[Elden Ring: My Ending] Chapter 58

TN: Formatting’s fucked. For some reason, Patreon bolds everything and removes italics. There’s a PDF attached below if you prefer that.

As she prepared to lie with Godwyn to birth the Rune that would be bestowed upon a new Lord and usher in a new Age for the Lands Between, Fia never imagined that the dream she had pursued for so long… would come true, but with such drastic changes.

“You entered the Deathdream on your own will…” Fia murmured, glancing around.

The space around them shimmered and warped, the world appearing like a reflection of itself—both familiar and not. Even their perception felt off, as if…

Well, they were dreaming.

Their bodies were asleep in death beside the corpse, but their consciousness was very much awake. The Deathbed Companion possessed many talents far beyond the reach of most living beings, and even she hadn’t expected that a warrior and sorcerer as powerful as the Tarnished—blessed by the Sun, no less—would also be capable of something this… specific.

“Someone once told me I spent more time in the Hunter’s Dream (1) than I ever did outside,” Kosta remarked flatly, unfazed by the strange landscape.

After all, the Hunter’s Dream was home to one of the few waifus in that game—causing many poor fans to linger much longer than they needed to. When a game’s waifu count is tragically low, you learn to treasure the few you get.

Bloodborne’s mechanics had revealed themselves to him on a whole different level.

He squinted warily. “...Just as long as I don’t suddenly grow tentacles.”

Strange as it sounded, there were some mechanics he’d really rather avoid.

Fia blinked at his quiet muttering, but—luckily or not—she would never get the chance to puzzle it out. The one who guarded the Deathdream of the first slain demigod had no intention of ignoring intruders.

Red lightning tore through the illusory realm. Four massive dragon wings spread wide, unleashing gales of wind that twisted the already unstable space even further.

Whether this was a dream, a spirit world, some form of projection, or something else entirely didn’t matter.

What mattered was that Kosta now had a worthy foe—and another chance to rewrite a waifu’s ending.

Reused asset or not, this was a good one.

If Gwyn saw a dragon that could wield lightning this skillfully, he might not have survived the excitement.

Long since stripped of sanity, the ancient dragon remembered only his purpose: to guard his friend. His soul remained steadfast in its duty, bound to it no matter how much time had passed.

…Maybe it could’ve been a brilliant questline, if it had ever been properly developed.

Kosta clicked his tongue.

Fia had already suspected how her path might end. She knew the Prince of Death’s guardian wouldn’t let her go without a fight, but she still reached out to all the dead energy lingering in this dream-space.

The gentle prince had no objections to someone claiming all that power.

…Of course he didn’t. He was, you know, dead. And unlike most undead in the Lands Between, properly, certifiably dead.

Konstantin calmly stared down the furious lizard, bowing deeply.

Even if the game had let this storyline rot on the cutting room floor, here and now, he could show his respect to a being who had sacrificed so much for a friend.

He raised his eyes to the red lightning-riddled sky and extended his hand, calling forth a bolt of golden lightning—just like the dragon’s.

Honestly, he probably didn’t even need a weapon. It’d just break anyway. Magic was plenty. But Kosta still wasn’t a full-blown casual. Not yet. Besides, this was different.

This was a lightning duel between two seasoned casuals.

He glanced back at the Deathbed Companion. “Stay behind me.”

“Be careful, my Sun…”

Kosta didn’t answer. He simply stepped forward.

In a way, Fia’s words had been ironic. The moment he crossed an invisible boundary, the red lightning—once roaming aimlessly through the realm—awoke.

Fia knew how strong her Sun was. In some ways, she was one of the few who truly understood just what kind of monster he was—so far removed from mere mortals or even Tarnished that comparison felt meaningless.

The issue wasn’t just that he didn’t count as human anymore. It was that his very nature operated on a different level. Something not of this world.

And still, it was one thing to know your Sun could explode and annihilate everything in sight… and another to see a glimpse of that explosion in person.

As if the lightning itself had gained awareness, it surged toward him, slipping through his body and dissolving without ever touching him.

If Melina had been nearby, she might’ve noticed something else—Kosta was dodging far less often. He seemed to be changing his entire combat style, adjusting to something new.

Preparing for something.

Evading the storm of red bolts, the Tarnished suddenly lunged forward, hurling his own lightning with such force that the dream-realm itself trembled.

The blast was so intense that Fia flinched, then clapped her hands over her ears. The thunder that followed echoed through the space like a divine roar. The anguished cry of the ancient dragon’s soul sounded quiet and gentle by comparison.

And that… was just the beginning.

