Chapter 327
"Snore… snore…"
Someone had genuinely fallen asleep down here — and judging by the volume, sleeping deeply too.
Under normal circumstances, someone sleeping this peacefully in a place like this was actually a decent sign. Suggested relative safety, at minimum.
Descending further, the group took in the layout. Basement? Kitchen? Cooking utensils of various shapes were scattered across the surrounding tables, though not a single ingredient in sight. A pot simmered over a lit stove nearby.
Soup?
So that explained the smell — the strange, faintly appetizing scent from earlier.
Though whether appetizing was really the right word remained genuinely up for debate.
Following the snoring further, their eyes eventually landed on a plump white shape sprawled across the floor.
The onion silhouette.
"The Onion Knight!"
Maru's eyes lit up — then she clapped a hand over her own mouth. She vaguely remembered the knight of Catarina had expressed some resistance to the nickname.
Siegmeyer, maybe. That was the correct name.
A little long, though.
Jack, then. Simpler.
Jack of Catarina currently sat cross-legged, dead asleep — and from behind, he genuinely resembled an onion even more than usual.
In front of him: exactly what they'd been hunting for this whole time.
A bonfire.
Finally located.
Leon didn't bother waking him. He dropped down beside the bonfire immediately and used it to push his Strength up a full level.
At last, the weight he'd been dragging around lifted.
He exhaled properly for the first time in a while and finally had the mental space to actually look around.
Kitchen, most likely. Genuinely homey atmosphere.
But why put a bonfire in a kitchen specifically?
Originally, this bonfire had sat in the plaza right at Irithyll's entrance. But by the time adventurers made it here — post-Wolnir, past the bridge bonfire, past the entry bonfire — a third bonfire clustered that closely together started to feel genuinely pointless. Neither of the redundant ones added much value.
So Wade had relocated the plaza bonfire down here instead.
This location doubled as a connection point besides — the kitchen's back door led east toward the massive lake beneath the bridge, and west toward the road into Irithyll Dungeon. Both routes existed in the original source material unchanged, requiring no rework.
Neither route was easy terrain, which made a bonfire here entirely reasonable.
That said —
"You need to clear four Silver Knights just to reach this. That's genuinely brutal," Leon complained.
Technically, dropping from the bridge and swimming through the lake was an alternate route in. But the lake carried its own dedicated brand of suffering — waist-deep water that slowed movement worse than Farron Keep's swamp.
And it conducted electricity on top of that.
Maru agreed with feeling, immediately using the bonfire to push her own Dexterity up, officially clearing level sixty.
"Bang!"
Smough's Great Hammer, dragged the whole way down, hit the floor with a crash loud enough to jolt the Onion Knight awake.
"Mm… huh?"
He lifted his head, groggy noises still working their way out of a deep sleep.
Then his eyes found them.
"Ah."
Recognition. A warm, friendly greeting followed.
"It's you! Never expected to cross paths again here — hahaha! Thanks to your help recovering my armor, I've been able to continue my journey. I, Siegmeyer of Catarina, offer my thanks once more!"
His booming laugh, paired with small enthusiastic gestures, made him instantly endearing. His tone carried the easy warmth of greeting old friends after years apart.
Which produced a strange feeling in everyone present.
They'd met him a handful of days ago, back at the Cathedral of the Deep.
Classic dungeon time-space confusion, Leon thought.
Curiosity followed close behind. If he hadn't helped the Onion Knight back at the Cathedral, would they still have crossed paths here? And if so — would this conversation have unfolded differently?
Did the phantom instances across different areas somehow track each other?
Something worth testing eventually, given the time.
"Oh, and here — a small token. Please, don't refuse it."
The Onion Knight handed over a page containing the miracle Way of White Corona.
Leon didn't touch it directly, storing it straight into inventory instead — avoiding the risk of accidentally learning the spell by handling it too casually.
[Way of White Corona]
Throws a white corona that slices through enemies before returning to the caster.
Long ago, when the imprints left by the gods still ran deep, the miracles of the Way of White were frequently accompanied by these coronas. Those who long for the old days believe firmly that they will return.
Probably one for Drew — offensive options remained his weak point.
"Thank you very much," Leon said, sincerely.
Maru, meanwhile, curiously pressed the Onion Knight on why he'd ended up here, and how he'd fallen asleep in the first place.
The bonfire crackled quietly, its gentle static-like warmth settling over the group almost involuntarily.
Maybe that was the real purpose of a bonfire, in the end — a safe place to rest after something difficult.
"Never expected to actually doze off down here. Sometimes being too warm isn't a blessing…" He still looked faintly troubled.
Then his eyes landed on the simmering pot.
"Oh — that's right! Care to share a meal? My special Estus Soup is ready. Even the Undead ought to imitate the living occasionally, wouldn't you agree? Let's raise a glass!"
"We didn't bring any alcohol, unfortunately," Maru said, genuinely regretful.
"I have some! Plenty!"
He patted his own chest with real pride.
His enthusiasm made refusal genuinely impossible.
