Lloyd knew full well this wasn't Majula.
Sure, he'd been kicked from the Soul Registry on the daily, but as an old Soul 5 veteran, he'd played through Soul 2 plenty of times and knew Majula like the back of his hand.
Still, he couldn't come up with a better comparison.
After spending so long in a simulated world, trapped in a place so bleak it could drive you mad, dealing with monsters that looked like they'd make you lose your sanity just by staring at them—
Eventually, even the Hollows started looking good. As long as a place wasn't a poison swamp or a cesspit, he'd call it scenic.
From Dark Souls I through III, even throwing in Demon's Souls and Bloodborne, he thought he'd seen it all. As a seasoned Hollow, he was mentally prepared for nothing but toxic bogs, dung heaps, and mobs of grotesque enemies right out the gate.
But now...
Gazing at the eerily beautiful world before him, Lloyd strained to find the right word—and all he could think of was "Majula."
This kind of opening was definitely beyond what an old Undead like him could've imagined.
"What's wrong?"
"...Nothing. Just feeling a little nostalgic."
Lloyd let out a sigh and turned to her.
"By the way, I still don't know your name."
"I don't have one."
After a short pause, she added slowly,
"But if you need one, you can call me 'Alice'."
It was a common name, a good stand-in.
"Alice, huh?"
Lloyd nodded. It didn't quite feel like a name fit for the Souls-like world, maybe even unlucky, but he didn't object.
After a brief exchange, a new question presented itself: where to go next.
Alice had mentioned solving the "anomaly," but she didn't know where it was. And as for Lloyd, he'd just arrived and knew nothing about this world.
But that didn't matter.
Not far away floated a familiar golden Site of Grace, and next to it stood a figure dressed entirely in white, wearing a white mask.
From experience, Lloyd figured this was the classic Souls start: a bonfire and a crestfallen guy to go with it.
He started walking toward the grace, planning to light it and maybe chat with the crestfallen fellow to gather some intel on this world.
But before he could even touch the Site of Grace, the white mask spoke first.
"Oh, you must be the Tarnished?"
The white mask stared at him, voice laced with an odd tone.
"You seek the Elden Ring, drawn to the Lands Between—no need to deny it. I know everything. Things always play out this way."
His eyes scanned Lloyd a few times, then he continued.
"But how pitiful... You have no Finger Maiden by your side. No one to guide you. No way to gain the power of Rune. Not a chance of being invited to the Roundtable Hold..."
"You're just doomed to die in obscurity."
Is this guy mocking me?
That affected tone—Lloyd seriously wondered if the guy was either castrated or just being a condescending jerk.
Still, he didn't care much. Crestfallen types in Souls games always started off cold, and some even threw in lines like, "You're a dragon, fine," just to rub it in.
Lloyd was far more interested in what the white mask's words revealed.
Finger Maiden. Tarnished. Lands Between...
Guidance, Rune, Roundtable Hold... and the Elden Ring.
He already knew about the Finger Maiden—after all, he had her Spirit Ash in his inventory. She was probably the Fire Keeper equivalent here.
As for "Tarnished," the Finger Maiden had called him that earlier too. That likely meant it was his role in this world.
The rest though...
"What is the Elden Ring?"
Lloyd asked outright, cutting off whatever the white mask was about to say.
"You don't know what the Elden Ring is?"
The white mask gave him a strange look, his tone leveling out a bit.
"I lost my memory," Lloyd replied flatly.
"Memory loss?"
The white mask eyed him with suspicion, clearly thinking he was lying—but quickly realized there was no reason to lie about something so basic.
After all, in the Lands Between, the Elden Ring was common knowledge.
"Then you're in luck—you've met me, Varré."
The white mask's tone returned to its peculiar lilt. After introducing himself, he continued his explanation.
"The Elden Ring is the source of all law, the foundation of all things, and the supreme symbol."
"Whoever holds the Elden Ring commands the laws of the Lands Between and becomes its 'Lord.'"
"And you, Tarnished... I don't know why you've lost your memory, but the fact that you're here means you're destined to fight for the Ring—to become the 'Elden Lord.'"
"See that golden light over there? That's a Site of Grace. It lets you Tarnished rest briefly and emits a faint golden trail—that's the 'Guidance of Grace.' It's the path a Tarnished is meant to follow."
Huh? There's auto-navigation?
Glancing at the glowing Grace beside him, Lloyd could indeed make out a golden ribbon of light extending outward, like a pointing finger leading the way.
He walked toward it and followed the direction of the light to a small rise. From there, he spotted a half-ruined church—and in front of it, a massive Tree Sentinel astride a warhorse, wielding a giant halberd.
Looks kind of like a horseback Giant Sentinel from Dark Souls. Definitely gives off elite monster vibes...
"By the way, Varré, do you know where I can find a Finger Maiden?"
Lloyd asked. Varré shook his head slightly, and at some point, a dark red hue had crept into his eyes beneath the mask.
"You don't? Alright, I'll ask someone else..."
