"By order of His Highness Morgott, I am to hunt you down."
Morgott? Is it Morgott behind this? Throne was stunned. It wasn't exactly a huge surprise; it was within his expectations. After all, of all the demigods, he was the one who valued the authority of the golden order the most. It was only natural for him to send someone to investigate when a problem arose. Wait, Oleg? The second half of the sentence made his pupils contract sharply.
This was a big shot among the Banished Knight legion. A long, long time ago, he was a great general under the Storm King, known as the Wings of the Storm. Just as Niall chose Miquella, he had thrown his lot in with Morgott. To think it was him... Regardless of his strength, he had lived for a long time and was a renowned hero. In an instant, Throne entered his battle state.
"Lord Oleg, are you going to slaughter a comrade? To take revenge for a sinful noble?" "That was in the past. Besides, you are just a petty thief wearing our armor." The knight ignored the acting and slowly leaned down. "Come with me to Leyndell. If you have sins, Morgott will judge you." Throne did not speak; he already had his answer in his heart. That was impossible.
Even if he were to go to Leyndell, it would only be in one capacity—as a challenger! "It seems you have made your choice." Oleg did not know what crime this person had committed, but as an executor, he did not need to think too much about it. Bang! A storm struck, and the figure had vanished. Throne didn't even think; he used Bloodhounds Step to jump to the side.
With a 'boom,' the sweeping gale blew him several meters away, and the Glintstone Arc he released in a backhand motion flew off who knows where. The storm roared, and Throne stepped back continuously. The greatsword was chilling; massive trees were sliced in half at the waist, as easily as a sheet of paper.
This level of strength was second only to Godrick; a true 'hero.' When he saw the dual swords raised simultaneously, the accumulated magic made him disappear from where he stood, and then—
Rumble... An X-shaped white sword energy swept across, extending dozens of meters forward, slicing through everything in its path. So strong. This is not the same thing as a regular Banished Knight.
Throne felt the true worth of the 'Wings of the Storm' firsthand. He had just reappeared dozens of meters away, and when he looked up, he saw the knight descending from the 'lunar surface.' Even Starlight movement hadn't been enough to create distance. If Finlay was a first-class hero, then this one was certainly worthy of being called second-class.
The storm followed one after another, leaving no time to accumulate magic, but just then, a Comet Azur with a long trail streaked in from afar, knocking the knight out of the sky. Boom!! The night sky was instantly illuminated by the exploding magic. Oleg crashed to the ground, his dual swords emitting high-temperature white smoke.
He felt neither sorrow nor joy; he glanced at his scorched armor and swept his gaze to the side. There is another? No one answered, or rather, the six rotating light swords flying toward him were the answer. He gripped the hilts tightly, his body like flowing clouds, his sword like a storm. Storm Dance! Clang, clang, clang... Sparks and shattered magic permeated the air.
The Caria Greatsword Phalanx was actually torn apart; the azure particles were like starlight, then swept away completely by a gust of wind. Storm Assault! He lunged out directly like a shot arrow, and the next moment, the thrusting swordsman had already pierced through his afterimage. Fast, and even more experienced.
Here's the polished version with improved pacing, sharper imagery, and tighter prose while preserving all original content:
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Throne felt the gale whip past his face. He turned just in time to see the knight vanish into the forest shadows. His gaze snapped upward—Sellen perched in the tree, staff already crackling with energy. No hesitation. He crossed his dual swords and charged straight into her point-blank Crystal Burst.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
Magic crystals shredded through the wind barrier around him, detonating against his armor in bursts of violet sparks.
His crest shattered. Steel plates dented inward. Yet the knight kept advancing through the barrage, greatsword carving a path toward the sorceress. Valiant? Peerless? Sellen wasn't some trembling apprentice. Throne grinned and gathered magic between his palms—
—then dissolved into starlight.
The greatsword bisected the oak trunk in one clean stroke. Four timber sections collapsed. Empty air where Sellen had stood. Oleg's eyebrow twitched upward. He ducked on instinct.
The meteor grazed his helm.
His counterattack came before the near-miss registered—greatsword hurled like a javelin. Whoosh. The blade sheared through boulders and kept going, piercing the afterimage of Sellen's teleport. Unlike Throne's charge-up delay, she could blink repeatedly.
This time, she didn't retreat.
She lunged toward him.
Pincer attack?
Oleg felt the blade at his back before he saw it. Muscle memory took over. He pivoted, greatsword intercepting Throne's Starlight Piercer mid-thrust. The spear of light screeched past his temple. Too slow. Throne's eyes dropped to the crouching knight. Time dilated.
The knight's wrist twisted.
Greatsword leveled horizontally.
Inevitable geometry: blade cleaving Sellen first, then arcing upward to claim Throne's head. Three combatants frozen in a lethal triangle. Oleg's gut screamed warning—
The starlight spear thrust toward Sellen's heart.
Friendly fire.
She didn't dodge.
Her staff flared cyan. Thopss Barrier.
Deflect.
The spear ricocheted off the shimmering dome, tracing a jagged scar across the night. Pfft. Oleg's eyes widened. White-hot agony erupted in his shoulder. His bisecting swing faltered. No time to process—
His boot slammed down.
