In the Lands Between, battle and bloodshed are almost eternal themes. From the birth of life in the Crucible, to the Golden Order sweeping across the world, and now to the ruins left behind by the Shattering—conflict has never ceased. Violence has never waned. In a sense, the history of the Lands Between could be read as nothing but a chronicle of war.
If one is not at war, then one is on the path to it. Even when peace briefly blooms, it fades just as quickly, and within those fleeting moments, conflict still festers in countless forms. Whether this is good or bad depends on one's stance—opinions rarely align.
But one thing is certain. In the Lands Between, battle and war are everyday occurrences. People have grown used to them—numb, even.
Take Roderika for example. Born of royal blood, pampered since childhood, she was terrified by the horrors she witnessed under Godrick. She fled, lost and shaken. Yet that fear came not merely from the violence itself, but from her heightened spirit vision—she could see the vengeful ghosts of the Grafted, and their presence nearly broke her. Still, she managed to escape alone and shut herself away in a small cabin. If she hadn't met Lloyd, time alone would likely have healed her heart.
And even so, Roderika was considered the most timid soul in all the Lands Between. Others—warriors and even ordinary citizens of Castle Morne—were far more desensitized. They saw Misbegotten, beaten bloody and staggering through the streets, as a common sight. Trolls with hollowed-out chests, their innards laid bare, were just part of the landscape.
In the Lands Between, combat, cruelty, and gore were all perfectly normal. Everyone had grown accustomed to it—their tolerance was anything but mild.
Yet even here, "Corruption" was considered excessive. Even without its abstract contagion, few would willingly sit at a table with it. Most saw Corruption as something extreme, cruel, and utterly alien. Those who could accept and coexist with it were viewed as outliers among outliers.
And now, gazing upon the battlefield before her, even Millicent—who had grown up with Corruption, lived alongside it, and fought in countless blood-soaked battles—felt that what she saw had gone far beyond reason.
This could no longer be called combat.
Combat is an exchange—strength against strength, skill against skill—each side striving to overcome or kill the other. Bloodshed is a means to an end.
But the two before her had abandoned all such principles. There was no technique, no defense, no intention to win or to kill. Sometimes they even deliberately eased their blows, as if to prolong the other's suffering—to slow the loss of consciousness or the breaking of flesh.
It wasn't two warriors fighting. It was two beasts tearing each other apart.
Victory was no longer the goal. The only purpose was to inflict pain.
A sharp crack—
A spear pierced through flesh, igniting Bloodflame that consumed the blood within. It twisted slowly, like a fork winding spaghetti, mangling flesh and sinew into a sizzling, bloody mass.
Before the spear's wielder could act again, a hand clamped onto her head and yanked upward—like pulling a radish from the soil—tearing it free with a length of pale spine still attached.
Before the headless corpse could even fall, another figure lunged from behind, clinging to the back. A mouth lined with small fangs sank into the exposed neck, and as the throat convulsed, the abdomen swelled grotesquely.
A wet explosion followed.
The swollen belly burst apart like an overripe fruit, splattering blood everywhere. Yet the head biting into the neck didn't release its grip. The blood flowed downward, spilling from the hollow cavity, only to be caught by another figure who pressed forward to drink.
The scene didn't last long. Lloyd tore free the blood vessels from the burst abdomen and used them to strangle the figure below, then...
...tied them into a crimson bow.
It wasn't a tight knot, but the figure beneath hesitated for a while before deciding not to undo it. With the last of its strength, it nuzzled against Lloyd, then collapsed, face darkening to a deep purple.
Corpses piled up. Blood painted the ground.
The scene had gone beyond mere gore. Not even when Malenia unleashed Corruption upon Caelid had such horror been seen. Not even the giants' sacrificial rites or the horned ones' jar rituals compared to what lay before them.
To merely watch, even without taking part, was to feel one's mind unravel from the sheer intensity of it.
And physically—blood from their "battle" soaked the ground, dyeing the altar crimson. When the earth could absorb no more, it overflowed, cascading over the cliff's edge into a waterfall of blood.
Above it, crimson mist rose and spread, wrapping the entire Dynasty of Blood in its haze.
But the mist carried no sweetness, no power—only a curse of pain. Every being it touched could feel that agony seep into them, so fierce that even the citizens of the Dynasty of Blood, hardened by their own excess, cried out in despair.
Compared to that, the pain of flesh was almost merciful—a fleeting distraction granting a moment's peace.
