Elden Lord of Cinders

Melina's small hand felt surprisingly soft.

Though she usually carried herself with the stiffness of a wooden doll—her expression flat, her limbs tense—once you actually touched her, even her scarred and uneven palm radiated a quiet warmth and softness.

It wasn't the warmth of flesh and blood, but something deeper—her very soul exuding a gentle, comforting presence.

"I think I can try treating these scars."

Lloyd had examined her hand carefully, inch by inch, tracing the surface several times before nodding.

"But it might take a while. The process has to be delicate, and I'll need your cooperation."

Melina's expression steadied. She turned her head slightly and went quiet for a moment.

"...If it's too much trouble, just forget it."

"It's not trouble at all. Actually, it's a good chance for me to practice."

As he spoke, Lloyd gathered a soft glow of soul energy at his fingertips and began gently applying it to the back of her hand.

He moved slowly and with precision. This wasn't something that could be fixed just by channeling soul energy—it required careful, constant adjustment.

And since this was his first time doing something like this—at least as far as he could remember—and it involved altering the soul itself, Lloyd had to be extremely cautious.

...

Melina watched in silence as Lloyd carefully cradled her hand, gently working soul essence across the surface, trying to smooth out the scars.

She could tell—this wasn't ordinary healing.

Unlike physical wounds, injuries to the soul were intimately tied to the spirit. They weren't just about damage; they were about memory, emotion, and identity.

Especially these scars. As a former demigod now existing in a soul-bound state, and with Lloyd constantly nourishing her with spiritual energy, normal scars should have long since vanished.

But these hadn't. Even now, she instinctively hid them from others, tried to cover them up. And yet, it never made much difference.

Because they weren't just scars. They were remnants of death itself.

They couldn't be healed by soul energy alone. To truly erase them, it wasn't just about fixing the soul—it required erasing what those scars carried within them.

Otherwise, no matter how many times they were healed, they'd always return.

Like painful memories that won't stop resurfacing.

What Lloyd was doing now—he was trying to touch those memories, to ease them, to soothe the pain.

But the truth was, he didn't have to.

With his strength, he could have forced his way in, swept away the damage by sheer power, even if it was rough and left her shaken. It wouldn't have caused any lasting harm. At worst, he could have restored her with a surge of soul energy, and she would've accepted it without complaint.

But he didn't.

Not only did he refrain from brute force, he treated her with such gentleness that unless she willingly opened her soul to him, he couldn't even proceed.

"Why make it so complicated?"

She didn't understand.

Lloyd didn't look up and said seriously,

"Because these are also a part of you."

Melina froze for a moment.

He...

"Hey, don't move. And don't force it, or you'll get it stuck—"

The strange sensation lasted only a moment before returning to normal. Compared to before, it now felt more open, more cooperative.

But...

Was that really a good thing?

She looked at Lloyd, who sat with his head down, gently holding her hand. He was carefully tending to her wounds with a seriousness completely unlike his usual demeanor.

Melina opened her mouth, but after trying for a long time, no sound came out.

Reason told her she should tell him to stop. She should pull her hand back. She should shut herself off, protect her soul from further contact.

Even earlier, when he asked to look at her hand, similar thoughts had crossed her mind.

Back then, she had thought of the trust he showed her, and how she had always kept her distance. She had looked into his concerned eyes.

And among all the barbs of her refusal, a crack had finally opened. Through it, she extended a hand marked with burns.

Then, it was held tightly.

And it could no longer be withdrawn.

What followed was the feeling of another soul flowing in through her other hand, intertwining with hers. Together, they slowly pushed open the door to her painful past.

Flames began to burn, the pain steadily intensified.

But this time, she wasn't alone. She was holding someone else's hand tightly.

It was a warm hand—not blazing, just warm. That warmth didn't fan the flames but seemed to merge with them, softening their heat and dulling their pain.

Later, feeling the warmth still in her hand, she looked at the fire before her.

She didn't know why, but as if guided by instinct, she slowly raised her hand.

