"Apprentice, are you angry?" "Yeah." Throne nodded without a second thought; he truly hated the Erdtree to the bone. As expected. Sellen glanced at Throne and said calmly, "I apologize. I shouldn't have forced a failure on you yesterday." "Ah... huh?" Throne looked up, somewhat stunned. He hadn't expected Sellen, who always did as she pleased, to actually apologize.
His gaze was as if he had discovered a new continent. "Why are you looking at me like that? Having the courage to admit one's mistakes is an essential quality for a scholar." Sellen looked away, deliberately puffing out her chest as she sat opposite Throne. "Well, apprentice, do you accept my apology?" I'm more curious about how you realized you were wrong. Throne didn't ask, just nodded slightly.
"Of course I accept it, but I still hope you won't mess with these chaotic things." "It's fine. I will definitely delve into puppetry and research a successful product." Uh, that doesn't seem to be the point. Throne was too tired to retort, but he didn't say much else, figuring it was just something to keep his teacher occupied. Besides, he had plenty of reasons to refuse.
Like saying he wasn't interested in inanimate dolls, or that he had already cut away such distractions with his blade. If Sellen could make a puppet exactly like a normal person, he would have nothing to say and could only bow to her. Can't afford to provoke her, definitely not. The two sat on the inn balcony, basking in the sun and drinking milk tea, discussing magic research from time to time.
As before, until they settled down, Sellen couldn't conduct complex research, so Throne's idea of drawing the Carian Greatsword light had to be postponed. But she was someone who couldn't stay idle, and recently she had poured her energy into Seluvis's puppets, now having learned a few tricks.
Even though he had long known Sellen was a genius, every time Throne discussed magic with her, he would marvel again—her talent was exceptional, she was willing to work hard, she had a deep understanding of all the Academy's schools of magic, and she could even draw analogies with puppetry.
In terms of aptitude, perhaps only Ranni and the Queen of the Full Moon could surpass her, but one shouldn't forget that Sellen was merely a 'human'. After lunch, the witch began to yawn repeatedly; it seemed her hellish sleep schedule hadn't been fully corrected. "I'll stop here for the third lesson on the operating principles of primeval glintstone, apprentice.
You should study it well when you have time." Sellen stretched and patted her rounded stomach. Unfortunately, I can't stay idle, and those theories are too complex, like explaining relativity to a high schooler. Throne's head was spinning. His learning ability was decent, but his research ability was abysmal.
If he really needed to obtain primeval glintstone—
It would be better to dig them out of those two masters, wipe away the souls within, and transplant them into his own body to become a magical Iron Man. As a poor student, Throne was full of cheating ideas. Seeing Sellen swaying as she walked into the room, he stood up and called out to her. "Teacher?" "Hmm? Do you want a make-up lesson?
Why have you become so proactive today?" "No, I just suddenly remembered something." Throne thought about his wording and said seriously, "If a powerful enemy attacks, we should separate. You go to the underground laboratory at Waypoint Ruins that we mentioned before and wait for me." Sellen blinked, then raised an eyebrow. "Is there a situation?" "Not at all, I just have a bad feeling.
It's just a reminder. Besides, you have your research to do, and I can't let my own affairs take up too much of your time." Throne replied solemnly. In fact, they had discussed this topic before. "You know I don't care." "But I must think ahead." Throne paused for a moment, his expression grave. "That's only one reason. Caelid has the magic town of Sellia.
Here's the polished version with all content preserved and enhanced for clarity and impact:
---
The Night Sorcerers there have ties to the Academy. They don't just hunt ordinary sorcerers—they've got Radahn's backing. If we're exposed, we're dead." Sellen's usual smirk vanished. Sellia's magic thrived on deception; these sorcerers knew how sorcerers thought, how sorcerers died.
Hiding wasn't her strength. Outside Laskyar had been her best performance. "Fine. Understood." No hesitation, no debate. Two days apart meant nothing. "That intuition of yours—reliable?" "Dunno. Kept me alive this long." Throne hated trusting gut feelings, but survival didn't care about principles.
