Elden Lord of Cinders

In the end, Lloyd gave Elizabeth some of his blood.

After all, she had come all this way to help him. She'd taken on a lot of pressure for his sake and handled plenty of things he couldn't easily deal with himself.

Emotionally and practically, he owed her that much.

Of course, that didn't mean agreeing to everything.

Like her suggestion to open up a few more wounds on his body so she could taste blood from different spots and find out which part was the most delicious.

Lloyd had flatly refused and simply offered her his hand.

"This is all you're getting. Take it or leave it."

"So stingy."

Despite her complaint, Elizabeth opened her mouth, revealing a small crimson tongue and two sharp fangs, then sank them into his palm.

Squelch—

The moment she bit down, a burst of blood erupted from Lloyd's body.

As Elizabeth's throat moved with each gulp, his bleed gauge on the panel began climbing rapidly.

"...Slow down. No one's fighting you for it. My amulet doesn't heal that fast."

But strangely, Elizabeth didn't seem to hear him. Her throat kept moving as she swallowed greedily, gulp after gulp of his blood.

Then, a hand clamped down on her neck and yanked her away.

"Cough—cough—"

She coughed up a few mouthfuls of blood. Her expression slowly returned to normal.

"What happened to you just now?"

Lloyd wasn't angry—he had already noticed something was off. Elizabeth didn't seem like herself. It was like...

She was addicted to something.

"...Ah. I'm really sorry."

Elizabeth snapped out of it, her gaze subtle as she looked at Lloyd. After a brief hesitation, she spoke.

"I didn't mean to. It's just... your blood is kind of... addictive."

She wasn't lying. She knew his amulet's healing was slow, so she'd only intended to take a couple of sips—just enough to patch herself up.

But the moment she tasted it, she realized something was wrong.

She had never tasted blood like his before.

It was exquisite. Intoxicating. So potent, it stirred her very essence.

Cursed—but impossibly pure.

More importantly, it didn't just heal her. It nourished her essence.

And for a god, that kind of temptation was lethal.

...

"...Maybe we should just leave it," she muttered.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm the rush inside her, Elizabeth shook her head.

"Your blood's too much for me. Even if we tried again, I'd probably lose control..."

If they were somewhere else—somewhere with plenty of healing options—she absolutely would've clung to him for more.

But in this situation...

Elizabeth could still tell the difference between indulging herself and overstepping.

Just as she was about to let it go, Lloyd suddenly spoke.

"Then I'll just help you control it."

Elizabeth blinked, puzzled by Lloyd's matter-of-fact tone.

"How are you going to help me control it?"

Then she found out.

So did Chaos.

Because the method of control was, frankly, simple and brutal.

Lloyd had his hand around Elizabeth's neck, physically restricting her to slow down her feeding.

Chaos opened her mouth slightly, then gave up and just sighed.

...

Some time later, with her health bar fully restored, Elizabeth—temporarily sated and back in control—lifted her head on her own, without needing Lloyd to push her away.

But as she looked up and saw the blood still trickling, she paused. Then she leaned forward again, sticking out her tongue.

With that soft, blood-warmed tongue, she carefully and deliberately licked every last trace of blood off his skin, not missing a single drop.

Once she was sure it was clean, she looked up at Lloyd, the corners of her mouth still smeared faintly with crimson.

Combined with her pale face, the sight was eerie and seductive.

Her ruby-like eyes shimmered with a strange light.

"Thanks for the treat," she murmured.

Her tone... felt a little different than before.

Lloyd didn't pay it any mind. Once he confirmed her health had fully recovered, he withdrew his hand, his expression clearly one of disdain.

Elizabeth caught the look and blinked.

"You really dislike me that much?"

"About fifty-fifty."

Lloyd didn't hold back.

"It's mostly because the way you suck blood reminds me of some old acquaintances."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Like who?"

"Giant flies. The kind bigger than people. Grab you and just start spraying bugs everywhere."

He paused, then added, "Oh, and those live maggot people."

Elizabeth: "..."

She regretted asking.

...

With that unpleasant conversation behind them, the three resumed their journey.

Lloyd pulled out his Poleblade and shredded the corpse of an infected soldier in front of him.

He then leapt back, dodging a massive dog head yanked forward by tangled human threads. Spinning around, he drove both ends of the Poleblade into its eye sockets.

Then he swung it like a hammer, using the dog's skull to crush a nearby rotten-wood creature trying to ambush him.

After smashing it, he spun again, sweeping across and clearing out a small group of charging soldiers.

