Whether the Greater Will will truly descend, no one knows. Not even the Two Fingers themselves can say for certain. But the falling leaves carried the message first:
Beyond the fog, in our homeland, the Lands Between, the great Elden Ring has been shattered.
The Eternal Queen, Marika, has vanished without a trace. On the Night of the Black Knives, Godwyn the Golden was the first to fall.
Marika's children, the Demigods, claimed the fragments of the Elden Ring, only to be led astray by its power. They descended into madness and ignited the Shattering...
Tarnished, undying dead who cannot rest, the lost Grace has returned to you once more.
Journey beyond the sea of fog. Reach the Lands Between. Stand before the Elden Ring.
Become the Elden Lord.
An irresistible will crossed the boundaries of space, pierced the veils of mist, and descended upon a vast world beyond mortal understanding.
In the ears of the Tarnished, long locked in endless battle, the voice of supreme glory echoed once again.
A call rang out from the distant Lands Between. The Graceless returned from across the sea, opening their eyes within their coffins.
Some rose from caverns steeped in darkness. Others awakened from tombs hidden within ancient ruins.
They were heroes, and the descendants of heroes. Once they had won great renown, only to be cast aside by the Dynasty. Now, the Dynasty sought them again.
Deep within an unremarkable underground crypt, a massive stone coffin marked by the passage of time trembled faintly.
Inside lay a young man, slightly different from the rest.
With a low grinding sound, the coffin lid shifted, opening a narrow gap. A pale arm reached out from within.
Then a furious roar burst forth.
"Marika, a Lord must not be humiliated! Get down here..."
With that shout, the heavy lid flew up and slammed against the stone wall with a thunderous crash.
The entire crypt shook. Dust billowed into the air.
A young figure shot upright. His eyes remained tightly shut as a wave of soreness washed over his body, just like that dream beneath the Haligtree.
"A dream? Damn it... Why would I dream about that woman?"
Nolan frowned and muttered to himself.
It felt as though he had been trapped in a long, unending dream, much like the night Godwyn died.
Only this time, it had seemed to last far longer, as if thousands of days and nights had passed, blurring the line between dream and reality.
He sat quietly in the coffin, slowly scanning his surroundings.
The single burial chamber was stark and empty. Aside from himself and the opened stone coffin, there was nothing else.
A strange loneliness crept into his chest, and he shivered.
Instinctively, Nolan reached for his left hand.
"The spirit ring and everything inside are still here. Torrent's Spectral Steed Whistle is gone. Did Trina take it?"
"My body's fine too. Mohg really didn't hold back. Hm... where are my clothes?"
He looked down. The chest that had once been torn open was now completely healed, as though it had never been injured.
Setting aside the meaningless dream, his last memory was suppressing the Scarlet Bloom, bathed in the golden radiance of the Erdtree.
Fortunately, he had left a trace of soul power within Malenia beforehand. Otherwise, who knew what might have become of the Altus Plateau.
Before that, there had been his battle with Mohg.
He remembered that just as his vision was fading, Mohg had been taken away by a masked old man.
Trina had clung tightly to his wounded body, crying her heart out.
And then everything had gone dark.
At least Miquella had not been taken this time. But the score with Mohg had to be settled.
"And another thing, even the Wretch starts with a scrap of cloth. Why am I completely naked?"
Grumbling, Nolan rose to his feet and stretched his limbs.
The power was still there.
Feeling that familiar surge coursing through him, Nolan finally let out a breath of relief.
Starting over from nothing and grinding levels again was a miserable prospect. If he had a choice, he would rather begin already invincible, like the protagonist of some overpowered hero story.
Other people who transmigrated either started off invincible or were blessed as chosen by fate. He, on the other hand, ended up suffering in a Souls world. The more he thought about it, the more stifling it felt.
"My strength hasn't increased. Mohg must still be alive. If I had absorbed him, I'd probably have stepped straight into the ranks of legendary heroes."
Nolan felt a flicker of disappointment, but he did not brood over it.
If everything went as one wished, life would be perfect. He understood very well that things rarely worked out so neatly.
He examined himself carefully, from head to toe, inside and out, again and again.
In the end, he confirmed that aside from the absence of Grace in his eyes, everything else was exactly as before.
His luck seemed decent. It looked like Marika had quietly given him a shortcut.
Since this was still his original body, Nolan reached out and let his consciousness sink into the spirit ring, retrieving a set of Carian Knight armor and putting it on.
The Golden Needle Knight armor was already in tatters, and Nolan had no interest in playing weak to bait his enemies.
Wearing such splendid armor, who would dare approach him without thinking twice?
"Is this still the Haligtree?" he murmured.
Before he could dwell on his former glory as a Dark Moon Knight, the sound of wind reached his ears.
Nolan quickly finished dressing and listened to the wind as it swept through the space. From the spirit ring, he drew a Banished Knight's Greatsword.
The Promised Consort Greatsword and the Carian Knight's Greatsword were gone. He had been gripping them in his hands when he died and never returned them to the spirit ring.
Still, at his current level of strength, losing two weapons would not leave him helpless.
Even with nothing but his fists, Nolan was confident he could crush heroes of the same tier.
This seasoned Lord of Cinder adjusted to his situation with remarkable speed.
He narrowed his eyes and pinched his chin with his right hand.
A moment later, he had already made up his mind.
First, he needed to figure out where he was. Only then could he decide what to do next.
If this was the Haligtree, even abducting a Saintess would not be a serious problem. If it was the Royal Capital, he would need to keep a lower profile.
He drew in a deep breath and surveyed his surroundings again, carefully inspecting every corner.
The stone floor beneath his feet was uneven. Step by step, he moved forward.
Climbing a short flight of stairs, he came face to face with a massive, ancient door.
He hoped he had not ended up in that era full of lunatics.
The women connected to him had never been particularly normal to begin with.
If they had waited decades, or even centuries, to see him again, he could hardly imagine what they might have become.
He pushed the door open and stepped onto an elevator. Judging by its condition, it was used often. His anxiety eased considerably.
After a short while, the elevator came to a stop.
He lifted his gaze toward a thick iron door ahead. A faint light seemed to filter through from the other side.