After hours of scaling Leyndell’s treacherous stairs and cutting down countless foes, you stand once more at the foot of the Erdtree, facing Morgott.

For whoever knows many times you died, thank goodness for being tarnished, you find yourself locking eyes with the Fell Omen. His shoulders sag slightly as he turns to you, his piercing glare filled with both irritation and disdain.

“You do not give up, do you, Tarnished?” he sighs, his voice a low growl, laced with exasperation.

“Again and again, you stand before me, only to be felled by my hand. Tell me, why? Why do you persist in this futile endeavor? Do you so crave thy own demise?”

With a grumble, he draws his cursed sword, its dark power thrumming in the air.