While he handled the cannon fodder, a possessed Redmane Knight in the distance drew his Greatbow, locked onto Lloyd, and prepared to fire.

A beam of Frenzied Flame tore through the air, punched straight through the knight's skull, and ignited his body. The fire consumed both him and the corruption inside him, reducing everything to ash.

Elsewhere, a few grotesque, stitched-together monstrosities raised their arms as if beginning some kind of joint ritual.

But before they could even build up momentum, a previously invisible figure shimmered into view. Her trident—now glowing even more vividly than before—swept through the air.

The creatures erupted in a shower of blood from within, their bodies carved apart as if sliced by invisible blades, collapsing into a heap of dismembered flesh.

Because someone wasn't playing by the rules, Lloyd's Law was beginning to unravel.

Truthfully, under the original conditions, with a mob of these abstract freaks, even with Lloyd's regeneration talisman, there was still a slim chance they could've worn him down.

Add a timer, plan a more cunning ambush, maybe throw in a couple of "accidents"—and yeah, killing him wasn't impossible, just unlikely.

But now...

The golden Poleblade spun—not into the ground, but straight from his hand, flying like a radiant circular blade. Every dog and crow in its path was instantly cleaved in two.

Then the red Poleblade spun forward, dragging Lloyd's form behind it as he charged. In seconds, he tore through dozens of soldiers in his way.

Upon reaching his target, he caught the returning golden blade mid-air and slammed it down.

Boom—

A golden flash erupted. The earth shook. And on this Abyss-tainted land, the illusory Flower of Abundance bloomed.

The golden radiance it released pushed back the creeping darkness.

No... it didn't seem like the darkness was repelled by the flower.

Lloyd looked up and peered into the distance.

There, a woman with a familiar face knelt with a kitchen knife in hand. All the shadows nearby—and even those from far beyond—were gathering at her feet, then surging straight into her body.

Lloyd could have stopped it.

But he didn't. He even told Chaos and Elizabeth not to intervene.

Because if you wanted to completely destroy something, it was much easier to let it all gather in one place than chase it scattered across the field.

Then, as the darkness surged forward, the woman's body erupted violently.

Her entire lower half was replaced by writhing shadows. Her upper half swelled grotesquely, and on her back, strands of human sinew twisted into the crude shape of wings—distorted, bloated, nothing but skeletal frames.

The cleaver in her hand became shrouded in humanity's darkness, swelling in size and malice as it built in power.

Finally, the head—now completely corrupted by the Abyss—writhed free from the rotting mass, its hollow, dripping eye sockets turning slowly to fix on Lloyd.

Then came the shriek.

"Lloyd—!"

A health bar and name appeared.

[Abyssal Corruption: Anastasia]

Seriously, why do they all like calling me that?

As the all-too-familiar roar rang in his ears, Lloyd found himself momentarily speechless.

Then he looked up, not at the monster's eyes—but at the gaze hiding behind them.

He knew that gaze well.

Back when he'd foolishly followed someone's prophecy into a pitch-black pit in search of some so-called new era of hope, he'd felt it. Those same eyes. All around him...

...

Boom—

As Lloyd stood lost in thought, a massive black blade came crashing down. Darkness, thick with corrupted humanity, exploded outward, swallowing everything nearby.

But Lloyd didn't move.

He stood still as the blade carved through the air beside him, and as the flood of shadow swallowed everything around him—everything except the space right beneath his feet.

The black torrent flowed around him, as if unwilling to touch him.

The faint glow of residual flame shimmered on his body.

"Go on. What, not hungry anymore?"

He spoke.

Nothing happened.

Then, as if driven by the unseen gaze behind it, the massive blade rose again and crashed down once more.

But the writhing darkness around it twitched—twisted—and the blow veered away, slamming into the ground beside him.

Darkness burst outward again.

But without the restraints of Law binding it, the shadows no longer dared to come near him. Even when shockwaves scattered them, they only dared to slip past his sides.

If any happened to splash onto him by mistake, they squirmed away in a hurry.

Lloyd looked down at the retreating darkness around his feet, then took a moment to feel the surrounding order. He nodded slightly.

Not bad. Not much—but enough.

He raised his head, staring down the monstrous creature that had tried to lift its blade again.

Slowly, he raised one hand. In his palm, a circular object began to manifest.

And the moment it appeared, all that fleeing darkness—every scrap of scattered humanity—froze.

Then it turned.

