Creak!
Pushing open the heavy doors, Frieren was met with the sight of a massive beast wrapped in coarse burlap, half-crouching on the ground like a person, looking haggard.
Gurranq, the Beast Clergyman, the mysterious entity who collected Deathroot.
According to D, he always appeared sloppy and dispirited, often refusing even to look up at people, showing little reaction or large movements. But it was different now. Sensing the uninvited guest, the clergyman immediately looked up, unable to resist lifting the cloth covering the top half of his head.
He had the features of a wolfhound, with white fur-like hair. His bright, piercing eyes held a sharp edge, and his well-defined muscles gave him a streamlined aesthetic.
He gazed directly into Frieren's emerald eyes.
Deep within this person's soul raged fierce flames, burning unceasingly, carrying the profound weight of ages. It wasn't a form of possession or incantation, but a power truly owned and wielded with effortless control.
Very strong!
In an instant, both confirmed the other's strength. Despite their attempts at concealment, nothing could be hidden from those with truly discerning eyes. One was a Lord of Cinder, embodying the heritage of countless battlefields; the other, a killer who had stood amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
The Beast Clergyman couldn't fathom why such a formidable individual had appeared so quietly in the Lands Between.
Frieren's brow furrowed even tighter.
Isn't the progression wrong? Why are Bernahl, the Ash of War teacher, and Gurranq, the Beast Clergyman, encountered so early in the 'story,' yet so incredibly powerful?
How strong must the regional demigod ruler, Godrick the Grafted, be then!
He should at least be slightly superior to these two, right?
Organizing her thoughts, she chose to break the silence first: "Hello, Gurranq. My name is Frieren, a new Tarnished. I heard I can exchange Deathroot for rewards here?"
"Yes."
The curt reply stemmed from his inner turmoil. Since when were newcomers this outrageous? By Goddess Marika, what kind of monster have you summoned to the Lands Between?
"I only have one Deathroot here, which might be rather little, but I'll make sure to collect more for you in the future."
"Then, take this Clawmark Seal. You seem to be a sorcerer; using this to cast Incantations should suit you well."
Frieren solemnly accepted an oval-shaped accessory.
Acquired [Clawmark Seal]. A rare item that scales Incantation power with Strength.
[The claw mark on this Sacred Seal represents Gurranq's anger, enhancing the Beast Incantations he imparts.]
Obtaining a medium to use Incantations was good news. Although she could forcibly channel them regardless, having a relevant catalyst made it more convenient. And Strength scaling? Even better. Don't let the elf girl's slender appearance fool you; she had more than one max-level 'account.'
"Well then, I'll be going."
"Wait, Frieren. What are your thoughts on the Lands Between?"
"That's too broad a topic. Overall, I believe it's a world brimming with vitality and potential. As long as the Elden Ring is repaired, it can surely prosper."
"So you support Queen Marika's Law?"
"Not necessarily. The Ring is a tool to achieve great power. What kind of law it embodies is something I'll consider once I possess it. Besides, many of today's problems stem from an imperfect Law – like the Deathroot we're both collecting. If proper death existed in the world, wouldn't Those Who Live in Death cease to be?"
The Beast Clergyman's robes rustled as he muttered, "Can I interpret that as you might one day fight to seize control of proper death?"
"Perhaps."
What a coincidence. He himself, as the guardian of Destined Death, bore the inescapable responsibility for its theft, objectively facilitating the Night of the Black Knives and the subsequent disasters.
Collecting Deathroot was his atonement for that negligence.
If a weak Tarnished stood before him, Gurranq wouldn't waste breath. If it were a powerful Tarnished, he wouldn't mind stretching his muscles and killing the ambitious fool.
But Frieren was too strong. So strong that he had to consider thorough preparations; a fight would undoubtedly plunge heaven and earth into darkness.
If they were to fight, it would be more perilous than his battle against the Gloam-Eyed Queen and her Godskin Apostle back then.
"Gurranq, don't direct that killing intent at me." The silver-haired girl's gaze turned icy. "I still don't fully understand the Lands Between and am judging based only on current information. You wouldn't be the type to condemn someone based solely on their words, would you?"
"Forgive my rudeness. Then please, take a good look at the Lands Between, feel it carefully, since you possess the power to change the world."
"Of course, I will."
Frieren turned her completely unguarded back to the Lands Between's strongest killer and walked out nonchalantly, her presence eventually vanishing into the Site of Grace's space.
So she is a Tarnished who can see and use the Grace?
Furthermore, a killer's eyes would never mistake the Spectral Steed Whistle – proof of the kingly caliber recognized by Torrent.
"...Did I just apologize?"
Regaining his senses, Gurranq realized his attitude had softened unconsciously. Had the long years of atonement worn down his sharp edges, or was it an instinctive resistance? More sensitive than his rational mind was his body, subconsciously avoiding a death match within the Bestial Sanctum.
That Tarnished wasn't the belligerent type; otherwise, conflict would have been unavoidable, and Caelid, already rife with Scarlet Rot, would only worsen.
He shouldn't solely focus on Deathroot. It was time to pay more attention to the Lands Between itself.
Elsewhere.
Returning via the Summonwater Village Site of Grace, Frieren summoned her Spirit Steed and headed towards the agreed-upon location, the Third Church of Marika. Auluo had already set up a campfire.
"My lady, did things go smoothly with the Beast Clergyman?"
"There was a minor interlude, but nothing important. You must be tired after traveling all day. Rest quickly; I've set up warning magic."
Hearing this, the Black Knife Assassin leaned slightly against a pillar and quickly fell asleep. Years of fleeing had cultivated her vigilance; regardless of defensive measures, she trusted her instincts. The slightest disturbance would wake her.
Meanwhile, Melina's figure materialized. She knelt on the ground, gazing around the church.
"...There are words of guidance here, left by Queen Marika, who vanished long ago. If you wish to hear them, I can relay them."
"I want to hear."
The one-eyed girl looked up and solemnly recited: "My Lord, and thy warriors. I divest you of your grace. With thine eyes dimmed, ye will be driven from the Lands Between. Ye will wage war in a land afar, where ye will live, and die."
After a moment of silence, she lowered her head. "What do you think? I hope it can somewhat substitute for a Maiden's guidance."
Frieren stroked her chin, thinking for a moment.
"It has a certain resonance, and indeed aligns with historical fact. Exiling the warriors blessed by the Golden Grace was undoubtedly Marika's decision. But what was she really thinking? Her motives still require investigation."
"These words have existed for many years, yet no one has uncovered the truth. Investigating it ourselves would surely take a long time. You should rest first."
"Good night."
With a reply, the silver-haired girl wrapped herself in her blanket and fell fast asleep, clearly uninterested in Marika's cryptic pronouncements. Compared to superficial information, she preferred digging up secret intelligence.
Words written openly in a church were likely true, but perhaps even further removed from genuine intentions.
____
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