[Elden Ring] Chapter 63

Of course, both Millicent and Melina wanted to help Konstantin in the fight. Even if neither of them said it out loud—sensing just how important this battle was to him—the desire never left. One wanted to cross blades with the one who had, however unwillingly, given birth to her.

The other… because she knew just how dangerous this woman was. Possibly more dangerous than any foe her chosen one had ever faced.

Melina, the forgotten daughter of a Goddess, had always been aloof—but at least she felt things. Her sister, however, had virtually no emotions at all. Obsessed with battle, the only way she truly knew how to express herself… was through combat. And what expression it was. No one else fought the way she did.

Her strength was her curse—a force of annihilation.

Melina exhaled softly.

It was obvious Konstantin didn’t care. What mattered to him was the challenge. All of it.

Radahn was a master of both blade and sorcery—but when it came to swordplay alone, Malenia was the undisputed, unchallenged pinnacle. No one Melina had ever seen matched her. And she’d seen plenty.

And maybe, if that was all this was—just another test of strength—she would’ve said nothing.

But…

“Let me solo her(1)...” Melina frowned. What did that even mean? Who was that?

It was the first time they’d heard such reverence in Konstantin’s voice. Perhaps it was the name of some great warrior long forgotten. A legend unknown to them.

…a half-naked warrior with a pot on his head…

Melina sighed again, piecing together what the word “cosplay” meant.

The second sword. It was completely unnecessary. Just a random blade that wouldn’t last more than a few hits!

All of this… was only for the sake of a convincing cosplay…

"I… I really do look like her…" Millicent murmured.

Melina blinked, pulled from her thoughts. She turned her head toward Millicent, who was staring with strange intensity at the figure that—willingly or not—had created her.

"Yes."

The false Finger Maiden didn’t know what else to say. Her and Konstantin had a lot more in come than it might’ve seemed at first glance. These days, the man’s eloquence could even surpass her own—and that said a lot.

The conversation ended before it began.

Malenia, now awake, seemed to struggle to believe what she was seeing. Konstantin’s appearance… it was strange. Not frightening. Not intimidating. Not even pathetic. Just…

Strange.

To the Blade of Miquella’s credit, such a thing didn’t shake her composure. Surprise her, yes. Throw her off for a heartbeat. Make her wonder what sort of lunatic dared raise blades against her. But nothing more.

No matter her condition, no matter her pain—she would remain composed.

…serene…

"I dreamt for so long…" Malenia murmured as she stood.

Only the Outer God who cursed her knew how much effort that took. But she rose, steady and sure, and moved toward her prosthetic.

Millicent reflexively gripped her own.

"My flesh was dull gold..." the woman said quietly, fastening the prosthetic into place.

The helmet came next.

"And my blood… rotted. Corpse after corpse, left in my wake... As I awaited...his return."

Those last words weighed heavier than the rest. Malenia gripped her long blade tightly and turned her gaze back to Kosta.

It was like she needed someone—anyone—to listen. Just a little. Just for a moment.

"...Heed my words.," came the Empyrean’s voice, icy and resolute. "I am Malenia. Blade of Miquella. And I have never known defeat."

With a single slash, leaves swirled into a dance around them.

Kosta gave a deep bow to Malenia.

She blinked—just slightly—at the gesture, then decided not to draw things out. With a flash, she surged forward to end it all.

Melina shouldn’t have let her Tarnished come here…

A flash of steel.

Roll.

Strike!

Malenia recoiled, surprised, touching the place the blade had grazed her. The metal shattered on impact—never even scratching the Empyrean.

Of course it didn’t. Konstantin had attacked with a normal hunk of iron, not a blood-enchanted blade. Unfortunately, the cosplay wasn’t perfect—he hadn’t found a frost-imbued sword strong enough to endure a proper duel with the Empyrean. Not that he really needed it.

Rivers of Blood would be enough. The cosplay… was just a gesture of respect.

A new sword appeared in his hand.

“A roll…”

Malenia frowned. She was certain she hadn’t missed. Everything should’ve ended with that first exchange—and yet, instead of… instead of wounding or even grazing her, he had… rebuked her.

Grace. Majesty. A terrifying beauty… How had he poured all that into a simple roll?

Now the Blade of Miquella looked at him differently. The Rot had long since eaten away her eyes, but she didn’t need them to see. Her perception extended far beyond anything nature had granted mortals.

