Is there any man among the Numen Clan?
It was only natural for Lloyd to wonder.
By now, he had met and heard of quite a few Numen. But from the youngest he'd seen to Marika herself, every one of them was a woman. Not a single man.
Even according to what Messmer had once let slip, all the other Numen in the Land of Shadow were women as well—no males anywhere. It was as if the very concept didn't exist among their kind.
"But they do exist."
"They're just extremely rare."
So rare it was almost pitiful.
After all, if there were no concept of "two sexes," then the word "female" would lose its meaning. Outsiders wouldn't even bother to stress the gender of the Black Knife Assassins.
As for the idea of hermaphroditism, while some had brought it up, it never spread.
Yes, there was the fact that "Marika is Radagon," but in truth, only Marika's direct descendants knew of this secret. Even most of her children, aside from a few of the oldest, were kept in the dark.
If the Numen truly were hermaphrodites, starting as halves of each other, then Marika and Radagon's relationship could never have remained a secret.
As for self-fertilization, Marika herself had already proven through Miquella and Malenia that even for a goddess, children born this way would be deeply flawed.
If the Numen continued their bloodline through such means, they would by now be more twisted than even the Misbegotten.
And in fact, traces of Numen blood still existed within the Golden Order Dynasty.
Remember, Roderika had once been part of the royal line, her most striking trait being her beautiful golden hair.
Similarly, other royals of the Golden Order Dynasty often shared the same "golden hair," and they tended to be taller than common folk.
Though Marika bore countless children in her lifetime—earning her the nickname "The Fertile Queen of the Lands Between"—even she couldn't have birthed an entire royal house on her own.
So if there were others with these same traits, and they hadn't come from her womb, then they could only have come from her kin.
Why then do only the bloodlines remain, and not the Numen themselves?
First, after cutting off the Land of Shadow, neither Marika nor the Numen wished to dwell on that place. They avoided even speaking the word "Numen."
Second, as mentioned before, the Numen truly lacked men.
"Unlike many races in the Lands Between, not only were males few, but among the Numen they were smaller than the women and far weaker in strength..."
"Because of this, their culture developed around female dominance, and in external affairs, it was usually women who acted..."
After moving into the Lands Between, years of constant warfare dealt further losses to the already small number of Numen. And whether it was the influence of the Law or something else, they eventually stopped giving birth to boys altogether. Even the goddess herself could do nothing about it...
"But the goddess is not a Hornsent. Once she realized it was impossible, she didn't insist on preserving the Numen's purity. After all, her own husband was a Highland Barbarian..."
Long ago it was said that all life in the Lands Between, except for the Fingers, evolved from a single source—born of the Crucible of Life.
Because of that, most races here had no reproductive barrier and could intermarry freely.
So when Marika gave up on preserving the Numen's original culture, their clan became stuck in the past, and the Royalty emerged.
Even so, some Numen still remained in the Lands Between.
Marika herself, for example. Or the Black Knife Assassins standing before Lloyd.
But now, they no longer called themselves Numen, nor were they persecuted as a race. The only thing unchanged since the beginning was the same old tradition.
The shortage of men.
Unlike the kin who went on to propagate the Royalty, the Black Knife Assassins, being a secretive order, were restricted not only in love and marriage but even in their daily lives.
Though Marika and the Golden Two Fingers never forced them into constant service, and even allowed them to retire and pursue their own lives, long ago, when the Two Fingers and Marika saved them and their kin from the Hornsent, they swore an oath of lifelong loyalty. They took it as their mission, and even without chains, they would not simply walk away.
The only exception was Alecto, leader of the Black Knives. By chance, she met a Golden Warrior, fell in love, and bore a daughter. That daughter later joined the Black Knives as well, though her mixed blood made her smaller and slighter than the others.
It sounded like a happy story, but mother and daughter met a grim fate.
On the night of the Night of Black Knives, the dynasty's infamous ritual, Alecto and her daughter, the "Black Knife" Tiche, both took part in the assassination.