Lloyd walked down the slope, heading straight for the towering golden knight.
Watching him approach the Tree Sentinel, a flicker of mockery passed through Varré's gaze—he clearly expected a spectacle.
The dark red in his eyes lingered on the receding figure, thoughtful.
That mad flame was already troublesome enough, and now another blaze had sprung up out of nowhere—one that felt even more... bizarre.
No, not bizarre. Mad. Truly mad.
From their vantage point, as soon as the strange Tarnished drew near, the Tree Sentinel—whose duty was to hunt down Tarnished—charged without hesitation.
In Varré's eyes, this odd, seemingly frail Tarnished would either be instantly flattened or flee in panic, maybe even begging for his life as he ran.
To the dark red presence observing through his gaze, although the Tarnished's nature was far from ordinary, this was the domain of the Golden Order. Even if He had descended into the body of the white-masked one, He likely wouldn't fare well against the Tree Sentinel, let alone this feeble vessel. Avoiding confrontation was the wisest move.
But he didn't.
Under their watchful eyes, facing a thunderous charge from the colossal knight, the strange Tarnished's expression remained completely unchanged—if anything, it looked... nostalgic?
Then, they saw him pull a small wooden stick from who knows where, clad in tattered armor (scavenged from a Godrick Soldier), and walk directly into the Tree Sentinel's path.
Suddenly, he leapt—then began rolling across the ground, dodging around the knight.
He was clearly evading, but the way he did it...
The dark red presence found it hard to comment.
After a while, it seemed he'd gotten used to the Sentinel's attack patterns. During the brief pauses in its strikes, he'd dart in and tap it with that pathetic little stick.
Varré and the presence in his eyes exchanged confused thoughts—they couldn't figure out what this guy was trying to do.
That stick didn't look like it could hurt the Tree Sentinel at all. Even if the knight were stripped of its armor, that thing would barely serve to scratch an itch.
But...
It didn't take long. Under their stunned gazes, the Tree Sentinel—powerful enough to be considered a master even in Leyndell—was beaten to death by that strange Tarnished wielding nothing but a tiny wooden stick.
There were no visible wounds, but after that final strike, the Sentinel froze, then collapsed. Its body began to crumble, dissolving into dust and fading into the air.
And Varré's eyes, tinged with dark red, saw even more.
It wasn't just the body that disappeared.
Runes, souls, even its very existence...
Everything was burned, devoured, and absorbed into Him.
The Fell God, the Frenzied Flame—and now this monster...
None of these fire-wielders are anything good!
The dark red faded.
At first, He'd hoped this one might be a bit saner than the mad flame—maybe even capable of devouring it or counterbalancing it. That would've been a blessing for all existence.
But now, it seemed this one might be even more twisted—more deranged.
Let the Golden Order deal with it.
He wanted no part of something like that.
...
On the other side...
After defeating the Tree Sentinel, Lloyd stood in place, watching its body slowly fade away, feeling a bit wistful.
Back when he was chatting with Varré, he'd even considered that once they returned to reality, maybe they could settle things through a proper conversation. But before he even had the chance to say anything, the knight across from him had already charged in with his halberd.
Different world, new setting—but that same old dog-hating attitude felt all too familiar.
As for the fight with the Tree Sentinel...
There wasn't much to say.
Intimidating as it looked, Lloyd had faced plenty of large enemies in simulated worlds—from the Elder Ghru in Farron Keep, to the Dragonslayer Armor before the Grand Archives, to Yhorm the Giant in the Profaned Capital. He was long used to fighting foes much bigger than himself, so there was no real pressure.
As for not knowing the moveset on first encounter? Easy. Just don't attack right away. Roll around to get a feel for the enemy's skills, learn the patterns, then wait for an opening to land a hit.
Manage stamina, don't get greedy, rinse and repeat. That's how you win.
The only problem was the damage felt a bit low. Maybe it was because the opponent was on horseback—his marathon-level mobility made it tough to keep up. Lloyd's short legs just couldn't match that pace.
But none of that was the real issue.
Looking down, he opened his inventory. The "Items" section was completely empty, and he frowned.
Wait... no flasks in this one?
Even though he'd won the fight, it was still a first-time encounter. Lloyd had taken a hit and lost most of his health. But with no healing items in his inventory... wasn't this difficulty a bit over the top?
"I thought you didn't need them."
Alice spoke up as she suddenly reappeared and shoved a red flask and a blue one into his hands.
Lloyd: "..."
Never mind the whole disappearing and reappearing act—so the reason he started with no flasks was because she pocketed them?
Whatever.
He didn't dwell on it. He stashed the two bottles—rebranded "Flask of Crimson Tears" and "Flask of Cerulean Tears"—and stepped into the ruined church.
Though he'd gained a new weapon and a decent amount of Runes from taking down that elite enemy, it was obvious there was more waiting beyond the church.
Then, inside the church, he paused. Sitting by a small fire was a figure in a red pointed hat and a cloak, with a creature resembling a horse standing silently behind him.
Was that... Santa Claus?