Then came the second bolt. The third. The fourth…

She had been ready to die the moment she entered the Deathdream, to birth the Rune at the cost of her life. But she hadn’t been ready for this—for someone to start unraveling the dream itself.

The dragon’s howls, touched by conceptual death, grew louder. The space around them dissolved into a storm of crimson-gold lightning.

“…They’re getting a bit carried away.”

Fia glanced in surprise at the towering, horned woman in a white dress now calmly standing beside her.

“How did you even get in here?”

The great dragoness looked her in the eye, entirely unfazed.

“I hugged you very tightly.”

Fia’s mouth fell slightly open as she imagined what their bodies must look like right now… in the real world.

The great dragoness quickly forgot the madwoman intent on birthing a key to rewrite the laws of the Lands Between inside her own body, and focused instead on the battle.

She had been rotting alive for centuries, longing only for release from her suffering. Then someone appeared—someone who, perhaps even to his own surprise, managed to help her.

Under normal circumstances, she might have bowed her head to the future Lord and his Outer God. But she quickly realized there was no point in doing so.

The Tarnished had his own vision of the future, and she was not part of it.

That didn’t mean she wouldn’t help him. Her duty as a great dragoness was far too deeply rooted to ignore. Still, her true aid would likely only come after the Tarnished claimed the throne and solidified faith in his chosen Outer God.

There were still plenty of her kin across the Lands Between, and they were not going to go quietly. She could help deal with them. No—she would help.

Becoming Lord and establishing a new Order, a new Age… that would only be the first step. The Lands Between still harbored countless other problems that even if the man split himself into dozens of pieces, he couldn’t solve alone.

“Praise the Sun,” she murmured, lifting her gaze to the twisted black sky.

It seemed to her that rays of sunlight pierced the thick clouds, filling her chest with warmth—an unfamiliar sensation. Hope. That maybe, just maybe, not everything was lost.

At some point, the battle between the Tarnished and the maddened ancient dragon took a strange turn. Their exchange of lightning began to resemble a contest more than a duel.

A casual lightning dance.

The half-lost soul of Fortissax could feel defeat creeping closer. Yet somehow, the dread gave way to thrill.

Konstantin wasn’t trying to overpower his opponent with brute strength. He was calculating—like always.

“Spearthrow.”

Step back.

“Flame breath.”

Dodge.

“Combo.”

Dodge, dodge, dodge...

No matter how Fortissax mixed up his attacks, no matter how unpredictable his patterns, no matter how the entire dreamscape flooded with bolts of red lightning—he was an open book to Kosta.

An overleveled casual hardcore player, making no effort to hide it but never mocking the fallen beast either, let the dragon show his full power before the end.

And the lightning Kosta hurled back in return?

Well, the dragon had decent lightning resistance, after all.

Besides, this wasn’t even the real world. This fight was less a battle and more a clash of intentions—a duel of souls.

But even that had limits.

He’s tiring, Kosta noted as he observed the dream-arena, which now barely held together. The red lightning had almost vanished. The dragon himself, who had once charged so fiercely, slowed down. His movements, once sharp and relentless, had grown sluggish.

Kosta didn’t want to drain him completely. A dragon so loyal to his friend deserved to fall with wings held high.

Apparently, Fortissax sensed that. The battle ceased.

Tarnished and ancient dragon stood facing each other, motionless. Crimson-gold sparks still crackled beneath their feet.

“I hope someday I can free your souls,” Kosta said evenly.

He knew he couldn’t restore the natural cycle of death and rebirth overnight. That would take research, deep dives into lore, and a serious understanding of mechanics he still hadn’t unlocked.

But eventually, the ending he envisioned would come to pass.

Maybe their first real fight in centuries stirred something in the mind of the once-mighty dragon. For a moment, it seemed as if Fortissax understood. He threw back his head and howled—louder than ever—then…

…lifted his claws to the Sun.

Clearly, the bond between their souls had formed.

Kosta nearly teared up, raising his hands to the sky alongside his new friend.

“Marika’s tits…”

Latenna, who normally preferred silent observation, couldn’t handle the pure wholesomeness and vanished into the depths of the spirit bell.

“Praise the Sun, my friend…” Kosta whispered, extending a hand.

He could feel it—Fia had already finished forming the new key that would rewrite reality. There was nothing left to worry about.

This time, he didn’t hold back. The bolt of casual lightning in his hand grew larger and larger by the second, quickly eclipsing even him in size.

In moments, the golden spear—woven from countless tiny bolts and crackling with energy that warped the very dream around it—towered over even the ancient dragon.

Fortissax, not to be outdone, raised his claws(2) and conjured two massive tridents of lightning to match.

