Chapter 49

Seeing and feeling the healing energy wash over her body and soul was pleasant. For many reasons—most of which had already been mentioned more than once.

But right now, what pleased her most was how it was happening. Her Tarnished was dressed, focused, surprisingly attentive, and actually speaking with her.

He had torn himself away from that arrogant witch and had chosen to spend time with her.

"How do you feel?"

A question he had asked before. He already knew the answer. And yet, he asked again, looking directly into her eyes—calm, but with intent.

Could it be said that Konstantin had completely recovered? Or… could he go even further? What would he become if he absorbed even more runes?

"Good," she muttered, averting her gaze.

"Then close that cursed eye," Kosta said flatly. "That cutscene with the burning bush(1) on your head didn't leave the best impression, Meli-Meli."

"A possible future…" Melina murmured. "Is my hairstyle really that bad?"

She sounded oddly lost as she said it, staring at the ground in thought.

"Yes."

"W-what… how did that even happen?"

It seemed she was genuinely concerned about her hair.

No matter how much time she had wandered the Lands Between, she had always taken care of herself. Spectral body or not, a world teetering on the edge of ruin or not—it mattered!

"The world burned," Kosta shrugged.

Melina gasped.

"You…!"

"The moment they called me Maidenless(2), I realized my greatest fear," Kosta declared with unusual gravity. "And that's losing you."

Worlds without waifus were empty—any waifu enthusiast could tell you that. But truly dead worlds were the ones that had once had waifus… and then lost them.

At that point, nothing else mattered anymore.

Darkness. Emptiness. Oblivion.

Kosta hadn't been grinding and cheesing his way through the Lands Between just to bask in some cheap, overpowered strength that ruined the fun of real challenges. His goals had been clear from the very first day.

Melina suddenly had the overwhelming urge to fade into immateriality or—if that wasn't an option—just sink into the ground and vanish. But the man in front of her wouldn't let her. He grabbed her hand again, stopping her from running away.

"Let—let go…!"

But the unyielding Soulslike player did not let go. His face was a perfect mask of stone, the unshakable calm of a veteran who had dodged every AOE attack, who feared no janky hitboxes, who had faced bosses forums called "easy" only to suffer countless retries at their hands.

And Melina… Melina could not fight against that.

She stopped struggling, feeling something inside her snap.

"You say such things to me, but you'd say the exact same thing to the other… witches…"

She didn't care about some random Irene, Millicent, or Roderika. But Sellen and Ranni…

The real problem here was greed. Probably.

Of all the waifus, the false Finger Maiden was likely the most possessive and stubborn, refusing to even consider sharing her Tarnished with anyone. Irene, Millicent, and Roderika? She could tolerate them, at best. Concubines. Nothing more.

But witches…

WITCHES.

"What?" Kosta raised a brow, genuinely puzzled. "No, I wouldn't say that to them. I have no other Finger Maiden. Only you. Without you, I never would have made it this far."

The vast majority of Soulslike players, if Melina had not gifted them Torrent, would have long since died of exhaustion—forced to trudge across the endless expanse of the Lands Between at the pace of a turtle.

That was the absolute truth.

After all, let's not forget about softlocks…

"Liar."

Melina said it without heat or malice.

Maybe, on some level, she'd never truly believe him—no matter what he said, or how many times he said it.

And maybe… Konstantin understood that, too, because his expression darkened slightly.

He had to really think about this—about how to get through to the closed-off, slightly… just slightly unhinged girl in front of him.

"I don't know what I'll do once I become king," he admitted at last. "Strength… that's all I have. So tell me—without you, who do you think I'd start listening to?"

It was obvious.

The women who would surround him.

Kosta's words hit Melina harder than she wanted to admit.

It was exactly what she had feared all this time. The one thing keeping her from disappearing into nothingness.

"I can become a king. But I am still a Tarnished with no name, no lineage," Konstantin murmured. "A Tarnished without a Maiden is incomplete. Maidenless."

At that last word, Kosta grimaced so hard that Melina's lips twitched into a tiny smile.

She liked when her Tarnished spoke like this. How expressive and passionate he was.

"You want me to remain your Maiden?"

"A Maiden for the Tarnished. A Queen for the King," Konstantin said plainly.

Melina shook.

A Queen? Her?

She—the one who couldn't even count on the title of a demigod? One of Queen Marika's forgotten daughters?

"My… my mother…"

"Not waifu."

"NOT WAIFU?!" Melina shouted.

The answer she had been waiting for all this time.

The question that could determine everything.

Now, she had her answer.

Kosta simply shrugged.

If he had valued a waifu only for appearances, he wouldn't have been a true waifu enthusiast.

A waifu came from the soul.

Sure, Marika had an undeniable royal presence on many, many sites—but Kosta, a connoisseur of true waifus, looked beyond the surface.

And what he saw?

