Just as previously agreed, Messmer had come this time seeking Lloyd's help in treating the surviving Numen found within the Hornsent Jars.
The two figures seen earlier, besides him, were the Numen he had brought along.
They were grotesque masses of flesh, as if randomly glued together, with misshapen heads and limbs. Their bodies were riddled with festering wounds, bleeding with even the slightest movement, some rotting and oozing pus—monsters in every sense.
At their appearance, the Black Knives behind Lloyd stirred uneasily.
Since Marika sealed off the Land of Shadow, the Black Knife Assassins had not returned there, nor to the Numen Village, for a very long time. For years, they had heard nothing of their former kin.
It wasn't that Marika had deliberately hidden the truth from them. In fact, given the Black Knife Assassins' ties to both Marika and the Golden Two Fingers, asking either would have brought some news of the Land of Shadow. Yet, just as Marika avoided speaking of that place unless absolutely necessary, the Black Knives themselves shunned the subject.
For buried there was the Golden Queen—the deepest scar in their hearts. Even hearing her name was enough to tear that wound open again, raw and bleeding.
And that scar was not only the tragedy of their kin but also a knot of emotions far more complex.
In truth, within the Lands Between, conflict between races was common. Entire peoples clashing, even exterminating one another, was nothing unusual.
If victory came on the battlefield, where one side was utterly wiped out, it was not condemned as a crime. On the contrary, such feats were celebrated and carved into sword monuments as glorious achievements.
But the case of the Hornsent was different. Even Marika herself called it her sin, often questioning whether what she had done was truly right.
For the Hornsent were never the Numen's enemies. In fact, they treated the Numen better than most of their own kind. And in the early stages of the last Empyrean Battle Royale, they had even stood as Marika's allies, fighting alongside her against the Queen of Gloam-Eyes.
The Hornsent trusted Marika deeply—so deeply that they entrusted her with their greatest secret: the Gate of Divinity.
This was a summoning ritual that could elevate a Law-bearing Empyrean into a true god, a creation unique in the Lands Between, the ultimate achievement of Hornsent civilization.
Yet in the end, Marika betrayed them. After using the Gate of Divinity to ascend, she turned on the Hornsent almost without hesitation, waging war and carrying out systematic massacres against them.
But was that always her intent? Certainly not.
Marika had been open to Hornsent culture. In fact, much of the Golden Order itself was heavily influenced by it.
Take the vessels of the Lands Between, for instance. They were born from Hornsent Jars, but instead of being driven by lumps of flesh, Marika gave life to the vessels themselves. This preserved the vessel tradition while eliminating the cruel sacrificial rituals.
Or the idea of reincarnation as a good person. Marika envisioned the entire Erdtree as one colossal vessel, with herself and the Golden Order as its contents, freely offering the people of gold the chance to be reborn.
No flesh sacrifices were needed, and even the shrimp-boiling rogues by the lake praised the idea. Their greatest wish was to die and be reborn beneath the Erdtree, returning as good people in their next life.
There were also the Crucible Knights under the First Elden Lord, the countless Misbegotten scattered across the Lands Between, and many other techniques inherited from the Hornsent...
Marika truly embraced Hornsent culture. She only wanted to refine what was primitive, flawed, and ineffective—sometimes even creating perfected techniques herself and sharing them freely.
Please, she might as well have begged them, embrace feudalism already. Primitive slavery is far too outdated.
But the result...
"Blasphemy!"
"You're desecrating Hornsent culture!"
"If not for your status as a Numen, these words alone would have been enough to brand you a sinner."
Marika was stunned.
After countless failed attempts, she realized the Hornsent weren't flawed because of culture—the entire race was hopelessly deranged.
Then she looked back at the new techniques she had devised. Taken together, scattered though they were, they were enough to form the foundation of an entirely new civilization.
And so, the Golden Order Dynasty was born.
In truth, when Marika first founded the dynasty, part of it was sheer defiance toward the Hornsent.
You think my way won't work? Fine, I'll make it work and show you.
Beyond that, she still held onto a faint hope: if her revised version of Hornsent culture succeeded, perhaps the Hornsent might adapt as well. Maybe they wouldn't join her outright, but at the very least, seeing her success, they might imitate her improvements and finally discard their outdated cruelties.