This strange warrior stood taller than her. Even his body…

It was just as strange. A sculpture without flaw. No scars, no blemishes. An aberration. Something that shouldn’t exist.

Even his aura shimmered—veiled in a faint golden light, just barely noticeable.

Malenia glanced at Melina… then at the startled Millicent, her gaze lingering for a beat longer.

And then she attacked again.

This time, she no longer underestimated the lunatic.

Her blows—smooth, fluid, impossibly fast—rained down on the man. It was as if she felt no pain at all. Each movement refined through hundreds, thousands of battles. A deadly dance.

Where Radahn fought with fury—every strike fueled by a need to win, to crush, to dominate—Malenia…

Malenia danced. And pity those chosen as her partner.

But no matter how complex the dance, anyone who tried long enough could learn its rhythm. And once you learned it…

You could keep up.

As if he knew her style by heart, as if he anticipated every motion—Konstantin slipped past her strikes with ease. Mixing nonsensical rolls with basic dodges and hops.

He wasn’t fighting her.

It was like… he had invited her to dance.

Strike!

Malenia leapt back again, a twinge of pain flashing across her face. Another mundane blade shattered against her decaying skin.

The Tarnished tossed it aside without flinching, conjuring yet another weapon from nowhere.

The first time, he’d humbled her—forced her to take him seriously.

This time…

"Why?"

Malenia frowned. Another sword.

He had power—she could feel it. Enough to truly wound her. Maybe even kill.

But instead, the man had chosen an ordinary weapon again. As if mocking her. Mocking their dance.

Konstantin stood still. With the pot on his head, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking—but it was clear he was deep in thought.

And once more, Malenia felt surprise.

The strange man bowed again.

But this time, it didn’t feel like respect.

It felt like… an apology.

The second sword vanished from the Tarnished's hand. His stance shifted—he gripped the blade in both hands.

Neither Millicent, nor Melina, nor anyone else had ever seen him take that stance before. There was something unnerving about it.

Melina strained to make sense of what she was feeling.

Tension. No—fear. A creeping, buried kind of fear that welled up from the deepest corners of her soul. Barely perceptible… but real.

Malenia’s grip tightened on her sword until her prosthetic creaked. For just a moment, the Blade of Miquella hesitated—then raised her blade, and—

The fallen petals lifted into the air. Malenia followed them. Like a divine being descended from the heavens, she hovered—only to vanish and reappear beside the madman, inviting him into a most sacred rite:

The Waterfowl Dance.

In that moment, Melina finally understood what Konstantin meant when he spoke of true parries.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding…

The sound—soft as a bell’s whisper to some, louder than the roar of a fallen Fire Giant to others—rang out again and again.

The Waterfowl Dance was unstoppable. Dozens, if not hundreds, of slashes. Blades that seemed capable of slicing space itself. A perfect art form—unblockable. The only choice was to flee, knowing the blades would catch you.

Even Radahn, mighty as he was, knew to never let her get close. No one could survive the dance of the demigoddess.

And yet…

A madman had.

Not a single strike reached the half-naked man with a pot on his head. The body that should’ve been shredded into pieces remained untouched.

He hadn’t moved an inch.

Melina had expected him to dodge again. Roll. Hop. Shield up. Anything. She thought she understood what “true parries” meant.

But who could’ve guessed that rolls…

Rolls weren’t the only thing he had mastered beyond reason.

All this time, her chosen one hadn’t just been a jack-of-all-trades—he was a swordsman. Perhaps the most terrifying and powerful the Lands Between had ever seen.

And the fact that he had hidden it so thoroughly, only to unveil it now, to the Blade of Miquella of all people…

It made her want to grab her head, cry like a child, and just tell someone how unfair this all was.

So many awkward, ridiculous situations. All of it could’ve been avoided if he’d just shown this earlier. The respect! The fear! The legacy! They wouldn’t talk about some mad roller in future generations—they’d speak of a great swordsman who rained down destruction and sorcery alike!

But no. NO!

Instead, he rolled! Rolled and dodged, may all the Outer Gods damn him and may the Sun itself shake its head in dismay! Why?! When he could’ve just… parried everything?! WHY?!

Millicent, breath caught in her throat from the scene before her, turned wide-eyed toward Melina—who let out a strange, high-pitched, untranslatable sound.

