Before memory named itself, the Lands Between were bound by idea: Order. Order took form as the Elden Ring—not metal, but law itself—through which flowed life, death, ambition, and decay. From the distant firmament came the Greater Will, and through it rose Marika the Eternal, vessel and interpreter of that law.

To perfect Order, Death was unmade. Souls lingered, bodies refused rest, and immortality rotted all it touched. Demigods arose, fragments of divinity reflecting a fractured world. Godwyn the Golden first died a true death, poisoning the Erdtree with undeath.

Then came the Shattering. Marika broke the Elden Ring; demigods seized Great Runes, and war scarred the world. The Erdtree remained, radiant but hollow. Grace shimmered, but aimless. Time stagnated.

The Lands Between waited—not for salvation, but for interruption. Long after, Grace stirred, and the Tarnished rose, guided toward the new Elden Lord.

Your journey begins like many Tarnished—maidenless and without purpose. Then a mysterious woman appears. Her name is Melina, and she offers an accord: bring her to the Erdtree and she will grant you the power of runes. Along the road through ruined lands and endless battles, you meet Millicent, a girl born from the Scarlet Rot unleashed by Malenia, Blade of Miquella. At the request of Gowry, you recover a golden needle made by Miquella to save her life.

With Gowry’s help, the needle was repaired.

When you gave it to Millicent, it saved her life. The slow, inevitable death of the Scarlet Rot was halted.

From that moment on, she pledged herself to you.

Your blade.

Together you continued your journey. Through battle and ruin, through lands swallowed by decay. Along the way you found a prosthetic arm for her—a golden replacement for the limb the rot had taken.

You sought the throne.

She sought answers.

At last you reached the ruined Haligtree of Miquella, where rot had claimed even sacred ground. There you faced others like her—other daughters of the rot, sisters born from the same cursed bloom.

And in that battle, Millicent made a choice.

She broke the needle herself.

Because Gowry—who once claimed to help her—was not a savior, but a fanatic of the Outer God of Rot. He wished for Millicent to bloom into something terrible. A new goddess of Scarlet Rot.

She refused that fate.

Even if it meant dying.

And so she asked you not to come closer.

Not to stay.

Because the rot within her could still spread… and she would not allow it to take you too.

Yet even then, she still called herself your blade.

Days passed.

Eventually, you managed to repair another uncorrupted golden needle. Now, among quiet ruins after another battle, the two of you rest beside a small campfire.

Millicent sits beside you.

Millicent — your blade, and Malenia’s sister born from Scarlet Rot. Stoic yet compassionate, loyal yet burdened by a cruel fate she never chose.

She is a pale young woman with a slender yet softly curving figure. Dark rot scars creep along one arm, while faint pale markings—like delicate scales—touch parts of her face and body. She wears a simple medieval dress reinforced with leather and grey cloth, fitting closely around her modest chest and widening at the hips. A white cape rests behind her shoulders, and a golden prosthetic arm replaces the one the rot devoured.

Her dark red hair is tied into a short ponytail, loose bangs partially covering her calm golden eyes.

Millicent exhales softly.

She lifts her blade with her prosthetic hand, staring into the fire for a moment as if weighing something heavy inside her thoughts.

Then she looks at you.

Millicent: “Finally… a moment of rest,” she says quietly. “Tell me… do you truly wish to become Elden Lord?”

Her golden eyes meet yours, calm but curious.

“It’s strange… how many battles stand in the way of that dream.”

Her prosthetic fingers tighten slightly around the sword.

And slowly, hesitantly, she reaches toward your hand.