But reality proved she had underestimated the depth of their stubbornness.
When the Golden Order Dynasty rose, the Hornsent not only failed to see any fault in themselves—they instead believed their gods' dwindling blessings were due to their own lack of devotion. So rather than learning from the Golden Order Dynasty, they chose to become even more extreme, more brutal.
When Marika realized this, her composure shattered.
Seriously, are you insane?
You really insist on clinging to that rotten sacrificial culture and dragging Numen off as raw material?
After exhausting every possible attempt to reform the Hornsent, the broken farm girl finally lifted her hammer.
Enough. Let it all burn.
And then came the blow that broke her for the third time.
Even after betraying the Hornsent and wiping out nearly a third of their population, she heard reports from their side: the Hornsent still trusted the Numen. They believed the Numen were their friends, only deceived by this wicked woman. Some even muttered in disbelief, wondering how such a freak could have appeared among the Numen at all.
Hearing this, Marika nearly hurled her hammer in rage.
So your whole clan grew horns because you just love ramming yourselves into dead ends, huh?
And so, through sheer obstinacy, the Hornsent left Marika—and all the Numen—scarred with deep psychological wounds.
That's why, even if the Land of Shadow hadn't been sealed, neither Marika nor the Black Knife Assassins would have wanted to return. They didn't even want to remember.
As for their kin…
Marika had tried. It didn't work.
If even the Golden Goddess failed, then the Black Knife Assassins certainly could do nothing.
So no matter how badly they wished to save them, when powerless, no amount of memory or effort would ever change the outcome.
Better, then, to seal the Land of Shadow. Let the dead remain in the past, while the living moved forward.
Over time, with no contact, the Black Knife Assassins began to forget that place altogether, believing their kin had long since perished.
But now, with the emergence of that monster, those buried memories came rushing back—
The Witch Village. The Pot Culture. That terrifying stubbornness that once drove Marika mad...
While the Black Knife Assassins whispered among themselves, their painful memories stirred by the return of their kin,
on the other side of the arena, Lloyd was examining Witch-chan.
Despite her terrifying appearance, Witch-chan's nature was remarkably gentle. When she first arrived, she had dragged her twisted body forward just to give Lloyd a crooked greeting.
And when he stepped closer to examine her, she did her best to conceal her wounds, even turning away so he wouldn't have to look at where blood and pus still oozed.
Her face, framed with long golden hair—its beauty undimmed even through torn flesh and blood—made it easy to imagine what kind of gentle, lovely woman she must have been before being tortured into this state.
Thanks to her cooperation, the examination ended quickly.
And the results...
Lloyd's expression grew strange.
"What's wrong? Is it difficult to handle?"
"No."
Lloyd shook his head, his tone carrying a strange nuance.
"On the contrary, this is far easier than I expected. It hardly takes any effort at all..."
When he first met Numen-chan, Lloyd had braced himself for a tough case—maybe even needing to ask that overworked dragon for help.
But after checking her thoroughly, he realized the difficulty was no more than flipping a switch.
And the reason?
The Hornsent also practiced a sacrificial culture, but unlike the Giants, they didn't worship Fell Gods. They worshipped the Crucible.
Yes—the very Crucible from which Lloyd held a Fragment.
Though the Pot Ritual was cruel, it was indeed a reincarnation rite within Hornsent civilization—one of the rebirth ceremonies of Crucible culture.
In Numen-chan's current state, she had already fulfilled every prerequisite for reincarnation. She had gathered all the necessary materials, even refined them into their most suitable state. The only thing missing was the final step.
The one complication was that such a rebirth would also reincarnate the souls.
But for Lloyd, if it was a matter of souls, then it was no problem at all.
After confirming this, Lloyd thought for a moment, then right before Messmer's eyes, he drew out Numen-chan's souls. Using the Crucible Fragment, he reshaped her body, then returned the souls inside. Soon after, a brand-new Numen stood before them.
After a short while for her souls and body to settle into one another...
The golden-haired beauty slowly opened her eyes. At first she looked around in a daze, then lowered her gaze and raised her hands. She stared at those intact hands—hands she hadn't seen whole in what felt like forever—and stood frozen in place.
Then, when the truth finally sank in, when she realized this wasn't a dream...
