John Oliver gets it, as usual. AI Slop is one of the best episodes of Last Week Tonight I've seen so far. Gen AI is theft. Those who use it are not authors or artists, they're grifters profiting from real creatives.
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Radahn fights in complete silence. He's guided by pure instinct, and he is stronger than ever, even though this body feels wrong.
A radiant, overbearing presence suppresses that thought. Worry not, Lord Brother. I will soon join you.
He cannot answer. He cannot even make a sound. When he tries to remember how he got here, or why he is fighting these people, his mind crashes into glowing, golden barriers.
His connection to the magic he had mastered long ago is untouched, at least, and he gives it his all. He is no longer burdened with holding the stars in place. All he has to do is crush his enemies - Miquella's enemies. None may harm his master. None may stop him from ascending to godhood.
He fights, he triumphs, yet his enemies come back, over and over. He has the fleeting thought that he has met them before. But what was... before?
The presence once again blocks his thoughts. Focus only on the battle, my dear consort.
So he fights. Hours pass, days, perhaps. Time doesn't seem to exist here. His enemies keep trying again and again, despite dying countless times. One of them yells about avenging his lord. The body he inhabits now is not his, the man claims.
Has he died before? Who is this vessel, then?
A means to an end, Lord Brother. Think nothing of him. I brought you back in your full glory. Before long, our enemies will give up their futile resistance and accept my vision. Then, we can make the world a gentler place.
How he wishes to reply, to voice his questions, but Miquella will not allow it.
Yet, he feels something, deep down. Fragments of another person. Echoes of a soul that was deceived, forsaken, to be replaced with his own.
Instantly, he feels Miquella's glowing barriers flare up, and the chains that wrap around his arms tighten. I forbid you from looking deeper!
But the momentary distraction is all his enemies needed. He is brought to his knees by a blow he did not see coming.
Now, Miquella makes his appearance. As he walks closer, his ethereal glow encompasses all. Radahn feels his doubts melt away. He stands, proud and confident, and Miquella embraces him. He weighs almost nothing, as if he was made of pure light.
Now, they fight together. Who would dare stand against a living god and his loyal consort? Surely no one can be foolish enough.
The battle rages on. The warriors are valiant, he has to give them that, but they have no hope of victory. He delivers them to Miquella who steals their hearts.
And yet they keep coming back. Why? How can they not wish for the perfect future so graciously offered?
The Tarnished seems to try everything. Different weapons. Magic. Forbidden incantations. They get crushed, again and again, and so does their companion.
Then, after what seems like an eternity of fighting, Radahn sees the Tarnished warrior wield a beautiful, glowing blue greatsword. The Darkmoon Greatsword? Mother once gifted it to Father, as a wedding present. But this cannot be the same blade. Father had altered it - ruined it -
The long-forgotten grievance awakens something in him. He never spoke of it out loud, but the betrayal hurt, and it still hurts.
Father has wronged you, Lord Brother. I will never abandon you like that. My love for you lasts eternal.
The Tarnished speaks.
"General Radahn! I implore you, fight back! Miquella has lost his way."
They know not what they speak of, my dearest. Miquella's irresistible charm engulfs him once more. The Golden Order lieth in ruins. Only I can mend the world.
The Tarnished dodges his swords and keeps talking. "Miquella! You have cast aside your better half and abandoned your noble goals! Did you not mean to cure your sister? To give the outcasts a safe haven? To grant Godwyn a true death?"
"I can do all of that once I am a god. What can you offer the Lands Between, Tarnished one? To put the Elden Ring back together with one of those heretical runes you are carrying? To fall for Ranni's schemes? Or would you perhaps burn it all down?"
"Whichever I shall choose, at least I would not betray my own family! Look what you have done to your brothers. Do you call this kindness?"
Radahn feels the truth in his opponent's words. And yet, there can be no truth other than Miquella's age of compassion.
Never doubt me, Lord Brother. The glow is painful, almost suffocating. He cannot even think anymore. He moves and attacks, and none of that is his own doing. Miquella has taken complete control of him.
We are one.
Suddenly, it's all shattered. He's on his knees again, his helmet broken to pieces, his hair dishevelled and braids undone, blood pouring down his face. He wipes it away. He can move on his own again, but it's all slow and hazy, as if awakening from a long nightmare.
Miquella has been knocked off of him and backed into a corner by the Pureblood Knight. The Tarnished stands before him, holding a sword that fills even him, the fearless warrior, with dread. And yearning.
He recognizes Maliketh's Black Blade.
And now, as if a dam has been broken, he remembers. He remembers all.
The last thing he did, as he felt life leave him and his hold on the stars weaken, was to redirect them towards Mistwood to protect Sellia. He was raving mad, but his instinct to keep his home and Leonard safe was too strong to overcome.
And now he is in an ashen wasteland, alive yet not living.