Was she… was she tearing up?

"You’re amazed too?!" Millicent cried breathlessly.

Of course the steadfast, red-haired warrior understood! This was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in her life!

Melina, hearing the question, made the sound again—louder, more emotional.

And yet, the most truly stunned person wasn’t Millicent. Or Melina.

It was Malenia.

Frozen in place, staring at the madman with the pot on his head, she seemed momentarily disconnected from reality.

And Konstantin, unwilling to give her even a second to recover, slashed.

Malenia leapt back—too late. Blood trailed from a gash across her chest. Normally, her wounds healed in seconds.

This one… didn’t.

Konstantin stared at her without expression, allowing her a moment to gather herself.

Just as she had allowed countless suffering souls of the Soulslikes(2).

Of course a boss who escaped from Sekiro(3) was a waifu. Konstantin had different feelings toward each of his waifus—but Malenia… Malenia was the only one he wasn’t afraid to hurt.

On the contrary. If he dared pity her, it would be a disgrace. No tryhard worth their sweat would forgive him.

But that didn’t mean he wanted her dead.

There was no contradiction between being a waifu fan and a casual tryhard.

They were one and the same.

"Attack."

The woman’s unexpectedly commanding voice made the Tarnished freeze—only for a moment.

"Hesitation is defeat," he replied coldly, as if reminding himself.

In the next breath, he slashed—summoning a blast of wind that cut toward Malenia like a blade. He followed in an instant, closing the gap.

Like her, Konstantin danced. Fallen petals lifted and swirled—they wouldn’t be falling any time soon.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding…

Malenia never thought she’d meet a swordsman who could rival her teacher(4). She, the dancer of death, had long forgotten what it felt like to flow with another.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding…

Their blades rang out without pause. The sound became a single continuous chime. And then—aggression. Competition.

Malenia wasn’t about to yield the lead in this dance.

And neither was Konstantin.

The strikes grew heavier. The blistering tempo slowed slightly—still far beyond what any sane duelist could hope to contain.

And then—it escalated.

No longer content with blades alone, they began exchanging kicks, grapples, body blows—yet somehow, none of it broke the rhythm. It remained graceful, fluid, terrifying, and primal all at once.

Melina understood now. Why he held back all this time. Why he never showed this side of himself.

No one before Malenia had earned the right to see it.

Not a single warrior, no matter how powerful, had been worthy of witnessing what the Tarnished had kept sealed inside.

But now, everything had changed. He didn’t need to hide anymore.

‘The witches never got to see this,’ Melina thought smugly, squinting. ‘Serves them right.’

Let the mad Queen Rennala keep cuddling one of them, and the other…

Who cares?

The fight suddenly paused.

At the peak of another exchange, the man and woman broke apart—like they'd come to an agreement, wordlessly.

And it was impossible to ignore the contrast between them:

Konstantin stood still, calm and composed. His breath was steady, like he’d just taken a pleasant walk through a field.

Malenia…

Her breathing was ragged. She stood firm, but her prosthetic and blade trembled.

The most powerful swordswoman in the Lands Between… was exhausted.

And unfortunately, that wasn’t entirely Konstantin’s doing.

It was the Rot.

She’d been fighting not just him—but the curse that had tormented her for decades, perhaps centuries.

She had never been able to go all out, always dragged down by the disease gnawing at her from within.

And that…

That, more than anything, saddened the Tarnished.

Of course, Konstantin knew how to fully unlock Malenia’s potential. And something deep inside him wanted to. He wanted to see the “second phase.” Only by succumbing to the rot could the Blade of Miquella truly show what she was capable of.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—he had no intention of taking the easy route. He was a casual, after all. And his casualness didn’t contradict his waifu devotion.

One complemented the other, never conflicted.

Konstantin returned to his stance, blade leveled at the woman. She, understanding without words what her partner in the most beautiful dance of her life desired, pointed her blade back in kind.

In the next instant, the figures of the man and woman blurred. The sound of a sword rang out.

Neither Melina nor Millicent saw what happened—but they saw the result: Konstantin remained standing, completely unharmed.

Malenia, on the other hand, staggered—then dropped to one knee. She tried to rise but instead slumped forward into the water, her rotted blood seeping out and spreading.

Melina and Millicent appeared beside Konstantin.

