The air in New Londo Ruins was damp and heavy, thick with the stench of stagnant water and decay. Bell Cranel waded through ankle-deep floods, his boots squelching against the stone. The Hestia Knife glowed faintly at his hip, its divine light a stark contrast to the oppressive gloom of the sunken city. In his other hand, he gripped the *Silver Knight Straight Sword*, its edge honed from battles in Anor Londo. The *Pyromancy Flame* hung at his side, its warmth a small comfort against the chill that seeped into his bones. His Undead body, though stronger now, still felt like a stranger's—sluggish, unresponsive to the instincts that had carried him through Orario's Dungeon. But his mind was sharp, fueled by *Liaris Freese*, the skill that burned brighter with every challenge.
New Londo was a graveyard of a city, its towering spires half-submerged, their reflections rippling in the murky water. The silence was broken only by the distant wail of something not quite human. Bell's adventurer senses tingled, warning him of danger. This place was no Dungeon floor, but it demanded the same vigilance. He clutched the *Transient Curse* he'd found at the city's entrance, its ghostly aura allowing him to strike the spectral wraiths that haunted these ruins.
"I rang the bells," Bell murmured, his voice barely audible over the drip of water. "Why am I still here?" The tolling of the second Bell of Awakening had opened this path, but it hadn't brought him closer to Orario. Hestia's smile, Ais's golden eyes, the warmth of his Familia—they felt further away than ever. Yet Bell pressed on, driven by the same resolve that had pushed him through the Dungeon's depths. He was Bell Cranel, and he would not break.
---
The ghosts of New Londo were relentless. They emerged from walls and water, their wails piercing the air as their spectral claws slashed at Bell. The *Transient Curse* let him fight back, but its effects were fleeting, forcing him to conserve his strikes. His *Homing Soulmass* spell proved invaluable, the orbiting orbs tracking the ghosts' erratic movements and blasting them apart. The *Silver Knight Straight Sword* carved through their ethereal forms, its precision a perfect match for Bell's quick footwork, honed from dodging minotaurs and goblins.
But the ruins were a maze, and Bell's progress was slow. Narrow bridges and flooded corridors left little room for error, and the ghosts' ambushes tested his patience. He died twice, each death sending him back to the bonfire at the city's entrance, the pain as sharp as any blade. Yet each revival sharpened his senses, his *Liaris Freese* adapting to New Londo's challenges. He learned to listen for the ghosts' wails, to anticipate their attacks, to move like Ais—fluid, untouchable.
It was in a crumbling courtyard that Bell met *Siegmeyer of Catarina*, a rotund knight in onion-shaped armor, snoring loudly against a broken pillar. The sight was so absurd that Bell froze, half-expecting an ambush. But Siegmeyer stirred, his helm clanking as he stood. "Oh! A fellow traveler!" he boomed, his voice muffled but cheerful. "I'm Siegmeyer of Catarina, and I seem to be in a bit of a pickle. Care to lend a hand?"
Bell blinked, caught off guard by the knight's jovial tone. "I'm Bell Cranel. What kind of… pickle?"
Siegmeyer gestured at a flooded gate, guarded by a swarm of ghosts. "That gate's my only way forward, but those blasted specters have me stumped. I'm no coward, mind you, but I'm not exactly spry. Hmm… what to do?"
Bell's lips twitched into a smile. Siegmeyer's bumbling demeanor reminded him of Welf's stubborn pride, tempered by Lili's pragmatism. "I'll help," he said. "But we need a plan. Those ghosts are fast."
"Oh, splendid!" Siegmeyer clapped his gauntlets together. "You've got a good head on you, lad. Lead on, and I'll follow—after a quick nap, perhaps?"
Bell chuckled despite himself. "No naps. Let's go."
---
Together, they tackled the gate. Bell took point, his *Homing Soulmass* clearing the first wave of ghosts while Siegmeyer swung a massive *Zweihander*, its arcs slow but devastating. Bell's *Pyromancy Flame* unleashed *Great Combustion*, the fiery burst scattering the specters. Siegmeyer's enthusiasm was infectious, his hearty laughs echoing through the ruins even as claws raked his armor. "By the gods, lad, you fight like a storm!" he bellowed.
The gate opened to a deeper level of New Londo, but the victory was short-lived. A new threat emerged: *Darkwraiths*, armored specters wielding curved blades that drained Bell's vitality with each hit. Their speed matched his own, and their attacks were relentless. Bell's Undead body struggled to keep up, his dodges a fraction too slow. He died again, the pain searing, but *Liaris Freese* burned brighter, his soul growing stronger with each revival.
Siegmeyer, surprisingly, proved a steadfast ally. His *Zweihander* shattered the Darkwraiths' armor, giving Bell openings to strike with the Hestia Knife. "You're no ordinary Undead, are you?" Siegmeyer remarked after a particularly brutal fight. "There's a fire in you, lad. Reminds me of… well, better days."
