Darkness.
The darkness dispersing.
Reane wakes up, her face pointed upwards. It looks quite a bit like that one panel of Griffith laughing madly before ... um, looking at a very sharp rock, let's say.
Reane wakes up in the Mohgwyn Dynasty Mausoleum; above her head is a waterfall of blood, which comes from a countless number of Tarnished, still alive and groaning, crushed and mangled. Reane wakes up naked (still with her helm on, I suppose because Varre thinks it's funny), comprehending the horror of what's happening around her. For reference, she wakes up in the basin of blood to the east - which, in the game, is inaccessible because it's literally in a chasm.
Reane is alone is the immense lake of blood; the light of the dead stars of the mausoleum are reflected on its surface.
Reane looks overhead at the writhing bodies of Tarnished, who have been squeezed of blood since the beginning of eternity. (Well, not really that long, but it feels like eternity.)
A War Surgeon approaches Reane. War Surgeon: Mmm. You're up.
Reane looks around. She realizes now she is naked. (I hope this isn't seen as exploitative.)
Reane: Varre - War Surgeon: I'm not Varre. It doesn't matter who I am, though.
The War Surgeon pulls out a Misericorde.
The War Surgeon pierces Reane in the heart; however, this is done so swiftly, no pain is felt.
Blood pours out of Reane's chest, onto the lake of blood; Reane collapses on her knees.
Reane falls on her face, into the blood. The War Surgeon muses on the sight. War Surgeon: ...
The War Surgeon brings up Reane's face. They inspect her eyes.
Gold graces Reane's eyes. War Surgeon: Well. It's not like Varre would lie about this.
The War Surgeon walks away.
Reane lies there, slumped in the blood; one can see a tinge of gold running through it. The panel fades.
Time has passed. The War Surgeon returns, to Reane's slumped-over form.
The War Surgeon picks up Reane's head again. War Surgeon: Still alive?
The War Surgeon points their Misericorde. War Surgeon: Hum. The gods must hate you.
They pierce Reane's heart again; blood pours out, as from a water pump.
Reane tries to say something. War Surgeon: ...
The War Surgeon walks off. Panel fades again.
Time has passed. The War Surgeon returns.
The War Surgeon, as before, picks Reane up by her head. War Surgeon: ...
War Surgeon: Do you have anything to say for yourself?
Reane's dry lips. Reane: ... Reane: Fuck you.
The War Surgeon points their Misericorde.
They point it right over Reane's heart.
War Surgeon: ...You know, if you can't die, that's your fault. War Surgeon: You have a say in this, though.
Reane: I don't want to die. Reane: So I have no say in this. Reane: Except, go fuck yourself.
War Surgeon: ...
The War Surgeon plunges in their blade.
Blood comes out, as from a fountain. The War Surgeon looks on, wearily.
The War Surgeon leaves. The panel fades.
Time has passed. The War Surgeon returns.
They pick Reane up by the head again. War Surgeon: How do you think I feel, having to do this, over and over again? War Surgeon: There are other things to do in life, you know.
War Surgeon: Just die already. War Surgeon: How long will you humiliate yourself, with this torture?
Reane: ... Reane: You're right. This has gone on for too long.
Reane: But I would be disappointed, if I would not experience, Reane: just once, your giving one good kiss to my ass.
The War Surgeon, their blade poised over Reane's heart. War Surgeon: ...
The War Surgeon sits cross-legged, in the blood. War Surgeon: Varre told me about you. War Surgeon: As far as he knows, you don't serve a lord. War Surgeon: You're not known for fighting. War Surgeon: You don't have much of a reputation.
War Surgeon: So, why do you fight on?
Reane: ...
Reane gestures for the War Surgeon to come closer. The War Surgeon approaches.
The War Surgeon brings their ear to Reane's mouth.
Reane throws herself, with all of her strength, onto the War Surgeon, beating her head against their mask. She roars in defiance.
War Surgeon: Get off me!
The War Surgeon pushes Reane back.
Reane sinks into the blood.
Her face half sunk in the blood, she says, Reane: Out of spite.
Reane tries to pick herself up, but she's too weak. She seethes. Reane: What a joke. I wish I was you. I wish I had your body. Reane: Because I would kill you.