"Good. I'm catching sleep." Sellen turned, then paused at the door. "Just tell me what to kill." Short. Solid. Having her as backup made the weight in Throne's chest dissolve. "Almost forgot. Stashed the dragon bits. If things go south, wait for the heat to die before retrieving." He tossed her a scrap of map. She snatched it midair with two fingers, gave a lazy flick of acknowledgment, and vanished inside. She'd picked up some of his flair.
The swordsman drained his milk tea, slammed the cup down hard enough to crack wood, and spread his arms toward the sleeping town like he could crush it in his grip. Come on then. Whoever you are—come.
Darkness swallowed the sky. The chatter of the day bled into silence. Empty streets. Thick fog. Only the guttering oil lamps in windows still fought the gloom—until the call came. Every light winked out at once, as if the village had rehearsed it. Summonwater's people slept behind locked doors, smothering curiosity. After last night, even the outsiders knew better than to poke around.
Throne's iron boots rang against cobblestones. Star-frost and the Cleanrot Rapier at his hip. Bone-poison throwing knives in leather sheaths. The Erdtree Seal dangling from his wrist. Throwing pots strapped to his back. Overkill for a Tibia Mariner, but intuition demanded preparation.
He circled the village. Nothing but the count's snoring guards. No trails. No signs. Manpower was thin—he couldn't widen the search. Intuition wasn't gospel. All he could do was brace for chaos. Teacher's the ace. Even if Finlay shows, she'll slip free.
Moonlight dripped like thin milk over the rooftops. Throne knelt on the northern edge, adjusting gear, gaze locked ahead. On the lake, a purple skiff cut back and forth. The Tibia Mariner came nightly, call echoing whether anyone listened. It survived this long thanks to the local lord's "protection." Observation put its patrol at one hour, thirty-two minutes.
Throne's fingers traced his sword hilt. Motionless. Waiting. Let the hunters slink from the shadows first—no charging in like a rabid hound.
"Come. Embrace death."
The grating call rolled over him. Throne didn't flinch. His binoculars moved with mechanical precision, scanning inch by cursed inch. Time crawled. Fog smothered visibility. The lenses showed only empty streets.
Two hours. The Mariner had looped countless times, cried out until its voice should've shredded. Throne finally lowered the binoculars.
Clang—
---
The blade slowly left its sheath, but after three inches, it froze completely. Hmm? Someone? Just as a skilled hunter stalks the same prey, in the grass south of the village, a group of people was also watching from afar.
A's hairy face was scrunched up, his features almost indistinguishable. He didn't use binoculars; his black eyes revealed beast-like vertical pupils, and something in his hand was trembling incessantly. "Are we not moving yet?" the scout urged from the side. She didn't know how many times she had asked over the past hour, but the answer every time was to wait a bit longer.
A still didn't react; were it not for his heavy breathing, he would have seemed like a statue. "According to the records, the Tibia Mariner will leave in ten minutes. If that person were here, he couldn't have waited this long." A finally reacted, saying indifferently, "Then we'll come again tomorrow."
Terribly steady, but the scout girl couldn't help but remind him, "Lord Monk and the others can't wait. Besides, latest news: the new Brandt family head is about to be elected. Perhaps tomorrow there won't be a chance to hunt the Tibia Mariner." Because of Throne's butcher knife, this Tibia Mariner, which could have survived until the end of the Tarnished era, now had a chance of being hunted.
The hunter's hand twitched. One was prey that might not be there; the other was death that was clearly right before his eyes, with no chance to hunt it later. Ten minutes left? He looked at the sky and the receding Tibia Mariner, then shouted to the people behind him, "G, you come with me." "Understood." A man with a rapier at his waist stood up silently.
"S, you go to the north side of the village, check again if there are any suspicious figures. If there's a problem, notify Lord Oleg immediately." The scout stood up somewhat reluctantly. She also wanted to hunt the Tibia Mariner, but there was no choice, and she had to leave quietly. Two figures rushed out, one after the other. They ran through the silent long street.
Their suppressed killing intent didn't trigger a reaction from the Tibia Mariner, but it immediately caught the attention of the keen-sensed Throne. "There really are people, but they aren't coming for me?" Throne's gaze locked onto the two figures, and he frowned slightly. He definitely hadn't been exposed, and the two's target was clearly the Tibia Mariner. Death Hunters?
