Elden Ring: The Speedrunner's Guide to the Lands Between.

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I'm also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW 

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

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Tarnished turned slightly, his eyes drifting toward a small stone staircase leading to a bridge. Beyond it stood an archway, its weathered stones forming the entrance to an all-too-familiar arena. His breath hitched as he took in the sight—he knew this place. Every speedrunner knew this place.

'This is surreal…' he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

Marika, standing beside him in her shimmering astral form, scoffed lightly. "But of course. The splendour of mine own domain knoweth no equal."

She folded her arms beneath her ample bosom, pressing them up ever so slightly as she tilted her head with a knowing smirk. The motion was subtle, but utterly devastating. The golden embroidery of her dark gown shimmered under the ethereal light surrounding her form, accentuating her otherworldly beauty and causing her bountiful breasts to perk up slightly.

Tarnished, now free from the shock of his reincarnation, finally noticed.

His face flushed instantly, his cheeks burning red—no, not just his cheeks. His whole damn face was practically glowing, the deep crimson hue nearly matching the lacquered plates of his samurai armour.

Marika's smirk widened as she let out a lilting, melodic laugh. "Fufufu~ My, my… Art thou so easily swayed? A mere glance and thou dost avert thine eyes as though scorched?"

Tarnished stiffened at being caught, swiftly trying to deflect. "I- I don't know what you're talking about." He turned sharply, marching towards the bridge with forced determination.

Marika, still amused, floated behind him effortlessly with arms still crossed together. "Is that so~?" She teased, watching his movements with keen, predatory interest.

As he walked, he clenched his fists, trying to push the thought out of his mind. 'Holy shit. She's absurdly hot. No amount of fanart could ever do her justice…'

A shadow flickered above him.

Marika suddenly appeared midair, laying sensually sideways with her head rested on one hand as she peered down at him and spoke with a low purr. "Ah, what a flatterer thou art~... I didst just inform thee that I can hear thy thoughts… And yet, thou darest to proclaim mine allure so openly? Bold indeed."

Tarnished paled in horror at the realisation that she heard him, then promptly turned even redder.

Marika chuckled, tilting her head. "I had no doubt that I am fairer than any thou hast known… But 'tis rather shameless to admit it so readily. Mayhaps this is how mortals now pursue courtship?"

Tarnished didn't even attempt to answer. Instead, he broke into a dead sprint, dashing across the dilapidated bridge like his life depended on it.

Behind him, Marika laughed, her rich, golden voice echoing through the ruined chapel path. For all her divine grace and majesty, Queen Marika the Eternal had spent countless millennia imprisoned, her only company being the flickering fragments of her shattered self. Trapped, unseen, unheard.

Now, she was free—if only in this limited form. And she would not waste this opportunity to entertain herself to her heart's extent.

Besides, she had chosen her champion well, yes. But a champion was still a tool, and tools required maintenance. Encouragement. Motivation.

And if there was one thing Marika understood well, it was the power of Desire.

Tarnished slowed as he reached the archway, stepping into the arena beyond. It was just as he remembered—the circular stone platform, the ruined pillars, the looming cliff edges that promised a swift and merciless death.

At the far end, bathed in dim, golden light, stood a familiar statue.

A depiction of Queen Marika herself with her arms held out, as if trying to mercifully embrace all those who laid eyes upon her visage.

Tarnished paused, his gaze lingering on it. In all his runs, he had seen these statues scattered across the Lands Between, yet he had never truly looked at them. They were just… Background set pieces.

'Damn it, I really should've paid more attention to the lore…' He thought bitterly. 'Fucking From Soft, making everything so obscure that I gave up trying to understand it.'

A soft hum made him glance to the side.

Marika stood beside him, arms folded, her expression unreadable. "This… From Software…" She mused. "Helios spake of them, yet did not elaborate. Tell me, Tarnished—what is their connection to mine own world?"

Tarnished hesitated but then let out a short sigh, she could hear his thoughts anyway, so there was no point in lying.

He exhaled and rubbed his neck. "Short version? In my world, this place—your world—is just a game. Millions of people played it. That's how I know all this."

Marika's golden eyes flickered. "…A 'game'?"

She turned away, her expression darkening as she processed his words. Seeing her reaction, Tarnished was about to say something, but a sudden noise stopped him cold.

A wet, grotesque squelch followed by a distant, droning sound—a deep, distorted choir.

Tarnished froze. "…Why do I hear boss music?"