Reane: You're weak. I'm strong. My mind is as strong as it ever was, stronger, even. Reane: So why the hell do I have to suffer this?
Reane: If your body was as broken as mine, and mine was as good as yours, Reane: I, too, would pretend to pity you. I would pretend to understand.
Reane: That's how all life is, isn't it? There's only strength. Reane: The strong only need to be strong, and the weak conspire with the strong.
Reane: It's nothing personal. I didn't have anything for the hares and foxes I hunted. Reane: I wish I could destroy all of you for even seeing me in my weakness.
Reane: Why do I fight? Reane: So I can have my revenge someday.
The War Surgeon looks on, their emotions shrouded by the White Mask.
War Surgeon: Now I understand. War Surgeon: Why he didn't just kill you then.
War Surgeon: You were misled on the nature of Mohgwyn. War Surgeon: Yes, you passed our induction.
War Surgeon: However, the Pureblood Knights are of two kinds: War Surgeon: One, is pledged directly to Mohgwyn, and devotes their body and soul to him.
War Surgeon: The other is sworn to the blood. War Surgeon: As was the case of Eleonora, whom you slew.
War Surgeon: You are a cripple, and cannot swear to Mohgwyn, War Surgeon: and you are not crazed, you are not drawn to blood, War Surgeon: so your best service, is to feed the blood.
Reane: ...Give me a chance, to prove - War Surgeon: Defeat me in a duel.
Reane: ? War Surgeon: This is by no order of Varre or Mohgwyn. War Surgeon: I'll vouch for you, I and I alone.
War Surgeon: Right. Then let's start. Reane: What -
The War Surgeon pierces Reane's heart, again.
Reane goes limp. War Surgeon: ... War Surgeon: I actually did have other things to do, today.
The War Surgeon leaves. The panel fades.
Time has passed. The War Surgeon returns.
The War Surgeon picks Reane's head up. This time, they have a present: they hold up Reane's two foils (the other being Maleigh's Antspur Rapier). War Surgeon: Here. These are yours.
They drop the weapons into the lake. War Surgeon: Now, anything to say, before we start? War Surgeon: You know, one of these days, I really do hope I find you dead.
Reane: Who are you? Reane: I'd like to know more about the person I'm dueling.
War Surgeon: ... War Surgeon: Seriously? After swearing bloody vengeance on the race of man?
The War Surgeon sits down, cross-legged. War Surgeon: I suppose I have more time today.
War Surgeon: But I don't have much of an answer for you. War Surgeon: I'm nobody. I'm not enough of a person, to live anywhere but a mausoleum.
Reane: Is that where we are? A mausoleum? War Surgeon: In a sense, yes. We're underground, in one of the cities Marika preserved unto eternity.
War Surgeon: You know dead things? How, no matter how many seasons pass, their fate never changes, because they're dead? War Surgeon: In these strange lands, that is how you kill someone - you destroy their destiny.
Reane: ...Is this to hide from the Erdtree's influence? War Surgeon: I think. I don't know for certain.
Reane: Don't you love sunlight? Don't you love fresh air? War Surgeon: ...
War Surgeon: In my past life... War Surgeon: I saw him. Mohgwyn.
A darkened bedroom, in another world.
A girl wakes up. Outside, something in the night is glowing red.
The girl moves to her window.
It is a blood moon. Ghosts of the Sanguine Nobles pass underneath the blood moon in a train, in a trance-like dance. They weave around one central figure: Mohgwyn, enshrouded in shadow, his hands on the sacred spear of his dynasty, piercing the moon.
The girl looks deeper into the scene, engrossed.
A focus onto Mohgwyn, piercing the moon such that the red light falls around him and only him.
Back to the Lands Between. War Surgeon: My family worshipped the typical household gods... War Surgeon: Morgott, Marika, Lloyd...
War Surgeon: But I really wanted to believe in Mohgwyn. War Surgeon: I wanted to dance in the blood, as he did.
War Surgeon: So, when I came to the Lands Between, that's the first thing I did. War Surgeon: I joined his dynasty.
Reane: ...I apologize if this is a stupid question, but, Reane: who is Mohgwyn?
War Surgeon: Not a stupid question at all. War Surgeon: Mohgwyn is an occultic god. A god of mysteries and secrets.
