As the 2026 release of Shadow of the Erdtree looms closer, I, like many, felt the ancient pull to return to The Lands Between. What better time than now to run the gauntlet again, to measure myself against the brutal challenges that I once feared? The memory of my first journey is a faded map, but the sting of defeat remains a sharp, fresh wound for some. With so many monstrous encounters that almost demand you memorize the contours of the 'You Died' screen, I wanted—no, needed—to definitively catalogue those who truly earned their infamy. So, from the relative comfort of my 2026 armchair, I revisited the pain. This is my personal testament to the ten hardest fights born from my own countless broken controllers and weary sighs.

There are bosses that don't get the spotlight they deserve, lurking in hidden corners. The Valiant Gargoyles in Sofira River are one such pair. For veterans of the original Dark Souls, the Bell Gargoyles fight is a rite of passage, but this is a mean-spirited callback cranked up to eleven. The first hurdle is their tag-team nature: as soon as you carve the first one's health in half, its twinblade-wielding partner drops in with a vengeance. You're left scrambling, trying to finish the weakened foe before you're overwhelmed. Their speed is deceptive, their strikes are heavy, and they spew clouds of toxic mist that eat away at you long after you've dodged the initial blow. It’s a chaotic dance with two partners, demanding you manage distance, aggro, and a creeping poison meter all at once.

But sometimes, the hardest fights are the ones you can—and many do—simply avoid. Tucked away atop Mt. Gelmir is the Full-Grown Fallingstar Beast. Its standard variant might be a minor nuisance, but this 'grown' version is a different monster entirely. It’s the definition of a damage sponge, ensuring every engagement is a marathon, not a sprint. Its attacks are a chaotic storm of cosmic energy and monstrous physicality, with charges and slams that can inflict Hemorrhage, turning a single mistake into a cascade of problems. The arena itself is a treacherous crater that often seems to work against you. I remember countless attempts where a simple backstep to avoid a tail swipe sent me tumbling off a ledge I couldn't even see. It’s a purely optional trial, but to claim true mastery over the Lands Between, you must face this celestial terror.

Duos are almost always a recipe for sorrow. While the Gargoyles demand your respect, the Godskin Duo in Crumbling Farum Azula is a special kind of nightmare. The collective groan from the community when these two roll and stretch into the arena is legendary. You face the aggressive, rotund Godskin Noble and the lithe, deadly Godskin Apostle simultaneously. Forget sleeping on the job using pots or arrows; for a prideful run, you have to fight them raw. The key? Misdirection and environment. I learned to use the temple pillars to break line-of-sight, to try and separate the Noble from his partner. The cruelest twist is their shared life essence. Even if you manage to fell one, the survivor can perform a haunting ritual to resurrect their fallen comrade, making a prolonged fight feel hopeless. It's a war of attrition where the enemy has infinite reinforcements.

My bias might show here, but Commander Niall haunts my dreams. Perhaps it's the sheer number of times he pounded my Tarnished face into the snow of Castle Sol. It starts as a three-on-one: the stoic Commander and two spectral Banished Knights who are relentless in their pursuit. Niall himself hangs back initially, a calm general watching his troops soften you up. The frantic effort to dispatch his guards before they swarm you is only the appetizer. Once they’re gone, Niall awakens, his prosthetic leg crackling with frost and lightning. He becomes a tempest of ranged slashes and devastating area-of-effect slams. Patience isn’t just a virtue here; it's the only law. A single greedy swing when he pauses is an invitation for a counterattack that will end you. The fight taught me more about restraint than any other.

Finally reaching the Elden Throne only presents you with the ultimate endurance test: the back-to-back bout with Radagon of the Golden Order and the Elden Beast. Radagon is a deceptive warm-up. His first phase is manageable, but his second is a symphony of shattered holy light, forcing constant movement. The real challenge emerges from the swirling cosmos: the Elden Beast. This ethereal, draconic entity is a master of spatial control. It constantly teleports across its vast arena, forcing you into a desperate, exhausting chase. Its attacks are sweeping, beautiful, and incredibly difficult to dodge—gouts of golden flame, arcs of holy light, and a chasing star spell that demands perfect timing. The sheer scale of the creature often blocks your view, making it hard to anticipate its next move. Equipping gear to bolster holy defense is wise, but in the end, this two-act finale is a grueling marathon that tests every skill you've learned.

