred scaling, taking advantage of my immeasurable self belief. I'd inherited Garm's parameters, making me wonder how scaling things like Mind, Intelligence, and Faith will affect me as if an intelligent being designed this world I'd have come into it with those parameters maxed out. Oh well, I'll never complain about being able to accomplish more raw unadulterated bullshit with my just the force of my personality.
Pumping up the Strength attribute generated incredible gains on my already elite body. Along with Vigor, Endurance, and a bit of Dexterity my physical performance left me positively throbbing in anticipation of future gains and future violence.
As much as a godly body capable of anything pleases me, these Ashes of War that operated on the different weapons of this world were a true gem. In return for a little magical focus, a person can execute a skill to its greater mastery even if physical limitations like a massive amount of armor and weapons that have more in common with an I-Beam than a melee implement might get in the way.
The system had limits though, like how certain weapons can swap these abilities, other's do not. In my experience regular Smithing Stones also don't work on these choosy items. It hurt my soul that these happen to be the cooler ones that I find like the Golden Halberd of the Tree Sentinel.
Anyway, these Ashes allowed even a complete novice to execute advanced techniques better than if they'd trained them since childhood. As such they make for incredible training tools for swiftly gaining muscle memory and proper form. I'd already mastered the Quick Step without the need for an Ash of War any longer, and while that might sound like a silly little ability for a warrior of my experience, picking up some master level footwork is never a mistake. Positioning is everything in combat.
With my sword and skills sharp, I set out once more atop Argent, the two of us heading down the Stormhill, as the tempest winds carried a heavy mist down with us through the shattered highway to the nearby divine tower. Not that the highway was needed as there is a damn teleporter easily accessible from Stormveil that takes you right to it. Either way I headed east on the path from the Stormveil Shack, a popular respite for the hunters that provision the castle with game. After a short while I passed a second shack where a pair of my Kaiden warriors took instruction from a man in an elaborately decorated suit of plate armor.
I tamped down the instinctual impulse to stomp the man to death, not a slave to his graceless tune so to speak. Instead I took effortlessly measured steps towards them after I slid off Argent.
"Gentlemen." I greeted.
"Lord Garm." The Kaiden offered small bows and stood at attention.
"Forgive me if I don't bow. I twisted my hip in training today." the man offered without much emotion in his voice or lightless eyes, "I'm Bernahl, Tarnished, and a fervent student of the myriad of battle arts in these lands. Mementos of all the warriors who raised their arms in battle, lost, and died. A fine tale, all told, of true chivalric romance. That's how I fell in love with the sword, and the arts of combat. It grants meaning even to falling in battle, to death itself."
"I'm a bit of a practitioner of the martial arts myself. After all, the more you sweat the less you bleed." I nodded and the man smiled.
"Exactly." he responded as he leaned on his hefty greatsword, "The Ashes of War call to me. And, now I offer them to those with the Runes to spare."
"Let me see what you've got." I grinned at a fellow connoisseur of the martial arts.
After purchasing everything on offer the man considered me.
"Tell me Lord. How does your faith in grace hold firm, despite the collapse of the Golden Order?" Bernahl questioned in a serious tone, "I see it in the eyes, and those that follow you like these."
"My faith cannot be shaken. For it is in myself, not any other." I answered him.
"In that case, it would truly be a dark day for you to lose that faith, Lord." Bernahl replied with a firm nod, "I've seen enough in this world to shake a man's belief in himself, and anything else."
"Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." I told him and the man's face hardened.
"Indeed." he answered.
"You in need of work, Bernahl?" I questioned the man, "Stormveil is more than large enough to house another master-at-arms."
"No, Lord." Bernahl denied with a shake of his head, "Oaths sworn and my own natural wanderlust prevent that. I'll stay here for a time, then move on to the next place."
"So be it. Goodbye and good fortune." I said as I turned to leave.
"You as well, Lord. Good fortune in the battles to come." Bernahl too said his goodbyes as I pulled myself into the saddle once more.
A short ride brought me through the remains of one of our abandoned outposts and to a bridge with a tall man - tall like me and the Banished Knights, not tall like the pathetic normies - a boulder peened to a long haft, a tattered cape and loin cloth, and a ridiculous pumpkin shaped helmet.
"Hello there." I greeted the obviously mad person, "I require you to step aside so that I can continue on a quest of great personal importance."
"HAAAAA!" the pumpkin helmet man roared in response and stomped about.
"Continued obstruction shall be taken personally." I warned him as he charged at me, "And they tell me I'm a monster." I chuckled and drew my sword, Argent maneuvering us around his strike beautifully as I disarmed him in a single slash.
Pumpkin Head howled in agony as he found it far harder to wield that long hammer with only one arm. A quick pair of thrusts to the lungs put the yelling to rest, transitioning into a wet gurgle before a tremendous fart as the beast of a man shit himself.
"Ah the joys of combat." I grinned as Argent and I separated ourselves from the familiar scent of victory.
Down the path we entered a grave yard with undead, and I activated the Sacred Blade Ash of War. With a swing my sword erupted in a holy glow and launched a golden arc of sword light that ended the nearest undead rightly. A short battle and a trot into the nearby flooded town showed the problem to be endemic as the residents had moved into unlife seemingly with the guidance of a lace and gold clad skeleton atop an ethereal purple canoe with a ghostly light hung above its head.
The skeleton blew into a long brass horn - using magic, not lips - and the skeletal townsfolk swarmed me as the mariner used its horn as a paddle through the mist around it and vanished.
"So it's like that." I signed as I chased the mariner though the town, cleaving though it's undead minions with ease until finally I leapt off Argent and with a jet stream I landed in the canoe and flipped it over, sending me and the mariner skeleton into the calf deep water were I snagged it and slammed its face into my glowing sword blade until the undeath animating it failed and the being dissolved leaving me with a necromantic root in my hand.
It was a damn hardy little gray thing, and I'd see about putting it to some use in the future.
My quest continued unopposed on the path as I followed the road past a burnt out husk of a church across from a monument of swords and to the low blazing wall separating Limgrave from rotten Caelid and my target, the Dragonbarrow.
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Good news fans of mine. I finally know what to do with Actually Invincible and will be working on that tomorrow. Finally going to do some superhero stuff in my superhero fic.
In other news I've heard that webnovel is getting harder to use with Google Translate, so I'll cross post my work for my non-english speaking fans over at fanfiction . net. I put 'It's Me, Dio!' and 'Return of the Krogan' up there today. Will do 'Mordor for the Orcs' and 'Elden God Emperor' tomorrow followed by 'Actually Invincible' and 'Son of Jiraiya' this weekend.
As for those hoping that Garm would focus on the dragon communion incantations, not for now at least. The first four hearts will serve to rekindle his demigod powers. After that we will see. I also am wondering what chicks Garm should bang in this. As of now I can only think of Lansseax and Marika after he puts her back together.
Let the waifu wars begin.
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ko - fi . com / jmanm