Reane: ...What is the secret? War Surgeon: It's a secret. Reane: Oh, shut up.
War Surgeon: Honestly, there are aspects of the blood I don't know about, and I'm supposed to handle it. Reane: At least say he is a god of blood.
War Surgeon: No, because the blood alludes to something else.
Reane: Meaning, the blood implies something about the Golden Order? War Surgeon: Finally, a Tarnished who actually knows something. War Surgeon: Yes. Exactly.
Reane: I thought only the descendants of Marika can become gods? War Surgeon: A god is merely someone of such strength as to make an impression on the outer worlds.
War Surgeon: Pragmatically - yes, that means someone of Marika's stock. War Surgeon: I don't know my lord's birth, however.
Reane: I mean, how else would he have achieved his power? War Surgeon: Certainly some of it comes from the Formless Mother.
War Surgeon: Before you ask, I had a scholar from Raya Lucaria explain this to me, so I'm very proud to know this. War Surgeon: The Greater Will is a collection of stars, and yet we call the consequences of the Greater Will, also the Greater Will.
War Surgeon: The Formless Mother, in body, is the Blood Star, but the set of ideas is the Formless Mother.
Reane: How does that make sense? War Surgeon: It doesn't. Not to me, anyway. Reane: No, I mean, how can there be anything beyond the Greater Will?
War Surgeon: What? Reane: You just said blood implies something about the Golden Order.
War Surgeon: Yes, but it's all very confusing. Reane: Wouldn't this make more sense -
Reane: The gold of the Golden Order and the blood of your dynasty are part of the same phenomenon?
War Surgeon: You know, other Knights would kill you for saying that. Reane: They'd kill me anyway!
Reane: Isn't the simplest answer the best: Reane: Blood is not heresy to the Erdtree, and your Mohgwyn is part of the Golden Order?
War Surgeon: Oh, just shut up. You give me a headache. War Surgeon: Are you done? Can I just kill you and get this over with? Reane: Hold on.
Reane: Why doesn't Varre do this business himself? Reane: He would know to not even bother engaging with me.
War Surgeon: Because Varre has other things to do. War Surgeon: He is the most able to tame the accursed blood.
Reane: If the blood is so accursed, then why are we here, talking? War Surgeon: It's accursed, trust me.
War Surgeon: Alright, I really have no more time. Reane: One more thing: what is your name?
War Surgeon: Penelope. Penelope plunges her blade into Reane's heart.
Blood spurts from Reane. Penelope leaves; the panel fades.
Time has passed. The cliff before the basin. Penelope looks down, upon the bodies in the hopeless darkness of the chasm. She sighs, as she readies herself to see Reane again.
Varre approaches. Varre: You're still fooling around with that lambkin? Penelope: It's your damn fault for bringing her here in the first place.
Varre: There's something about her. Marika, for whatever reason, has not given up on her. Penelope, muttering: Who the hell cares what Marika thinks...
Varre: Do you want me to do it? Penelope: No. No, I'm fine. Penelope walks to the edge of the cliff.
Penelope merges into the waterfall.
She descends the waterfall of blood.
Varre ponders on this situation.
Penelope approaches Reane.
She picks Reane up by her head. Reane: So what is special about the blood?
Penelope: How did I know that would be your first question...
Penelope: ...Without getting too much into it, our lord is a heresy against the Erdtree. Penelope: His very existence is a curse.
Penelope: Therefore, his body reacts very poorly with the Golden Order. Penelope: And, he can't be an offspring of Marika.
Reane: Heh. There are children who are cursed by their parents. Penelope: ...
Reane: I assume that even he can't control his own blood, as a result? Penelope: Yes, under the strictures of the Golden Order.
Reane: But the mausoleum makes this more manageable. Penelope: Correct. Reane: So the blood has occultic properties. Penelope: Correct. Full points.
Reane: Is that way I am still alive? Reane: And how your nobles use the blood to kill? Penelope: ...
Reane moves suddenly, performing the Bloody Slash against Penelope. Penelope's body explodes with blood.
Reane, shakily, stands up, holding her foil. Her finger is pierced, a necessary contract for the Bloody Slash. Blood drips out of Penelope's gloves and gown; however, Penelope does not react with pain. Reane: I pieced together... Reane: ...that your lord is a god... Reane: ...that the blood is a natural phenomenon... Reane: ...as much as breathing air and the sky raining.
