In the Lands Between, ruled by the Golden Order Dynasty, across the northern seas beyond the Consecrated Snowfield, a colossal tree rose from the ocean. Its emerald leaves swayed gently in the breeze, drifting down into the blue waters below, filling the air with a sense of life and renewal.
Beneath its vast canopy stood a magnificent city. Its walls were strong and thick, the banner of the Haligtree fluttering proudly in the wind.
Soldiers and knights in heavy armor patrolled the ramparts, their steps steady and synchronized. The longswords at their sides occasionally scraped against their armor, producing a crisp ring of metal. Beneath their helmets, their faces were solemn, yet their every movement carried a composed and disciplined grace.
Since Radagon had become the King Consort of the Golden Order Dynasty, an age of peace and stability had lasted for decades. As the noble children of the Elden Lord and the Empyrean—the demigods Miquella and Malenia—few in these lands could stand as their foes. The dynasty's rule remained firm, and none in the Lands Between dared to challenge its might—save for those wretched, worm-like creatures.
A small squad of soldiers dashed through the streets, a scene so common that the townsfolk barely looked up. From brave knights to elite soldiers, even Misbegotten and Sorcerers from Liurnia of the Lakes, all merely glanced at the passing troop before returning to their own duties.
Inside the high walls, within one quiet chamber, sat a young man in knight's armor. His hair was silver-white, glimmering like moonlight, and his blue eyes shimmered with a faint golden light—the blessing of grace. His features were so flawless that even the twin Empyreans of the Haligtree had praised him as perfection itself.
"Those corrupted followers... have they returned?"
The endless darkness of a bygone age still lingered in his memory. He could almost feel the burning heat of the First Flame that once seared his soul.
Nolan Bethel, once the Lord of Cinder, had perished with the fading of the Age of Fire in a world consumed by darkness—only to awaken here, in the Lands Between. When he first arrived, Miquella found him beneath the Haligtree and discovered his ability to suppress the Scarlet Rot. Miquella brought him home, granted him the title and honor of a Golden Needle Knight, and raised him as one of their own.
Ordinarily, possessing such rare power and earning the favor of an Empyrean should have been a dream beginning for any wanderer. Yet this world was far from the paradise it appeared to be.
"Sadly, in this life, there's nothing I can accomplish."
Nolan sighed, gazing at the distant golden Erdtree. If he had the choice, he would have preferred an ordinary world—one without monsters or madness.
Dark Souls, Elden Ring… he had endured the trilogy of suffering, only to end up in this accursed place. Was this really what it meant to live?
"Dark Souls was hell, sure—but at least I got to be a king. This time, I'm not even qualified to save the world."
He took a deep breath, resting his hand on his hip out of habit, then let out a bitter smile as his fingers brushed the hilt of his blade. With a quiet sigh, he stepped out of the room.
Forget saving the world. It was enough just to survive.
Nolan laughed to himself.
Soon, the mighty would wage war over the fragments of the Ring and the right to rule, turning the Lands Between into a field of corpses. From exalted Demigods to humble peasants and slaves, every fate would be bound in blood and steel.
Even the heroes sung by bards could not guarantee their survival in the chaos to come. And here, in the holy city of Elphael, an ordinary knight like him had no place in the struggles of Demigods and legends.
This world was a new beginning—yet only the soul remembered what once was. He was no longer the invincible king who once hunted the gods.
Across the city walls stood countless watch posts, where soldiers in armor held sword and shield at the ready. At times, noble Haligtree Knights in ornate armor strode past, their presence a silent reminder of the sacred order that ruled this city.
"Nolan, over here."
No sooner had he descended the steps than he heard someone calling out to him. Turning his head, Nolan saw a woman clad in knightly armor beckoning him. She removed her helmet, revealing a face with a touch of masculine grace, now wearing a hearty smile.
This was Finlay, the esteemed Cleanrot Knight Commander serving Malenia. Nolan nodded and walked toward his friend. Those around them witnessed the scene but said little, for the Cleanrot Knights, capable of suppressing corruption, enjoyed good relations with him.