Before long, everyone was seated around the bonfire, a pot of Jack's Estus Soup at the center, each person with a bowl in front of them and a small wooden barrel cup filled with —
[Siegbräu]
Alcohol brewed by Jack of Catarina, specially prepared for travelers and served in wooden barrel cups.
Restores vitality and temporarily boosts cold resistance.
In theory, the Undead cannot taste alcohol. Siegbräu must have gone through considerable trouble to achieve this anyway. The Undead endure exceptionally long lives — sometimes they too want fine wine, good company, and a song.
Sharing drinks with a phantom was a genuinely new experience for the group.
The warm fire. The steaming soup. Rich alcohol on the air. And warriors who'd fought through real hardship to arrive at this exact spot together.
Strangely, despite having known each other only days, it felt like old friendship.
Maybe just the Onion Knight's sheer enthusiasm doing the work.
Whatever it was — it felt good.
Slightly intoxicating, too.
"Boss, I suddenly feel like we walked straight into a legend," Maru whispered. "Like we're heroes out of some ancient story."
Watching the Onion Knight raise his cup, Leon lifted his own just as high, and said to Maru:
"Maybe someday we actually will be."
The Onion Knight's voice rang out with real passion.
"To our reunion today! May your courage, my sword, and both our missions—" A beat. "—be with the sun!"
"Cheers!"
Wooden cups clashed together, alcohol splashing from the impact.
The atmosphere had already peaked.
Even Maru, who'd never particularly cared for drinking, downed the entire cup in one motion.
"It's SPICY!"
Her face went bright red an instant later. She stuck her tongue out, gasping repeatedly, steam practically visible rising off the top of her head.
Like she'd swallowed a mouthful of lava.
"Hahahahahaha!"
Laughter broke across the group.
At that moment, the Onion Knight didn't feel like a phantom at all.
He felt like a living, breathing person.
Naturally, drinking led to easy conversation. Stories started flowing — everyone sharing pieces of their own journeys. The Onion Knight matched with his own — helping an Ashen One take down the Fire Demon back in the Undead Settlement, once, or the time he'd befriended a giant fond of shooting arrows.
"Oh, that reminds me — did you notice the painting at the center of the hall?"
"That is Princess Gwynevere, of the sunlight lineage. Legendary beauty, wasn't she? I've heard she once lived in Anor Londo. Nobody seems to know where she is now."
The Onion Knight couldn't offer anything more concrete — secondhand knowledge himself.
He shifted topics instead.
"I don't know if you've noticed, but west of the city sits an ancient church. I've heard it hosts a covenant of the Darkmoon, though the details escape me. Worth a look, if you're curious — I understand it's remarkably safe. Might even offer shelter to someone weaker."
Shelter for the weak.
Leon's mind went straight to the boy still trapped in his house.
When Maru pressed again on why he'd come to Irithyll, the Onion Knight took a slow drink first.
His expression turned genuinely serious after a moment's thought.
"Do you know — somewhere in this city, deep underground, there's a dungeon. And beneath that dungeon, they say, lies the Profaned Capital — homeland of the lonely Giant King, Yhorm. I have some connection to him…" He paused. "Promises can be such troublesome things."
Giant King Yhorm.
Leon placed it. One of the Lords of Cinder — the one with the massive, imposing frame he still remembered vividly.
Irithyll really was tied to two separate Lords of Cinder, then. Genuinely remarkable, in retrospect.
As the Onion Knight trailed off around the word promise, he sank into visible thought. Once he'd gone quiet, the whole group settled into a matching silence.
"Ah, ah — apologies. Got a little heavy there, didn't it."
He caught himself and snapped back to his usual cheer.
"Well then! Time for a small nap. A proper celebration always calls for one afterward — hahaha!"
The group watched him drop into sleep at genuinely alarming speed.
None of them had time to even respond.
"Hey? Hey?"
Maru gave him a push.
Zero reaction.
"I genuinely envy that ability," Drew said, sighing with the weariness of someone edging toward middle age.
"Don't worry — we'll get to sleep soon enough too," Leon said, smiling as he started sorting through everything they'd collected.
A partial map of several Irithyll streets. The boy's request. Various monster equipment and miscellaneous items. The three chests' contents. Way of White Corona. Vordt's soul. Fresh intel on the Profaned Capital and the Darkmoon covenant.
And Siegbräu.
Everyone had received two cups. One consumed already, one remaining.
The group agreed to keep the second as a keepsake.
Definitely not because the alcohol had been that strong.
Absolutely not related.
All things considered, the day's haul had been substantial. Any other party landing this much loot would probably spend the next month or two celebrating before returning to actual work.
"Today was a genuine success. Not much time left — let's just wait for closing time."
Leon settled down beside the fire. Listening to the Onion Knight's steady snoring, staring up at the grayish stone ceiling, a thought drifted through.
I wonder how everyone else is doing right now.
Has anyone else made it into Irithyll?
This place is genuinely difficult. But clearing it delivers a payoff worth the trouble.
I bet the others are having quite a time of it too.
There were, in fact, others inside Irithyll.
Whether they were "having quite a time" in the good sense —
That was an entirely separate question.