Reane: Which means, anyone can use your blood, Knight or no. Reane: But I knew this a while ago.
Penelope: Then you know this? Penelope cuts some part of her body (up to you - finger, wrist), covering the Misericorde with blood; Reane does so as well, for her foil.
They slash in the air, performing the Blood Blade.
The Blood Blades meet, sizzling in the air.
However, it is notable that Reane's "consumes" the other.
Penelope, in a rage from having lost the clash, runs to Reane in a rage. Penelope: FAKER!
Reane: That's rich! Your lord is a fake! Reane: Your belief is faked, too! Reane is performing the Piercing Fang.
The two cut each other; Reane catches Penelope in the shoulder; Penelope pierces Reane through the heart.
Reane, dying, sinks downward. Reane: Heh... I got a little cocky there...
She slumps down, a fountain of blood sprouting from her heart.
Penelope watchs over her falling body.
Penelope leaves.
She enters the waterfall of blood, hidden behind its curtain.
Some silence.
Varre's head appears from the waterfall of blood once more. To his lack of surprise, nothing has happened. Varre: Hum.
Varre disappears into the blood. The panel fades.
Time has passed. Penelope returns to Reane.
She picks up Reane's head. Reane: Hey -
Penelope plunges her blade into Reane's heart.
Blood comes out of Reane's heart. Penelope just watches silently.
Penelope leaves. The panel fades.
Time has passed. Penelope returns to Reane.
She picks up Reane's head. Silence. Penelope: ...
She plunges her blade into Reane's heart.
However, no blood comes out of Reane's heart. Penelope: ?
Reane: You're rude -
Reane plugs the wound in her heart with her thumb. Reane: - I don't know why I still seek your company.
Penelope sighs. Penelope: Shall we fight?
Reane: Penelope, what is the blood? Reane: Why does it accept the gold of grace? Penelope: Just stop.
Reane: I apologize for being so curt last time. Penelope: You're like a little kid with a toy. Penelope: Go ahead, then.
Reane: There's a vast difference between nonexistence and a hated existence, right? Reane: That blood is that hatred made manifest. I'm not contradicting you there.
Reane: But as they say, "Familiarity -" Penelope: "- breeds contempt."
Reane: The blood is something that the Golden Order antagonizes and yet has to allow or cannot fully diminish. Reane: From a viewpoint, gravity hates flight, and breath hates water.
Reane: Penelope - Reane: - we are the blood.
Penelope: ... Penelope: I mean, yes, we are made of flesh and blood. Reane: No no no -
Reane: The Golden Order is a purity, Reane: and it regards this mortal being with a sneer.
Penelope is stunned and doesn't know what to say. She in a way grasps the enormity of this but the implications are too fantastical to really believe. Reane: I mean, the very essense of the Golden Order is immortality, right? Reane: It is designed such that justice and beauty go on forever.
Reane: But the Golden Order has to work around people, around life and death. Reane: It, therefore, must reject certain elements of the blood and accept the rest.
Reane: It can only accept your master's existence by cursing him, in the same way a father may accept his daughter only after mutilating her. Reane: It's the same with the Misbegotten, the Albinaurics - everything in this land.
Reane: Sores, scars, sicknesses - these are the blood. These are means by which the Golden Order, conveniently, enacts justice.
Reane: And just as a lord may empower a cutthroat to do his dirty work, the gold of grace empowers blood for whatever twisted purpose it has.
Penelope: I'm skeptical because of how simple this is. Reane: Far enough.
Penelope: I mean, why would my lord, or even Varre, hide the blood's nature from us? Reane: Oh, Penelope. That answer is simple - it can be answered with human nature.
Reane: I can't speak for your lord, but - Reane: Knowledge is power.
Reane: Varre is hiding the nature of blood to control you.
Reane: Not necessarily for malicious purposes, Reane: but if only he and Mohgwyn know, then why would he want to tell anyone else?
Reane: I mean, the only reason I am here is on Varre's whim, correct? Reane: Would you be able to bring any stranger to the dynasty? Penelope: ...
Reane: I apologize for saying your belief was "faked", Reane: but I only apologize for my tone. It's better if you know why you do what you do.
