Chapter 1
"HALT."
A voice echoed, reaching across the field, stopping the ragtag group of young devils in their tracks.
Huff,
Huff
They gasped desperately, chests heaving, arms shaking; some closed their eyes and looked for a respite from a place unknown. While the rest just emptily gasped and tried to grasp the reality that this just might be their entire life from now on.
A few were puking, and some lay there on the ground.
From as little as ten to as old as fifteen, they stood.
An older devil, with a stubble on his chin and a wooden sword in hand, walked forth.
"Today's training is over. All squad leaders, guide your group to the barrack. His wooden sword continued knocking against the ground, voice lazy. "Better adapt or you might find yourself kicked out."
Several marched forth, most of them fifteen years old. The ones that had already been through this for years barked orders and guided their group. Female devils go to the female section of the barrack, while the rest go to any section that isn't. And among the many was a young devil.
One of the younger ones of the group, age eleven. One among many, not exceptional-looking nor ugly, dragging his feet across was a young devil named Riven, a reincarnator.
His brown hair, humid from sweat, swung lazily through the air. His black eye, though more spirited than most, desired rest.
He didn't know if joining the Gremory household as a servant, more specifically as a soldier, was the correct decision or not. After all, there is more than one path to strength, and the journey that he chose for himself wasn't the most perfect per se.
But for him, it was most fitting.
His will isn't the strongest nor unbendable; it could dull, it can rust, and he doesn't think he can endure years or decades of training alone, without simulation or outside help.
Some part of it might have been influenced by the fact that if he joined later, it would be much harder. With those like him, a native devil from Gremory territory whose three generations had lived and died here and who was also young enough that their worldview and value hadn't solidified yet, having the easiest access.
So here he was, in a place that he thought would be a breeze with other devil children that also applied.
Trying to pass the last test before officially becoming the Gremory noble household servant.
Some part of it felt ridiculous. Weren't devils supposed to be a race that was born with eternal youth? Aren't they capable of seeing the rise of a mighty kingdom and the twilight of its days?. Then why are they pushing them so much?.
Join the Gremory household, and you would be set for life. They said,
The servants of the Gremory household are the luckiest bunch. They cursed, but he has something to say to them after truly joining.
Why the hell would anyone other than those with ambition join any noble household? Even if they don't join any household, just through centuries of slow accumulation, even the most foolish can make considerable wealth and gain decent strength if they put in a sliver of an effort.
And they don't have to risk their lives and endure the pain of being a literal servant that would have to bark when ordered and die when desired.
Sighhhh
Riven sighed, looking at his hard-as-rock bed and the stinky smell of sweat permeating through the room. His neighbor having the foulest-smelling feet, much to his dismay.
"Why am I even doing this?" His aching body and mind, which couldn't imagine him becoming anything but a simple commander, didn't answer him.
He shook his head, eyes focusing on his bed buddy.
He wanted to talk to his neighbor about hygiene and how to avoid the embarrassment of smelly feet.
But the bed beckoned him, and he put the thought off for later.
He snuggled into his bed and let his body relax. Instantly, exhaustion creeps in, and in minutes, he lies in deep sleep.
Loud snoring and sweat still permeated, and it promised all who lived here they wouldn't enjoy it as much as they wanted.
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"Arise now, ye Tarnished! Cross the fog to the Lands Between to stand before the Elden Ring and become the Elden Lord."
The call of a long-lost grace surged through the mind of the young child, tearing its mind from the clutches of death.
For the first time in so long, the tarnished, a fledgling tarnished, took a sharp, deep breath. Spots filled his vision but gradually disappeared as his eyes adjusted to the sight itself. Numbness initially filled him all the way down to his fingers and toes but soon subsided and was replaced with a strange feeling of warmth.
The tarnished man dragged himself to a nearby puddle to see his reflection. The cave he was in was dimly lit, but he could barely make out his features through the murky water.
And the face that stared back was oh so familiar to him. For it was his face.
He sighed in relief, his back hitting the ground as he stared at the ceiling. Riven didn't know what had happened; he just slept and woke up in this place. With a basic memory of grace, demigods, and the Elden Ring, shattering shoved into his mind, along with some basic combat skills.
It wasn't a simple, now-clearly-remembering memory but a muddled one. As if he were trying to dig through a pile of dirt, looking for gold or any minerals. His body was feeling extra heavy, as some sort of energy other than demonic energy was together with it.
He rose in a wobble; despite feeling like nothing changed in his physical body, his limbs felt…tired.
Rusted even.
The armor was too big for his frame. As if it were meant for someone else. So he threw away all of it, because he did not want to be dragged to death.
There was a bag of belongings beside him, which he swung over his shoulder without care, and started walking.
He looked at the seemingly fragile soul that sat beside a massive hole.
But refrained from going near it. Unsure what to do to a soul if it ever turned violent.
But he did go near the golden sapling.
His hand brushed the surface of the sapling, its rough texture sending a pulse of warmth. Its branches are seemingly leaning on him.
Sigh
A fog of mist escapes his mouth.
He walked through the monument; the walls around him seemed ever closer, with webs and dead skeletons littering every corner.
He noticed that the stone sword keys were already inserted into the statue. The invisible wall is open and inviting.
He ignored it and inched closer to the lift, pulling the lever, getting on it, and lifting to the surface.
When he finally got out.
It took his breath away.
The land before him teemed with life. Small animals grazed below tall trees. Their branches are gently swaying with the breeze. While Riven saw the ruined monument around him, the wilderness had long reclaimed it, with green grass and moss covering crumbled stone. The death and destruction caused by shattering seemed to not reach this quiet place.
"Perhaps this place isn't as bad as I thought." He walked several steps and stopped.
Noticing something wrong.
He snapped his head. Saw the Pillar of Lands Between, the connection between the sky and the earth, burning.
An endless sea of flame eating away at a golden tree that dwarfed mountains.
"What is this?!" Riven's finger curled around the handle of his blade, his pupils dilating.
He had long suspected he wasn't the Tarnished who was destined for the Elden Throne. He didn't start in the Chapel of Anticipation; the stone sword key was already inserted into the statue, the lift was already up, and now the Erdtree is burning.
Riven estimated in which step the chosen Tarnished is, and it is in the late game. At least two fragments of grace had already been collected, Morgot killed, and the giant slain. Instantly, thoughts of trying to undermine or steal a few treasures here and there disappeared.
The chosen Tarnished had long become a being that he could never afford to provoke or cross paths with.
Riven turned around and walked towards the crumbling chapel in the distance, the tree sentinel dead and gone. Thinking of a way for his childish body to not become a reason for his demise.