Elden Ring : Godrick The Golden

Richard, now Godrick, let out a breath as he watched Taraghlan shut the door to his study.

'Well, that went splendidly', he thought to himself as he looked out the window at the imposing stone corpse of Gransax. He had a week to come to terms with his circumstances and the Ancient Dragon's corpse that loomed over his mansion had helped with that. The average person would've fallen into despair or depression if they found themselves transmigrated into a Fromsoft game, but he was as abnormal as it got.

While everyone else seemed to go through emotional highs and lows, experiencing joy and sorrow, he was stuck in a mildly infuriating grey blob of an emotional spectrum. If the average person had an emotional range of 1 to 10, he was stuck between 3 to 6, never high nor low, just enough to be in nearly perpetual boredom.

Seeing people jump for joy and wallow in misery seemed alien to him. The only way he seemed to be able to get his blood pumping was through extreme sports and fully armoured duels in HEMA. He'd even wanted to turn to drugs to feel something, but his doctor had warned him that he was highly susceptible to addiction. Instead, he'd settled for highly challenging videogames for his escapism, not knowing he'd end up in one himself.

'This isn't too bad, though', he brushed a strand of golden hair behind his ear. Godrick's memories were now his and the way the game translated to reality was fascinating. People like Taraghlan were never mentioned in the game and the sheer size of the Land's Between was grossly underrepresented. It was easily the size of a large continent on Earth.

He was now in a much younger Godrick before the two sieges of Leyndell, before his descent into madness and a few years after the Night of the Black Knives and the Shattering of the Elden Ring.

The aforementioned Elden Ring had split into Great Runes that seeked out Demigods and those who rivalled them - beings with unfathomable strength whose power only multiplied when they accepted the power, hoping that they would reunite them and become Elden Lord.

Starscourge Radhan, the Conqueror of the Stars.

Justiciar Rykard, Lord of Blasphemy.

Scalret Rotted Malenia, Blade of Miquella.

Miquella the Kind of the Haligtree.

Fell Omen Morgott, the Grace-given.

Mogh, the Lord of Blood.

Renalla, Queen of the Full Moon.

'And me, the runt of the litter. Someone of little renown', Godrick touched his chest, closing his eyes and looking within his soul.

Sure enough, within a space of endless grey mist, hovered a large golden emblem with intersecting circles within. Intricate patterns and runic inscriptions spiralled outward from the centre, its surface lightly shimmering.

Beholding the Great Rune, he could feel its weight, not its mass but its significance - a key to unlocking potential far beyond mortal ken.

Mind you, this was no ordinary Great Rune. It was the cornerstone of the Elden Ring, upon which all other Great Runes were fixed. But why did he, not even a Demigod, possess such a powerful item? Perhaps this specific Great Rune was that of Godwyn the Golden, the embodiment of the ideals of the Golden Order and the champion of the war against the Ancient Dragons.

But that Demigod was dead.

'Everything that I have of any worth was inherited from Godwyn. His troops, his Great Rune and even his title,' he thought.

It wasn't a bad thing, as no one suspected him of having a Great Rune. After all, why would a Great Rune ever go to a weak, pathetic runt? Golden Lineage or not?

'That isn't true. I do have something that Godwyn or anyone in the Land's Between knows nothing of', he thought, mentally bringing forth what seemed to have followed him into this world.

(Character Sheet :

 Godrick the Golden ( Level 1 )

 Age: Twenty-three and three months old

 EXP: 1/100

 HP: 40 { Healthy }

 FP: 50

 Strength: 4

 Dexterity: 5

 Endurance: 3

 Vigor: 4

 Mind: 5

 Intelligence: 5

 Faith: 14

 Skills:

 [Observe (Active): Level 1

 When activated on a target, gain its basic information as well as its skills. The greater the level of the skill, the more precise and detailed the information.]

 [Graft (Passive/Active): Level 1

 You intrinsically understand the anatomy of creatures you butcher or kill. You can attach, or replace parts of your body with another, gaining their strength but also their resentment. Success rate is less than 5 per cent and will increase with higher levels. Excessive grafting leads to madness and failure to graft leads to a splintered mind.]

 [Golden Lineage (Passive): Albeit sorely diluted, you possess Divine Blood. Faith +10.]

 [Shaman Physiology (Passive): Ability to seamlessly meld with another being. Removes chance of failure during Grafting.]

 Great Runes (1/8):

 [Godwyn's Great Rune : (Inactive)])

The pale gold screen that hovered before his eyes didn't seem to be of this world, and was for only his eyes given that he'd not elicited a reaction when he brought it out before Taraghlan.

Assuming that 5 stat points were the average, other than his Faith stat, everything else looked quite pathetic given what monsters roamed the Lands Between. If 5 stats wasn't the average, and was instead 1, he sure wasn't feeling five times as strong as before.