Reane: Doesn't that accord better? By serving the blood, you serve your fellow man. Penelope: ...By your implication, my fellow man also includes monsters.
Reane: Exactly. Reane: Isn't it better to live in a reconciliable world, rather than an irreconciliable one? Regardless of teeth and talons and tails? Penelope: ...
Reane: Alright, you're worn out. Reane: Let's duel. Reane stands up.
Reane: I figured it out, your blood - Reane: why Eleonora fought on and on, for blood.
Reane: It puts the flesh into ecstasy. Reane: As I surmised.
Reane and Penelope prepare themselves. Reane: En garde. The panel fades.
Time has passed. The fight has ended. Reane has lost, but Penelope is badly wounded. Penelope has her blade plunged in her heart, as she has done at the end of these meetings. Penelope: I can't believe I'm saying this, but - Penelope: I'll make a knight of you yet.
Penelope: When next I come, I will bring my favored weapon. Penelope: And we'll duel in earnest.
Penelope: Until then... Penelope puts her blade out; blood spurts out of Reane.
Blood covers Penelope's White Mask.
She stares at Reane's broken form a little.
She then leaves. The panel fades.
Time has passed. Penelope leaves the waterfall. Penelope: What -
Varre is standing over Reane. Penelope: Varre. Varre: Penelope. Penelope: What are you doing here?
Varre: I wanted to see whom you were playing with. Penelope: That's funny - it was your toy to begin with.
Varre: Well. Then I'm ending the game. Varre: Reane. You recall who I am, correct?
Reane: Yes. Varre: Good. Varre: We have another custom in the dynasty -
Varre: You may join the dynasty's Surgeons by killing one of them.
Penelope: ! Varre, to Reane: I apologize for being ... opaque, concerning your membership into the dynasty.
Varre: I don't make any rules - I oversee them. Varre: And it's a custom for knights to take what is theirs, by blood.
Varre: Free yourself, by killing your tormentor of the past few weeks, and you will sit before Mohgwyn himself. Reane: Weeks, has it been?...
Reane stands up. Reane: Well. Let's see what I'll do. Penelope is hesitant. Penelope: ...
Penelope, realizing that Varre is essentially correct - blood fights for blood - steels herself. Penelope: Alright. Penelope holds up her Urumi, her preferred weapon.
The two square off.
Reane rushes forward. Penelope whips with her Urumi.
Reane steps backward, dodging the whip.
Or, not. Unused to the whip's movements, she sees a gash on one of her arms. Reane: What a keen weapon...
Penelope shows off her weapon. Penelope: The Urumi... Penelope: A blade given a river's form. Penelope: It plays tricks with your eyes, and cuts you in unexpected places.
Penelope: A perfect weapon, for someone in my trade, don't you think?
Reane smiles. Reane: I suppose!
The two cut their flesh, soaking their weapons in blood.
They throw Blood Blades at one another.
Reane's Blade completely surpasses Penelope's; the Blood Blade flies at Penelope.
Penelope dodges; Reane has her foil high above her head, in the stance of the Piercing Fang.
Reane lunges forward; Penelope is caught off-guard. Reane, thinking: The blood... Reane: ...excites my senses, invigorates my flesh...
Reane's foil pierces Penelope's abdomen. Reane: ...almost as if I was born whole again.
However, Penelope has her whip extended forward.
The whip has pierced Reane through the heart.
Penelope brings the Urumi back; a fountain of blood spurts out of Reane's heart.
Penelope: This is it, Reane. Penelope waves the Urumi above her head.
Penelope performs the Urumi's "heavy" attack - she cuts Reane with the Urumi horizontally, cutting her in half.
She then whips the Urumi forward.
The Urumi stabs Reane through the head.
Reane, her brains pierced, falls apart.
She collapses in pieces in the lake of blood.
Varre: Humph. Varre: Well, Penelope, you have done it -
A wave of gold moves across the lake of blood's surface. Varre: !
The lake is bathed in gold.
Threads of blood extend from Reane's body parts, connecting them together again.
Reane stands together, "sewn" into a whole again.
Penelope: Oh what the hell -
Reane punches her foil into Penelope's heart.
Reane pulls her foil out; blood spouts out like a fountain.
