Elden Ring: The Light Beyond Grace Chapter 127 34: The Storm King’s Judgment

Patches swallowed hard, too shaken to speak.

When he saw that set of armor, his mind was thrown into utter chaos.

This isn't right. This isn't right. This isn't right! Why… why would this armor appear here, in the Lands Between?

No, no—that's not it. Why am I even thinking this way? I shouldn't recognize it at all…

But that voice. That steed. It really is Lucian.

Then why… why does his armor feel so familiar to , as if I've seen it sowhere before…?

As he stared at the resplendent, awe-inspiring armor, a vision surged unbidden into Patches' mind.

He saw an age long past, a dynasty at the very height of its power.

A king who commanded world-shaking might, and is considered the most powerful being when at his peak. Four knights, each unmatched, each of unique style. An army, undefeated across the world. And a prince—equally mighty—revered as the Dragon-Slaying God of War.

The armor Lucian now wore should have belonged to that prince.

Patches didn't understand what he had just seen. These fragnts of mory ca from nowhere—like echoes of a self he had never known.

He only knew one thing for certain: he had found himself in the Lands Between without mory, without roots.

This place was foreign to him, and he felt more like an intruder than a native.

Of course, most Tarnished might have said the sa. Their holand lay beyond these borders; the Lands Between was not their birthplace. Feeling estranged here was only natural.

But for Patches, the sensation ran deeper. It wasn't the dislocation of leaving ho. It felt instead like a constant state of being—as though he had already wandered through countless worlds in this sa way.

Perhaps he had crossed over from another realm. Perhaps fragnts of another self, from another world, clung to him. But there was no proof. No one knew—not even Patches himself—what had truly happened to him.

Yes… Patches was a strange man indeed.

Lucian, oblivious to Patches' turmoil, swung his storm-wreathed Swordspear in a wide arc.

Lightning surged forth in a tempest, tearing through the revenants. Their skeletal fras burst apart under the force, reduced to shattered fragnts that could never reassemble.

Bolts of thunder danced along the lake, scorching bone black wherever they struck.

With just a single strike, the revenants fell like wheat before the scythe.

Yet Lucian frowned. The power wasn't quite what he desired.

The innate lightning of the Dragonslayer Swordspear was impressive, yes—but not overwhelming. And Lucian himself knew no incantations like Lightning Spear or Ancient Dragons' Lightning Strike.

This bolt, drawn down from the heavens, ca from a Ash of War he had unearthed in Stormveil's vaults—one he had affixed to his weapon.

The skill was called Lightning Slash.

It summoned a thunderbolt from the sky, sheathing the blade in lightning, then loosed that power in a single explosive strike. The remaining currents lingered on the weapon, enhancing further attacks.

Flashy, stylish—but for now, the damage was underwhelming.

Still, Lucian thought, once he fully mastered lightning techniques, the results might be much greater.

The Ash had likely once been carried by Godrick and his knights, relics from when they still rode out from Leyndell. Now, it belonged to Lucian.

He hadn't used Ashes of War in so ti. Their power might be middling—but their spectacle was undeniable.

This was also the first ti he had unleashed his new weapon in battle.

Partly to rescue Patches and the others from danger. Partly to punish Patches for daring to impersonate him. But mostly? To test out his new toy.

What kind of man gets a new weapon and doesn't swing it around?

In the ga, he could try things freely—there were always enemies conveniently placed before boss arenas. But here, in reality, he couldn't practice on his own people.

And revenants? They were perfect targets.

The survivors watched in awe as half the horde fell instantly.

From the mont lightning struck, D and the others had already retreated to solid ground. They weren't foolish enough to think Lucian would call down thunder just for dramatic flair.

Of course, only Patches recognized him imdiately.

The conman's shock slowly ebbed. He smoothed his features, burying his confusion.

Whatever. Doesn't matter. Forget it ever happened.

With that, he slipped back into his familiar smarmy grin, cupping his hands and shouting:

"Hah! Behold it, everyone! Witness the might of none other than Lord Lucian, the Storm King himself!"