"Tarnished Warrior" he speaks, his voice raspy from being rendered mute for so long. "I know thee."
"Lord Brother! Do not stop fighting!" He hears Miquella's voice.
"Silence!" the Pureblood Knight says. "You have done him, and my poor lord, enough harm already!"
"It was all to make a better world!"
Radahn no longer feels compelled to do Miquella's bidding. Perhaps the blow that broke his helmet broke the spell.
"Tarnished. Thou hast slain me in honourable combat before. So tell me, how am I alive?"
What he hears from the Tarnished and Sir Ansbach is more horrifying than he ever could have imagined.
"This cannot be... Miquella, the Miquella I knew, would not do this." He looks at his brother. "Tell me it is a lie."
"It was the only way! Mother's Golden Order was corrupt and built upon sins and deception. I needed a consort with a kind heart and unparalleled strength."
"So thou wouldst send Malenia to kill me? Thou wouldst bewitch, use, and discard our half-brother just to have a vessel for my soul?" Radahn stands. He rips off the chains and pulls his swords he had dropped. "Thou wouldst turn my home into a blighed wasteland?" He walks over to Miquella.
"I can undo that! I can make Caelid beautiful and lively again!" Miquella is trying to charm him again, but now he can see him clearly. The glow cannot hide that something is very wrong. This isn't the gentle and kind boy he remembers.
"That would not erase the madness and indignity I have endured when the rot made me a rabid beast."
"I can make it all go away." Miquella reaches out to him. "Your soul is suffering, my beloved consort, I can feel it. Let me soothe your pain. Let me make you forget."
"Don't listen to him!" The Tarnished cries out.
For a moment, Radahn is almost overtaken by bloodlust. "To forget! To be under thy control again! I should slay thee here and now!"
But looking at Miquella, who is so small and fragile, his hand is held back by pity.
"Thou art... not thy true self. Not whole. Where is Trina?"
"I have abandoned her. Sealed her away. On the path I walk, I could not allow my love and compassion hold me back."
"You speak of an age of compassion" the Tarnished says. "How could you accomplish that if you rid yourself of it? You were good and kind once. Do not become yet another tyrant like your mother."
"I would be different! I would make things right!"
"That's what they all say at first" Sir Ansbach says, his voice bitter.
Radahn stands still, lost in thought. Then he thrusts his swords into the ground.
"Tarnished warrior" he says. "I recognize the blade thou wieldest. Wouldst thou lend it to me?"
"It would be my honour" they say, and they offer the sword with a bow.
Radahn takes it, carefully, with reverence. He looks at Miquella and sees fear in those golden eyes.
"Lord Brother! You would not hurt me, would you?"
"Listen well. Go forth, and embrace thy discarded half. Give up thy mad ambitions of godhood and remember who thou once had been. Return to thy sister, and tell her I hold no personal grudge. Tend to thy Haligtree. Let it grow, with hard work, and make all things flourish, as you promised long ago."
"We could have done it together..."
Radahn points the Black Blade at him.
"I was never thy consort. Thou hast robbed my of my will, my voice, my freedom. When the Tarnished Warrior delivered me from endless agony, thou hast denied me the peace of the grave and made me thy thrall."
"Please... have mercy..."
"Swear that thou wilt carry out my request. For thine own sake. And I shall spare thee."
"I swear it." Miquella is trembling and finally breaks down in tears. "I swear it on Godwyn's memory."
Radahn can feel the old self of his little brother resurfacing.
"Then I forgive thee for thy errors."
"Lord Brother... I do not deserve that. But I will strive to be worthy of your forgiveness, one day."
He turns to his adversaries - no, friends - and takes a deep breath.
"Tarnished Warrior. Sir Ansbach. I must ask ye both to let go of your vengeful thoughts. Give him a chance to atone, and see to it that he remembers his oath."
"What of my lord?" the Pureblood Knight asks. "How can he have peace, when your soul dwells in his remains?"
Radahn's voice is solemn and calm.
"Good Sir Ansbach, I will not inhabit him for much longer. Give him a proper burial, and accept my sincere apology."
Ansbach bows his head. "I will be content with that."
Miquella speaks, his voice now not that of a charming god but a frightened young boy.
"Lord Brother... please, come home with me."
He does not grace him with an answer.
"Tarnished Warrior. I thank thee for saving me, once more. Choose whichever path thou deemest right. I trust in thy judgment."
"General. I only wish we have met under better circumstances."
"You fight well." Radahn smiles, for the first time in centuries.
He looks up at the sky. The stars flicker and start to fade as the sun paints the horizon red.
He throws off his chestplate, holds the Black Blade with both hands, and glances at Miquella once more.
"Little brother. Remember thy promise."
The boy is still crying.
"Don't leave me..."
Finally, he addresses the sword. "Destined Death. I was once afraid of thee. But now, I welcome thine embrace."
He plunges the blade into his own heart.
At last, he is free.
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