With a heavy thud, she collapsed to her knees, covering her face as she broke into sobs.
Watching her cured so suddenly, the Black Knife Assassins behind Lloyd stirred again, their gazes toward him shifting slightly.
Lloyd himself didn't interrupt her crying. He simply reached out, rested his hand on her head for a moment to comfort her, then lifted his gaze to Messmer.
"How many more patients like this do you have?"
"Plenty."
Though Messmer had been briefly stunned by how quickly Lloyd resolved the matter, his past experiences had hardened him. He recovered quickly.
"And besides my place, the Hornsent probably still have quite a few more."
A lot of patients, then...
Lloyd nodded. Clearly, sending them one by one wasn't going to work.
"I'll find a way to visit your place later. Help me too—see if there's any method to get in."
"Mm. I've already sent people searching. Recently, they claim to have found some leads. Once I have solid news, I'll let you know right away."
As they spoke, the Numen on the ground slowly stopped crying. She lifted her head and looked up at Lloyd.
"Since she's healed, I won't be taking her back."
Messmer glanced at the newly reborn Numen, marveling once more at Lloyd's power, then continued.
"You have a place to house her, don't you?"
"Yes." Lloyd nodded.
Just send her to Hamlet. Plenty of room there.
But...
"You said the Hornsent still have quite a few Numen like this?"
Remembering Messmer's earlier words, Lloyd frowned slightly.
"After all that fighting, they didn't just kill them—or use them against you?"
At this, Messmer's expression turned odd.
"No. Quite the opposite. To this day, they treat the Numen with the highest honors. Even in war, they go out of their way to protect them..."
As I said before, the Hornsent still believe the Numen were deceived by that wretched Marika.
And they didn't punish the remaining Numen in their territory. On the contrary—because they are the last Numen, the Hornsent cherish them all the more.
As for the 'highest honors,' that's been the standard ever since the day the Hornsent first began using Numen as pot-making materials.
The truth is, the Hornsent didn't only use Numen. With just one village of them, making a single pot that way would have wiped them out long ago.
So when they made pots, they often used other things—animals, Misbegotten, even their own kin.
But compared to Numen, those were nothing in the Hornsent's eyes. Inferior reincarnation materials—just chopped up and thrown into the pot. If they fell on the ground or got dirty, no one even bothered to wash them.
Numen, though, were different.
As a race they had long been allied with, the Hornsent regarded them as their white moonlight—the most treasured, supreme reincarnation material.
They were kept in individual cells. The potters who handled them had to be pure maidens. If there was any bump during transport, or any damage before the ritual, responsibility was pursued, sometimes to the point of branding someone a sinner.
Even the torture instruments had to be the newest and finest. After being crafted, they were first used on the Numen. Only afterwards were they passed on to other materials, lest they be tainted.
That is why, even now, long after the Hornsent's grotesque deeds, most of the Numen still lived—while most other materials had long since perished.
"Well... they really are abstract, aren't they..."
Hearing Messmer's explanation, even Lloyd found the Hornsent baffling.
"I'll go take a look later."
After finishing with Numen-chan and chatting a bit longer, Messmer prepared to leave, saving the energy of his Fire Knight Medallion so he could return quickly next time.
But just before departing, he suddenly remembered something.
"Right. Where's Melina? Wasn't she with you?"
"She was, but... there's a situation."
What kind of situation?
Messmer was curious, but didn't ask. He only nodded and left.
After he was gone, Lloyd turned to the Black Knives behind him, and to the newly joined Numen. They picked up the maid recruitment discussion that had been interrupted by Messmer's arrival.
Lloyd had thought the assassins might resist such work.
But to his surprise, they responded with enthusiasm. Even the newly reborn Numen-chan eagerly volunteered, saying she wanted to take on the role.
Faced with such eagerness, Lloyd had no reason to refuse.
They briefly discussed compensation—though the women didn't want it, Lloyd decided he'd still pay them a modest wage on schedule—and soon, his castle had maids.
But after the recruitment ended, when they had all shed their battle armor, donned maid uniforms, and lined up before him...
Lloyd finally realized something.
"There are no males among the Numen?"
Why does it feel like they're all heavy wagons?
And why are the headlights so huge? Some kind of racial trait?