With almost no hesitation, he immediately identified their status. The fact that Death Hunters were still active in the late Tarnished era proved that this ancient organization had existed since the Night of the Black Knives, only the members at that time had become Tarnished. Hunting death surely had a price.
There weren't many normal people in The Lands Between at that time, so hunters naturally became rare. The only one he had an impression of was that 'D'. Peers? No! Throne's eyes narrowed, and he suddenly discovered a problem.
He had already quietly searched outside the village before, and there were no traces of anyone arriving, which could only mean these people had long since infiltrated Summonwater Village. The Tibia Mariner had appeared for so long without moving; what were they waiting for? "Waiting for me." Throne's breathing quickened.
Could it be that the Ulcerated Tree Spirit beneath Stormveil was connected to the Erdtree, and his absorption had triggered some kind of reaction, causing the Erdtree to send a hit squad? No, it shouldn't be that bad. If that were the case, it wouldn't be these Death Hunters.
An existence capable of devouring the power of the Erdtree would at least warrant a luxury lineup like Morgott or the Black Blade Maliketh. Throne calmed his rapid breathing. He couldn't figure out where the problem was for a moment, but one thing was certain—
These people are coming for me! "What to do, what to do?" Throne lay on the roof, muttering to himself.
At this moment, he saw the two figures had already appeared on the opposite lake shore, and the Tibia Mariner was reacting. Oooo—
A long, mournful horn sounded, and pale skeletons began to appear on the water's surface. But the two didn't dodge or evade; they kicked the boat by the lake. The force sent the boat sliding toward the center of the lake.
In an instant, the two leaped from the shore and landed on the boat, moving forward with the momentum. One person stood at the bow, wielding two rapiers, sweeping back and forth, shattering all the skeletons blocking their path. "Fast sword, looks like they have the strength of a knight." Throne observed quietly. This strength was just barely enough; he was more focused on the other person.
The strong man wore a type of special gauntlet and stood steadily at the stern. Upon seeing the Tibia Mariner blow its horn again and a giant skeleton stand up in the water, his eyes widened. This skeleton was massive; the few meters of lake water only reached its abdomen. It blocked the front of the boat and raised its arms to sweep. Splash—
The lake surface splashed.
The strong man raised his arms, and amidst shimmering golden light, gripped a giant boulder and threw it directly at the skeleton. Boom!! Bone fragments flew in the air. The massive force made the skeleton lean back, and then Throne heard a roar. "Go!" The rapier hunter leaped forward, stepping on the giant skeleton to rush upward, vaulting over it.
He glided through the air, his dual blades stabbing toward the Tibia Mariner behind. A few traces of purple light remained in the night, and the Tibia Mariner had vanished. But the man didn't fall into the water; he threw down a wooden board from his back, and after locating the Tibia Mariner, he stepped onto the water and moved. "Good technique."
Throne, watching from the side, showed a bit of appreciation. These were indeed his peers; without the weight of a knight, every move and style was born for hunting. But the rapier man's strength was just average; the main point was the strong man. The giant skeleton had steadied its body.
Perhaps desperate to save its master, it directly raised its two massive arms and slammed them toward the boat like a thunderclap. Bang!! The boat was blown into splinters, but the man had already stepped onto its forearm, rushed to its head, and raised his fist. Boom—
The muffled sound made the surrounding glass tremble.
A large hole was smashed into the giant skeleton's skull, and then golden light began to emanate from the man's body. Erdtree Purification. The night was illuminated. Wherever the light reached, the bones melted rapidly, clearly having suffered a heavy blow. Very strong, and also very professional.
Throne narrowed his eyes, looking at the Tibia Mariner being chased to the front by the rapier hunter, his expression uncertain. This ghost ship was being forced to row toward the north shore, only a dozen meters away from him. 'Should I snatch food from the tiger's mouth, or quietly retreat?' Throne hesitated, evaluating the risks.
These hunters were strong, but not yet a match for him and Sellen, but who could guarantee there wouldn't be reinforcements, and how strong would those reinforcements be?