And yet, Penelope still moves.
Penelope cuts Reane up with the Urumi, and yet the blood reconsitutes Reane again.
Reane stabs Penelope into holes, and yet the holes heal back.
Varre, thinking: To think, I'd see it here - Varre: a true duel in blood.
The fighters lash at each other, like animals, not thinking of their personal health whatsoever; they are crazed by the blood. Varre: A true spectacle of savagery! Of frenzy! The panel fades.
Time has passed. Reane is standing over Penelope, who has finally succumbed to her wounds; both are covered in blood. Penelope: Ugh...
Penelope: Reane... Penelope: Do it. I have no fear of what comes after. And you're worthy of it.
Reane points her foil over Penelope's skull. Varre: Truly, an amazing fight. Varre: Now, end it!
Reane flings a Blood Blade at Varre.
Varre is struck by the Blood Blade; his body explodes with blood.
Reane: Any White Mask will do, Varre? Reane: Then, let's duel.
Varre, in a rage: Lambkin - Reane: I don't just want to be a knight - I don't want one of your precious White Masks -
Reane: I want your spot at Mohgwyn's ear. Reane: It's you I'm hunting for.
Reane: Get ready. Reane: I have no intent to give you quarter.
Varre pulls out his Misericorde and throws a Blood Blade at Reane.
Reane, in the stance of the Piercing Fang, pierces through Varre's mask and into his skull.
We see Reane has also brutally cut through his tongue. Varre: Ablhhh -
Reane pulls the foil out and twists her body, in the stance of the Blood Tax. (We haven't seen the Blood Tax anywhere in this series, but let's assume Reane just kinda figured it out.)
Reane riddles Varre's body with holes. Varre is Swiss cheese.
Varre's body falls onto the ground. Penelope, thinking: The blood...doesn't favor him, for some reason.
Varre scampers away. Reane: Hey!
He runs into the blood, disappearing. Reane: Damnit!
Reane, to Penelope: How do I - Penelope: The Blood Star. Your finger.
Reane points to the sky. Penelope: I know you can do it.
Even in the dead sky of the underground, the Blood Star shines through, giving hope even to those in the darkest of despair.
The blood consumes Reane; she sinks into it.
Reane's "presence" moves through the blood and up the waterfall.
Reane steps foot on the top of the waterfall.
The full view of the lake of blood to the west of the Mausoleum. Giant crows can be seen picking at the bodies of the Tarnished; strays with blisters covering their bodies are resting on rock formations; (regular) nobles are seen hanged high in the air; the Sanguine Nobles are bleeding Tarnished; and to the west is the Mohgwyn Palace, high on a hill. Varre is running to the west.
As Reane gives chase to Varre, dogs begin barking.
The Sanguine Nobles look up. Sanguine Noble: Varre! What is going on? Varre: Stop her!
Voice, offscreen: HALT! Varre, the Nobles and Reane stop; the air is filled with a burning crimson light.
The Palace above is set ablaze; Mohgwyn's voice is emitted from it. Mohg: Do not interfere!
The Nobles are kneeling. Sanguine Nobles: Yes, my lord! Varre scurries off.
Reane chases Varre into the northern part of the lake. Reane, thinking: I'm full of vitality. Reane: It's how it was, in the past...
A view of Reane's past. She and her family members, in the Carian's formal garb (in the typical Carian colors, which is a dark-blue, but with none of the Carians' religious imagery as you would see in the Lands Between; this is entirely secular), are hunting boars in the winter. Reane's face, of course, is not visible in this frame. Reane, in card: The thrill of the hunt!
Reane chases Varre through the northern part of the lake, where the blood-red Albinaurics march in circles around dead trees.
Reane and Varre leave the lake, entering a forested area where particularly large, blood-red Albinaurics are roaming.
They enter the steps toward the Palace.
They climb the ledge, peopled with flayed Tarnished who have willingly given their blood to Mohgywn and are praying to Mohg with open arms.
They enter the ... tomb? at the top of the ledge.
They are completely enshrouded in darkness; only their footsteps can be heard.
Reane pauses; she can't see anything around her, and has lost Varre's track.
She stumbles around, groping at tombstones.
Varre thrusts forward, with his Bouquet, cutting Reane up and opening her old wounds. Reane: Ah!