In the original course of fate, during their escape from the capital, Tiche was gravely wounded while protecting her mother. After they fled, she succumbed to her injuries and died.
As for the mother, though she survived, she lost her mind over her daughter's death and was imprisoned in the Evergaol at the Moonlight Altar, where she kept vigil over her daughter's Spirit Ash.
Now, due to the interference of certain fragments, it is the mother who has become the dead one. The daughter, though stricken with grief, did not fall into madness. Instead, she inherited her mother's mantle and now strives to become the new leader of the Black Knives.
But that is not the real issue.
The problem is that after Alecto's death, the Black Knives lost even their last shred of restraint, leaving nothing but the rawest of Numen traditions exposed.
Towering, well-developed, lifelong virgins, and thanks to the nature of their work, trapped in long-term repression and frustration...
If not for their strict devotion to their mission, and the high moral discipline inherited from their Numen origins, even the Moonlight Two Fingers wouldn't know how to manage them.
Not just the Moonlight Two Fingers—Golden Two Fingers and even Marika herself found the matter troublesome. According to folk accounts in the Lands Between, before Marika ascended to godhood, she once asked her Two Fingers a question: when she became a god, could she resolve the Numen's shortage of men?
In response, the Two Fingers communed with a certain being for a time before telling her that her request had been received, and a solution could be provided.
And then...
"This is what you call a solution?!"
Lifting her skirt and staring at Radagon's half-body below, Marika was completely dumbfounded.
To her bewildered outburst, the Finger Reader Crone nodded and translated:
"You said they lack men, and struggle to deal with outsiders. So wouldn't this solve both problems..."
"Like hell it does!"
Unable to endure it, Marika struck the Two Fingers right then and there. From that moment on, she swore never to let the Black Knives learn of her other half's existence.
The reason?
She herself was Numen, and dealt with the Black Knives more than anyone. Others might not know what those assassins were truly like, but how could she not?
If the truth ever came out, she could easily wake one morning to find several Black Knives by her bedside, softly caressing her round backside while whispering:
"Sister, I've never asked you for anything before..."
Just imagining it was terrifying.
And not only her—Radagon himself feared them somewhat.
Though his form was male, he was created in Marika's image, and so knew much about the Black Knives. In fact, at the beginning, he even perceived himself as female—until he encountered a certain queenly woman of immense presence, who awakened the "male" within him.
Even when the Black Knives later grew suspicious, Marika never admitted anything. Her decision to live as Radagon and enter the academy for a political marriage was, in part, simply to escape them.
So why were they so fixated on her?
The answer was simple: the Black Knives' mission was to serve the Two Fingers. Their devotion had to be absolute.
Alecto's actions—falling in love, taking years away from service to bear and raise a child—were already a violation of that mission.
Had it not been for her strength and position, and her daughter's willingness to join their ranks, along with the Golden Two Fingers' leniency, she might never have been allowed back.
But there was one exception.
When the Two Fingers chose an Empyrean, that chosen one became the embodiment of their mission. To serve the Two Fingers was also to serve that Empyrean—provided the Two Fingers and the Empyrean were in agreement.
This gave them a way to act without betraying their oath...
But theory is one thing, reality another.
After all, they served the Moonlight Two Fingers, whose chosen Empyrean was Ranni—a woman who had become a doll.
And the others? Malenia—female, with corruption at her very core. Miquella—male, but regardless of orientation, entirely lacking the necessary function.
One might argue that gods should grow vast in soul and stature, but the problem was clear: based on statues of him and Malenia, and descriptions Lloyd had heard, that boy was truly a child.
Malenia was already considered small among the demigods, standing only a little taller than Lloyd.
But Miquella? Even in shoes, on tiptoe, hair included, he only reached Malenia's waist.
A child in the truest sense.
Now, however, a new Empyrean stood before them.
Male. Not a child. And the very one to whom the Moonlight Two Fingers had sworn allegiance.
He had taken them in, granted them a place where they could move freely, just saved their kin, and even promised to seek opportunities to rescue more from the Land of Shadow.