And then, she reached out and grasped the flames.

It was only a flicker, but for the first time since her rebirth, she faced the pain and death of her past—and held it in her palm.

The flames turned black and white.

Among them shimmered a streak of bright red.

That was the destined death.

Her destined death.

Then, she came back to herself.

Her eyes opened. Warmth lingered on her hand.

But it wasn't from the flames.

It was Lloyd's face.

He had fallen asleep at some point, still holding her hand. His head bowed, her palm now resting against his cheek, gently stroking it.

As if soothing a restless soul.

...

"Hmph~, I'm getting jealous, Ashen One."

The woman with the eye mask gently hummed, her hand still wrapped around the person in her arms.

"Spare me..."

He mumbled, half-asleep, his tone laced with helplessness.

"I'm just teasing."

She lowered her head, one hand still holding his, the other cradling him close. She looked at the sleeping face nestled in her arms and said softly,

"I only hope you can find your own happiness—no matter who it comes from."

He seemed about to respond, but she spoke again, her voice even gentler.

"Besides, this isn't the first time you've done something like this, is it?"

He paused, thought for a moment, then decided pretending to sleep was the wisest move.

Amused by his reaction, she let out a quiet chuckle.

A purple figure nearby turned to look at her, puzzled.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," the woman with the eye mask replied, shaking her head.

"Nothing at all."

What could there be?

Those fleeting moments of solace, the things that had kept him going—

In the end, they all became burdens, weights pressing down on him, thorns tangled around his heart.

It wasn't anyone's fault. Like birth, aging, illness, and death, it was just the natural order.

Only... some people couldn't accept it.

"Aren't you going to sleep yet?"

Gently stroking the face of the person pretending to sleep in her arms, she asked, her gaze lingering on the quietly burning flame in the distance, now slightly larger than before.

The person pretending to sleep didn't answer—maybe he didn't know how, or maybe he was simply too tired.

Or perhaps, he just wanted to stay like this with her a little longer.

After a moment, as if sensing something, the purple figure nearby walked over and sat beside them.

Seeing her approach, the woman with the eye mask generously gave up one of Lloyd's hands.

And so the two of them, each holding one of his hands, quietly soothed the restless soul.

She didn't know how much time passed.

Eventually, with deep, steady breathing, the man pretending to sleep finally drifted into real slumber.

...

Lloyd opened his eyes.

But this time, they weren't their usual gold—they were tinged with brown.

"You're awake?"

Feeling movement in her arms, Melina lowered her head.

"You just... fell asleep out of nowhere. I saw Scarlet Rot all around, so I gave you some support."

"If you're awake, then get up."

Her voice was colder than usual, more distant. But...

Lloyd rolled his eyes, feeling the softness behind his head and thinking, At least commit if you're going to pretend. What kind of half-hearted job is this?

And honestly, even this half-hearted act wasn't convincing—those guilty eyes and that stiff posture…

Sigh.

Lloyd sighed to himself and started to get up.

But before he could raise his head fully, a flash of gold darted into his face, knocking it right back down.

"What the hell are you doing?"

He looked up at Alice. He was used to her sudden appearances, but still—popping out like that right after he'd woken up startled even him.

"Nothing."

Alice looked away and shook her head.

"I just wanted to check the situation. If things were right, I'd have liked to meet that person. But it seems... it's not time yet."

"Meet who?" Lloyd asked, confused.

Alice didn't answer. She simply shook her head again and vanished.

Used to Alice's cryptic ways, Lloyd didn't press the issue. He sat up from Melina's arms.

"How long was I out?"

"About half a day."

"That's not too bad."

He straightened his sleep-creased clothes, pulled out the Spectral Steed Whistle, and was about to blow it when something occurred to him. He turned to Melina.

"Your hand..."

Melina hesitated for a moment. She looked like she wanted to say something, but in the end, she simply showed him.

The burns were still there—but clearly much lighter than before.

So, the treatment had worked.

Lloyd nodded to himself, planning to continue helping her heal during their next rest period.