He hadn't liked it since the very first day he arrived in the Lands Between.

But Kosta wasn't done.

"I gave you a ring," he said. "Where is it?"

Already shaken beyond reason, Melina stared at him in alarm.

Saying nothing, she reached under her mantle, hesitantly pulling out the ring.

Wordlessly, Konstantin took it from her.

Then, as if this were the most mundane thing in the world, he knelt and slipped it onto her ring finger.

He did it so casually, like he'd put rings on people hundreds of times before.

Right now, though, Melina wasn't thinking about that.

She wasn't thinking at all.

She just stood there, staring at the ring he had just placed on her finger.

Konstantin rose, ready to say something else—

But then Melina suddenly grabbed him—

And kissed him.

Quick. Fleeting. As if it hadn't happened at all.

Then, without another word, the false Finger Maiden ran, leaving Kosta alone.

She had already pushed past every conceivable boundary.

Melina needed a moment—just a moment—to process her own reality again.

Konstantin, whether he wanted to or not, turned his gaze slightly—

And felt someone watching him.

Someone who had been trying to hide.

He locked eyes with Ranni, who was peering out from behind some bushes.

The spectral face of the lunar demigoddess tried to appear as indifferent as possible, but Kosta could see the interest in her gaze—like she was watching an important plot development in her favorite show.

Her only show, really.

Saying nothing, the moon waifu disappeared.

But the message was clear.

She, too, had quests that needed completing.

Konstantin sighed.

He understood.

But lately… she had been appearing a bit too often.

A dangerous thought crept into his mind.

Was it possible that the Death Rune had reached her because she'd been too distracted? (3)

Too focused on watching the adventures of a Tarnished with no name?

Kosta shook the thought away.

For now, there was something else to do.

A flash of light swept him away.

A hardened Soulslike player. A stoic tryhard. A master of casual cheese.

…It had been a long time since anyone had hugged him.

…Of course, first, he had to go back for Sellen.

"You haven't visited me for a long time, my Sun…"

She was beyond happy to see him. When he hadn't appeared at the hold for some time, Fia had started to worry, but her calling as the companion of the dead was not given to her without reason.

Who said the dead were silent? On the contrary, they spoke far more than the living. One only had to listen, try to understand their words, embrace them, and give them a chance to be heard.

The companion of the dead had heard much. Including the whispers that the Tarnished she had longed for had returned to the hold. But he had not come to her, and that saddened her deeply.

She wanted warmth.

Sweet Rogier, her faithful companion, had tried to intercept the terrifyingly strong and swift Tarnished, but…

It was as if he was avoiding them. Both her and her dear Rogier, as if he didn't want to see them.

To her immense relief, she had been mistaken.

"Doing quests."

The man's vague response didn't faze Fia in the slightest. All of her attention was focused on what she felt as she embraced the Tarnished. Something immense, unfathomable—she could no longer even begin to grasp how powerful he had become.

Or rather, she couldn't comprehend what he had become at all.

The gap between them had grown so vast that she simply couldn't process it. More than that, if she wasn't careful, her body could have been torn apart.

Thankfully, the Tarnished—changed beyond recognition—didn't allow her such a foolish death, restricting the warmth he radiated just enough so that she felt only a small stream of energy, no more. Still gentle, still enveloping her body and soul, yet nowhere near the overwhelming sensation she had experienced in the beginning.

It was, in its own way, disappointing. She wanted to feel it again. The warmth granted by the Tarnished could help not only in completing the Rune(4), something even more perfect and whole than she could have ever imagined, but also…

"I can feel how much you've changed…" Fia murmured, running a hand over his head. "You've been through so much…"

She could feel the echoes of the Great Runes within him. The land had yet to be filled with rumors, but soon, both the living and the dead would spread the word that the world now had a sole bearer of four Great Runes. Their world would never be the same.

The speed with which he had gathered them across the Lands Between was terrifying.

It felt as though a god, akin to Queen Marika herself, had descended upon their world and brought all of the Lands Between to their knees.

Fia's eyes, whether she wanted them to or not, gleamed with fanaticism.

She, who considered herself the companion of Godwyn, the Prince of Death, was now faced with what felt like his antithesis. The embodiment of life and hope, a warm, guiding Sun.

Had all those who defamed her been right all along?

"My Sun…" she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Will you grant me my request?"

Konstantin pulled away from Fia's embrace, raising his gaze to her.

For some reason, a chill ran down her spine. The partially golden hue of his eyes seemed to peer directly into her very soul.

It felt as though he already knew what she was going to ask. As if he had simply been waiting for it.

Uncertainly, Fia reached for the dagger she never let out of her grasp.

"P-please, find out who this dagger belongs to… and return it to its owner…"

"I don't think he deserves to die," the Tarnished said quietly.