Bell's chest tightened. "I'm an adventurer. I have a Familia waiting for me. I can't give up."
Siegmeyer's helm tilted, as if studying him. "Familia, eh? Sounds like a fine thing to fight for. Keep that fire burning, Bell. It'll carry you far."
---
The deeper they ventured, the darker New Londo became. The water rose to Bell's knees, slowing his movements, and the ghosts grew more aggressive. He found a *Ghost Blade*, its ethereal edge perfect for cutting through spectral foes, and a *Ring of Fog* that shrouded him in mist, making him harder to detect. These tools, combined with his growing mastery of *Force* and *Lightning Spear*, turned him into a specter of death himself, striking from the shadows like a seasoned Loki Familia scout.
But the heart of New Londo held a greater challenge: the *Four Kings*, abyssal lords who ruled the darkness. The arena was a void, an endless black expanse where the kings materialized one by one, their ghostly blades slicing through the air. Bell's first attempt was a disaster—his body too slow, his spells too weak against their relentless onslaught. He died, the bonfire's warmth a bitter reminder of his failure.
Siegmeyer, waiting at the bonfire, clapped him on the back. "Don't lose heart, lad! Even the mightiest knights fall. It's the getting up that counts."
Bell nodded, his ruby eyes blazing. He thought of Ais, her unyielding strength, and Hestia, her unwavering faith. "One more time," he said, gripping the Hestia Knife.
On his second attempt, he summoned Solaire, whose *Lightning Spear* lit up the void. Together, they fought as a trio—Bell's *Homing Soulmass* and *Great Combustion* staggering the kings, Solaire's miracles piercing their forms, and Siegmeyer's *Zweihander* delivering crushing blows. Bell's mind raced, adapting to the kings' patterns, his adventurer instincts honed to a razor's edge. He dodged their sweeping blades, struck with the Hestia Knife, and cast *Force* to repel their grabs. When the final king fell, its soul pulsing in the darkness, Bell collapsed, gasping.
"Well done, lad!" Siegmeyer roared, helping him up. "You're a proper hero now!"
Solaire's helm glinted. "Your sun burns bright, Bell. The path forward is yours."
---
The Four Kings' soul unlocked a new truth: the *Lordvessel*, a relic needed to access the First Flame. Bell learned this from *Kingseeker Frampt*, a serpentine creature that emerged from Firelink Shrine's depths. Frampt's words were cryptic, urging Bell to seek the *Lord Souls* to fuel the vessel and face the final choice: to link the fire or let it fade.
Bell's heart wavered. Linking the fire felt like preserving the gods' order, like protecting Hestia's divine spark. But the Age of Dark… it whispered of freedom, of a world where humanity could rise, like the adventurers of Orario who defied their gods' limits. He didn't know which path was right, but he knew he had to keep going.
Frampt directed him to the *Catacombs*, a skeletal labyrinth beneath Lordran. Bell parted ways with Siegmeyer, who promised to "ponder his next pickle" at Firelink. Solaire, too, left to pursue his sun, though his parting words lingered: "Keep your fire, Bell. It's what makes you shine."
---
The Catacombs were a nightmare of bone and shadow. Skeletons rose endlessly, their blades sharp and tireless. Bell's *Silver Knight Straight Sword* shattered their forms, but they reformed unless he struck their necromancers. His *Pyromancy Flame* burned through the darkness, and *Heal* kept him alive when wounds piled up. He found a *Gravelord Sword*, its cursed edge radiating malice, but he kept it, sensing its power.
In the depths, he faced *Gravelord Nito*, a mass of skeletons wreathed in miasma. The fight was brutal, Nito's miasma sapping Bell's strength, his skeletal minions overwhelming. Bell died three times, each death a lesson in positioning and timing. On his fourth attempt, he used *Force* to scatter the minions, *Homing Soulmass* to target Nito's core, and the Hestia Knife to deliver the final blow. Nito's soul joined his collection, another step toward the Lordvessel's completion.
Exhausted, Bell rested at a bonfire, its warmth stirring memories of Hestia. He closed his eyes, imagining her voice: *"You're my hero, Bell. Come home."* Tears pricked his eyes, but he wiped them away. "I will," he whispered. "I promise."
---
The Catacombs led to the *Tomb of the Giants*, a pitch-black abyss where light was a luxury. Bell's *Sunlight Maggot*, a glowing insect found in the Catacombs, lit his way, its eerie radiance a poor substitute for Orario's lanterns. The tomb's skeletal beasts and crushing traps tested his resolve, but *Liaris Freese* burned brighter, his soul growing stronger with each victory.
As he descended, Bell felt the weight of Lordran's truth pressing closer. The First Flame, the Age of Dark, the choice that awaited—it all loomed like a Dungeon boss he couldn't yet see. But he was Bell Cranel, and he would face it, for his Familia, for his home, for the hero he swore to be.
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