“Foul Tarnished, in search of the Elden Ring. Emboldened by the flame of ambition—”
“Wait.”
Loran spoke.
Margit’s movements paused.
There was no expression to be read from his face, but Loran could feel a gaze as sharp as a blade locking onto him.
It was also at that moment that the UI interface in Loran’s vision finally loaded the information of this “Fell Omen.”
[Name: Margit]
[Identity: The Fell Omen]
[Affection: 0]
[Status: Bound by Duty / Appraising / Slightly Confused]
Zero.
Not a negative number.
This was not the starting affection value an “enemy” should have.
At least, not like those Godrick soldiers who raised their blades the moment they met him.
Zero meant neutral.
It meant that his actions at this moment were based more on “duty” than “hostility.”
It meant communication was possible.
“What are you saying?”
Margit’s voice grew low.
“Who are you speaking to?”
“I am speaking to you, Margit, the Fell Omen,” Loran answered, neither humble nor arrogant. “I believe that before we begin what may be an unnecessary battle, there are certain matters we might discuss first.”
“Discuss?”
Margit let out a dry laugh.
“What is there to discuss? Your petty dream of becoming Elden Lord?”
“No.”
Loran shook his head.
“I do not want to become Elden Lord.”
That sentence cut Margit’s laughter off once again.
[Status: Bound by Duty / Appraising / Confusion Deepening]
“Then what do you seek?”
Margit said warily.
“You stand before me, yet claim you have no desire for the throne. Do you expect me to believe that?”
“I am merely... someone who is lost. Someone searching for the way home,” Loran said.
He was not lying.
This was his truest goal at that moment.
“Then you should leave this place.”
Margit leaned on his staff and took one step forward.
“Leave the Lands Between. Return to the place from which you were banished. There is no road here for you.”
Loran clearly saw that after he said he was “searching for the way home,” the affection value above Margit’s head changed from [0] to [+5].
The change was small, but its meaning was significant.
It proved that Margit’s logic system, centered around “duty,” treated an “ambitious seeker” and a “lost wanderer” in completely different ways.
The former had to be crushed without mercy.
The latter could be “driven away.”
“I do not come from the ‘place of banishment,’” Loran answered.
He did not dare relax in the slightest. His mind raced, searching for every possible logical gap.
“So I cannot ‘return.’”
“Lies.”
Margit’s voice was firm.
“All Tarnished are exiles. This is an indisputable fact. You are no exception.”
[Affection: +5 → 0]
[Status: Bound by Duty / Appraising / Warning]
The affection value dropped back again.
Loran’s denial had directly challenged the foundation of Margit’s understanding.
Loran immediately realized that continuing to dwell on this issue was meaningless.
He could not prove to Margit that he was a visitor from another world, just as he could not explain the internet to a man from antiquity.
Any words that exceeded the boundaries of the other party’s understanding would be judged by the system as “lies” or “madness.”
He had to change his approach.
He had to use a method Margit could understand.
“Perhaps... in your eyes, I am indeed an exile.”
Loran chose to give ground, taking the initiative to acknowledge the other party’s viewpoint.
“My memories are somewhat muddled. I only remember that when I woke, I was already in Limgrave. My impression of ‘home’ is very vague.”
He began consciously guiding the conversation, shaping himself into a “lost amnesiac” rather than a “heretic trying to overturn the world.”
“In that case,” Margit’s voice remained cold and hard, “you should leave all the more. This land does not belong to you. The radiance of the Elden Ring will not shine upon a coward who has forgotten even where he came from.”
“I need a token,” Loran suddenly said.
“A token?”
[Status: Bound by Duty / Appraising / Confused]
“Yes.”
Loran nodded.
“Something that can prove to the people of this land that I have given up the struggle for the throne. Otherwise, no matter where I go, I will be treated as yet another ambitious Tarnished. I will be hunted endlessly, never able to search for my memories in peace.”
He paused, looking straight at Margit.
“And you, Margit, the Fell Omen, gatekeeper of Stormveil Castle—your duty is to turn back all unworthy Tarnished, is it not? Then what token could be more convincing than one personally granted by you?”
[Affection: 0 → +15]
[Status: Appraising / Evaluating / Beginning to Waver]
Loran had succeeded.
He no longer tried to convince Margit of anything.
Instead, he turned Margit’s own “duty” around and used it to create a new possibility for himself.
He had changed himself from an object that needed to be “crushed” or “driven away” into a “tool” that could be used to better fulfill Margit’s duty.
Margit fell silent.
He seemed to be evaluating the feasibility of this proposal, as well as the risks hidden within it.
The wind howled through the ruined walls, sweeping dust from the ground.
Margit’s worn cloak snapped loudly in the gusts.
After a long while, he finally spoke again.
“An interesting proposal, lost Tarnished. But why should I believe you?”
He said,
“Your words may simply be another, more cunning disguise. How can I know that once you have this token, you will not turn around and seek the power of another Great Rune?”
“I cannot prove that to you,” Loran answered frankly. “Just as you cannot prove to me that you truly are only a gatekeeper, and not the demigod who also bears the name of Omen.”
This sentence was a dangerous move.
He had directly pointed out the true face hidden beneath Margit’s identity as “gatekeeper.”
The descendant of Godfrey, First Elden Lord.
Morgott, the Omen King.
The air froze in that instant.
An overwhelming pressure crashed down.
Loran felt his very soul trembling beneath that pressure.
The UI interface in his vision began to fill with unstable static and garbled text.
[Name: ???]
[Identity: ???]
[Affection: ???]
[Status: Seal Loosening / Killing Intent Boiling]