Equivocations of the Eternal
The pots slammed into the creature, two of them covering its mane while one managed to cover its snout in St. Trina's Paste.
[Observe]
(Character Sheet
Silver Tear
Age: Twenty thousand, six hundred years, three months old.
[Stats are in perpetual flux]
[The Silver Tear makes a mockery of life, reborn again and again into imitation. Perhaps, one day, it will be reborn a lord...])
Godrick frowned as the giant lion roared in anger. Even when standing, its head stood a few feet above Godrick's.
'Perpetual flux?' he pondered while the lion's pupils began to dilate and its gait stumble. 'The Nox truly outdid themselves. Their alchemical prowess is unparalleled.'
With a final weak roar, the lion teetered over and fell to its side, its maw wide open. It was amusing. If the silver tear had decided to remain in its original, liquid form, the sleep pots wouldn't have affected it, but since it decided to morph into a Lion Guardian, its biology failed it.
"By Marika!"
"O Erdtree..."
"Fucking Hell!"
Numerous curses rang out as the soldiers examined the giant slumped over before them.
"We've found the culprit. That's for sure," Earnan sighed as Godrick borrowed a soldier's spear and pushed his way out of the formation.
"That's dangerous, my Lord," Madhadh said weakly as he let his lord snatch his spear.
"What isn't?" he replied, slowly advancing and positioning the spear's tip over the lion's eye.
He took a deep breath and thrust the spear with all his strength, piercing through the socket and ramming into its brain. A few good twists scrambled whatever was left and sealed the deal. The Lion Guardian shuddered and twitched before falling limp, its body melting back into silver liquid.
[Lion Guardian (Imitation) killed. +400 EXP]
(EXP 400/100 (+))
The silvery liquid akin to mercury slid off the spear tip and accumulated into a small puddle on the ground, whose centre lay a dark, silver blob shaped like a bean. At the same time, a small stream of gold deposited a few hundred runes in his soul, aimlessly floating in the same space as his Great Rune.
[Observe]
[Larval tear: An exceptionally rare creature that burgeons from spiritgraves and lives only a fleeting existence. Neither flesh nor spirit, but something in between. Can be used as material to be born anew.]
"How many empty pots do we have?" Godrick questioned as his soldiers stared at the liquid in wonder.
"Not many, my lord."
"Stow as much of the liquid as you can. The silver object too," he nodded, returning the spear and addressing his soldiers. "Earnan and a few others shall come with me to explore the town hall while the rest of you shall scour for valuables, burn the bodies, and set up camp nearby."
"Yes, my Lord!" a chorus of voices rang out as they got to work.
***
Exploring the inside of the town hall wasn't as exciting as finding a silver tear, but it did yield some alluring loot. A few hundred gold coins, which could buy you a lifetime of luxury in Leyndell, were hidden in the chimney—something that greatly surprised Godrick. Why would someone stash so much money if they could instead live in the Golden City?
It didn't end there. In the chambers, they found a dried corpse of a noble, probably the mayor, cradling a large glowing stone that was pure white, reflecting even the tiniest of rays.
[Observe]
[Somber Smithing Stone (5): A scale plucked from the corpse of an Ancient Dragon. Can be used by a competent blacksmith to greatly increase the strength of a weapon.]
The somber smithing stone was also present in the game, on the same corpse, but the entire settlement had been reduced to a broken, ruined stone building. Perhaps it was merely a few decades, or a century from now, that the game truly started.
He stowed both their finds before joining the rest of the soldiers who'd already dragged and burned as many of the bodies as they could, before carting off their possessions and setting up camp a distance away from the settlement, not wanting to be in proximity to a place of massacre.
***
A large campfire burned in the centre of their camp that consisted of hastily put-together tents and mattresses. A few soldiers stood guard while the others, including Godrick, sat around the campfire, drinking Postoc and exchanging stories.
"'Twas Marika herself who created the Ancient Dragons! Why else would the cult even be allowed to exist?"
"Oi! Dog-bitten, why would they attack Leyndell if they were of Marika's ilk? Did that dog do more than just bite your throat!"
"Hey! Don't call me that. The dragons could have... I don't know... rebelled."
"Sure, sure. I believe that the Dragons were birthed by the Erdtree itself, and wished to rule over it."
"Hah! You're dumber than you look."
"Shut up! Nobody knows for sure, okay? I doubt even the Lord knows."
Everyone went silent and looked at Godrick who sat in amused silence, with curiosity.
"What?" he asked.
"Ahem... do you have an answer that could put an end to this idiotic argument, Sire?" Earnan coughed from the side after taking a swig from his deerskin.