"You—"

They didn’t get the chance to speak. The man immediately sheathed his blade and knelt beside the woman. Konstantin’s energy flared brighter than ever before, pouring into the fallen warrior in a golden torrent. A seal blazed beneath his feet.

Her wounds began to close at incredible speed. The black rot marks faded. Even her eyes, once devoured by rot, regenerated.

Still, no one said it would be that easy.

The rot—no longer restrained by the woman’s will—started to surge outward. Miasma filled the air, so thick it began to corrode reality itself, bleeding in higher-order energy.

Despite all the Tarnished’s efforts, Malenia began transforming into the Goddess of Rot.

"Scared?"

For the first time, there was genuine mockery in Konstantin’s voice.

And Melina and Millicent immediately understood why.

Ignoring the waifus' reactions, Konstantin grabbed them both. A stream of grace surged around them, hurling them across the continent—then suddenly yanked them beyond space and time itself.

A startled dragon’s roar echoed.

Melina, flinging open her cursed eye and reflexively pulling the equally panicked Millicent close, stared in disbelief at the dragon the Lands Between had long forgotten.

The one who should have died ages ago, hiding deeper in immateriality than anyone else.

Somehow, they hadn’t just arrived in Farum Azula—collapsed through space-time—but somewhere even deeper(5).

A place untouched by the Outer Gods.

Malenia’s transformation slowed drastically. She opened her mouth and choked on a painful gasp, fighting with everything she had. The Rot, sensing the danger it was in, only thrashed harder, desperate to break her will.

Kosta rose to his feet, turning his gaze to the newly awakened Placidusax.

Time was ticking.

"I’ll be right back. He’s kind of in the way."

The man vanished—reappearing instantly in front of the stunned Dragonlord.

But the real surprise was what happened next.

The Lord of Dragons, conjuring bolts of lightning capable of leveling entire cities, unleashed them upon the insolent gnat—still unaware of just how badly he had miscalculated.

You don’t cast lightning at Kosta when he’s unlocked the full potential of true parries.

Countless bolts of lightning, each one dozens—hundreds—of times larger than the man...

Were reflected.

The Tarnished soared into the sky, channeling all that power into one poor, undeserving sword, and spun into a Sakura Dance(6).

The dragon had only enough time to stare as the lightning, funneled through the blade and mingled with Konstantin’s own energy, shot right back into its sender. A wailing shriek rang out across the air—but it was brief.

Supercharged and more motivated than ever, Konstantin gave the stunned dragon not a second to recover. He vaulted onto its massive form and drove the blade straight into its eye, releasing all his stored power deep into the beast.

The Rivers of Blood in his hands cracked under the strain of his strength, shattering—but it did their job. The dragon staggered—and collapsed before it could even begin to fight back.

Hard to keep living when your organs are mush.

Ignoring the tidal wave of ancient runes pouring off the slain dragon, Konstantin returned to his waifus.

"K-Konstantin..."

The poor, unbroken warrior didn’t even finish her sentence before finding herself in his arms, feeling more energy than she ever had surge into her body, healing her before their very eyes.

"I’ll make you a ring later too," Konstantin muttered with a sigh, gently plunging his hand into Millicent’s chest.

She wasn’t in any state to react.

He found the needle easily and pulled it out, knowing full well the rot wouldn’t spread anymore.

His energy had completely purged the hostile force, severing its link to its source.

But that wasn’t all.

Walking over to the trembling Malenia, he—again with zero regard for her personal space—plunged the needle straight into her long-rotted chest.

The needle, originally designed to suppress the rot within her, immediately started helping the man suppress what had tormented the warrior her entire life. Something that had always been a part of her—but never truly hers.

Following some instinct, Konstantin infused the needle with his own power, commanding it to draw in every last trace of rot inside the woman.

Sure, she’d lose a portion of her power—too closely tied to the Outer God’s energy—but Malenia could recover. In time.

And when she did… Konstantin would challenge his waifu to an even more spectacular duel.

He pulled the now pitch-black needle from her restored chest, feeling it strain to escape, but—

The Tarnished broke the needle in half, igniting it in the flame of the Sun(7), watching as the remnants of rot were incinerated by his power.

One of the hardest and most important quests in the game—the one that probably pissed off waifu fans the most—was finally over.

Kosta exhaled slowly, turning toward his waifus.