A shadow loomed over him.

Then the revolting monster landed before them, its multi-limbed, grotesque form shaking the very earth beneath its feet. The creature reared back and let out an ear-splitting, inhuman shriek as a crimson boss health bar materialised in Tarnished's vision.

[GRAFTED SCION]

Marika huffed, flicking her wrist dismissively. "We shall continue this discourse at another time."

She then tilted her chin, watching the grotesque creature approaching with mild disdain. "For now… Slay this loathsome wretch."

Tarnished cracked his knuckles as the background music flared up. "With pleasure."

Tarnished reached for his uchigatana on instinct, his fingers curling around the hilt with an ease that surprised him. The weapon felt natural in his grasp, as though his body already knew how to wield it. His grip tightened. 

'Muscle memory? …No, more like some kind of built-in knowledge. Guess I've got something to work with.'

The brief flash of confidence was enough. He drew the blade in a single fluid motion, the steel glinting under the dim light of the chapel. Without hesitation, he dashed forward and slashed at the towering abomination before him. The Grafted Scion let out a wet, gurgling shriek as the uchigatana bit into its flesh, dark ichor spilling from the fresh wound.

It screamed in fury, flailing its grotesque collection of limbs. Swords, axes, and spears blurred together in its chaotic rampage. Tarnished threw himself to the side, rolling just in time to avoid being cleaved in half. As he came up on his feet behind the creature, he swung his uchigatana again, aiming for another deep strike.

CLANG!

The blade rebounded violently off a golden shield, rattling his arms and throwing him off balance. His stance broke just for a moment—just long enough. One of the Scion's other arms shot forward, a jagged blade skewering through the gap in his armour and tearing into his chest.

A burst of painless pressure flooded his senses.

Tarnished gasped and stumbled back, blood spraying from the wound as his vision flashed red. A sharp chime echoed in his mind, and in the corner of his vision, his health bar plummeted by a full 35%. 'Shit-!'

He threw himself into a roll, barely dodging the Scion's follow-up attack. Another roll. Then another. He needed distance. When he finally stopped, his free hand instinctively shot up to clutch his chest. His breath was heavy, his mind bracing for agony. And yet…

Nothing.

No pain. No warm blood gushing from the wound. He looked down. The hole in his armour was there, proof that he had been hit, but his body was unscathed. A phantom pain lingered, not quite real, more like an unpleasant hum at the site of the injury.

"…The hell?"

"Tch." Marika's voice echoed within his mind, unimpressed. "An effect of mine System, naught more. But thou wouldst be wise to remain wary—thy foe moves to take thy head, and I shall not mend that."

Tarnished's eyes snapped back up. The Scion was already lunging.

"Shit-!"

He panic-rolled to the side, barely avoiding decapitation. Coming out of the roll, he steadied himself and focused. The Scion roared and rushed at him, weapons raised, its grotesque mass of limbs shifting as it prepared another relentless assault.

But Tarnished knew this fight.

He had seen these attack animations countless times before, memorised their exact wind-ups and follow-throughs. He watched carefully, waiting—waiting—until he saw the final swing of the chain. His fingers twitched. There.

The instant the Scion finished its last slash, he surged forward, uchigatana flashing in a precise counterattack.

The blade cleaved through one of the monster's many arms, severing the one that carried its golden shield. The appendage fell to the ground with a wet thud. Ichor sprayed from the wound as the Scion reeled back, screeching in pain.

Tarnished grinned. 'Hell yeah, limb damage is a thing! That's actually sick! It's just like 'Bloodborne'!' He barely had time to process the implications before he raised his weapon again, preparing a follow-up strike.

Then the Scion screamed.

A raw, ear-splitting, bloodcurdling wail tore through the air. The sheer force of the sound sent a shudder through Tarnished's body, rattling his very bones. His ears rang as his vision shook. A sharp pain stabbed into his mind, and in the corner of his vision, his health bar nosedived as 60% of it was gone in an instant.

'What the fuck?! Fuck you Miyazaki! You and your Bastard, Bullshit, Unblockable attacks!'

"Pitiful." Marika scoffed. "Stricken low by a mere wail? I had thought thee stronger than this."

Tarnished barely registered her words, his focus torn away by the Scion as it lunged, all its weapons drawn back for the killing blow.

He tried to move, tried to dodge, but his body refused to listen.

'Shit-!'

Blades tore into him.

He barely felt it as the world began going dark around him.

