What kind of Tarnished could sleep so soundly, completely unguarded?
Well, Bernahl had seen it today. This level of relaxation couldn't be called a sign of weakness; perhaps it indicated a better adaptation to the Lands Between. Moreover, he sensed a gaze fixed upon him, indistinct, likely belonging to a spirit. If he truly harbored ill intentions, she certainly had countermeasures prepared.
Don't be foolish enough to judge by appearances.
Bernahl had no interest in observing a stranger's sleeping face, so he decided to practice his battle arts in front of the hut. Just as he thought this, the silver-haired girl before him opened her eyes and yawned, her mana sense having already locked onto him.
"Good morning. My name is Bernahl, a Tarnished like yourself, milady."
"Good morning to you too. I heard you frequent this hut, so I suppose I borrowed it for the night. Thank you very much."
"It belongs to no one. Think nothing of it."
On the surface, their conversation was pleasant, yet they observed each other intently. Without needing any overt displays, their battle-honed instincts had already judged the other's formidable strength.
Frieren's heart tightened slightly. If a randomly encountered Tarnished warrior possessed such skill, then the demigod Godrick must be quite the challenge. She needed to grind some more levels.
As for Bernahl, his brow furrowed slightly as he noticed the ordinary straight sword stuck into a wooden plank nearby.
It was worn down.
But the damage pattern was strange, as if the sword's body had been deliberately used to clash against an ultra-heavy weapon – a greatsword! And repeatedly deflected it!
"Could you be Frieren, the Slayer Magic Sword?"
"The name is right, but what's with that title? I'm a sorcerer."
"Names can be mistaken, but epithets rarely are. Seeing your sword, I understand. Only a swordsman of consummate skill could achieve that. I will tell my friends that you are a great swordmaster worthy of respect."
"Fine, fine, fame is fame, I suppose. Thank you for that, and thanks also to the Godrick soldiers for the publicity."
Frieren hadn't expected to make a name for herself in just two days. Melina's suggestion had proven effective, though it was a pity the rumors weren't entirely accurate, even confusing her class.
"You seek fame?"
"Yes. One day, I intend to seize the Great Rune from the demigod Godrick and take Stormveil Castle. If I remain unknown, it would likely be difficult to command respect."
In reality, the requirements weren't that strict; she simply wanted to try a different playstyle. Previously, she had always rushed around alone, handling everything herself. Why not try commanding a faction, allowing for collaborative research into magic and everything else in the Lands Between? Wouldn't that be more convenient? Besides, the opening of Elden Ring itself laid out the gameplay: this was a game about becoming a ruler, dominating all like the Golden Order's conquest.
Sensing the determination in her words, Bernahl's eyes lit up.
"Many Tarnished become intoxicated with fame and stop there, content with petty gains. But you... you're thinking about ruling? Indeed, you have the strength for it. Perhaps a main fragment of the Elden Ring is about to change hands."
"He is still a demigod. Conquering him won't happen overnight. I need to train more."
The important thing was to strengthen the Astrologer build. If she simply relied on her original power system to solve problems, what was the point of coming to the Lands Between?
The silver-haired girl's sincerity touched Bernahl. This newcomer Tarnished reminded him of his former self, yet possessed even greater strength than he did back then. Perhaps she could change many things, many people.
"Caution is wise. Incidentally, do you intend to keep fighting here?"
"Of course."
"Even now, when the Golden Order is shattered, perhaps beyond repair, you still continue to believe in the guidance of Grace?"
"I have always believed in it."
Frieren was sincere. If the game itself tasked her with repairing the Elden Ring, it must be possible. Besides, she still held several trump cards.
"Mm, a model Tarnished. Truly nostalgic. In this day and age, such conviction is precious." He added, "If you seek fame, I have a suggestion. Follow this road onwards, bypass Stormveil Castle, and head south all the way to the Weeping Peninsula. There's a rebellion at Castle Morne there; the castellan is desperate for aid."
"Also, a group of unfamiliar, powerful individuals has arrived from beyond the Lands Between. It's an unkillable squad wreaking havoc in eastern Limgrave. A bounty has already been issued for them."
Having finally met someone he felt an affinity with, Bernahl became quite talkative. He hadn't really given much – just advice – but to Frieren, who desperately needed information, it was invaluable.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. In fact, there's an opportunity for immediate fame right now: fight me. If I acknowledge your strength, I will naturally spread word of you. Don't let my appearance fool you; I still carry some renown."
The aura of a powerful warrior washed over her. It was an invitation, a desire to confirm the unwavering resolve awakening within this new Tarnished through force of arms – letting their swords speak.
Frieren, naturally, wouldn't refuse this spar. Bernahl, the War Master, lauded even by players, was surely trustworthy. Besides, she could tell if someone was lying. On the surface, this man seemed disillusioned and world-weary, but in reality, he held onto a sliver of hope, waiting for the future to fully ignite it.
Wielding scepter and straight sword respectively, they took their stances. A single glance told each that the other was no simple opponent.
Observing all this, Melina thought to herself that ever since her Tarnished arrived in the Lands Between, she had faced constant battle and drawn the attention of the strong. The very essence radiating from her soul seemed to attract others – perhaps this too was a quality of kingship.
Clang!
Suddenly, their figures blurred and crossed.
The vibration from the Devourer's Scepter transmitted through Bernahl's hand, jarring his grip. He had clearly struck home, yet the force was somehow dissipated, nearly throwing him off balance?
"That move is called a parry. It comes from Ashina."
"A fine technique. Your skill is strong. But what about your strength?"
As he spoke, his scepter swept horizontally towards her, immensely powerful, carrying the force to crush a troll or bring a dragon to its knees. He was certain this blow would gauge her true depth.
Unexpectedly, Frieren suddenly produced a plain, unadorned Brass Shield. Her arm swung in an arc, blocking with a resounding thud. It was less a block and more an active strike against his attack.
Most warriors skilled with shields could perform a shield parry, but it demanded extremely high strength. He hadn't expected his confident strike to fail. Few paid attention to shields when facing the overwhelming power of the Devourer's Scepter; it was nigh unstoppable. Yet today, it had been met head-on.
No.
This was the result of a direct contest of strength. It was truly exhilarating. The Beast Champion Armor seemed to hum with excitement from the transmitted vibrations. The weariness vanished, swept away as the warrior's will surged within Bernahl.
"It's good that someone like you still believes in repairing the Elden Ring. Then let me see more!"
The Devourer's Scepter slammed into the ground, unleashing a shockwave. Frieren leaped lightly away from the sudden low attack, then thrust with her sword while simultaneously switching her left hand from her shield.
The empowered Magic Weapon pierced through his armor.
Ash of War: Endure.
Pushing through the damage, Bernahl delivered a powerful downward smash with all his might, striking the shield in Frieren's hand forcefully. The shield shattered upon impact, the shrapnel grazing her arm. Ultimately, its unupgraded quality had held her back.
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