In the next instant, both the Tarnished and the dragon let loose their thunder.

The dreamspace, already held together by hope and a prayer, stood no chance.

“...”

Melina had never struggled to find him, thanks to her connection with the Torrent. Lately, she’d even started to think the warmth of the ring was enough to guide her to him, even without that bond. But that wasn’t the point.

What mattered… was what she found.

There, curled against the long-dead corpse of an ancient dragon, the man lay asleep—peacefully—snuggled up with two women. One of them, due to her sheer size, was basically using him as a pillow. The other was… the Tarnished with perhaps the most questionable inclinations she’d ever seen.

A sleepy smile spread across Konstantin’s face, as if he were dreaming of something blissful.

“...”

Melina exhaled slowly and closed her eye, noting with surprise that the miasma in the air had weakened. The curse in this area had lifted. The air was cleaner.

It made a bit more sense now. Her Tarnished was, thankfully, still clothed.

Sensing something, Konstantin opened his eyes and found her standing there, as unreadable as ever.

“The Lord of Blood’s body has disappeared,” Melina said quietly. “Konstantin… who would take my brother’s corpse? May I know?”

He was still her brother, after all, no matter how complicated her feelings. She didn’t care much for what happened to him, but the least she could do was find out where he went.

From the man’s actions, she quickly realized he’d wanted the Lord of Blood’s body to be stolen.

Kosta, now sensing the presence of a new Great Rune within himself, simply shrugged.

“The evil little boy doesn’t sleep.

Somehow, that sounded even more ominous to Melina than fighting the Elden Beast and the Greater Will combined

“The evil little bo—”

She cut herself off as she saw her Tarnished sigh with deep, world-weary exhaustion.

The kind of sigh only a true scholar of fragmented, contradictory lore could make.

Scholarly love through scholarly hate—he’d felt it in its entirety.

The real battle was still ahead.

The Deathbed Companion stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open at the sense that something strange was happening.

Then she quietly shut them again, pretending to sleep.

For some reason, that just felt like the smartest thing to do.

The Lands Between were an insanely dangerous place. Without some measure of power, simply traveling across them would be a death sentence for the vast majority of beings.

It hadn’t taken Millicent long to fully regain her skills. Traveling with Konstantin, she had been given the chance to fight, yes—but always under his watchful eye, never truly at risk. But only in a real battle—just like any proud hardcore player who rejected spirits and summons—could she truly come into her own.

It took just a few… well, maybe a bit more… okay, a bit of time for her to adjust to her new arm completely. In a way, it felt even more like her own than the original. It made her stronger.

But that didn’t save her from facing a truly dangerous enemy.

Dominula, the Windmill Village, perched in the north of the Altus Plateau. Who would’ve thought her journey would lead her to such a bizarre place?

A field blanketed in flowers and filled with corpses of dancing women. They celebrated an endless, demented festival—and judging by the flayed, skinless human remains hanging like decorations, it was all part of some terrible, never-ending ritual.

At the peak of the village waited a being, watching the eternal celebration: a Godskin Apostle.

When she engaged him in battle(3), Millicent quickly realized she’d overestimated herself—especially once the vaguely human creature stretched like a serpent and began manipulating that eerie, unnatural black flame.

The peaceful field had lulled her. She’d forgotten that it wasn’t just the Starry Wastes that crawled with grotesque horrors.

She could still win. But doing so would mean tapping into the warmth Konstantin had given her. She craved risk—but risking a relapse into rot, and failing to reach her true end, wasn’t worth it.

Just as she was preparing to retreat, the Apostle closing in—

A barrage of glittering arcs slammed into the monster, forcing it to shift focus.

Bald. Bare-chested, muscles coiled tight across his torso. A sword in one hand and a sorcerer’s staff in the other. He radiated the aura of a veteran battle-mage who had walked the long, punishing road of both hardcore and casual.

“I sensed the blessing of the Sun nearby,” the man said sternly. “So I came to help!”

The shirtless mage raised his hands to the sky. A small orb formed above his head—once shining with starlight, now glowing golden, like a miniature sun.

It was none other than Sorcerer Thops.

Millicent blinked in surprise, immediately recognizing… that signature style.

It seemed there were far more followers of the Sun than she’d ever realized.

(1) The Hunter’s Dream — the Bloodborne equivalent of the Roundtable Hold, serving as a hub area.

(2) While it may sound a little ridiculous to those unfamiliar with the game, this is in fact a real attack. Example: https://youtu.be/zcCxY8_l_s0?t=152

(3) During her questline, the player can summon Millicent in the village for the fight against the Godskin Apostle.