The Lands Between, western Weeping Peninsula.
Arthur was on his way to the Fourth Church of Marika.
His teacher, Sorceress Sellen's true body, was imprisoned beneath the ruins below that church.
By now, Arthur had already freed Master Lusat. The reclusive sorcerer had been sealed within a hidden cave near Sellia, Town of Sorcery—a place that only revealed itself after the three magical braziers in the town were lit.
Back then, Arthur had cleared the outskirts of Sellia before entering the town itself, which was why he hadn't discovered the hidden cave earlier.
After being freed, Lusat proved just as taciturn as Master Azur.
Arthur waited for quite some time before the old master finally responded—slowly offering him a single sorcery:
Stars of Ruin.
An advanced form of Meteorite, it unleashed a far greater number of homing meteors, faster and deadlier than its predecessor.
More importantly, it was beautiful.
Unlike ordinary glintstone sorceries—those pale blue spells tinged with green—Stars of Ruin burned with a deep, profound blue, threaded with noble violet light and wrapped in a thin white halo.
There was an old saying:
Power comes and goes, but style lasts a lifetime.
At Arthur's level, strength depended on the caster—not the spell.
If that was the case, why not pursue magic that was both devastating and breathtaking?
After all, this was sorcery personally bestowed by a master of primeval magic—far beyond common glintstone spells.
Returning to the present, Arthur arrived south of the Fourth Church of Marika. Beneath the ruins there lay the prison of the Graven Witch.
After cutting through guardians and clearing the area, Arthur finally saw Sellen's true body.
Her hands were bound to a wall tangled with roots, sealed by crystallized glintstone. She knelt in the corner of the underground ruin.
Arthur examined the roots closely—they were roots of the Erdtree, spreading from somewhere unknown.
Aside from the colossal Erdtree visible from anywhere in the Lands Between, there were also many smaller Erdtrees—likely grown from scattered seeds.
Arthur hadn't expected the Academy to be so ruthless.
Not only had they sealed Sellen with glintstone crystal, they had also allowed Erdtree roots to siphon away her power.
Sensing someone's presence, Sellen slowly raised her head and met Arthur's gaze.
"My apprentice… you've come a long way," she said softly.
"These bindings must have caused you some trouble."
Arthur shook his head. With his current strength, breaking the seals and eliminating the guards had been trivial.
Sellen continued, her voice calm:
"Since you are here, I must entrust this to you. There is something I did not tell you before. When the stars began to move again, my fate also began to turn.
"Before the seal was broken, all was well. Now that it has been undone… I may soon be killed. Before that happens, you must safeguard this for me."
A deep blue gemstone, shimmering with starlight, surfaced from her chest.
Sellen's Primal Glintstone.
Arthur accepted it. As he did, Sellen lowered her head, her voice weakening.
"My apprentice… that is my essence. Everything… is in your hands now."
Arthur stored the gem carefully, inwardly marveling at the convenience of primeval sorcery.
By crystallizing their souls into primal glintstone, sorcerers could simply insert it into a new body.
Compared to certain shinobi villages obsessed with eye-transplant legends, this was vastly more efficient.
Even Orochimaru would call this professional.
As Arthur's thoughts wandered, footsteps echoed behind him.
A knight entered the ruins.
He wore an unusual helm, beneath which was a bearded, elderly mask. His armor bore the marks of countless battles.
Arthur recognized him.
They had met once at Redmane Castle, and General Radahn had mentioned him as well.
Jerren.
A guest commander of Radahn—something akin to a sworn retainer. The two had once vowed that they would ensure each other a death with honor.
Jerren also recognized Arthur—the Tarnished who had granted Radahn such an end.
"You," Jerren said. "The champion of the festival. Was it you who broke the seals here?"
Arthur nodded. "Why are you here?"
"I sensed the barrier had been undone and came to investigate," Jerren replied.
"Perhaps you do not know—besides being a knight, I am also a witch-hunter. I was commissioned by Raya Lucaria to imprison the witch Sellen here."
He fixed Arthur with a hard stare.
"And you—what business do you have here? Are you entangled with her? If so, I advise you to forget her. No matter what, she must die."
Arthur shook his head calmly.
"That won't do. She is my teacher."
"Oh?" Jerren's tone turned cold. "I thought you a hero. Turns out you are no different from the witches."
"My character is not for you to judge," Arthur said icily.
"Sellen lives. Even Radahn himself wouldn't change that."
"Then we will resolve this by force."
Jerren drew his weapons—
a knight's longsword in his right hand, and a staff nearly a meter long in his left.
Arthur did not summon his Mimic Tear.
Jerren had been Radahn's retainer. Arthur would grant him an honorable death.
Arthur drew his own weapons—
Moonveil in his left hand, Lusat's Glintstone Staff in his right.
Jerren charged.
His swordsmanship was impeccable, each strike revealing a lifetime of battle.
Arthur, by contrast, could only parry and evade.
His experience in close combat was minimal—almost nonexistent. He was accustomed to fighting from afar while his Mimic engaged enemies head-on.
That he could even keep pace with Jerren was entirely due to his divine physique.
Yet as the battle dragged on, Arthur's extraordinary aptitude asserted itself.
His melee skill improved at a visibly rapid pace.
Jerren noticed.
At first, he had wondered why Arthur refused to use sorcery. Now he believed Arthur was using him as a training dummy.
It was a misunderstanding.
Arthur simply wished to grant him dignity.
Had he used magic, Jerren would have been annihilated instantly.
To walk past an ant without crushing it required restraint—
a restraint far harder to master than brute force.
Arthur's growing melee skill was merely an unintended gain.
But Jerren did not know this.
He believed himself mocked.
Driven by rage, he pressed harder, even weaving in the few sorceries he knew.
By now, Arthur had fully adapted to his rhythm. Faster attacks changed nothing. Every spell was effortlessly neutralized.
Despair crept into Jerren's heart—but a knight's pride would not allow surrender.
He fought to the end.
Moonveil pierced his chest.
Jerren hunched forward. His sword and staff slipped from his grasp, yet even then, he refused to kneel.
"Farewell," Arthur said quietly.
"I prefer Knight Jerren to witch-hunter. May you ride once more beside Radahn."
Jerren dissolved into ash, returning to the Erdtree.
In the Lands Between, death did not truly exist.
True death—Destined Death—was sealed within Maliketh.
Most deaths were merely a return to the Erdtree, nourishment for its roots.
Those blessed by grace could even resurrect—at the cost of part of their strength.
But Jerren had long since lost grace.
Like Radahn, he had been abandoned.
There would be no next life.
Arthur's words were only a farewell.
Such was the cruelty of the Lands Between.
Sometimes, one must raise a blade against those they respect.
Arthur did not regret his choice.
Between his beloved teacher and a man he had met only once—
the answer was obvious.
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