"By the way, I saw Leda looking for you earlier. Didn't you know?" Finlay chattered as she skipped over, her legs swinging energetically.
"Uh, no. Just came out from inside. I was practicing swordsmanship."
Nolan scratched his head. Lacking natural talent, he could only compensate with sheer effort.
"Sword practice? I recall you started this morning. So you've been at it all day?"
The woman blinked, patting the young man's shoulder before adopting a serious expression.
"Nolan, I admire your perseverance, but training must have its limits. What if something goes wrong?"
"Besides, there are many paths to strength. There's no need to rush."
What other methods were there? He wasn't a Tarnished, nor did he have a Finger Maiden now—he couldn't cheat his way to leveling up. Could he possibly swap bodies?
Come to think of it, his own Highness could indeed do that...
Power was the only justification for ruling. The Lord of Cinder had long understood this truth. In desperate circumstances, trading a body for strength wasn't entirely unacceptable.
"I get it. That's why I'm taking a break!"
Nolan stroked his chin thoughtfully, though he knew it was impossible. He wasn't the mightiest demigod, Radahn, nor the Oathsworn King. Why would Miquella grant him a new body?
Finlay's lips twitched slightly, dismissing her friend's usual evasive tactics. Crossing her arms, she began to chatter on.
"If only you truly understood. Honestly, lacking strength isn't such a big deal. With us here, with Her Highness Malenia here, you'll never be in any danger."
Listening to Finlay, Nolan forced a smile. Silently, he cast his gaze around, taking in the prosperous land. The military stood in orderly ranks, towns bustled with activity, and people lived in peace and contentment—everything seemed so harmonious and beautiful.
Yet, Nolan's thoughts involuntarily drifted back to the past. In his first life playing the game, the Lands Between had already descended into chaos, overrun by madmen afflicted with dementia. Even the Haligtree was shunned by all. But now, he was beloved by everyone. Clearly, that shattered era was still far away.
Nolan instinctively turned his head, his gaze slowly sweeping until it settled on a distant point—the Erdtree in the far horizon. Lost in thought, he heard the crisp clatter of iron boots echoing from afar.
Snapping back to attention, Nolan followed the sound and saw a figure clad in white emerging slowly from the stairwell entrance. She was tall and slender, wearing black knight's armor adorned with gold accents, draped in a snow-white cloak.
"Lady Leda," Nolan called her name, performing a knightly salute.
This knight was the Captain of the Golden Needle Knights of the Sacred Tree, a champion who served the Empyrean being, His Highness Miquella. By rank, she was his direct superior.
"Nolan, there is a cleansing task tonight. You will assist me."
Leda did not remove her helmet. Her voice, transmitted through the visor, sounded exceptionally stern, radiating an air of authority.
Nolan was taken aback. He had spent all these years at the Haligtree, cherished and revered like a precious treasure, never once participating in any combat mission.
Finlay frowned and straightened up.
"A cleanup mission? Leda, that isn't your responsibility. Those corrupted familiars should be dealt with by us, the Cleanrot Knights, or the Haligtree Knights."
Before she could finish, she saw Leda shake her head firmly.
"Not necessary. This is His Highness's order. Nolan, come with me."
"Leda..."
Finlay seemed to want to say more, but just then, she felt a gentle hand press against her shoulder. The knight turned to find her friend's face devoid of any trace of fear.
Meeting Finlay's concerned gaze, Nolan's eyes remained serene, almost as if he were reassuring her not to worry. He gently stroked the Longsword at his waist, his mind flooded with images—flashes of champions, kings, and gods who had once walked this land.
Now, they were all gone, becoming part of the past, part of an epic known only to Nolan.
It's not like we can't fight at all. If we back down from a few little bugs, those guys will probably laugh at us.
The former Lord of Cinder, now the Empyrean Knight, stood tall.
"Let's go!"