The Light Scorned in Darkness: An Elden Ring Story

As far as the eye could see, there was sand; red, dry sand with a smell and taste of scarlet rot. The man looked up at the sky. He saw nothing but clouds as red as the sand itself. Horrible were the visions of the spoils of some bloody war of the past, with no clear date.

Mitranis stood up, his legs heavy. He made a face of disgust and stuck out his tongue to wipe it on some part of his clothing. The scarlet rot was part of the content of those death potions that those people - or rather, monsters - who had trained him gave him to make him resistant to any toxin.

"Why am I in this zone of Caelid?" Mitranis wondered, looking at the terrain.

About thirty meters away there was a mound. It was noticeable that there were weapons piled up and stuck in the sand. They seemed to be spears, swords, scythes. They were all quite different from what the boy knew as part of the place where he lived, which made him even more suspicious. He took one of these, and eventually, with it came out a skeletal forearm, clearly part of the skeleton of whoever had carried that weapon.

"These are the remains of the war in Caelid…" the boy commented in a low voice.

Death left no one indifferent, but this boy seemed to be used to it. A few moments later, Mitranis heard a distant rumble. His chest quickened, and a chilling sensation took hold of the boy for a few moments. He slapped his face with both hands, and pulled out his dagger. Something was approaching quickly. The galloping of a four-legged creature could be heard.

Although the sound was not so loud in the sand, Mitranis could tell with his keen senses that it was a giant being. And the confirmation came immediately. The boy, just by instinct, dodged a kind of missile that attracted him slightly as it fell.

"Shit… It's a spear," said Mitranis, looking at the weapon stuck in the sand. "No… It's an arrow. This is not an animal; this son of a bitch is some kind of giant."

He didn't have much time to continue rambling. Mitranis felt a wave of terror and adrenaline wash over him. It was the kind of feeling his sharp senses were telling him about. And it was no longer about a strong enemy he had fought in his arduous training since he was a child.

Now it was worse, perhaps much worse. Immediately, and due to a vibration he had never felt before, Mitranis noticed that behind a dune in front of him a shock wave was beginning to be released.

The impact of this kind of attack was devastating. Mitranis' body became heavy, too heavy. It was as if he were carrying sacks and sacks of flour, but these were actually his own body. Then, the shaking he felt was nothing more than a kind of force of attraction that brought him closer to the dune from which the attack came.

It was rare for Mitranis to feel terror after all he had been through as a child, and his past as a ruthless and accomplished killer since the age of twelve. But now it was a feeling that gripped him. What drew him was gravity magic, and one with a potency he had never witnessed, even among the Tarnished he had slain under his patron's orders.

After being drawn into the attack, Mitranis was able to see himself face to face with his rival: a giant, human-looking being, mounted on a starving horse with skinny legs, making it ridiculous how he could support his titanic master. The body of that being was undoubtedly muscular, and probably had an equally titanic strength.

That enemy wore golden armor, with reliefs of muscles, as well as reliefs of lion heads on the plates that covered his shoulders and knees. That enormous helmet stood out, which only partially revealed his face, due to those two giant lion fangs that grew from what should have been the visor of that helmet. And at the tip of the helmet had a red lock that grew and extended quite a bit, almost surrounding his helmet as if it were the mane of a furious lion.

There was no longer any doubt. That sturdy man, a living representation of a huge lion, was none other than General Radahn, The Starscourge, one of the demigods who fought in the war of devastation, countless years ago. He looked furious and alienated as well, as his face did not show a shred of consciousness. His eyes showed it, his eyes were bulging, and there was no shred of volition in them.

The towering giant was not there at last, Mitranis realized. He was just a wild creature, following its impulses. Or at least the greatest of them: to fight and kill. People who knew the story of The Lands Between could understand the reasons for Radahn's state. And yet, at that sight, the boy understood the scale of that foreboding. Mitranis was no match for Radahn by any stretch of the imagination. There was only fight, flight, or death for the young man.

Mitranis now turned his attention to the weapons the giant carried on each arm: They were two enormous, curved twin swords, with blades made of a material like obsidian. They were the giant swords of the Starscourge. There were strange inscriptions on each one, like some kind of magic circle in golden colors, the same color as the hilt of said identical swords.

There was no time to consider how imposing those swords were, or even their design. Mitranis knew how to dodge attacks of all kinds, but this one was really difficult. Radahn's swords moved fast despite being colossal, and the giant swung them as if they were simple dagger blades. The impact of the attacks was impressive, and that same energy that had attracted the boy felt like a blow that shook him to the marrow of his bones.

There was no choice but to retreat. The scene was atrocious, but he had to survive. So Mitranis was forced to use his dagger, and the ash of war that it possessed, and that Lady Tanith had entrusted to him.

The dagger had a curved blade, longer than usual. The blade was scarlet in the center, turning darker at the edges. The blade was also irregularly serrated like a saw with prominent, curved teeth. There seemed to be another blade protruding from beneath the weapon's black hilt. It was a sort of red, deployable stinger.

