The ground beneath his feet was soft sand, and the leisurely sound of waves lapping the shore drifted into his ears.
Slowly opening his eyes, Artorias had already returned to his original human form.
Freed from his Goblin shape, he stretched with a contented arch of his back, then, guided by instinct, parted the waves and pressed deeper into this place he had visited countless times before.
The world of the mind, the Sea of Consciousness.
Across all the different works he had come across, Artorias had heard this kind of inner world called by more names than he could count, and he had no idea which description was truly the most fitting.
But one thing he understood perfectly well.
The divine being who sheltered him, who had granted him a blessing that should never have been possible to engrave upon a monster, the very incarnation of the Dungeon’s will, now dwelled within the world of this place.
Swish, swish— He parted the surface of the sea and crossed the sand.
Swish, swish— There at the far end of his path, a small, delicate figure was crouched down, drawing pictures in the sand.
Fluffy silver curls, gathered up behind her head like a flower bud, were crowned with two striking, curved spiral dragon horns.
The pristine white skirt she wore had been soaked through by the seeping waves, yet she paid it no mind, clearly having thrown herself heart and soul into the work at hand.
Though her figure looked impossibly small and delicate, she gave off an aura of motherliness that seemed to brim outward from her very core.
When the little figure finally finished her masterpiece and rose to her feet, wiping the beads of sweat from her brow, she planted her hands on her hips in pride at her creation.
And as she lifted her head, her X-shaped pink eyes met the smiling gaze of Artorias head-on.
Their eyes locked.
In the next instant, a storm erupted across the calm Sea of Consciousness.
“Aaaaaaa—” A cry brimming with delight became a violent sonic boom, recreating the miracle of Moses parting the sea upon the utterly tranquil ocean.
Before Artorias could even react, a silver-white shooting star came hurtling from the far side of the horizon and slammed into his chest with a supersonic, boom-splitting impact.
Toppled beneath the surface of the sea by the overwhelming force barreling into him, the girl, a few inches shorter than Artorias, pressed her forehead tight against his body.
After sniffing at his scent, the divine one nuzzled her cheek against his chest and murmured softly, “Welcome home, little fawn (my child).” “Mm, I’m home, Mama (my Lord).” In answer, Artorias wrapped his arms around her slender waist, giving her the embrace and warmth she craved.
Even now, still all alone, his patron deity, the collective will of the Dungeon, the Primordial Mother of the Nasuverse, Tiamat, watched over his inner world today just as she always had.
… When Artorias had first arrived in this world, the very first place he had come to was this one before his eyes.
Back then there had been no ocean here at all, only an endless white mist coiling through a space that held him alone.
Just as he had half expected some white-mosaic Human God to come crawling out of the fog, calling itself a deity and offering him a load of nonsense dressed up as advice but really meant to screw him over, the white mist blanketing the entire space suddenly wrapped itself around him.
A moment later, as the space rippled, a familiar voice came from within the mist that was gradually taking shape, “I am Mama… no, that’s not right, that is a duty.
My name is Tiamat.” “This time I take the form of the Lord from your memories, coming in person to represent the will of the Dungeon.
Frightened you, didn’t I, human.” “From today on, you are my child!” The familiar curved dragon horns, the familiar X-shaped pink pupils, paired with a voice so warm it felt carved into his very DNA.
The moment he recognized her, every worry Artorias had held at the start was flung clear over the horizon.
You had to be kidding, this was Tiamat, the Primordial Mother of Mesopotamia.
This was the Primordial Mother Tiamat, who loved her children so excessively that it crossed the line into becoming one of the Evils of Humanity, the peerlessly wonderful woman players affectionately called Tia-Mama.
In what world would Tia-Mama ever screw over her own child?
Still, looking at things now, having a divine one who doted on him a little too much did not seem entirely like a good thing either.
Pulling Artorias up out of the water, Tiamat led him along, showing off her masterpieces.
Those sand drawings, etched with the majesty of the divine, treated the erosion of the tides as nothing at all, stubbornly holding their ground in every corner of this land.
And what they depicted, without a single exception, was his own face as it looked right now.
“Little fawn, out there, all this time,” “Mama, missed little fawn so much.” Walking at his side, Tiamat’s voice was gentle and slow.
“So in my free time, I drew a great many, of these pictures.” “Because little fawn, out there, can no longer see, what he originally, looked like.” “Mama, wants little fawn, to take a good look.” “So, stay a while longer, with Mama.” The divine one tugged at the hem of his robe and raised her gaze, and there was even the faint shimmer of tears welling in her pink eyes.
Who could ever harden their heart and refuse a Tia-Mama who would fill an entire world with your portrait?
Damn it, why did the divine one, the very incarnation of the Dungeon, have to be this adorable.
The iron will Artorias had wanted to turn into a demon’s cold heart came close to melting under the tears brimming in her eyes.
The last time he had failed to refuse her request, he had ended up spending an entire year of dizzy, decadent bliss with her in this world.
It was only when he happened to realize that these blissful, carefree days, looking back, had gone on suspiciously long, that he snapped awake to how fast the time was slipping by.
Close call, close call.
If he had let himself sink into this place, he would probably have stayed a Goblin for the rest of his life.
At the time he had even patted his chest and sighed: a gentle paradise really is a hero’s grave.
Thank goodness the flow of time in reality wasn’t in sync with this place, or he figured he might have slept his way straight through to the bad ending, the world-destroying rampage of the Black Dragon.
“All right, all right, don’t I come back every few days to update my stats?” He gently pinched the tender little hand of the divine one, who loved being coddled by him and loved coddling him in return.
Drawing on the memories in his mind, the incarnation of the Dungeon’s will had picked out the form best suited to him.
“But little fawn, could come back every single day, and yet all little fawn knows how to do, is go off fighting and killing other monsters,” Tiamat’s voice carried a trace of sulking as she hugged Artorias from behind, her soft cheek pressed tight against his back.
“Does little fawn not want to stay with Mama?” Feeling the warmth spreading against his back, Artorias gritted his teeth and, in the end, steeled himself to make a difficult decision: Forget it, screw the grind!
First, cuddles with Tia-Mama!