"Well..." Godrick scratched his chin. "The Ancient Dragons are far, far older than the Erdtree, so both of you are wrong."
"Older... than the Erdtree?"
the soldiers looked at each other like he'd just told them that he was Marika. "Is that even possible?"
"How old do you think the Erdtree is?" he frowned.
"Er... wasn't it always there?" a soldier tilted his head in confusion. "Marika got her title because she was Eternal... right?"
"Who told you this?"
"Our masters did, during training," another piped up. "It was mandatory to learn history."
Godrick sighed and rubbed his head. He expected the Golden Order to obscure history, but never to this extent. Well, if he had to eventually break his soldiers' faith in the Golden Order—he might as well start now.
"All right, forget everything you know and listen carefully, for the Golden Order is neither infallible nor eternal."
With that, Godrick regaled them with the history of the Lands' Between, from the division of the One Great by the Greater Will, the creation of the Ancient Dragons, the crowning of the first Elden Lord, Placidusax, and the unknown God of the Dragon who'd fled long past. To the Age of the Crucible, the Age of Plenty, and finally the current Age of the Erdtree.
The soldiers, including Earnan, sat wide-eyed and slack-jawed, listening to a tale so fantastical and absurd, a tale that attempted to overthrow their very understanding of the world.
"B-but that's heresy!" a soldier stammered when Godrick came to the age of the Crucible when he insinuated that it was the Erdtree in its primordial form. It wasn't surprising as he and the others were brought up hating Omens and misbegotten. Those poor creatures were treated with disgust and racism for their wings, horns, and tails; things that represented their connection to the Crucible. If the Crucible was the Erdtree's Primordial Form, wasn't everything they'd been told a lie?
"Have you forgotten of the Crucible Knights? Those who fought side by side with Godfrey in the many wars of the Erdtree?" Godrick rebutted. "The way they fight with horns, tails—aspects of the Crucible that were once divine?"
"Who?"
Godrick merely shook his head and got up, dusting his pants.
"I've said enough for today. For now, it's best you all ruminate on what I've said. I'll continue on the morrow."
He headed back to his tent while his soldiers descended into furious discussion. It was the largest one of them and the most comfortable. It couldn't compare to the cloud-esk beads that were in the capital.
He stripped himself of his armour and lay down, finally bringing up the pale gold screen that'd been gnawing at him ever since he killed the silver tear.
(EXP 400/100 (+))
He focused on the plus sign and almost immediately, a flash of dark gold covered his body, filling him with incredible warmth—making any sores he had on the ride vanish.
(EXP 300/200 (+) -> Gained 1 stat point and 1 skill point.)
Similar plus signs appeared next to all his stats and his Skills, the ones with levels.
'Huh,' he thought. 'Well, I'm saving that Level-up as a life-saving measure as gaining 1 stat point isn't worth losing that heal. Speaking of stat points, I'm weakest in Dexterity. Still, that could be trained. I also have [Order Meditation] and Incantation or Sorcery practice for Mind and Intelligence. That only leaves Faith.'
Although Faith was his highest stat, it was also the only stat that had no other way of increasing other than a level up. Thus, if he wanted to maximize his gains in the long term, it would be best if he invested in Faith. Most of the strongest incantations were locked behind an infuriatingly high Faith requirement.
(Faith: 14->15)
The sensation was odd. If he had to explain it, it would be akin to making pasta, where one would make a hole in the flour to pour the eggs. If his body was the flour, an increase in Faith was an increase in the hole.
'But what is the egg in this analogy? What is Faith?' he contemplated as the sensation faded.
Finding no answer, he stared at the skill point before allocating it to [Order Meditation]. If he applied the same logic behind his stat point distribution to his skill point distribution, he'd have to increase [Observe] as it showed no signs of increasing even though he was near perpetually using it.
But, it wasn't his priority right now, as increasing [Order Meditation] gave him far better results. Not only did it increase two stats, Mind and Intelligence which he required for Golden Order incantations, but if the skill became passive, it removed the limitation of FP, allowing for near-constant casting of sorceries and incantations.
Becoming a pure caster was not his intention, as it had its flaws and he liked to be in the thick of it. How else would he relieve his boredom? He hoped that he would be able to steer his build to a more Strength/Faith or Strength/Intelligence build, but that would be decided by how tomorrow turns out.
After all, if tomorrow goes well, he would truly be worthy of the title of Demigod.
***
You guys need to work harder to get that bonus chapter tomorrow. Barely a hundred powerstones! come on!