The last thing he heard was Marika's voice, smooth and unwavering, as his consciousness faded away.

"Thou art weak, mine champion. But worry not. In time, thou shalt grow into a warrior fit to be Elden Lord and rule at mine side… Or thou shalt fade into Dust with the rest of thy Wretched Kin."

Everything faded to black.

…

The Tarnished drifted back into consciousness, his mind sluggish, his body weak. He tried to move, but a crushing exhaustion kept him pinned to the cold, wet ground. 

'Am.. Am I dead?' He wondered, his thoughts slow and hazy. He could still feel… something. The distant sound of water running along the stone floor reached his ears, along with the faintest splash of hooves against the shallow puddles.

Then, a voice. Soft, yet firm. Familiar.

"Fear not, Torrent. Fortune is upon his side."

'M.. Melina?'

Tarnished forced his eyes open, his vision unfocused and blurry. A shadowed figure dismounted the spectral steed and stepped towards him, kneeling gracefully at his side. He could barely make out the gentle curves of her features, her hood obscuring most of her face, but the voice was unmistakable.

"One of his kind is sure to seek the Elden Ring." She murmured, her gaze studying his broken form with quiet scrutiny.

His strength failed him once more, his head dropping limply against the damp stone. He barely registered the sound of glass clinking beside him—two flasks, placed carefully within his reach.

As she turned away, her voice lowered to a whisper, meant only for herself. "Will he be the one to succeed… After all this time?"

Darkness pulled at him again, but just before unconsciousness could claim him, he felt another presence. A warmth unlike the cold dampness surrounding him, something ancient yet familiar.

He didn't need to open his eyes to know who it was.

A breath of laughter echoed in his mind, amused yet knowing. "Hm… It seemeth my daughter hath taken a liking to thee."

And then, the world went black once more.

Tarnished stirred, groggy but aware, his body stiff from the cold stone beneath him. The damp scent of earth filled his nostrils, and as his vision cleared, he took in his surroundings. A small, dimly lit cave stretched before him, the walls slick with moisture. To his side, a ledge dropped into darkness, leading to a familiar tutorial area. Ahead, the path sloped upward towards an exit bathed in faint light.

"Thou art finally awake, it seemeth."

The voice was smooth, tinged with amusement. Tarnished turned his head, finding Marika hovering effortlessly in the air before him, legs elegantly crossed, her golden hair cascading like a divine veil.

"Did I die?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

She scoffed. "Nay, though 'twas a fate most deserved. After thy shameful defeat at the hands of that wretched beast, it merely cast thy body from the cliffs. By fortune alone didst thou survive, slumbering here in disgrace."

"Well, I feel dead." He sighed as shifted, rolling his shoulders as he pushed himself up. His gaze drifted—first to the damp cave floor, then slightly upwards, and then… just a bit higher.

He caught sight of Marika's bare feet, floating inches above the ground, before his eyes naturally traced the length of her flawless form, drinking in the details he hadn't fully processed before.

The amused lilt in her voice sent a shiver down his spine. "Ara, ara~! 'Twould seem my champion is quite the degenerate."

Tarnished coughed, turning away abruptly, his cheeks betraying him with a telltale heat. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Mhm~..." She chuckled knowingly, watching as he distracted himself by scanning the ground. His gaze landed on two familiar flasks sitting beside him. Without thinking, he picked them up, a notification flashing before his eyes:

[Acquired: Flask of Crimson Tears x1, Flask of Cerulean Tears x1]

Satisfied, he adjusted them on his belt and moved past her, stopping only when something caught his eye—the roots of the Erdtree protruding through the cave walls, their golden veins pulsing faintly.

Marika followed his gaze, a light giggle escaping her lips. "If such meagre roots dost fascinate thee, then I cannot wait to behold thy reaction to the great Erdtree itself."

Tarnished exhaled, shaking his head as he continued forward. He reached the heavy stone doors before him, pushing them open with a grunt, stepping past several stone coffins before climbing the worn stairs. His armour clanged with every step, the weight of his new reality settling further into his mind.

At the top of the stairs, a faint golden shimmer caught his eye—the first Site of Grace. Marika materialised beside it, arms folded as she gestured toward it. "I trust thou art familiar with this, yet allow me to explain—these are sanctuaries of Grace. Rest upon them, and shouldst thou perish, 'tis here thy form shall return."

Tarnished let out a small chuckle, one that held great pain and experience. "Yeah.. Yeah, I'm very aware."