On top of that, he had hired them as maids in his castle, assigning them duties that included cleaning his very bedroom.
That was...
The Black Knives fell silent for a moment, exchanging glances, but making no other move. The situation might have felt delicate, but they were disciplined. Even if temptation flickered at the edge of thought, their mission came first, and their words remained measured.
If anything, they came across as cold.
This was their usual demeanor, and the reason the outside world saw them as they did.
Thanks to this mask, neither Ranni nor even Melina fully understood their circumstances. So when Lloyd recruited them as maids, it went unnoticed. If anything, it was seen as a good thing—that they could set aside their blades and enjoy some semblance of normal life.
Had some village girl been present, though, her expression would likely have turned awkward.
As for the Black Knives' coldness toward him, Lloyd felt nothing amiss.
It was a professional relationship. Business was business.
If they started acting out some "Goodnight, young master" nonsense, that would only unsettle him.
As things stood, it was just right.
So he spoke with them for a time, gathering information he hadn't known before.
And just before they parted ways, Lloyd suddenly remembered something.
"That Night of Black Knives..."
That night, it wasn't only Godwyn and Ranni who died—many among the Golden Royalty perished as well, directly leading to Marika's shattering of the Ring.
Given the bond between the Black Knives and Marika, such an act should have been impossible. Yet now...
"Back then, the Finger saved many Numen. Because of that, we swore loyalty to it. Serving as the Finger's shadow is our mission."
"And..."
After a brief silence, the voice spoke again.
"We believe Marika and the Golden Order Dynasty have changed."
"We once fought toward the same goal, but now she and the Golden Order Dynasty are becoming more and more like the very thing we despised most in our memories."
"We cannot accept that."
This was only one reason.
In truth, even now, the Black Knives had no idea how the assassination succeeded that night.
They had made careful preparations, yet they never believed their movements could escape Marika's notice—the woman who knew them best.
And yet, until it was over, she never appeared, never intervened. She only showed grief afterward, even vanishing completely.
When they infiltrated the city and stirred up chaos, they expected resistance and prepared for it.
But during the entire disturbance—even as they struck down the Hornsent-blooded Golden Royals—they felt not opposition, but clear signs of someone aiding them.
Even their target, the victim himself, behaved strangely that night.
Though they had stealth and Destined Death on their side, Godwyn was a warrior who could stand alone against the ancient dragons.
Even if blinded, couldn't he lash out with sweeping AoE attacks? Couldn't he summon reinforcements with the blazing golden light?
Yet nothing of the sort happened.
Godwyn did resist, but so weakly that the Black Knives suspected he was only pretending. His struggle carried a bizarre, dazed confusion.
So even they couldn't explain what had truly happened. In the end, they could only attribute the assassination to the command of the Two Fingers.
As for whether other forces had meddled, whether spies from rival factions were among them, or whether someone had secretly reported to Marika and received her approval...
No one knew.
After hearing their account, Lloyd nodded, sinking into thought.
He already knew Marika and the Golden Order Dynasty had changed.
Others had told him long ago: once, the Golden Order was famed for its gentleness and acceptance.
But at some point, that gentleness was abandoned, giving rise to countless tragedies that never should have happened.
Discrimination, persecution, slaughter...
Extremism, obsession, cold utility...
Long ago, the Golden Order Dynasty had enjoyed a period known as the Age of Abundance.
It was said that in those days, the Golden Tree was covered with tears of grace. Even the lowest demi-human slave could share in its endless blessings. That abundance fueled the dynasty's rapid expansion.
But that golden age ended in a flash, like a falling star.
Afterward, the Golden Tree still stood tall, yet its blessings rarely descended, and the tears of grace all but ceased.
It was then the Golden Order Dynasty began to change.
At first, the Black Knives thought little of it. Even when they glimpsed troubling signs, being so enmeshed within the dynasty, they managed to understand and tolerate it.
But as time passed, they realized their understanding and tolerance had not made things better. When they finally came to their senses, they saw that the dynasty they had once placed their hopes in was turning into something all too familiar.
