Crossing over the massive stone slab, Lucian reached the side of Caria Manor.
From here, he could already see past the walls, the towering spires and structures within looming high above.
He didn't approach the walls too closely, but instead followed along their length, making his way toward the main gate.
On the path leading there, a pond blocked his way.
At first he intended to leap straight across, but something unusual caught his eye—strange ripples moving across the water.
Something invisible was darting within the pond, and wherever it went, it left behind a faint trail across the surface.
Not quite footprints, but streaks of frost.
Or perhaps more like a plume of exhaust smoke trailing behind it.
The creature seemed small, yet astonishingly fast. In only a few dozen seconds, it had darted around the entire pond, weaving in erratic, chaotic patterns like a headless fly.
Lucian thought for a moment. Could this be… an invisible Teardrop Scarab?
In the game, Scarabs appeared everywhere—rolling about the treasures they gathered, seeking new things to hoard.
They collected Ashes of War, Smithing Stones, and all manner of rare items.
Judging from the frosty trail this one left behind, it likely carried a Cold-affinity Ash of War.
Here, by Caria Manor's moat, and ice-related—it could only be one thing.
Lucian recalled that once-glorious Ash of War: Hoarfrost Stomp.
In the early versions of Elden Ring, Hoarfrost Stomp and Flame of the Redmanes were unrivaled kings of broken balance—one ice, one fire, cutting through everything with sheer numbers.
The Icerind Hatchet, which came with Hoarfrost Stomp by default, was once a designated speedrunning weapon.
But in later patches, the skill was heavily nerfed, buried among countless other forgotten techniques.
Still, here in reality, who could say how powerful it might truly be? That would depend on the user.
Lucian tracked the Scarab's movements, preparing to take it down.
Hoarfrost Stomp was originally a technique born from the snowy peaks.
He could, of course, learn it from Elyssa in due time—but lately, Lucian had little leisure for formal training.
If he could practice with an Ash of War instead, then he could do so freely, whenever and wherever he wished.
Cold-based techniques were something he was actively seeking out.
In truth, Lucian was trying to collect as many skills, sorceries, and incantations of various attributes as possible. His aim was to cultivate each one until they stood on par with his storm magic.
Of all these, Cold sorceries were already the closest, thanks to the Zamor's Ice Storm he had mastered.
At present, Lucian's stats were balanced—an all-rounder, capable of wielding many systems.
But there remained problems.
His repertoire was far too shallow. Only his storm arts had reached true mastery, to the point where he could innovate countless applications on his own.
Outside of storm magic, his most reliable skills were weapon arts—Quickstep, Lion's Claw, Lightning Slash, and the like.
Beyond that? Little more than scraps.
He had only brushed the surface of Cold and Lightning.
As for Fire, Gravity, and rarer affinities like Blood or Poison—he had nothing at all.
To raise any of these to the level of his storm magic would be difficult. Storms were simply his innate talent.
He no longer needed weapons or staves to summon them. By sheer will and magic alone, he could stir the winds.
Storms had become a part of his very being—like instinct, like muscle memory.
Still, even if the other elements could not reach such heights, at least they needed to be usable as everyday tools.
His collection of incantations was pitiful—only three, plus the dragon communion prayers. Nowhere near the might of the legendary "Erdtree Preachers" of the game.
Sorceries, at least, he had gathered many. They only required time and practice to hone.
It was clear: the Scarabs of the Lands Between were in for trouble.
Raising his Dragonslayer Swordspear, Lucian summoned a bolt of lightning down into the pond.
Water carried the current everywhere at once. There was nowhere for the Scarab to flee.
The poor creature was jolted from invisibility, shrieking as it dropped its treasured orb before flapping away in retreat.
Lucian stooped to retrieve the item.
Despite the name, Teardrop Scarabs did not actually roll dung. They gathered rare curiosities—and would never allow such precious things to be sullied.
Breaking open the orb's shell, an icy aura spilled forth.
Unlike the translucent gray of ordinary Ashes, this one gleamed with crystalline white—like frozen glass.
Hoarfrost Stomp.
Lucian tucked it safely into his pouch. Once at a Site of Grace, Melina could help him bind it to a weapon.
Leaving the pond behind, he pressed on toward Caria Manor's gates.
There was a Site of Grace there as well. He kindled it, then frowned.
Something was wrong.
Peering toward the place where War Counselor Iji ought to be stationed, he saw nothing.
If Iji were present, his massive frame could not possibly be missed.
And yet only his enormous forge remained—a workbench even larger than the one Lucian had brought to Stormveil. Clearly, Iji used it often, though it was far too cumbersome to move.
So yes, he was usually here. But now he was gone.
Lucian had planned to let Iji escort him inside, or at least deliver word to Ranni. That would have saved much trouble.
But with Iji absent… what now?
At the gates of Caria Manor, there wasn't even a guard. Not a soul in sight to carry a message.
Lucian found it absurd. Was this really still a manor?
Peeking past the gate into the courtyard, he saw only emptiness. Not a single figure.
He had known Ranni was not one for ruling or upkeep, but seeing it with his own eyes was another matter entirely.
He dared not force his way in, such an act would surely sour their meeting.
