The Ringed City lies behind me now—a labyrinth of decay, secrets, and trials that has tested both my patience and power. Its memories are a blur of battles and triumphs, of shadows and fire. I have left my mark on its cursed streets, and its horrors have, in turn, left their mark upon me.
Darkeater Midir was the first challenge. That towering, monstrous dragon loomed as an embodiment of darkness itself. His resistance to the very magics I wield was almost poetic—a cruel jest of fate. Yet, persistence is a sorceress’s most valuable trait. With calculated precision, I worked through his defenses, exploiting every opening, weaving spells between his overwhelming strikes. His roar still echoes in my mind, a testament to his might, though he is now nothing more than ash and memory.
Then there was Euclus, the self-proclaimed King of Fallen Oolacile. How fitting that his pride became his undoing. I discovered early on that his wild ferocity left little room for careful positioning on my part. The grand pillars of his arena became my allies as I lured him around them, casting curses and damage-over-time spells. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was efficient. Sometimes, the smartest move is to outlast your opponent, not outmatch them. He fell, raging and cursing, unable to reach me before his strength waned entirely.
Slave Knight Gael was… different. There was something almost pitiable in his madness, his endless hunger. Unlike the others, I took my time with him. His tenacity made him a perfect subject for experimentation. I tried everything—quick spells, heavy spells, curses, and enchantments. It was almost an academic exercise, testing his limits as much as my own. Yet, in the end, the same formula prevailed: weaken his resistances, sap his strength over time, and crush him with the weight of darkness. His blood and fire extinguished, and I stood victorious once more.
The Ringed City was a place of endless possibilities, and yet I find myself reflecting on the monotony of tactics. How often I return to the same spells, the same strategies. Not because I lack creativity, but because, in the end, there is a formula to victory. Perhaps it’s not my power that needs refining, but the limits of this existence itself. A sorceress longs to create, to experiment, to push boundaries. Yet so often, the world rewards what is most effective over what is most innovative.
I stand now at the Colosseum, gazing over the list of challenges yet to come. I wonder which foes still draw breath, which battles still await my magic. The grand halls of Lothric Castle call to me now, their gates standing like a challenge on the horizon. I will go, of course. There is still more to see, more to conquer, and perhaps—just perhaps—more to learn.
For now, though, I rest. The flames of my ambitions burn ever bright, but even fire must be tended.
Come to the dark side: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQRPy70pDgKWZPzdPFo3NP6Zbh7EI__pb
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