A mont ago he had bragged about being Lucian's sworn brother. Now, without missing a beat, he proclaid reverence as if he had always been a loyal retainer.

The Tarnished didn't question the inconsistency. They only gaped in awe.

"What?! This is Lord Lucian himself?"

"Unbelievable… his strength is unmatched!"

"What power…"

D, however, remained silent, studying Lucian with sharp eyes.

Even in the Roundtable Hold, where he cared little for politics, D had heard the tales of Stormveil's King. He had dismissed them as exaggerated.

But now—seeing the man in person—he realized the rumors understated the truth.

He finally spoke, voice asured; "These revenants cannot be truly destroyed without holy power. Strike them as you will, but they will rise again before long. Only weapons of sanctity—or utterly pulverizing their bones—will prevent their return."

Lucian nodded. He had no weapon imbued with holy power. That left only one option: grind the revenants to dust until not a fragnt remained.

With Torrent beneath him, he charged straight toward the Tibia Mariner.

Driving his Swordspear deep into the lake, he channeled currents of lightning into the waters.

The revenants, trying once more to reform, spasd helplessly under the unrelenting charge, unable to knit themselves together again.

Torrent's legs stood half-subrged, yet the lightning spared the steed entirely under Lucian's control.

Watching carefully, Lucian noted the difference. These revenants were not like those in the ga—harder to put down, more resistant.

And yet, they remained nothing more than practice dummies for him.

The Tibia Mariner, sensing danger, attempted to vanish again.

But Lucian was faster. With a thrust, his Swordspear pierced the spectral boat, tearing a gaping hole in its hull.

The vessel wavered, though it did not sink—it was never fully of this world.

The skeleton helmsman flared with crimson light, fury made manifest. Raising his horn, he blew a deep, mournful note.

The lake surged with purple radiance. Water geysered upward, lifting the boat high into the air.

Then, with the horn leveled at Lucian, the Mariner unleashed a wave like a tsunami, surging toward him.

Lucian t it head-on. He swept his Swordspear, unleashing a storm of wind and thunder so fierce that even the onlookers felt its gust.

The wave shattered instantly, cleaved down the middle.

The purple waters, caught in the storm's grip, hurtled backward faster than they had co, tracing the very shape of the tempest.

The boat, robbed of its watery throne, plumted like a crashing plane.

The skeleton flailed, unsettled.

Lucian raised his weapon high, then brought it down in a devastating cleave.

The blow landed squarely, shattering half the Mariner's body into fragnts.

And yet, revenants never died so easily.

Even half-destroyed, it slipped away, teleporting far from the lake—onto solid ground.

There, impossibly, the spectral boat continued to glide as though it floated still.

It only needed a few monts more to vanish entirely.

But fate denied it.

From behind streaked blazing trails of starlight—Glintstone Cotshards, fired in a volley. They struck the boat in rapid succession, reducing it to ruin.

In Lucian's left hand glead a staff inlaid with glintstone.

At so point, he had drawn it forth, and now wielded sorcery at a level near the peak of what he could currently master.

Glintstone Cotshard demanded 36 intelligence, the sa as the spell Zamor Ice Storm. For now, this was the very limit of his ability. Beyond that lay spells reserved for true prodigies.

But Lucian was not far. Just a few more runes stood between him and that realm.

The Mariner collapsed into fragnts, unable to revive.

In its place lay a writhing object—like a blackened root, steeped in death.

All across the battlefield, the revenants ceased their movents.

For now, Death had been banished.

Lucian approached atop Torrent, eyeing the sinister item. Black thorns sprouted around it, the stench of rot heavy in the air. He had no intention of touching it.

D hurried forward, clutching a sacred seal. With a prayer, golden light wrapped the root, sealing away its corruption.

He lifted it carefully, presenting it to Lucian.

"This is a Deathroot—the very source of these revenants. Do not touch it. It brings defilent and taboo. It must be sealed in holy light. If you wish, I can take it in your stead."

His tone carried unease, as though fearful Lucian might underestimate its danger.

Lucian waved it off. "I've no use for it, nor the ans to contain it. What do you usually do with such things?"