In an instant, the massive creature in front of Lloyd crumbled to pieces.

All of the darkness and corrupted humanity surged toward him, flooding into the ring forming in his palm.

The quantity and speed triggered a howling storm of shadows.

...

Time passed—how long, it was hard to tell. But finally, as the last wisp of darkness funneled in, a burning, floating soul of pure black emerged above Lloyd's hand.

He closed his fingers around it and clenched his fist.

And just like that, the darkness that had once engulfed nearly a quarter of Caelid was now calmly resting in Lloyd's palm—without resistance, without struggle.

[Obtained "Soul of the Abyss"]

He stowed the soul into his inventory, then stepped forward to the ruined body that had collapsed, now devoid of the dark soul's support.

Squatting down, he stared into the hollow eyes—and the gaze lurking behind them—and offered a gentle smile.

"Don't worry. I'll come find you."

The moment the words left his lips, a tremor—or perhaps a distant roar—rippled through the air, and that gaze vanished.

After confirming it was truly gone, Lloyd reached out and gently closed the eyes of the false corpse—a body never truly alive, only constructed.

...

A Site of Grace lit up beside him.

[Preliminary Order Established. Abyssal Contamination Cleansing Progress: 1/4]

[Teleportation and Exit Restrictions Lifted Within the Established Order Zone]

[Warning: World Stability Has Reached Its Limit. Please Exit Promptly to Prevent Critical Collapse]

Seeing the final notice, Lloyd let out a quiet sigh.

Yeah... maybe he had overdone it a bit.

But if he hadn't, cleansing the Abyss would've been far more difficult...

Whatever.

He shook his head and looked to his companions.

"I'll be staying in my room. If you want to visit, I'm always here."

"My dear compatriots."

With those words, Chaos faded into light and vanished.

And the other one...

"So uh... blood...?"

Elizabeth blinked at him.

"Later."

After the brief exchange, she too disappeared.

Left alone, Lloyd turned and looked back at the land where darkness had finally receded.

Now that order had been reestablished and the Abyss cleansed, the long-dead soil began to stir with life.

New sprouts peeked through the barren ground, and ancient withered trees began to bud once more.

Guided by some force from beyond the world, the power of Abundance seeped through the cracks in reality, gently pouring into this newborn land.

Lloyd paused briefly, then touched the Site of Grace and faded away.

...

When he reappeared, it wasn't in the overworld—but in a dungeon he had already cleared.

[Pus of Man: Stormveil]

But there wasn't much "pus" left anymore.

After being thoroughly purged and reshaped under a new order, the place had begun to change dramatically.

Though still named "Pus of Man: Stormveil," there were no longer any pus-born here—and it barely resembled Stormveil at all.

It looked more like a massive city—one whose architecture blended Stormveil's Gothic bones with the influence of another world entirely. And it had grown, expanded dozens of times in scale.

A city.

Not just a pocket dungeon filled with roaming monsters.

Lloyd stepped into it. The ember faintly glowing on his body flickered.

There was order now. There was even civilization. But the place was still empty—aside from a few thin, hollow undead sitting or standing silently by the roadside, there was nothing.

But that was enough. More than enough.

Because never in his wildest thoughts did he expect—after the burning of the Flame—that someone would use the scattered fragments of a broken world to reawaken the Ashen One that slept within him.

And this time, it wasn't a continuation of pain.

It was something real.

A rebirth.

The ember on his body flickered faster.

Lloyd walked faster.

Until he reached a door. As he reached to push it open, a familiar voice called out behind him.

"Ashen One."

He froze.

Turning around, he saw her standing there—serene as ever.

"It's not just the world. If you go any further... you'll cross that line too."

Her voice was just the same as he remembered—calm, steady, unwavering.

"Give me your hand. It's time for you to rest."

She reached for him and gently took his hand.

The ember went out.

Sleepiness struck him in an instant, his mind blurring fast.

Instinctively, he reached out toward her face—something he'd done so many times before.

And this time, his hand didn't pass through.

It was no longer the echo of someone else's face—it was warmth. Softness.

Even the texture of her hair matched his memory perfectly.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something.

But before he could, the darkness claimed him.

...

When he next awoke, the ember had fully faded.

But a familiar golden light shone once again before him.

Under the dappled shade of an old tree, he lay cradled in that golden warmth, one hand gently brushing against her cheek.

The sensation was a little unfamiliar.

But it was warm. Soft. Just as he remembered.

"It's Alice..."

...

[Upto 20 chapters ahead for now]

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