But before the healing was complete...

"Here, take this."

He handed her a pair of silk gloves, just the right size to cover the exposed parts of her hand.

"Until we finish the treatment, if you don't mind, you can use these to cover it up."

Normal gloves didn't work for Melina, and anything abnormal would burn up instantly if used to hide her wounds.

But for now, thanks to the healing, the burns were temporarily suppressed.

And these thin, soul-woven silk gloves wouldn't hinder her movement or strength.

Looking at the gloves Lloyd held out, Melina hesitated several times—but finally accepted them.

"...Thank you."

"Why are you being so polite?"

Watching her slip the gloves on, Lloyd blew the whistle and resumed exploring.

Behind him, Melina—usually so lost in thought during their travels—kept glancing down at her hands, at the gloves.

Maybe... I should return them.

That thought lingered.

But she didn't act on it.

Lloyd didn't notice Melina's small reaction—or if he did, he didn't seem to care.

After all, something else had his attention now.

Like the scarlet cesspool spreading out before him.

"Ugh, I knew it."

Looking at the scarlet pool in front of him—eerily reminiscent of the cesspit Miyazaki had to pass on his way to elementary school—Lloyd shook his head.

After taking a couple of steps closer, he realized it wasn't just a cesspit... it exploded, too!

So that's it—Miyazaki walked past a septic tank as a kid, someone threw firecrackers into it, and boom, he got drenched?

Muttering to himself, Lloyd stepped into the scarlet poison swamp.

To his surprise, though, his Scarlet Rot bar didn't increase, and the spirit horse beneath him remained unaffected.

"As a spirit, Torrent can't be infected by Scarlet Rot," Melina explained.

Lloyd's eyes lit up.

Well, that's a pleasant surprise! He took back what he said—maybe Miyazaki didn't trudge through the poison pool on foot, maybe he rode a bike through it...

Just as that thought crossed his mind, a flash of an invasion alert lit up. Torrent came to a stop, and Lloyd was forced to dismount.

Damn it—Miyazaki must've fallen into a pit halfway through!

[Invaded by Millicent!]

Millicent? Who the hell is that?

Drawing Elizabeth's Poleblade, Lloyd looked toward the Red Phantom rising slowly in the distance.

But this one felt different from the last two. Her eyes lacked any life, almost like a puppet.

No words, no gestures. The moment she appeared, she came straight at him.

When she got close enough, she suddenly leapt into the air, her arm drawing the blade back—

—Waterfowl Dance.

"What the—Floating Passage?!"

Why are Sekiro's skills showing up now?

Unfortunately for her, while the move looked flashy, the damage was underwhelming. Plus, as an NPC, she lacked poise.

Taking advantage of the opening, Lloyd dashed in with an Ash of War, then retreated.

Blood erupted—four clean hits.

With a spray of crimson, her health bar dropped to a sliver. One more forward lunge from Lloyd's Ash of War, and it hit zero.

Just as Lloyd defeated her and received the Rune reward, the red phantom didn't vanish.

Lying where she fell, her puppet-like body started to glow—not with the golden light of the Golden Order, but something more akin to the Crucible's Aspects. No flame, no rhythm—just a soft, steady gold.

It reminded him of autumn—like the golden hue of a ripened wheat field.

Lloyd's eyes widened.

So there really are Red Phantoms with a second phase.

With that in mind, he switched to his main build: put on a bulky suit, threw on a slave hood, pulled out a small scythe, and casually enchanted it with magic.

But the fight never resumed.

Because once she opened her eyes, the Red Phantom didn't attack. Instead, she looked around, her expression confused.

"Excuse me, where am I?"

"Why am I here?"

Lloyd: "...?"

Wasn't he supposed to be asking her that?

Just as he was about to respond, he noticed something.

The Scarlet Rot cesspit beneath him had changed—centered on this strange figure, it had become a pool of pale golden water.

And as he stepped into it, his HP began to recover steadily.

It felt like a blessing of abundance.

...

[Upto 20 chapters ahead for now]

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