Change. She had sensed from the very start that he had changed—not just deep within his essence, but even his consciousness and perception had shifted in an indescribable way.

As if a man who had been half-asleep, speaking to her in a dream, had suddenly opened his eyes.

"Y-you…"

The foreknowledge Konstantin possessed unsettled Fia. She already felt insignificant next to someone so powerful, but now…

"He's merely a follower of the only teaching that accepted him(5)," Konstantin spoke softly. "If he and his brother are offered a better alternative, he will take it. And he will be of use."

At least, that was the feeling Konstantin had.

"A-alternative?"

Konstantin smiled.

"The dead will never know peace, even if they are freed. Your lord will not rise again."

Fia's fear slowly turned into horror, her heart pounding wildly.

The Outer Gods bear witness—she was terrified of what she might hear.

And yet, she desperately wanted to hear it.

"I… I don't understand…"

Kosta, gazing into the eyes of the waifu who had embraced countless Soulslike players, finally came to a decision.

He could help.

After all, he had never intended to usher in the Age of Duskborn.

Maybe not now, but sooner or later, the waifu who embraced the dead would have tried something.

And killing a waifu…

That wasn't even funny.

"Praise the Sun."

The Lands Between were vast, and Brother Corhyn knew this well. Finding a single person was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Although, in the current Age, it was more like searching for a needle on scorched earth—but that didn't change much.

"Why are there so many commoners here…" Corhyn murmured in confusion.

He knew that the Golden Order's prophet, Goldmask, should be somewhere on the Altus Plateau. But the plateau was enormous, as was the number of places from which one could admire the beauty of the Erdtree.

Initially, Corhyn had considered asking the undead for directions (after all, just because someone had died a few times didn't necessarily mean they were aggressive or had completely lost themselves).

But to his growing unease, he realized that all of them…

Were just hollow illusions. Entire crowds of identical, lifeless commoners filled the Altus Plateau—exact copies of one another.

The deeper he went, the more he saw these dolls, and the more unsettling the atmosphere became.

Why? Who? Why was someone creating replicas of the same commoner?

Instead of finding his way and locating his teacher, Goldmask, Corhyn was beginning to think that maybe he should temporarily leave this unsettling region. Only his devotion to meeting the hero kept him moving forward despite it all.

In the worst case, his unseen companion could attempt to save him and transport him back to the hold.

Brother Corhyn was not one to flee from problems so easily.

Fortunately, this time, fate smiled upon him.

…Or almost.

"Brother Corhyn?"

Walking along a path littered with faceless commoners, Corhyn feared most of all that they might suddenly spring to life and attack him.

So, naturally, his reaction was to let out a startled yelp, his body glowing with golden light as he prepared to fight for his life (or rather, his life in undeath).

But to his own surprise, he calmed almost instantly.

The voice.

It was familiar.

Stomach still twisting with lingering fear, Corhyn slowly turned his head—only to see a familiar figure.

A clothed Tarnished.

"Konstantin…?" he blurted out, dumbfounded.

The Tarnished, standing a head taller than before and appearing as if he had materialized out of nowhere, smiled.

"I know where Goldmask is."

"Ah…?"

For some reason, Corhyn thought that the previously unresponsive commoners scattered across the Altus Plateau had all simultaneously turned their empty gazes toward Konstantin.

But…

Probably it was just his imagination.

(1) This refers once again to the ending of the Lord of Frenzied Flame, in whose final cutscene the player can see Melina with her mysterious accursed eye and a strange, scorched tuft of hair on her head.

(2) This is what Varre calls the player. As one might guess, he implies that the player is "Maidenless" in the sense of "without a Maiden (guide)," but the term Maidenless can also be interpreted more literally as "without a woman" or "without a companion," adding some rather interesting connotations. The term quickly became a meme online, planting suffering in the hearts of lonely Soulslike players from the very first minutes of the game, as is only fitting for a true Soulslike.

(3) Over the course of Ranni's questline, she ends up in trouble, hiding away from yet another asset reuse version of Blaidd.

(4) This is, of course, just speculation. Fia mentions that for a Rune to be born, the new life of Marika's firstborn must mix with the death of a demigod (that same firstborn). I assume she might have used the accumulated power to try and apply it to Godwyn, hoping that with his full Death energy, a new Rune would form within her.

Whether she knew, when offering the Rune to the player, that the demigod's condition wouldn't improve—or if she expected Godwyn to be revived later and reclaim it—is unclear. What is clear, however, is that the player gets a unique opportunity to finish off the undead dragon guarding Godwyn, which probably doesn't align with Fia's plans.

(5) The dagger belongs to D, Hunter of the Dead. Naturally, the companion of the dead and the man who slaughters them left and right were bound to have a conflict. D's motivation is quite simple: the undead were hunted down by the Golden Order. And no other doctrine, aside from the Golden Order, ever accepted D and his brother.