She gave a slight shrug as he stepped forward, reaching out with intent. The moment his fingers neared the golden glow, the Grace responded, flaring to life.

[Lost Grace Discovered]

He felt the connection form, an invisible tether linking him to this place. A sense of security settled over him, however fleeting.

Glancing to the side, his eyes fell upon a fog-covered passage—the entrance to the Fringefolk Hero's Grave, locked behind a Stonesword Key mechanism. He knew full well that he was hilariously under-leveled for what lay beyond.

'Yeah, not happening.' He thought, moving past it without a second glance.

Instead, he approached the lift. A corpse lay slumped nearby, but to his surprise, there was no item glinting beside it. He frowned. 'No summon signs either, huh? Guess that means no calling for help in this world.'

With a sigh, he stepped onto the elevator, activating the mechanism. As the platform ascended, the darkness of the cave gave way to soft golden light. The ceiling above him peeled back, revealing an ornate stone archway.

"Oh yeah, why is it that I couldn't feel pain when I was stabbed." He asked as he made his way towards it.

"'Tis but a boon of the system thou hast been granted. Pain is dulled to naught but a whisper, and thy wounds are borne upon thine health bar instead. A trifling mercy, that thou might endure a while longer upon thy path."

He nodded at her response, appreciating that she managed to do something so thoughtful in order to help him get used to fighting for his life. Soon, he reached for the bottom of the door and pulled it open.

[Limgrave]

The notification flashed in his vision, but he barely noticed it.

His breath hitched.

The world stretched out before him, vast and untamed, more real than he ever thought possible. The golden fields of Limgrave swayed gently under a sky of turbulent green and gold. Jagged cliffs and ancient ruins dotted the land, their forms lost to time. 

A massive stone bridge arched over a deep canyon, leading to the crumbling silhouette of Stormveil Castle, its jagged towers clawing at the heavens. Above it all, the Erdtree loomed, its divine radiance pouring through the clouds, painting the sky with streaks of luminous gold.

Tarnished stood motionless as he took in the surreal majesty of the Lands Between, his chest rising and Marika materialised before him, arms crossed, golden eyes gleaming with amusement as she took in his reaction.

"Beautiful, is it not?"

Tarnished barely registered her words, his head turning slowly as he took in more of the landscape. "You can say that again."

His gaze roamed until it landed upon something—or rather, someone. A Site of Grace lay just ahead, its golden streams flowing skyward, and beside it stood a lone figure. Tarnished immediately recognised him.

White Mask Varre.

The man was clad in a pristine white garb, his sleeves stained with faint, unsettling marks of crimson. A bone-white mask obscured his features, only the dark hollows of his eyes peeking through. His posture was relaxed, his hands pressed together as if in quiet contemplation—or anticipation.

Tarnished let out a slow breath and approached, kneeling for a moment to light the Grace before stepping forward to speak with him. The moment he did, Varre lifted his head slightly, examining him from head to toe before speaking in a smooth, lilting voice.

"Oh yes… Tarnished, are we? Come to the Lands Between for the Elden Ring, hmm?"

Tarnished gave a slight nod, his mind already anticipating what was about to come next.

"Of course you have. No shame in it."

Then, he felt it, it was like a disturbance in the force, a distant ringing in his mind. He remembered this moment.

He knew what Varre was about to say.

And why he killed him on sight in every single run.

"Unfortunately for you, however, you are Maidenless."

Tarnished's eye twitched as Marika, who was floating just behind him, stilled.

Varre, blissfully unaware, continued. "Without guidance, without the strength of runes, and without an invitation to the Roundtable Hold… You are fated, it seems, to die in obscurity-"

His voice blurred into background noise as the Tarnished clenched his fists, his old simmering annoyance had boiled over into a hatred he hadn't felt since his first run through Elden Ring.

Behind him, Marika broke as the divine queen let out a hysterical peal of laughter, clutching her stomach as she struggled to keep herself upright, her body beginning to hover slightly off of the ground and float away.

"F-Fufu~! Oh, oh this is truly rich! Mine own Champion, Maidenless? Ahahaha~!"

Tarnished's fingers twitched towards the hilt of his Uchigatana, the temptation to gut this smug bastard right here and now was overwhelming.

'Actually… If I angled my sword just right—could I stab him so far up the ass that the blade would poke out through his stupid fuckin' mask?'

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Author's Note:

—

…

Next Chapter Title: First Death.