But he could not silence his instincts.
"She didn't abandon you."
Melina's voice was quiet, almost too quiet, as though even she was unsure whether to speak.
"She just died."
Or perhaps she was dying. Or in a state worse than death. Either way, there was no comfort in her words.
Alistair blinked. "...What?"
No, seriously. Was this how you comfort someone?
He couldn't tell if Melina was trying to console her brother or drive him further into despair.
And sure enough, Messmer's expression, which had just begun to settle into shock, twisted again—this time into something cruel and vengeful.
"You lied to me."
The flames coiling around his spear surged violently, and the tremble within the fire grew with fury.
"I understand now. You've betrayed the Erdtree. You've betrayed our mother."
He raised his weapon. The twin serpents slithering across his shoulders hissed sharply, echoing the chaos in his soul.
"You consort with the Tarnished One. You speak their lies. Are you trying to release Destined Death!?"
Melina flinched.
"No, I—"
Boom.
There was no time for explanations. The red spear pierced the air like a comet, aimed straight for her chest.
But it never struck.
A black shield intercepted the blow, bracing against the heat and impact. Alistair stood before her, sword drawn, eyes calm.
"I could have dodged that," Melina muttered behind him.
"Not necessary."
The black flame ignited along the blade of Alistair's sword. It was not the wild chaos of the frenzied flame, nor the sacred gold of the Erdtree. It was something deeper. Something older.
"If you can cast healing miracles, then do that. Let me handle the rest."
His shield held steady, and his sword slashed forward.
With the force granted by level 802, the strike landed like judgment. This was no ordinary blow. This was flame-forged steel, the kind that reduced health bars to zero in a single swing.
Messmer staggered after the first few hits, confused by what should have been scratches—yet his body screamed with unseen pain.
The serpent fire, once so eager to devour others' souls, found itself unraveling. His weapon, his flames, his confidence—they all cracked under the pressure of this flame that did not belong to the Golden Order or any of its accursed kin.
It was a silent fire. A fire that judged without speaking.
"The Tarnished One—"
A great snake emerged from Messmer's back, coiling upward. In its gaping mouth, a fireball gathered like a falling star and slammed into the battlefield.
Alistair raised his shield too late to deflect the full blast. His health bar dropped by a sliver. A fraction. Almost unnoticeable.
Then the Erdtree's grace behind him shimmered once more, restoring the wound before it could even matter.
"Melina—"
Together, they pressed the assault. One defended, the other healed. In seconds, the serpent's flames began to flicker.
Messmer fell to one knee, eyes alight with bitterness.
"I will return. I will rise again. And when I do, I'll burn you traitors with my mother's fire..."
His final words collapsed with the dying of the flame. His body dissolved into ash, drifting like soot into the wind.
Alistair stood over the place where he had vanished, sword still raised.
He considered it. Just for a moment. A clean finish. A backstab, maybe a quick "snack" or "spiral finger" for old time's sake.
But this was Melina's brother.
So he said nothing, and only lowered his blade when the system confirmed the enemy had been felled.
Turning to Melina, he sighed.
"So... your brother, huh?"
Melina didn't respond.
"I mean, I wasn't trying to be rude, but... is he maybe a little too... into your mom?"
She blinked.
It took a moment for the implication to sink in. But when it did, her expression shifted.
"...Now that you mention it..."
---
After the battle with Messmer, Alistair might not have gained any usable Runes, his Dark Souls character swallowed them all but the experience wasn't wasted.
He had, for one, grown closer to Melina. Whether it was the battle, the shared danger, or the whispered truths, the distance between them had shortened. Her usual formality softened, and she no longer hesitated to take his hand or sit behind him on Torrent.
Still, there were questions.
"You said you lost your memory?" she asked as they rode.
"Yeah." Alistair nodded. "Didn't even know what the Elden Ring was until Kale told me."
"Then... how did you know where to go? The site of grace, I mean."
"I didn't." He shrugged. "I just followed the light. You know, the guidance stuff they keep talking about. One of the blessings pointed me there. Then I found you."
Melina's brow furrowed.
She was a spirit. Her very existence had been a puzzle. But this? This Tarnished One who wandered into divine destiny with no clue what was happening?
"You're really something," said a voice.
Melina turned, startled.
Alice stood nearby, casually leaning against a tree.
"You..."
But before she could speak, the woman vanished again.
"Alis—" she began.
"Oh, just ignore her," Alistair said, patting Torrent's head. "She comes and goes."
The steed slowed as they reached a shaded forest clearing.
"Are we there yet?"
"Not quite."
He dismounted and unsheathed his club.
"Time to farm some Runes."
Melina blinked.
"Farm?"
She followed him, confused—only to witness a spectacle.
Miners. Soldiers. Wandering nobles. Even the local wildlife.
Anything that moved fell to Alistair's strikes.
She watched in silence as he slaughtered the camp, then casually walked to a nearby grace, sat down... and everything reset. All the enemies revived, movements looping identically.
Immortality under the Golden Order had always been conceptual. Souls returned to the tree, bodies reformed eventually. But this? Instant reset?
Even her mother would have been stunned.
Melina opened her mouth.
But Alice appeared again.
"Shh," she whispered, placing a finger to her lips. "Don't tell him."
"...He doesn't know?"
"No. And he doesn't need to."
Alice turned toward the blood-soaked battlefield where Alistair had already begun another massacre.
"Sometimes ignorance is a blessing."
Melina hesitated.
She remembered the sigh—that moment of despair she had heard in the wind. She couldn't explain it, but her gut told her Alice was right.
Maybe not knowing really was a kind of protection.
When Alistair was finally done farming, he called Torrent and returned to her.
"What's wrong?"
"...Nothing."
She said nothing more as she took his hand and mounted up again.
Back at the Church of Elleh, Kale greeted them warmly. But Alistair's eyes were drawn past him—to the figure sitting quietly on the ruined wall.
A tall hat. Flowing robes. Pale blue skin.
A witch.
As he approached, the figure raised her head.
"Nice to meet you, Tarnished One. I am Renna the witch—"
She paused.
Because Melina had stepped forward, expression unreadable.
"I don't believe we've met, Lady Renna."
She said it with polite distance.
If she had a choice, Melina would not have acknowledged her at all.
But here she was.
And Alister had brought them face to face.
***
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