Rigid, stagnant, despising outsiders, rejecting everything, blind to the weight of its own crimes, even proud of them...
History runs in circles.
Long ago, when the Hornsent civilization was at its height, their culture was not so abstract, their thinking not so deranged and extreme. They were even enlightened.
Yet when their civilization declined, and the blessings of the gods grew fewer, they descended into extremity and madness, becoming the very embodiment of corruption.
So, while most in the Lands Between lacked education and a deep grasp of history, the Black Knife Assassins had lived through that era. They had witnessed the Hornsent's descent firsthand.
And now, the Golden Order Dynasty was walking the same path.
The Black Knife Assassins loved the dynasty Marika had founded. Precisely because of that, they could not accept what it had become.
So they drew their black blades, placing their hopes in the Law of the Stars to bring new change to this land.
But...
"So, I mean... is there a chance Marika realized this problem too?"
Recalling the information he had gathered, Lloyd blinked as he looked at the Black Knives before him.
"Is it possible she also couldn't accept what the Golden Order Dynasty had become?
But unlike you, she was queen. She had far more to consider, so she didn't just draw her blade. Instead, she tried to change things—just like she once did with the Hornsent.
She tried to abolish the culture of sacrifice, shut down the arenas, and encouraged the Golden People to call each other by name rather than by race, to build a shared cultural identity...
She tried, she really did. But in the end, she realized she had failed.
And maybe that's fine.
Because decline takes time. Even if she changed nothing, the Golden Order could probably have endured another thousand or two hundred years in its current state. She could have kept her place as goddess, maybe even lived more comfortably.
But she refused.
What belongs in history's trash heap should not be forced to linger.
That was the truth Marika grasped long ago, after the stubborn ones once broke her defenses.
Only now, what stood before her was not some band of fanatics, but the civilization she herself had built.
And still, maybe it didn't matter.
"The stars turn, and history repeats...
There is no eternal queen, no unchanging gold. All of it is just our illusion."
Barefoot, the goddess walked with her same familiar grace.
Only now, in her hand was a stone hammer long unseen.
It was the weapon she once favored.
Countless years ago, it was with this very hammer—with a single earth-shattering strike—that she destroyed the Hornsent civilization and opened the Golden Age.
But now, its weight was turned against the very gold she had once fought for.
Or rather, against Marika herself.
The Empyrean is the vessel of the Law, and the essence of gold lay within her.
So she raised the hammer.
The red hair began to struggle.
The hammer came down without hesitation.
"Oh, Radagon, loyal hound of the Golden Order... you are not me. You are no god.
My other half! Shatter each other!"
With that final roar, like the echo of ages past, the stone hammer once again crushed the foundation of a civilization.
Gold erupted, fragments scattering.
The Elden Ring shattered with it.
...
"And then, the Elden Ring crawled out of her body, looking completely dumbfounded, like, 'Seriously? You were fixing the system, why smash me?!'"
Lloyd lifted a hand. From his collar, the tiny Elden Larva wriggled free, darting happily toward his palm, spinning in playful circles above it.
After giving the little creature a piece of candy, Lloyd looked back at the Black Knives.
"Maybe the Golden Order Dynasty has changed. But she hasn't.
From start to finish, she's always been that village girl who, when she can't bear it anymore, picks up a hammer and smashes you."
Tucking the cheerful little Elden Beast back into his clothes, Lloyd stood and walked toward the Black Knives.
Strangely, though Lloyd was far shorter than them, as he approached, they found themselves looking up at him.
"You mean..."
"I can promise you this—I will save her."
Lloyd lowered his gaze to them, speaking calmly.
"And you. And the Numen of the Land of Shadow. And more beyond that."
As he spoke, Lloyd reached out, brushing his hand across each of their faces in turn.
The simple gesture eased their unrest and unease. Withdrawing his hand, he continued in the same quiet tone.
"So, just focus on your work here.
When I need you, I'll call.
Don't trouble yourselves with the rest.
Leave it all to me."