The emerald leaves drifted with the wind, settling upon the azure surface of the lake. It was a scene of vibrant life, a world where ten thousand things competed for growth.
On the lakeshore stood a manor. The banner of the Carian Royals fluttered atop its thick outer walls. Heavily armored warriors patrolled the battlements, the rhythmic clank-clank of scabbards hitting plate armor echoing through the air. Beneath their helms, their expressions remained grim.
Ever since the Academy of Raya Lucaria had imprisoned their head—Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon—the flames of war between the Academy and the Royals had burned for a long time. Now, the sorcerers and their lackeys had pushed to the last of the Royal territories. Once they crossed this manor, they would be at the very gates of the Caria Manor, just a few miles to the north.
The remnants of the Carian army were fully mobilized. From the mighty Carian Knights to the elite glintstone soldiers, even armed commoners and sorcerers who had defected from the Academy stood ready. Their swords were drawn, their bows were strung. They gazed past the unburied corpses beneath the walls toward the sprawling enemy camps in the distance.
On the side of the manor facing the lake, a young man dressed as a glintstone apprentice sat against the wall. He had short black hair, and at the center of his pale blue eyes, the golden light of Grace flickered. He stared at the massive Erdtree in the distance, muttering to himself.
"Is there no end to it? Why is it another siege?"
The blood and fire of Ashina Castle still lingered in his memory. His palms seemed to retain the phantom sensation of a blade slicing through the flesh of the Interior Ministry's Red Guards. Looking down, he saw a metal nameplate pinned to his deep blue sorcerer's robes. It was inscribed with strange characters:
Don Wright.
Memories flooded back. This youth was originally a newly enrolled magic apprentice. After his village was pillaged by the Knights of the Cuckoo, he had defected to the Carian Royals in a fit of rage. However, being naturally cowardly, he had spent his time "slacking off" and avoiding duty.
"You could have at least found me the body of a powerhouse. What kind of joke is a magic apprentice?"
The youth spat into the lake. But he had never had a choice. Whatever god had thrown him here had picked a hellish world. Was a "suffering" world like this something a carbon-based lifeform was meant to choose? Fortunately, after the torments of Ashina, he had grown accustomed to it.
"Whatever. A sorcerer it is. At least this world of Elden Ring isn't all bad."
Don looked again at the distant Erdtree. According to this body's memories, the Lands Between were currently embroiled in the Shattering. The Tarnished had not yet returned, and even the manor beneath his feet had not yet become a ruin.
Of course, things weren't exactly great. With the Elden Ring shattered, the flames of war swept the land. From demigods to commoners, everyone struggled in blood and fire. This Shattering could be summarized by a single famous saying:
"The mandate of heaven changes, and the divine vessel passes to those with virtue... my ass."
Don gave a self-deprecating smile. The "great people" simply wanted to seize the Great Runes and ascend the throne. Here, on the shores of Liurnia, the task for a magic apprentice was much simpler.
Stay alive.
He took a deep breath and habitually reached for his waist. His hand met empty air. With a bitter smile, he glanced at the short apprentice's staff in his hand, tucked his arms into the wide sleeves of his robes, and walked calmly toward the center of the manor.
Many tents were pitched there. One could see Carian soldiers in full plate and Trolls standing nearly ten meters tall. Several long tables were set in the center where, aside from those on duty, everyone was lined up for rations.
"Don! Don! Over here!"
Just as he stepped down the stairs, he saw a man dressed as a soldier waving. He wore his helmet crookedly, and his youthful face sported a horseshoe mustache.
Don hesitated for a moment before recognizing him as Arno, a friend from his old village. He shamelessly cut in line. Seeing his sorcerer's robes, those behind him said nothing. Sorcerers who had defected from the Academy were rare; even an apprentice was a precious asset in a siege.
"By the way, Knight Commander Bollus called your name for a patrol mission this morning. Why didn't I see you there?" Arno stood on his tiptoes to look ahead, appearing quite energetic.
"Uh, it required going around by the water. I get seasick," Don replied, searching his cluttered memories. It seemed the previous owner of this body was a master of "laying flat."
"Seasick?" The youth blinked, then turned with a serious expression. "Don, I know you're scared. But in this world, just being alive is lucky. If this manor falls, do you think those damned Cuckoos will listen to your explanations?"
"Naturally not." Don nodded, putting on a look of sudden realization. He thought to himself that this friend had decent emotional intelligence.
The apprentice was naive and cowardly, but the man-slayer of Ashina had long since matured. Such logic did not need explaining.
Arno was stunned for a moment but didn't think much of it, assuming his friend had finally seen reason. As he received his food, he continued to ramble.
"Good that you understand. Don't look at how hard we have it here. Outside, there's the madness of the frenzied flame and the wars of the demigods. So many towns have been reduced to rubble. At least serving Lady Ranni means we get fed."
"It's exactly because I get fed that I get scolded. You can't raise a coward in a war." Don saw the look of disgust on the cook's face and immediately knew his previous reputation.
"Relax, relax. Just find a way to survive. Later, you can do your research in a big house," Arno comforted, not knowing what else to say.
