(~1,660 words)
Pain.
It gnawed at him — a dull, relentless throb beneath his skin, like embers buried in ash.
He opened his eyes.
Above, the sky was an endless gray, clouds swirling as if mourning. Jagged cliffs loomed to the east, and the golden light of the Erdtree burned in the distance — faint, flickering, as though the world itself hesitated to hope.
He sat up slowly, feeling the stiffness of a body newly shaped. Familiar, yet alien. Strong.
Stronger than before.
"I made it..." he whispered, the words dry on his tongue.
His name — his real one — belonged to another world. Another life. He remembered dying. Remembered the choice he was given.
And the secret.
You are the unborn son of Radagon and Rennala. Born into the space between worlds. Claim your fate.
As the memories settled, a flickering window appeared before his vision:
[SYSTEM BOOTING…]Name: SelrianClass: Shadow MonarchTitle: Unborn Heir of the Golden LineageStatus: Weak (for now)Objective: Break fate. Create your own Elden Ring.
Selrian chuckled quietly.
"Of course," he said, pushing himself to his feet. "Of course it wouldn't be easy."
He clenched his fist. Shadows coiled faintly around his wrist — a power waiting, hungry.
He knew the lore of this world better than his own past life: the Shattering, the Demigods, the madness of the Greater Will. He knew the betrayal of Radagon, the sorrow of Rennala.
He knew that he didn't belong here.
But he was here. And he would rise.
The air in Limgrave was sharp, filled with the cries of distant creatures. Selrian moved silently through the broken fields, his black cloak trailing behind him. His steps were cautious — not fearful, but calculated.
Already, he saw the first twisted forms of the Tarnished — broken warriors mindlessly attacking anything that moved.
He summoned a dagger of shadow into his hand, spun it once, and advanced.
The first enemy barely had time to scream.
In a blur of movement, Selrian dodged under a clumsy sword swipe, drove the shadow dagger deep into the man's throat, and twisted. As the body collapsed, Selrian extended his hand.
[Skill Activated: Shadow Extraction]
Black tendrils seeped from the corpse, wrapping around it — and a moment later, the fallen soldier rose silently, eyes burning with dark flame.
Selrian smiled slightly.
"I'll need an army."
Hours passed. The golden light began to dim, and with it came a new presence.
She stood by a crumbling grace site, her figure half-shrouded in a soft, tattered robe. Her eyes, a delicate green, watched him without fear.
Melina.
Selrian knew her from the story — the maiden who lacked a body, the guide for Tarnished seeking the Erdtree.
But now, seeing her in person, he felt something more.
Not pity.
Understanding.
"You are not like the others," Melina said, her voice quiet, thoughtful. "You do not fumble blindly. You move like one who already knows the ending."
Selrian tilted his head.
"And if I do?"
She smiled, faint and sad. "Then perhaps you will not waste my offering."
She extended her hand.
"Would you allow me to accompany you, as your maiden?"
Selrian didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he studied her — the fragile dignity, the hidden strength. The loneliness.
He reached out, and gently clasped her hand.
"I accept, Melina," he said. His voice was low, steady. "Walk with me. I will need someone like you."
Her fingers tightened ever so slightly around his.
"You are... different," she whispered.
"I am Selrian," he said, the shadows whispering at his back. "And I will remake this world."
Nightfall blanketed Limgrave in eerie silence. Together, they made camp near the broken ruins of the Church of Elleh.
Melina tended the fire, her movements graceful, almost ritualistic. Selrian leaned against a fallen pillar, sharpening a blade of shadow between his fingers.
"You fight well," she said at last, glancing at him. "Yet you show mercy where none would expect it."
Selrian smiled faintly. "Not mercy. Purpose. Dead soldiers make better allies than corpses."
He snapped his fingers; three shadowy figures emerged from the darkness — the soldiers he had slain earlier, now bound to his will.
Melina's eyes widened, but she quickly masked her surprise.
"You bind the dead to you," she murmured. "Such power... it is not of the Erdtree."
Selrian chuckled, low and dangerous.
"No," he said. "It is older."
For a moment, silence reigned between them.
Then Melina spoke again, her voice softer.
"And your purpose? What drives you, Selrian?"
He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of memory — the betrayal of Radagon, the sorrow of Rennala, the broken shards of a world ruled by madness.
"I was never meant to exist," he said quietly. "But now that I do... I will not be a pawn on their board."
He opened his eyes — cold, sharp, unyielding.
"I will be the one who writes the ending."
Melina watched him for a long time.
Then, she smiled — a real, genuine smile, fleeting as a shooting star.
"Then... let us walk this path together."
Far away, in the academy of Raya Lucaria, a woman stirred from her trance.
Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon, mother of sorrows, felt a tremor in the fabric of fate.
She rose from her throne of shattered memories, clutching the amber egg to her chest.
"A child...?" she whispered, tears filling her ancient eyes. "My child...?"
The stars above shimmered in answer.
Selrian's journey had begun.
And destiny would never be the same again.