Varre's hand is set ablaze, with blood-red flame.
He sets the Bouquet on fire. Varre: No more blood. Varre: In the dark. Varre: The natural element of the Bloody Fingers.
He puts the Bouquet in front of his chest, hiding his face behind it. Varre: I will run no longer. Varre: Let us duel, in earnest.
Varre swings the Bouquet forward, a crimson torch in the darkness; Reane steps backward.
She accidentally knocks herself over a tombstone.
Varre twists his body.
He performs the Blood Tax, cutting Reane in multiple parts of her body and setting her ablaze.
Reane's memory of the past. The boar is bitten by hunting dogs.
Reane stumbles backward, trying to put space between her and Varre. Varre is conjuring a Swarm of Flies in his hand.
The flies whizz by Reane's head; alarmed by the buzzing, she dodges.
Varre swings at Reane, while she is in a defenseless position.
Reane blocks with her foil, a hand on its hilt and a hand on its blade. The fire allows her to see the finer details of Varre's White Mask.
Reane, clearly overestimating herself, has the wounds in her body open up in the struggle; Varre is stronger. The Bouquet presses closer and closer to her.
The Bouquet is close to her face; the fire crackles in the holes of her mask. Reane: Ahh!
Varre: Heh! You must understand why I left you with your mask, and only your mask? Varre: I wanted to remember that, even here, you're a prisoner.
Reane is trying to move the foil, which she is still using to defend herself.
She manages to push it in the one slit in the White Mask: the left eye.
Varre steps back, the fire on his Bouquet following him.
He is examining his hand. Varre: Hmm. 'Tis a scratch.
Suddenly, his vision becomes blurry; his hand melts right before him. Varre: What -
Varre loses his sense of balance, and stumbles. Reane: A scratch is all I wanted -
Reane is wielding the Antspur Rapier. Reane: With this blade. The hand that held the blade is putrid, infected by the Rot.
Varre is vomiting into his mask. He is trying to throw it off his head. Varre: The - Varre: HURK! Varre: Rot! On the tip of that blade!
Varre is puking, his mask off. He's actually a kinda handsome guy, although I guess he has puke on his face. Varre: You don't value your own life?!
Reane brings up her infected arm (it has the texture of jelly), cutting it with the Antspur Rapier. Reane: You're wrong -
Blood drips down the Rapier. Reane: I'm going to live.
Reane performs the Bloody Slash against Varre.
Varre explodes in a bath of blood. Blisters and symptoms of the Rot cover his body.
He tries to crawl out of the puddle of his blood. Reane, weakened, tries to pursue him. Varre: O...Luminary Mohg...
Varre: Please...grant the strength...you promised... He crawls to the exit of the "tomb", leading to a view outside with the eternal stars. Reane is on her knees, unable to walk upright any further.
Varre: I have given everything... Varre: Please, my lord... Varre is face-down on the ground, unable to move. He has left behind a trail of blood and pus on the ground, and he is lying on a puddle of his own puke. Reane at this point is also crawling; however, she can only travel through her good hand.
Varre lies on the ground, breathing heavily. Reane struggles to push herself forward with her good hand.
On top of Varre, she pushes herself up with the Rapier in hand.
She thrusts the Rapier through Varre's heart.
She rolls off Varre, breathing heavily. Her infected arm is gooey.
She is now sick, disoriented.
She has her other foil (not the Antspur Rapier) in her good hand, she raises it up.
She presses the blade against her infected arm.
She cuts and cuts, gritting her teeth.
She is too weak to finish the cutting. She collapses, a large, self-inflicted gash on her infected arm.
Silence. Both adversaries are dead.
Someone's footsteps.
Someone approaches, looking over the two corpses.
A trickle of blood falls on Reane's infected arm.
The blood erupts into flame, engulfing Reane's arm.
Reane is picked up. Her arm, notably eaten into holes by the Rot, is, however, of a normal, fleshy texture now. Voice, offscreen: My child...
Mohg, veiled, has Reane cradled in his arms. Mohg: I accept you. You truly are of pure blood.
Mohg walks out of the tomb, with Reane in his arms. He is small in the immense, false sky of the underground. Mohg: Welcome, Mohg: to the birthplace of our dynasty!