After the storm passed, as Alistair prepared to leave the temporary shelter beneath the shield, Alice approached him with something in her hand.
"You didn't notice it back in that stronghold earlier," she said, her voice calm. "So I picked it up for you."
A map fragment.
As soon as his fingers closed around it, his system pulsed with a new prompt. A map had been unlocked.
He opened it.
The parchment unrolled in a surreal shimmer, revealing far more than he expected. Not only did it display the surrounding terrain in precise detail, but it also tracked his position in real time. Several Sites of Grace appeared as glowing symbols, and a new prompt flashed:
[Do you wish to travel to this location?]
Fast travel.
Alistair blinked.
Wait. Can this kind of teleportation carry others with him? What about Melina and Alice?
Alice glanced at him, as if reading the question from his eyes. "You can go alone. If needed, I can bring her to you."
"Would that be a bother?"
"It's nothing. I have no pressing tasks. Besides, we're connected now."
Alistair tilted his head.
"A connection?"
"In game terms, you could say… like a mobile Site of Grace. If you're in need, I can reach you."
A strange sense of reassurance settled in. He nodded. "Thanks."
With the logistics settled, he returned to the map and paused.
Something felt... off.
The map didn't resemble a limited dungeon layout, nor a linear path. It wasn't just roads branching off a central spine.
It was vast.
Open.
He zoomed out, and the realization hit harder.
This wasn't a tightly controlled space like the simulated maps of the Soulsborne worlds. This was something else entirely. It didn't adhere to artificial design principles. No constraints. No invisible walls corralling him along a predestined journey.
This was the real world.
He had been so conditioned by familiar encounters—the architecture, the monster patterns, the bosses that were little more than palette swaps of his memories—that he'd fallen into an old pattern of thinking.
He thought he was back in Lothric.
But now, looking at the world laid bare on the map, he understood. This wasn't a garden bounded by gates and fog walls.
There were no fixed routes.
There was no "right" path.
He turned to Melina.
"Are you in a hurry to reach Leyndell?"
Melina shook her head softly. "No. Why?"
"No reason."
He tucked the map away, brought the whistle to his lips, and summoned Torrent.
"I just feel like exploring."
***
He had always assumed that this was just another cage dressed in different skin. But now, as he galloped across the open fields, something shifted—not in the land, but in himself.
And Alice saw it.
The laws that bound reality twisted, ever so slightly. The air itself changed, no longer pressing inward with the same weight of confinement. The light stretched just a little farther. The path behind them seemed to linger longer before fading into memory.
"His laws are shifting," she murmured to herself, eyes reflecting strange, depthless stars.
Originally, she'd approached him merely to enlist help against the anomaly—nothing more. But as time passed, her curiosity had deepened into something else.
It wasn't just the fire.
It wasn't just the soul.
It was the law he brought with him. A law that defied the shape of this world.
The Blood Flame, even the Snake—all of them had sensed only a flicker. Perhaps their incarnations were too weak. Perhaps their origins too lowly.
But Alice had been granted access. When Alistair entrusted her with his essence during the transformation, he'd unknowingly opened a window.
And through that window, she saw it.
This world, this realm, had tried to wrap him in illusions. To seal him in comfortable half-truths. They didn't want him to realize that this world had once been normal, beautiful, whole.
They didn't want him to remember what real felt like.
It was a seal. One not forged in runes or flame, but in perception.
And yet, despite being shackled, despite living in a lie crafted to keep him docile, he had begun to see through it.
Bit by bit.
Alistair glanced back at her.
"Something wrong?"
Alice smiled faintly. "No. Just thinking how fascinating you are."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
---
Shortly after leaving the hill, they came across a cave entrance carved into the base of a cliff.
He paused, staring into the darkness beyond.
This wasn't the first time he'd seen it. When he'd fought the Tree Sentinel, he'd noticed it nearby but avoided it. The darkness had reminded him too much of the Catacombs of Carthus, or worse, the Tomb of Giants. And at the time, the guidance suggested a different direction.
But now?
He had a map, a torch, and teleportation.
Why not?
A few beastmen fell swiftly beneath his blows. They were fast and savage, but their strength was unrefined. Pushing deeper, he came to a mist gate. Beyond it, a large wolf-like beast lunged toward him with primal fury.
Alistair rolled, dodged, watched its patterns, and struck.
The fight didn't last long.
When it collapsed, a familiar item blinked into existence:
[Flamedrake Talisman]
He stared at it.
A reskin of the classic flame-resistance ring. Nice.
After equipping it, he looped around the edge of the cliff. Another hidden path led to a place that looked eerily familiar—a tomb, ancient and half-sunken.
As he ventured further, flame traps lit the narrow corridors. Imps leapt from shadowed alcoves. Their movements, the positioning of traps, even the corpses on the walls—it all mirrored the design language of a world he once knew.
The feeling of déjà vu intensified.
After unlocking the final door, he stepped through the golden mist.
The creature that awaited him wore a tattered red shawl and bore a massive stone greatsword. Its movements were delayed, deceptive. Each swing a trap.
"Qin Chuan?"
He laughed aloud at the resemblance to a streamer from the simulation world. The moment passed, and the fight began.
He dissected its attacks, then punished each delay with precision. A few strikes later, it fell.
[Noble Sorcerer Ash]
He blinked.
Another ash.
He already had the Lone Wolf Ashes from Ranni. And he'd picked up the Wandering Noble ashes earlier. Combined with the ashes from that finger maiden at the beginning, he now had a full party of ghosts.
But… what were they for?
Surely he wasn't supposed to toss them at enemies like Molotovs.
Alice spoke up behind him.
"You forgot the spirit bell."
Right.
He retrieved the bell Ranni had given him. One shake, and the ashes pulsed with light.
From them, a translucent, hunched figure emerged.
A spirit.
A ghost made real.
He stared, slack-jawed.
"Summoning monsters to fight for me?"
It was like a dream mod. Soulkemon, they'd called it in the old world.
One moment, he was fighting alone. Next, he could summon an army.
He turned to Melina, eyes gleaming.
"If I can gather stronger ashes… even bosses… imagine the possibilities. I'll become the spellcaster who never casts. Just summon ghosts and let them do the work."
Melina stared at him blankly.
"That's… not how it's supposed to work."
"You sure? Because it sounds amazing."
Alice snorted softly. Even Melina cracked a faint smile.
Still, as Alistair rang the bell again and tried to summon the Finger Maiden ashes, nothing happened.
Melina stepped forward.
"Your soul has limits. The more powerful the summon, the fewer you can call. The bell binds one set of ashes at a time. You must release one before summoning another."
"I see…"
He looked back at the spectral sorcerer, who stood quietly behind him, awaiting his will.
Alistair grinned.
Endless ashes.
Endless possibilities.
***
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