A Lord for Men

The Fell Omen

Tunnel vision set in as you focused on the single goal that had consumed your thoughts. Nothing else mattered; nothing else deterred you as you reached the entrance hall that led into Stormveil Castle, where another site of grace awaited you.

As you settled down by the grace, a familiar face materialized beside you—Melina.

"This tiny golden aura is the grace of the Erdtree. This light once shone in the eyes of your Tarnished brethren. But now it is all that guides you. Or so I hear."

So the guidance of grace once belonged to all Tarnished. You couldn't help but recall Varré's warning—that grace may lead you to an early grave. The more you learned, the more questions you had.

"You can see them, can't you? The rays of grace, that guide you through your burden."

You nodded, confirming her suspicions.

So, you were among the few Tarnished that were still able to see the guidance of grace, and suddenly it became clear why Melina chose you. She must've known that grace would lead you to the foot of the Erdtree.

"Upon the cliff, in Castle Stormveil, is a shardbearer."

"A demigod who inherited a fragment of the shattered Elden Ring."

That strengthened your already steely resolve. Ridding the world of Godrick while also claiming his Great Rune.

"If the rays of grace signal the castle. Then the Elden Ring beckons you."

"As an ally by pact... I pray that you are fit. To face the challenge presented by the Ring."

With those final words, Melina faded into the wind, leaving behind her usual vague hints. But this time, you understood enough, and it gave you a lot to think about. Whether grace was guiding you toward your ultimate goal of becoming Elden Lord or to an early death,

Enough delay. There wasn't any reason to waste more time. With flasks in hand—likely for healing, despite not knowing which colors did what—and your katana at your hip, you stepped out into the open air. The gate of the castle loomed in the distance; the challenges were just beginning.

"Foul Tarnished, in search of the Elden Ring."

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a deep voice. Frantically looking around, you searched for the source of the voice, but you saw nothing until a massive figure emerged atop a pillar high above you.

"Emboldened by the flame of ambition."

With a grunt, the creature leapt from the pillar, landing with a thunderous THUD just meters away from you. Dust and dirt picked up from the impact.

"Someone must extinguish thy flame."

As the dust settled, you were able to see him clearly now. A grotesque, menacing man covered in horns, wielding a massive staff.

"Let it be Margit the Fell!"

The world held its breath as the fight began.

Immediately, you sensed that this foe was unlike the Tree Sentinel or the Grafted Scion. There was something about him, a certain aura that put you on edge—your instincts screamed at you to not engage.

But you ignored them.

Margit started off the fight with a leap into the air, aiming his staff to impale you. You rolled out of the way just in time, narrowly avoiding the blow.

As Margit pulled his staff from the ground, you used the moment to dart forward and deliver a series of quick slashes to his back before backstepping.