The Tarnished Awakening

Chapter 1: The Tarnished Awakening

In the heart of the Lands Between, a fractured realm suspended in the wake of the Elden Ring's destruction, a lone figure stirred from a forgotten dream. The Tarnished, their past lives lost to the annals of time, rose from the soil of a forsaken land. The world around them was foreign, yet familiar—scarred, haunted by the echoes of gods and kings long fallen, their power reduced to whispers of their former glory.

The Tarnished opened their eyes, greeted not by the warmth of light, but by a world bathed in the cold grayness of a shattered dream. The earth beneath them was cracked, its surface burned and broken from an era of conflict and divine war. Where once the Golden Order had thrived, now only remnants remained—fragments of gods, powers long lost, and the memories of a civilization that had crumbled under its own weight.

The land called to them. It was not merely a beckoning. It was a summons, urging the Tarnished forward. The remnants of the Elden Ring were scattered across the expanse, its once-immense power now fragmented, its influence hanging like a curse over the broken realm. It was a power that had bound the gods to their world, and its absence had thrown everything into chaos. The heavens had torn open, and the gods themselves had fallen, their grace lost forever to the realm of mortals.

The Tarnished were not of this world. They were outsiders, cast away by the gods for reasons that even they could not recall. Banished from grace, they had wandered for eternity on the fringes of the world. Yet, now, with the call of the Elden Ring in their ears, they could no longer ignore the pull. They had been chosen. And it was in the shattered remnants of this once-holy relic that their journey would begin.

---

The journey began in the Limgrave, a region marked by a history both glorious and tragic. Limgrave was a land where kingdoms had risen and fallen, their mighty castles and strongholds now nothing more than dilapidated ruins. The earth was cracked and barren, and the skies above were perpetually overcast with the oppressive weight of despair.

At the foot of the Fallen Statue, where the ground was barren and the air still, the Tarnished stood. They were alone in this desolate place, surrounded by the eerie quiet of a world left behind. The only sound that greeted them was the wind, a mournful sigh that seemed to echo through the broken land. The Fallen Statue was a remnant of the old world, its once-great form now shattered and fallen, its divine purpose lost to time. Yet, its presence here, even in ruin, spoke of a world long gone—a world that had once known peace and order, now forgotten in the wake of calamity.

The first steps were slow, tentative. Their legs, stiff from an eternity of wandering, barely held their weight. Yet, despite the physical ache that gnawed at them, there was something deeper, more pressing—something that called them to this very place. The world, though broken, still held fragments of its former self. The ruins were not merely decay; they were the bones of a forgotten time. And in those bones, there were secrets—secrets the Tarnished had to uncover.

As they walked through the land, the Tarnished came upon Grace, a light that beckoned them. It was not like the sun’s warmth or the moon’s cool glow. It was a divine presence, a shining signal of something greater, something that transcended the realm of mortals. The Grace guided the Tarnished, drawing them toward the Roundtable Hold, a sanctuary that existed outside of time and space. It was a place where those who sought the Elden Ring could gather, where the remnants of divine power might be found.

The Roundtable Hold was a strange, ethereal refuge. It appeared to the Tarnished as if it were suspended in the air, its walls shifting and contorting with the passage of time. It was a place caught between realities—a limbo where the lost souls of the Tarnished could gather and find purpose. The Hold was populated by others like them, outcasts and wanderers from every corner of the Lands Between. It was here that the Tarnished would learn that their journey was not theirs alone, that others were drawn to the ruins of the Elden Ring for their own purposes.

Among these Tarnished was Varré, a man whose presence was as unsettling as it was mysterious. He was a man of few words, yet each word he spoke was laced with meaning. Varré was a figure who seemed to understand the burden of the Tarnished, yet his motives were unclear. His eyes, sharp and calculating, watched the Tarnished with a knowing gleam, as if he had seen this story play out countless times before.

“You seek the Elden Ring,” Varré said, his voice low and tinged with mockery. “Do you truly know what you are asking for? The Elden Ring is not a relic of salvation. It is a curse. It binds you, drives you to madness. You will never be the same once you begin this journey.”

The Tarnished could feel the weight of Varré’s words. The journey ahead would not be an easy one. There were no promises of glory, only the bitter truth of a world that had already been lost. Yet, despite the warnings, there was something within the Tarnished that could not turn away. They had already chosen their path, whether they knew it or not.

The first step on their journey came with the arrival at Stormveil Castle, the stronghold of Godrick the Grafted, a fallen demigod whose ambition had twisted him into something far worse than mortal. Godrick’s reign had been built upon the stolen power of the Great Runes, fragments of the Elden Ring that granted godlike abilities. He had long coveted the power of the Elden Ring, and in his quest for dominance, he had grafted the limbs of the dead to his body, transforming into a grotesque, monstrous figure.

The Tarnished approached the gates of Stormveil Castle, the towering walls looming over them like a silent sentinel. The air was thick with the scent of rot and decay, the once-great fortress now little more than a crumbling husk. Yet, beneath the ruins, something darker stirred. Godrick's followers, fanatical and desperate, stood ready to protect their lord. They were not mere soldiers; they were zealots, driven by a warped devotion to a demigod who had long since lost his humanity.

The journey through the castle was arduous. The Tarnished fought their way through hordes of enemies, their every step a battle for survival. Each corner was filled with danger, each hallway a maze of traps and ambushes. Yet, the Tarnished pressed on, driven by the knowledge that the path to the Elden Ring lay at the heart of this forsaken place.

At last, they reached the throne room, where Godrick awaited. He was not a man, but a monster, his body grotesquely swollen with the stolen limbs of the dead. His face was barely recognizable, twisted by his obsession with power. His eyes, once human, now burned with madness, his every movement a reflection of his corrupted soul.

“You dare challenge me, Tarnished?” Godrick’s voice was low and guttural, a growl more than words. “I have crushed kingdoms, slain gods, and taken their power as my own. What are you, but another broken fool?”

The battle was fierce. Godrick wielded the power of the Great Rune, his massive body fueled by its divine energy. Each strike was like the weight of a mountain, each blow capable of shaking the very foundations of the castle. But the Tarnished fought with a desperation born of necessity, their blade cutting through the air with precision.

Finally, after a brutal struggle, Godrick fell. His massive form collapsed to the ground, his eyes dimming with the finality of death. “It is… over…” he muttered, his breath shallow. “The Elden Ring… all of it… was a dream.”

The Tarnished stood over the fallen demigod, their chest heaving with exertion. They had claimed the Great Rune, the symbol of Godrick’s twisted reign. But even in victory, there was no triumph—only the quiet realization that their journey had only just begun.

With the Great Rune in hand, the Tarnished left the crumbling castle, their thoughts consumed by the road ahead. The Lands Between were still in turmoil, and the gods’ influence still loomed large. Yet, the Tarnished had taken the first step toward restoring the Elden Ring, or perhaps, toward plunging the world into deeper chaos.

The choice was theirs.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***