Storm Stomp.
The shockwave hurled Sellen backward and froze Throne's Cleanrot thrust mid-air. Oleg blurred backward using Bloodhound's Step. Drip. Drip. Crimson pooled beneath his sabatons. Half his armor glistened wet.
He glanced at the wound.
A clean hole through his right shoulder. Magic had punched through plate, muscle, bone, and out his pectoral. No scream. Just clinical assessment of the enemy's trick. Silent. Methodical. He transferred the greatsword to his left hand. Rose like a marionette on frayed strings.
Iron will incarnate.
Throne wasn't surprised. Disappointed, though—his experimental technique had only disabled one arm. "Now, let's see how you break this—"
Sellen's Meteorite detonated mid-sentence.
Oleg drove his sword into the earth.
A tornado of soil erupted upward. The grit-laden wind slapped Throne's face, his cloak snapping like a sail. He raised an arm against the debris storm. Blind. Vulnerable.
Battle instincts.
Upon discovering the tacit cooperation between the two, he simply cut off their vision to sever their connection, and then—
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Here's the polished version while preserving all content and structure:
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Charge!
The boom of a slash echoed in the distance. Throne didn't think—he lunged toward Sellen. Oleg outmatched her. If he wore her down with relentless pursuit, she was dead.
Luckily, Throne was also a Banished Knight. He raised his blade, wind coiling around steel. Storm Blade—
The gust tore through the dust like a curtain parting. There—Sellen, crouched in the distance. No sign of the knight who'd been bearing down on her. Ice shot up his spine.
Throne skidded to a halt, whirling around. The towering figure erupted from the dust, sword already mid-swing. No flourish, no hesitation—just raw force hammering toward his skull.
Storm Blade.
Clang!!
The impact rattled his bones. A strength beyond his own crashed into Star-Frost, vibration searing from wrist to heel. Sparks exploded. His knees buckled. Shoulder armor split. The blade bit deep into his collarbone.
No time to look. No time to breathe.
A boot wreathed in stormwind slammed into his ribs.
Bang.
Like a beast's charge. Metal groaned. His lungs emptied.
He flew back, crashing into a tree hard enough to shake it. Glanced at the dent in his breastplate. Rolled sideways just as—
Swish—
The trunk split clean in two.
The knight's gaze flicked over him, cold as winter. Then he charged again, faster than Throne's Bloodhound's Step, closing the gap in a heartbeat.
Truth was, against that speed and strength, technique meant little. Like standing in a hurricane—suffocating, overwhelming. A weaker man would've broken already.
But Throne had iron in his veins too.
He spat blood and surged upright, cyan ripples flaring across his sword. Thopss's Barrier.
Useless against blades or wind. But meteors? Those it could deflect.
Sellen's barrage rained down—millstone-sized rocks scattering like petals, detonating on impact. Oleg twisted back, dodging.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Dirt and splinters filled the air.
A starlight flicker. Sellen materialized beside Throne, face blank.
"Master. He's… intense."
Throne grinned, wild. "No shit. How many golden heroes has Oleg bled dry?"
She'd heard the stories. Her expression darkened. "Killing him won't be easy."
"Not just 'not easy.'" Throne's jaw tightened. He hadn't forgotten the hunting party north of the village. The garrison wouldn't hold them. They'd be here soon.
Two against one? Maybe a sliver of hope.
Two against ten? No chance at all.
Whoosh—
A gale scattered the meteor dust.
The knight stepped forward, armor streaked red. Tipped his head back. Drained a flask of crimson tears. Tossed the empty bottle aside.
His wounds had already closed.
He bent, retrieving his second greatsword.
Right. Flasks exist here. Throne's eye twitched. He watched the mountain of a man advance, voice tight. "Hit him with everything."
Sellen didn't blink. "And if that fails?"
His breath hitched.
---
Throne frowned and lowered his voice to state Plan B: "Then we run in separate directions and rendezvous afterward at the Waypoint Ruins laboratory." The storm came head-on with his footsteps; Oleg did not give the two time for idle chatter. Perhaps the hurried battle had reduced the sentiment of parting, or perhaps Sellen was not an ordinary woman and simply wouldn't think that much.
She was stunned for only a moment, then nodded decisively: "Fine." Throne smiled. As a Sword Ghost who shuttled between life and death, he despised indecisive people the most. "As expected, you and I are quite compatible!" With a powerful enemy before them, there was no need for nonsense. Seeing the knight charging up like a killing machine, he decisively used another power.
Thump-thump, thump-thump... His heart beat like muffled thunder, forcing blood to circulate throughout his body. During this time, Throne had experimented many times, but he was still cautious; only his face beneath the helmet was already flushed red. Oleg showed no amazement. He still strode forward, his two greatswords dragging deep marks on the ground.
Sellen raised her staff, and the glintstone on it bloomed with intense radiance. There was no trickery to speak of, only the head-on collision of steel and flesh. Throne's toes had already sunk into the mud, and at the moment the knight stopped and leaned down—
Dash! His speed was significantly faster than before.
His legs tapped the ground continuously, covering dozens of meters in a few breaths, and then, at the very last moment—