Descending into the depths beneath Leyndell, you find Mohg, the Omen, a hidden king of punishment. What makes him particularly brutal is his utter immunity to all status effects. My trusty Bleed build was rendered utterly useless, forcing a complete tactical re-evaluation. The fight is a brutal, close-quarters brawl in a cramped, visually noisy chapel filled with spectral flames. Mohg hits like a runaway chariot, his attacks inflict Bleed build-up, and the flickering fire effects make tracking his trident swings a nightmare. It's a pure test of mechanical skill and pattern recognition, with no cheesy shortcuts. If you seek the path of the Lord of Frenzied Flame, you must endure this trial.

For my money, the single most electrifying and terrifying transformation in the game belongs to Maliketh, the Black Blade. The fight begins with the familiar, albeit aggressive, Beast Clergyman. But once half his health is gone, he leaps back, and the true terror is unleashed. Maliketh is a whirlwind of death, a being of pure, agile malice. His movements are fluid and unpredictable, his Black Blade attacks not only deal massive damage but also drain your maximum health. The second phase is a relentless assault where you are always reacting, never acting. Openings are microscopic, and his leaping, spinning flurries can cover the entire arena. Greed is not just punished here; it is annihilated. Surviving Maliketh feels less like a victory and more like a narrow escape from the jaws of death itself.

In my opinion, the hardest mandatory brick wall in the main path is Godfrey, First Elden Lord, or rather, Hoarah Loux, Warrior. The regal first phase with his axe is tough but fair. Then, he discards his weapon, discards his title, and embraces his true, barbaric nature. Hoarah Loux is pure, unrestrained aggression. He is always in your face, with grab attacks that are cinematic executions and earth-shattering slams that demand perfect dodges. As a player who favors colossal swords and strength builds, this fight was my kryptonite. He punishes the slow wind-ups and recovery frames I relied on. Beating him required unlearning my instincts, creating the tiniest of windows, and chipping away at a health bar that felt infinite. It’s an unforgiving, visceral brawl that perfectly sets the stage for the end.

Before the queen, there is a king of a forgotten age. Dragonlord Placidusax, found in the timeless storm beyond Farum Azula, is a spectacle of epic proportions. The first phase feels like a classic, if grand, dragon fight—stick to the sides and watch the tail. But when the two-headed lord vanishes and takes to the skies, the fight transforms. He becomes a creature of lightning and teleportation, disappearing in a flash of light only to reappear elsewhere with a cataclysmic attack already in motion. The arena feels impossibly large and yet never large enough. His signature move, the twin laser breath that sweeps the battlefield, is a run-ender if you’re out of position. The fight is a breathtaking, desperate scramble, a battle against a legend made flesh and lightning.

And so we come to her. The one whose name is whispered with a mixture of awe and dread. Malenia, Blade of Miquella. Was there ever any doubt? Her reputation is not hype; it is a monument built from the ashes of a million defeated Tarnished. She is the perfect storm of Elden Ring's most punishing mechanics. Her movements are a blur, her attacks chain together with relentless fury. She inflicts Scarlet Rot, forcing constant healing. But her most infamous trait is the lifesteal—every hit she lands, even on a blocking shield, restores her health. This turns every mistake into a double punishment: you lose health, and she regains hers. Her Waterfowl Dance attack is arguably the most devastating single move in any Souls game. For days, she was my wall. I studied her, I adapted, I summoned legendary helpers. In the end, the victory was bittersweet. Malenia isn't just a boss; she is the ultimate examination. And in 2026, with the DLC on the horizon, I shudder to think what new horrors await to challenge her throne.