So, after the crimson mist spread, countless blood-born beings once again clawed at their own bodies, tearing themselves apart. They opened new wounds, stripped away flesh until nothing but stark white bone lay exposed beneath.
How long did the battle last?
No one could say.
In that unbearable agony, thought itself had been lost. Every passing second felt like torment, and all sense of time slipped away. Even the two combatants themselves, wholly absorbed in their struggle, hadn't bothered to count.
The only certainty was that when the sounds of fighting finally began to fade and the blood mist slowly dissipated, the entire Dynasty of Blood had been smothered under a veil of crimson suffering.
Beneath the Dynasty lay a hollow, now transformed into a dark-red lake overflowing with Accursed Blood. Its aura of terror was so intense that even the faithful followers of the Blood Dynasty dared not approach.
At last, after who knew how long, the sound of rending flesh ceased.
The sky-darkening wings of blood lay scattered across the ground, not a single one left intact. All had been broken, severed, torn to pieces, bleeding freely across the earth.
Between those shattered wings, as the endless blood mist cleared, only a single crimson figure remained. She knelt weakly on the ground, her body nothing but wounds. Flesh turned inside out, bone spurs entwined with exposed nerves, blood flowing ceaselessly.
"Hhhah—hhah—"
Her throat rattled as she lifted her head, staring at the man who had come before her. Her skinned, flayed face twitched, the rotting muscle shifting as though trying to form words. But with her insides churned into ruin, only a strangled growl escaped.
The man crouched down, cradling her in his arms. He leaned close to her ear and whispered.
"Hmm. Faint as it was, you really did make me feel it."
"A trace of 'pain's flavor.'
Or maybe… 'spice.'"
Hearing Lloyd's words, the blood-drenched figure twisted into a ghastly smile. Her mangled hands convulsed as she reached out to him again, a ragged "Hhhha-hhhhaaa" rasping from her throat.
"...Alright."
Understanding her meaning, Lloyd lifted his head. His gaze lingered on her shredded, blood-caked face, searching until he found what might be her mouth. Then he lowered his head again.
And then—
Pfft, pfft—
Lloyd's tongue was bitten off.
The bloodied figure giggled at her successful prank as Lloyd looked on helplessly. Then she leaned forward, bit through her own tongue, and fed it into his mouth.
"I'm not into that kind of thing..."
Still half-playing with the crimson figure, Lloyd tapped open his inventory and withdrew a gray ring.
Seeing this, the blood-red figure shakily raised a finger, trembling as she tried to reach for it.
But again, her hand passed straight through.
Cruel reality held no affection for anything. Beyond wounds and pain, it responded to nothing.
But…
"Since you won't move, I'll do it myself."
Lloyd extended his hand and split open her chest.
Inside lay a dark-red heart riddled with scars, beating coldly and steadily. Even when held in Lloyd's grasp, it did not respond.
This was the essence of reality.
It was as cold and silent to itself as it was to others.
Only wounds and pain could give it even a shred of something 'real.'
But now...
"After drinking so much of my blood, do you still think you're pure?"
Lloyd scraped his finger across the heart's surface as he spoke.
At his touch, the blood once drunk by Elizabeth stirred, slowly waking and beginning to respond.
Like a lover's pulse, the heartbeat quickened, pounding faster and faster.
At last, under the strain, the heart cracked, splitting open with a jagged seam.
Lloyd reached inside and closed his hand around something within.
It still did not respond.
But that didn't matter.
"Even without feelings, it doesn't matter to me."
As his words fell, the ring manifested.
Then it began to change shape.
"After all, I've never cared about such things. To reach my goal, I've never hesitated to use force."
"And besides... isn't this what you like?"
As he spoke, gray chains crept over the concept's body, enveloping it entirely in an instant.
This time, it responded.
Not with resistance, but with delight.
Lloyd lowered his head, looking at it, and murmured softly.
"Now, you belong to me."
He tightened the chains. Under the crushing force, its body creaked under the strain, and the blood-red figure's expression twisted with pain.
Yet as soon as Lloyd released his grip, the crushing sensation vanished.
In its place came a vast emptiness and biting cold.
It reached out again, hungering for more—whether blood or chains.
But this time, Lloyd gave it no answer.
"Behave yourself, and I'll reward you. Otherwise…"
Lloyd flicked his finger lightly against the heart, sealing the crack shut.
"Just wait."