D pointed toward the distant horizon. "There are several ways to destroy them. But the most certain is to deliver them to the Beast Clergyman, Gurranq, who dwells at the end of the Dragonbarrow. He devours them. I have known him for so ti and often bring Deathroots to him. Should you wish, I can arrange your eting. He keeps treasures in his shrine—perhaps so would interest you."

Lucian nodded. In ti, he would go. After the Festival of Combat, after Caelid's troubles were finished, he would make for Dragonbarrow.

"Then I'll leave it with you. I'm curious to et this Clergyman myself, but that can wait. For now…"

He turned, his voice sharp.

"…Patches. Take another step, and it will be your last."

The bald rogue froze mid-creep, caught red-handed as he tried to slink away.

"Ahahaha! Run? ? Hahaha… of course not!"

He rubbed his shining scalp, grinning awkwardly.

Lucian dismounted Torrent, his smile turning cold. "Well, well. Isn't this the great Savior Patches? Why run from your 'sworn brother'?"

In the ga, Patches' treacheries were endless. But punishing him had always been limited—so beatings, perhaps forcing him to grovel. Nothing more.

Here, though? Lucian finally had the chance.

Patches, realizing excuses wouldn't work, sighed and stood still.

Oddly enough, once cornered, he seed calm—like a pig resigned to slaughter.

"Ahh, yes, yes! My apologies, truly. Well then—how do you wish to deal with ? I'll accept it, whatever it is."

Lucian blinked in surprise. He had expected slippery lies, evasions, bargaining. Instead, Patches confessed at once.

But thinking again—that, too, was his nature. Triumphant when sches succeeded, craven when faced with strength. Caught red-handed, he would grovel and submit, swallowing his punishnt whole. And in ti, he'd bounce back as though nothing happened.

Yes. That was Patches through and through.

"Well, well. Confessing so quickly?" Lucian chuckled.

Patches shrugged, grinning. "What can I say? You caught fair and square. I used your na without leave. I'll accept any punishnt you see fit. I'll do whatever you ask. Then we can call it even, eh? That's my way—bygones be bygones, life goes on, eh-heh-heh."

Lucian laughed softly, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Good. I was wondering what to do if you denied it. Since you admit it… here's your punishnt."

His hand pressed down heavier. "You'll dig in the Limgrave tunnels. Three years of mining. My army needs forge stones, and the great Savior Patches will, of course, lend his strength. After all, you just said you'd do anything."

Patches' smile froze, his face twisting. "Uh… mining?"

"That's right," Lucian said brightly. "Mining. For the good of the realm. And for the Storm King you claim as your brother."

His eyes narrowed. "You won't refuse , will you, Patches? You are a man of your word, aren't you?"

Patches chuckled hollowly, accepting his fate. "Ahh… of course, of course! I, Patches, the very model of chivalry and honor! I'll serve faithfully, dig diligently, and—hah, absolutely never do such a thing again."

Next ti, he thought silently, I just won't let you catch .

—

[T/N: About Patches, the recurring trickster character for those who have not played the other gas]

He appears in multiple FromSoftware gas beyond Elden Ring, serving as a consistent and 'beloved' figure across the studio's titles. He is a central character in the Soulsborne series, including Demon's Souls, Dark Souls, Bloodborne, and Dark Souls III, and also appears in the earlier Armored Core. His appearances are notable for his cowardly personality, use of a spear, and signature tactic of luring players into traps before pleading for rcy.

Armored Core : Patches first appeared as "Patch The Good Luck"

Demon's Souls (2009 & 2020) : He was known as "Patches The Hyena"

Dark Souls (2011) : Known as "Trusty Patches"

Bloodborne (2015) : He took the form of "Patches the Spider," a giant spider with a bald human head.

Dark Souls 3 (2013) : He was nad "Unbreakable Patches," and later reappeared as "Lapp" in the ga's DLC, a knight who lost his mory.

He does not appear in Dark Souls 2, Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice, or Déraciné.

Patches is considered a self-insert character for Miyazaki and is believed to be a recurring figure across the Soulsborne universe, with fans theorizing he transcends dinsions.