Millicent, unconscious, was upright only thanks to Melina, who held her tightly. Malenia, still struggling to believe what just happened, raised a hand to her restored eyes and touched them.

Konstantin hadn’t been able to regrow her original limbs, but for everything else...

It was enough. For now.

Meeting her gaze through the pot on his head, the man turned to Melina—and removed his legendary headgear.

"Since we’re already here," Kosta said with a smile, "I’d like to see that cursed eye of yours. Will you let me?"

It had been bothering him for a while now.

Though… there was one last thing he needed to do first.

Konstantin turned to the dead dragon and raised his hands to the sun.

"Praise the Sun!!!"

The false Finger Maiden clutched the barely-conscious Millicent even tighter, involuntarily letting out another one of her weird little noises.

Thankfully… there wasn’t a single witch nearby.

Sellen had grown surprisingly used to Queen Rennala’s embrace—and even started to enjoy it a little.

Her current state could be summed up in one word: acceptance.

Maintaining a conversation with the mad queen wasn’t easy, but the cunning witch gave it her best shot, and sometimes even got something resembling coherent answers in return—even sharing some stories herself.

Two powerful sorceresses had plenty to talk about, even if they were once enemies. Especially since the more they talked, the more lively the queen became.

Clearly, she’d been starved for company.

"Where are you going, weirdo?" Sellen grumbled, watching as the miniature illusion of Konstantin began to flicker and fade.

It was thanks to him she’d stayed calm—knowing the mad queen wouldn’t do anything… well, not necessarily bad, just… deranged.

"You’re too harsh on my sweet one," the queen sang again.

Sellen winced.

She was mad at the weirdo! How could he just leave her to be devoured by the queen like that?! Sure, she knew she had poked the jealous weirdo one too many times, but still...

...but...

The witch sighed sadly.

Mini-Kosta only managed a shrug before the illusion said:

"I’ll come get you later. The signal on Placidusax’s arena is terri—"

The projection vanished before it could explain the absolute chaos she’d missed. Sellen looked up at the queen’s motherly smile and groaned internally.

"Have I told you about my sister, dear?"

It seemed that refusing to play nice with the jealous fruit was going to cost Sellen... dearly.

(TN) In the previous chapter I translated “Маления, Неземная” as “Malenia, Unworldly One”. But I just found out that it is supposed to be “Empyrean” instead.

(1) Let Me Solo Her — a legendary Elden Ring player known for helping others defeat Malenia. He would appear as a phantom, wearing nothing but a loincloth, a jar on his head, and dual-wielding katanas, obliterating her with pure skill and style. His status became so iconic that to this day, people make fan art, cosplay, write fanfics, and even create figurines of him. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg! Let Me Solo Her became the embodiment of the idealized, stylish, half-naked tryhard who somehow manifested into reality.

Note: https://youtu.be/1cE-2nFhKpo&t=1s

(2) Strangely enough, Malenia isn’t even that aggressive of a boss. After attacking, she often takes her sweet time just walking behind the player, ignoring them entirely even as they heal in her face. True menace.

(3) The Soulslike community often jokes(?) that Malenia escaped from Sekiro. The meme got so far out of hand that someone eventually brought it to life—and honestly? It turned out absolutely incredible. https://youtu.be/rgxjGCWYTUY

(4) Malenia was trained in swordsmanship by the Blind Swordsman, a master of the flowing blade—one of those mythical figures that folks in the Lands Between still whisper about. Or… someone like that. As always, there’s barely any solid lore, so we’re left with a million half-baked fan theories. Some say he once sealed the Lake of Rot. That’s pretty much all we’ve got.

(5) The player can access the boss arena via a dream-like sequence in a specific location within the crumbling Farum Azula. How, why, or what is actually going on—there’s no real explanation. So, just like with a thousand other things, the interpretation in this fic is just that—an interpretation. A lovingly chaotic one.

(6) Sakura Dance — a combat art from Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice, allowing the player to reflect lightning attacks without taking damage. It’s not available in the base game—you unlock it by beating Inner Genichiro in the Divine Heir’s Gauntlet of Strength, which only opens up post-game. (Yes, it’s as cracked as it sounds.)

(7) This mechanic does technically exist in-game, though presented slightly differently. Crumbling Farum Azula (or more specifically, Placidusax’s arena) is the only place in Elden Ring where you can avoid the Frenzied Flame ending by using Miquella’s Needle.