Mitranis unleashed a burst of flame attack inherited from the power of Rykard the Blasphemer, the lord of the Volcano Manor where the boy had lived since childhood and was trained to be a recusant.

These blasts were aimed at one of Radahn's hands, in order to stop the relentless pace of his attacks. However, the color of said blast changed from red flames to a black and scarlet energy, very different from what the boy's weapon produced.

The boy couldn't help but have a bad feeling: this was another power, and it was much worse than the one he learned to use since he was trained more than 10 years ago. The effect of the attack couldn't leave Mitranis indifferent, either: Radahn's hand wasn't just bleeding: A strange burn, different from any the boy had ever seen, damaged his enemy.

The attack slowed the great Starscourge for a bit. Despite this, Mitranis was not even remotely a match for the one in front of him. The giant still had another sword, and he used it with precision. The boy dodged it, but the impact was so massive that he was thrown far away, falling and rolling down the red dunes.

The boy could feel nothing but a loud tinnitus in his ears. That sword strike, reinforced by gravity magic, had really been like a bomb, or a meteor. Yes; it was a meteor. That giant creature was a terrifying warrior, but also a skilled sorcerer who mastered gravity magic to perfection.

Mitranis stood up, still somewhat deaf temporally. He remained in a posture on one knee. It was almost a bow to his enemy, for he was infinitely stronger than he. The boy saw how the huge man approached on his starving steed. Immediately, Mitranis heard a gallop. And an instant later, he was shaken by the collar of his suit. Someone had grabbed him from behind and lifted onto his horse.

It was impossible to tell who it was. Mitranis could only see his back. But now that he could hear, could tell that they were speaking the same language.

"Why the fuck do you think you can start the festival by yourself, brat?" the subject was partially heard saying.

"What festival are you talking about?" Mitranis asked back, grabbing the man.

It was not worth it for either of them to clear things up now. They just needed to survive. The unknown man kicked the horse's rib cage to make it run faster. He also drove it in a zigzag pattern, knowing full well the bow attacks of that implacable enemy. Mitranis watched as they approached the edge of what seemed to be the sea. Or rather an inlet, since it was possible to jump over it, probably. And so it was. The rider, as experienced as he was, made the horse jump with him and Mitranis on his back, then entered a kind of wooden elevator, which immediately ascended.The impact of the last arrow was felt below them, possibly catching on the wall. The climb was fast, finally reaching what looked like a castle not unlike those Mitranis knew as part of the landscape and architecture of his world.

The rider, once on a kind of wide terrace of the castle, got off his horse, inviting Mitranis to get off with a nod of his head. That was all Mitranis could notice: gestures and movements, as well as the guy's voice. His face was not visible: he was wearing a hood of threadbare cloth with a steel mask. He was dressed in some kind of outfit that reminded Mitranis of a jester, totally shabby.

"It's a good thing I saw you, brat," the man said in an old man's voice. "I heard that unmistakable roar. I can't believe you thought of going off alone to confront General Radahn."

"I'm not sure about anything... I just know that Radahn is a monster..." Mitranis replied, somewhat panting.

"He is a monster. He was one in his days due to his immense strength on the battlefield. And is one now, since his mind is destroyed after that terrible duel against Malenia. Now, only that hunger for battle remains in Radahn, beyond any reasoning." The man added, leaving the horse in that same place.

The terrace of a castle was not the best place for a horse. But it was surely the desperate solution of that warrior of the castle to save Mitranis from a horrible death.

"My name is Jerren, boy," the man introduced himself. "I was a commander of the armies led by General Radahn, called Red Mane, as well as the Starscourge, considered the strongest of the Demigods, but that is another story. Here in Caelid, we fought a bloody battle against the forces of Malenia, the sword of Miquella, which ended up leaving Radahn just as you saw him. We are now at Redman Castle, the fighting stronghold of Radahn's armies."

"I heard about the war in Caelid," Mitranis replied, looking around. "This place is truly desolate, I don't know if it's more or less than Gelmir, but the landscape is terrible, man."

"Mount Gelmir?" Jerren asked, somewhat surprised. "Why would you come to this part of Caelid from Mount Gelmir? You're practically going all the way across the Lands Between."

"I came here on an errand… But the place I was told to go to is further north of here," Mitranis lied, still with that horrible taste he had been talking about. "Can we get some water and something to eat?"

"Okay, kid," Jerren replied with a slight laugh. "I assume that if you were in the middle of the Wailing dunes, you must be hungry and thirsty."

Jerren then led Mitranis to a courtyard of sorts that led down a flight of stairs. There was a group of warriors there: one looked like a samurai. There was another with a giant hammer and an armor with two ram horns on the front.

There was another, in a black plate armor, which did not reveal anything of the person wearing it. Further behind was a woman in a beige tunic that was dirty beyond belief. The woman hid her face and kept one arm holding the shoulder of the other, perhaps out of pain or for some other reason.