With that, he withdrew his hand and turned his gaze toward Elizabeth.
Unlike the others, after their Covenant was complete—if it could even be called that—no ring appeared on her hand. Instead, a collar formed around her neck.
Staring at it for a moment, Lloyd pondered, then took out another ring. This time, he slipped it onto Elizabeth's ring finger.
"The last one was for Him. This one's for you."
As he spoke, he placed the ring on her finger and leaned down again toward her mangled, blood-streaked face.
Then, as healing energy flowed into her body, the figure before him began mending at a visible pace.
Normally, injuries this severe should be treated gradually. Forceful healing would bring unbearable pain—possibly even shatter one's consciousness.
But Elizabeth…
You know who we're talking about. That Elizabeth.
So, without restraint, amid the sickening crunch of bones and flesh knitting back together and the screams of agony, Lloyd swiftly completed her reconstruction.
"Phew—alive again."
Now fully restored, Elizabeth stretched lazily, then tugged at the collar around her neck. After a moment of thought, she looked up at Lloyd.
"So, should I call you 'Darling' now—or 'Master'?"
Before Lloyd could answer, she decided for herself.
"Then I'll just call you 'Darling Master.'"
[Acquired Covenant: 'Dear Master']
[Dear Master]
[A Covenant established with 'Elizabeth']
[When equipped, greatly enhances Bleed efficiency and damage, and grants the ability 'Merge with Reality']
[Pain is the sole and eternal truth; truth is eternal and unending pain.]
[Perhaps that is why immortality is a curse.]
[Wouldn't you agree, my Dear Master?]
[Acquired Item: 'Elizabeth's Collar']
[Elizabeth's Collar]
[Can be used to summon Elizabeth for assistance in battle or personal service.]
[The crimson collar is forged from pain and curses.]
[Both a token of the Covenant and a symbol of belonging.]
"So, my dear master, where are we going next?" Elizabeth asked with a playful blink.
"Don't worry about that yet—get off me first. And stop eyeing my neck. I've already fed you plenty of blood. If you want more, earn it first."
"Hmph, you really are such a mean one..."
"Mean, my ass, you damn leech."
Lloyd irritably shoved away the "big mosquito" clinging to him. Then, eyeing the collar around her neck, he thought for a moment and snapped his fingers—transforming it into a necklace.
"Huh? I thought you liked it that way…"
"You're the one who likes it, aren't you?"
Elizabeth touched the necklace, looked up at Lloyd, and said sincerely, "Then I'll admit I like it. Can you turn it back?"
"No."
Saying this, Lloyd reached out and caught the small Elden larva he'd released earlier.
"There are kids here. I can't let you corrupt them."
After a brief round of teasing, Lloyd tucked away the tiny Elden and looked back at Elizabeth.
"So, what now? Planning to wander around until I call for you, or…"
"I'm staying by my dear master's side, of course."
Elizabeth raised her hand, admired the ring on her finger, nodded in satisfaction, and continued, "Alright, seriously though—that fight drained me quite a bit. I could recover naturally, sure, but the efficiency... tch."
She shook her head and looked at Lloyd.
"You'll help me, won't you?"
Lloyd said nothing, only asking, "And after that?"
"I'll still stay with you, obviously."
Elizabeth met his gaze, speaking earnestly.
"Don't look at me like that. I admit I've got some odd tastes, and yeah, staying with you might have a few ulterior motives, but that doesn't mean I can't also help you. I'm still a normal woman, alright?"
"You? Normal?"
Lloyd gave her a skeptical look, ready to retort—then stopped.
On second thought, in the Lands Between, where humanity came in all strange forms, Elizabeth—with all her quirks—was arguably one of the most 'normal,' even unusually reliable.
And the reason for that...
"You've seen my 'essence,' right? You must've noticed—He's actually quite passive..."
"So His influence on me is minimal. Aside from that one time He drank your blood, He hasn't made any demands of me. That's why I can stay relatively... normal."
"But if it were someone livelier—say, that 'Corruption' inside that girl—then, well, that'd be a different story entirely."
As she spoke, Elizabeth dismissed her blood spear and waved her hand, clearing away the blood that stained them both.
Once the mess was gone, the trio of brothers—having realized the situation was over—returned and asked what had happened.
Then...
After thinking for a moment, Elizabeth turned to Mohg and said seriously,
"In simple terms..."
"He really is your father now."
Mohg: "..."
Mohg: "...What?"