Thinking a moment, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out; "Anyone there? Somebody, come out!"
After a pause, rustling sounds answered from within.
Lucian focused on the noise, waiting for a messenger to appear.
Instead, what emerged from the undergrowth was no soldier or servant—
—but a grotesque creature shaped like a writhing hand.
Lucian shuddered at the sight of the Fingercreeper crawling toward him.
Whoever had conceived of such abominations, he thought, surely had a twisted sense of humor.
A magic bolt shot from one of its fingers, streaking toward him.
Lucian deflected it with his Swordspear.
So this was all he would find here. No welcoming party.
He sighed. "Seems there's no other way. I'll try to avoid killing if I can…"
After all, this was still Ranni's home. Even if she herself didn't care, he could hardly justify a massacre.
Summoning a storm about him, Lucian charged forward.
The wind whirled into a vortex, hurling aside any creeping hands that came near.
Their spells were sluggish, unable to catch him at full speed.
With each gust disrupting their aim, Lucian quickly passed beyond their range.
He had no interest in scouring the manor for loot.
If no one appeared to summon Ranni, then his only path forward was clear—fight his way through to the Royal Moongazing Grounds and defeat the shade of Loretta, Caria's Royal Knight, to reach Ranni's tower.
Brushing aside the clinging fingers, Lucian raced down the manor's central road, entering the lower tower.
He nearly lost his way earlier, but spotting this tower had guided him.
Inside, he heard a spectral voice muttering to itself:
"Lady Ranni… this humble one awaits… Please, my lady, restore the glory of Caria… May the full moon shine upon our house…"
The lines repeated over and over.
Lucian watched the pitiful spirit with a weary heart.
If he ever did marry Ranni, would Caria Manor have anything left to offer as a dowry besides the Dark Moon Greatsword?
Was there truly no one here?
No—wait.
Lucian recalled a glimmer of hope.
There was someone nearby. Someone rumored to have ties to Seluvis, the arrogant preceptor.
Perhaps that man could serve as his link to Ranni.
As Lucian pondered this, he failed to notice a massive Fingercreeper clinging to the wall above.
It raised a jeweled middle finger.
A purple light flared, and a binding circle snapped into place around Lucian, locking him in place.
His eyes widened. So there had been another one lurking here.
The great hand scuttled down from the corner, rushing him.
The magic wasn't overly strong, but brute force alone couldn't break it. Only magic could.
Lucian hadn't mastered enough to counter such binds. No matter—defeat the caster, and the spell would end.
Summoning his storm, he sliced off the middle finger channeling the spell.
At once the circle broke.
Lucian raised his Swordspear, driving it into the hand's palm. Lightning surged through it, wracking each finger in spasms.
Moments later, the thing was charred black and still.
Kicking the corpse aside, Lucian climbed the stairs to the upper floor.
There, he found a chapel-like hall lined with benches.
He lit another Site of Grace, then looked beyond.
A bridge extended outward, leading to the manor's upper levels.
But Lucian did not rush out. Instead, he glanced up.
Sure enough, there was a second floor.
He set down the great jar containing the Black Knife Assassin, then used a gust of storm to vault upward.
On the balcony, a man was crouched low, spying.
He had heard the battle with the creeping hands, heard footsteps, and now peered down at the intruder.
But Lucian's sudden leap startled him badly.
"Yahhh!"
With a cry, the man stumbled back, knocking over a propped-up corpse of a Cuckoo Knight.
He clutched his head with both hands, his ragged robe covering his features.
Lucian studied him—and, strangely, felt a flicker of relief.
At last, a living person in Caria Manor.
"Well then," Lucian said evenly. "What is your name?"
The man cowered, voice trembling. "O-oh! Y-you! I, er, sorry, your worship... I-I apologise for any offence given. I am Pidia. Servant to the Carian royal family. I am charged with maintaining these g-ghastly dolls."
"You… how did you come up here?"
Lucian looked at him, half in disbelief.
Could this timid creature truly be the same as Seluvis?
Or perhaps Seluvis was only a puppet—and this wretch was the real body.
In the game, hints had pointed to such a truth.
When Seluvis sought the amber draught, Pidia sold the map to its location.
When Seluvis died, his posture was identical to one of his fallen puppets. At the same time, Pidia also died—slain by his own dolls.
And at the very end, Pidia revealed he had loved those puppets all along, despite once calling them disgusting.
Most telling of all—Seluvis and Pidia shared the same voice.
Now, looking at the trembling Pidia before him, Lucian found it hard to reconcile him with the arrogant sorcerer.
Seluvis had always been condescending, calling everyone fools, even daring to plot against Ranni herself.
And yet, in Ranni's service, Seluvis had been the only one who actually worked.
Blaidd was ever lost, Iji, though a general, seemed to forget Caria's destiny.
Only Seluvis—perverse as his obsession with puppets was, actually contributed.
He bolstered the manor's defenses with his dolls, wielded sorcery against its enemies, and even once aided the outcast sorceress, Sellen.
Whatever else, Seluvis could reach Ranni.
Lucian ignored the man's question and instead asked his own:
"I seek an audience with Ranni. But this manor is empty. You know how to reach her, don't you?"