"There are some warriors here who are willing to fight at the festival offered to defeat Radahn, which I told you about earlier," Jerren said, waving his hand at everyone. "You shouldn't talk to them for now. They're not in a good mood. They want to fight right now, but I've told them more than once that they're short on people. I don't want them to end up being Radahn's dinner, literally. They need to train more before they can even last a minute against him."

"I think your warning is quite scathing…" Mitranis said, looking at the man in the giant black armor. "However, I must admit that there are some of them who are absolutely skilled warriors. You can tell that just by looking at their posture. The one in black armor looks very experienced."

"You are observant, boy. That is Lionel, the Lionheart. Not much else is known about him, but I believe him to be an upright and capable man, as well as a skilled and versatile warrior," Jerren replied succinctly.

After that short conversation, Jerren led Mitranis into a shabby room, where there was some furniture, and a couple of things to eat. That didn't catch the boy's attention, but rather a detail in the center of the room.

It was a pile of dried leaves, with some sort of golden leaf floating on top of it. That leaf shone like nothing Mitranis had ever seen before. In addition, it emanated some sort of golden trail that led right in the direction of Radahn's location. It was a site of grace.

"I didn't expect there to be a site of grace in this castle," Mitranis said.

Jerren remained silent, looking at the center of the room, where the pile of leaves that had caught the boy's attention was supposed to be, because clearly, he can't see the grace. Then, he turned his head to Mitranis, who could not see Jerren's expressions of surprise and some stupefaction.

"Uhm," Jerren replied, letting out a short laugh. "So, you're a Tarnished, kid."

"Tarnished?" Mitranis asked, again stupefied. "No, no. Actually, I am not. But I can see the sites of grace. My mistress was surprised by that too, but she thinks it is a good thing, she says."

"Your mistress said that," Jerren replied, his tone now serious, wondering if that "mistress" was Tanith. "Are you a descendant of the people exiled with Godfrey? It is said that a ship remained here during the Long March."

"I have no idea, honestly," Ernest replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I think more than one person had asked me that and I gave them the same answer."

"Well, that's all right," Jerren replied. "I won't bore you with more talk. I have no idea how you got here, but you can tell me that when you remember it properly. Now eat and rest. There are some furs over there for you to cover yourself with. There are no beds, as you can see, but those furs are more comfortable than they look."

"No problem. I've slept in much worse places. I've slept between steel stakes that I was thrown into," Mitranis replied, remembering the horrible treatment he received during his training at the hands of lady Tanith and the recusants.

"Uhm… That sounds cruel. But it sure did you some good. It's not like you did badly with Radahn. Hardly anyone would have survived the minute you did alone, except for those here, probably. Good night, kiddo." Jerren said before leaving the room.

Mitranis waved goodbye to Jerren. Then, he sighed deeply and looked straight at the site of grace. It seemed to him an inexplicable thing why he could see the grace, the one that Marika left behind to guide the exiled people of the Lands Between, to come and claim the throne as Elden Lords.

There was no desire to dwell on such matters, though. Mitranis approached the old, battered cabinet and opened its flimsy doors. There was some stale bread and slices of dried meat. It wasn't the best, but it was better than the food he received at the Volcano Manor in his training years, if he was fed at all.

He ate a little and drank some of the "juice" Jerren had told him about. It tasted horrible. Who would think of making juice out of rotting roots? They were probably one of the few things that didn't see the surface, and were less exposed to the scarlet rot, most likely.

After eating, Mitranis leaned back against the wall, leaning on a couple of sandbags that were there. He covered himself with a couple of old, dirty skins. They were from giant dogs, apparently. Well, at least they stank of dog. But that was the best there was, he guessed.

He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. Images of the past and present killing Tarnished, and even on more than one occasion ending up killing their Finger maidens too. A recusant had told Mitranis to rape them before killed them, but he felt disgusted just thinking about it, so refused to do it until now. He had even let more than one of them run away. Well, that was exactly what he was doing now, although more than one preferred to die with their Tarnished than to run away.

After that typical round of gloomy and guilty memories, Mitranis fell asleep. His dreams always recurred between murders, memories of his terrible training, and other things. However, now there was one image that appeared in his dreams again and again: the image of the darkened sky, and a darkened moon from which a white plasma sprang forth that, when falling, turned black and turned everything it touched into death.

Suddenly, the sounds of soldiers screaming, metal and wood clashing, and walls being hit woke Mitranis up. He sat up quickly to see what was happening, without even taking out his dagger. First, he would look out to see what was happening. What he saw surprised him. Or rather, who he saw. A single person fighting against the group of soldiers guarding the entrance to the courtyard where the applicants for Radahn's festival were at Redmane Castle. Mitranis, without thinking twice, decided to go and help that person. He had no idea that this decision would shape his future in ways that could not even imagine.