This notion was further strengthened by the fact that Taraghlan had twice his stats in Strength, Dexterity, Endurance and Vigor but had 5 stats in Mind, Intelligence and Faith.

There were still a couple of unanswered questions such as his lack of the Arcane stat, and if the Faith stat represented his belief in an Outer God. If that were the case, shouldn't it be zero? And why would his bloodline increase it?

He assumed that if he levelled up, he'd be able to increase his stat points and that killing things would net him EXP. At least, that's how it was in the game, just that it was runes, not EXP.

Too many assumptions and too many variables.

He didn't like that.

'All in good time. Currently, my priorities are preventing the First Seige of Leyndell so I don't get implicated, getting out of Leyndell, activating my Great Rune, and gaining a foothold in Stormveil Castle', he breathed out, a hint of excitement bubbling inside him.

Sure, he could hand over his Great Rune to Morgott and hide away in the tall golden walls of Leyndell. That would be the safest option, given Leyndell never fell in the game.

'But that would be terribly boring', he grumbled. He'd tried to rid himself of his boredom his entire past life, and what could be more exciting than playing Elden Ring in real life? With the Character Sheet and Great Rune, he stood a realistic chance. He could not let go of this golden opportunity. He would not let go of the flame of ambition within him, Morgott be damned.

"Sire, you summoned me?", a muffled gruff voice sounded from outside his voice preceded by a firm knock.

"Come in, Earnan", Godrick answered.

The doors opened, revealing a six-foot-two wall of muscle and steel. He wore Godrick's knight armour, its left breast is emblazoned with a two-headed war axe, an emblem of the Golden lineage, while his helmet was held at his side; a longsword at his hip.

Curiosity leading him, Godrick cast [Observe].

(Character Sheet

 Earnan

 Age: Thirty-five and seven months

 HP: 100 { Healthy }

 FP: 50

 Strength: 9

 Dexterity: 10

 Endurance: 10

 Vigor: 10

 Mind: 5

 Intelligence: 5

 Faith: 6

 Skills:

 [Sword Mastery (Passive): Level ?]

 [Sheild Mastery (Passive): Level ?]

 [Spear Mastery (Passive): Level ?]

 [Greataxe Mastery (Passive): Level 3]

 Incantations: ???)

Godrick raised an elegant brow. He was slightly taken off guard due to the question marks but mainly due to Taraghlan having similar stats to a Knight Commander. Was that because his steward was unusually trained or that Earnan was just a poor excuse for a Knight Commander?

"Knight Commander Earnan, Sire", the man before him boomed, bowing low, the white scar on his dark chin giving him the air of a veteran.

'Perhaps the former', Godrick mused as he noticed the change in how Earnan treated him compared to the Godrick of old. In his memories, Earnan held a barely contained sneer of disdain when addressing Godrick and showed him no respect.

But now? Earnan seemed to wish to bang his head on the ground and beg for mercy.

"I would like to apologise on behalf of me and my battalion. Our behaviour was inexcusable. We await punishment", he bowed his head, beads of sweat accumulating on his forehead. He was a Knight who'd sword the oath of fealty. Insulting his Lord was akin to insulting his integrity.

'It seems Taraghlan has taken great joy in breaking the news to the Knight Commanders', Godrick internally chuckled. He wished to see the reactions of the rest of the Knight Commanders when they got the news that he was merely faking betrayal to capture a traitor, but they were all with Godefroy or in Stormveil.

"I had expected it when I planned it out, Earnan. If my soldiers didn't look angered when asked to attack their home, Godefroy would've smelled something fishy", Godrick waved him off. "But I didn't bring you here to gloat. I require something of you."

"Anything, Sire", Earan gave him a heartfelt salute, the respect within his eyes magnifying.

"The weakness in my flesh is unbecoming of my status as a descendant of the Golden Lineage and I wish to rectify it", Godrick continued. "I wish to train under you in both blade and spellcraft."

"You...wish to train with us?", Earnan blinked, unable to believe his ears. The Godrick of old acted more like the aristocrats who disdained to ever seek discomfort. Even so, if they did train, it was with highly accomplished masters. Not commoners such as him.

"Would it be a problem?"

"Of course not Sire! It would be an honour to train you", Earnan bowed low once more.

Godrick nodded, "I'll see you tomorrow then. At the courtyard?"

"Yes, Sire. Would dawn be possible?"

"It will', Godrick waved his hand, dismissing the shaken Commander before turning back to his study.

'I need more than just sleep pots if I need to survive the journey to Stormveil', he sighed to himself as the door closed behind him.

The chair creaked as he dragged it over to the table before picking up a quill and writing another letter.

'No rest for the golden.'

***