The cook plopped food onto their plates: boiled crab meat, bread, and a bowl of broth brewed with Altus Bloom.
Arno held up a piece of crab, his white teeth flashing in a grin. "See? We're eating well today. I heard the second squad tried to catch some lobsters, but they got blasted back by a water cannon."
Trying to mess with the Sniper Shrimps? Brave souls, Don thought.
He forced a smile and sat cross-legged on the ground with the young soldier, eating heartily. The Carian army's cooks were skilled; they used a certain spice to mask the fishy smell of the crab, and the soup had a rich, exotic aroma. Tearing off a piece of bread, stuffing it with crab, and washing it down with soup, Don felt his appetite soar after months of choking down rice balls. Meanwhile, he pondered the state of the world.
He remembered that when he was a "player," the Lands Between were filled with lunatics, and the living were emaciated to the point of deformity. But now, most people seemed normal. This suggested he was much earlier in the timeline than the game's era. He instinctively looked toward the Erdtree again, his spoon pausing.
"What are you thinking about? Are you going to eat that bread? If not, I'll take it," Arno's voice drifted over as he reached out sneakily.
Don tossed the bread to him. Watching that joyful face, he said, "I'm thinking about how not to go insane."
"Why think so much? How the sickness appears or how to solve it is for the big shots to worry about. We just need to think about driving back those dead Cuckoos and going back to the village. Sigh, I wonder if Mary's married yet."
Don had heard similar words many times before. But a "scummy" samurai and a certain old man had taught him one thing:
Regardless of status, if you want to live, you have to fight.
Amidst the joyful chewing of the village youth, the sound of iron boots scraping against stone approached. Don looked up and saw a black silhouette walking along the wall.
The figure was massive, clad in grey armor and a fur-lined cape. A greatsword was strapped to his back. Most peculiar was his head—it was the fierce, snarling head of a wolf.
"Lord Blaidd is here," Arno whispered, quickly standing up and wiping the grease from his mouth.
This half-wolf was the general of the Carian forces, a shadow serving Princess Ranni. His status was infinitely higher than that of a common soldier. Don stood up immediately.
What an intense presence.
Even though he had just come from a field of asura, Don narrowed his eyes slightly. The Lands Between were not populated by ordinary humans; this wolf-man was a warrior worth ten thousand. And he knew that face well.
Blaidd? The source of the "For Ranni, I'll become a wolf" meme?
"Everyone, there is a reconnaissance mission this afternoon. I need five volunteers." Blaidd looked terrifying, and his voice was grave, carrying an inherent authority.
Many of those trapped here were Carian loyalists. As soon as he spoke, several men stepped forward. Blaidd said nothing else; he simply cast a deep look toward a corner and walked away quietly.
Lunch was over. The gathered soldiers dispersed. As Don and Arno prepared to leave, a soldier approached them.
"Don Wright. Come with me."
There was no politeness; the tone left no room for negotiation. Arno realized what was happening and stepped forward with a dry laugh, rubbing his hands together.
"My lord, actually, about this morning..."
Before he could finish, a hand pressed down on his shoulder. He turned to find no trace of panic on his friend's face.
"Don't plead for me. I'll go."
"Hey, are you crazy? Recon missions are dangerous!"
"It was your words just now that opened my eyes. If I eat Caria's food, I should do Caria's work. Wouldn't it be worse to be executed by military law?" Don didn't care. While Arno was stunned, Don picked up the straight sword leaning against the wall. He drew it half an inch; the cold light was dazzling, and the blade was well-oiled. He snapped it shut, satisfied.
The sword was three feet long with a bluish hilt and a cross-guard—the most common Longsword in the Lands Between. He weighed it in his hand. It was barely adequate.
"Please, lead the way."
The soldier hadn't expected the apprentice to be so polite and composed. Thinking the boy simply had no choice, he led him away. Arno stood there scratching his head, feeling that after a single lunch, his friend was no longer the man he knew.
The manor served as a fortress, sitting exactly on the mandatory path to the Carian Royal City. The outer walls cut off the mountain pass, while the inner side was level ground—lake to the right, forest to the left.
A tent was pitched by the woods. Blaidd the Half-Wolf sat on the ground. Near him lay the corpses of several Cuckoo soldiers, while conscripted peasants busily stripped them of armor and weapons.
Blaidd had already received word. Seeing Don approach, he recognized the "slacker" apprentice. His first instinct was that the boy intended to use this as a chance to desert. His brow furrowed, revealing pale, sharp fangs.
"Have you thought this through? Trying to play petty tricks in front of me will not work."
Facing the interrogation, Don rested the sword on the ground. He breathed in the faint scent of blood in the air, his mind clear of stray thoughts.
It was nauseating, yet so familiar it was nostalgic. Shadows of people flashed through his mind.
A taciturn shinobi, a boisterous Sword Saint, a samurai fighting for a dying land. Everything overlapped with the armored fortress before him.
At that thought, the former "Sword Demon," now an apprentice, straightened his back. He answered with quiet steel:
"I'm going."