"Either surrender or carve a bloody path out. Having taken out the pursuers, it's better than being dragged before Maliketh and trying to come up with some nonsense excuses." "Fate must be held in one's own hands; how could I retreat?" "Whoever comes for my life, I'll cut them down. If I win, I live; if I lose, I die. A swordsman's life is just that simple and brutal." "It doesn't matter.
The Shattering is about to end, and they won't have the chance to investigate these matters." Throne took a breath, gazing out at Caelid with its fertile red soil. Here, towering trees were everywhere, with occasional hills blocking the view. A main road ran north-south.
To the south was a fortress, which was Fort Gael, and to the north lay continuous military camps, perfectly blocking the border line. There was half a month left before the Valkyrie set out, and the tense atmosphere of war was already permeating everywhere. Under the shadow of war, Throne felt no tension at all; instead, he felt a bit of longing for his teacher. Sellen must be safe.
After all, Oleg was heavily injured, and without help, he wouldn't necessarily be able to defeat her, though the witch didn't want to fight either. "Judging by the time, she must have already gone to the Waypoint Ruins laboratory. I wonder if she's had dinner, and if she's lost any of those precious spellbooks." Thinking back and forth, he smiled self-deprecatingly.
Sellen was a powerful, hero-level mage; it wasn't his place to worry. Or perhaps, Throne felt relieved. Sellen could finally focus on researching magic instead of wandering around with him. This powerful ally was certainly valuable, but as a student, as a man, how could he keep Sellen tied to his side for long? "Once the business in Caelid is settled, I'll go find my teacher.
I hope she has finished developing those two research projects." A swordsman isn't a wishy-washy person, so he immediately turned his attention back to himself. "And the journey through Limgrave has also yielded me a great harvest." He glanced at the Demi-human skinning a wolf nearby and revealed a pleased smile.
Not only had he basically mastered the Storm Art, obtained a Dragon Heart, and picked up a famous blade, but he had also happened to pick up the head of a powerful hunter. 'My strength has increased again. With the burst from the Dragon Heart, I've already stepped onto the threshold of a hero.
Even in the current The Lands Between, I could hold an official post in any faction.'
His strength was improving step by step. Having traversed two major regions, he had finally entered the room. If one had to find a combat unit for comparison, he could at least fight a fair duel with the Cleanrot Knight squad leader, Ivan. But this wasn't the most important thing.
After hunting the Tibia Mariner, the power of 'death' had reached a certain magnitude. Now that it had stabilized, Throne could finally arrive at that answer. "Dragon Heritage, Rebirth in the Current World." He took a breath, forcibly suppressing the corners of his mouth from curling up, because this thing was different from when he was in Ashina.
In the end, it was a mutated product, not the original version of instant resurrection. "This power is hidden within my body, which means it's impossible to replenish it through the living. And since the power of death is so rare, can it only let me use it once?" No, that wasn't all.
Judging by the fact that plundering the power of the living would encounter bottlenecks, this thing would require double the amount to enter the next stage. It was still early. Death was much scarcer than the living. Where was he supposed to find so many Deathroot? "Plundering the living, robbing the dead—I really do sound greedy." Throne's smile became slightly twisted. Once is enough.
For now, it's enough. At the very least, it'll defuse that ticking bomb. As he stepped onto the stage of The Lands Between, he couldn't shake the fear that 'Grace' might become a burden. He hadn't decided when to disarm it yet, only that this life couldn't be wasted.
Otherwise, he'd slit his throat right now to test how 'Rebirth in the Current World' worked. Would it be cherry blossoms scattering and resurrecting him on the spot, or something else entirely? Throne paused, realizing that since it had mutated, it wouldn't follow the original Dragon Heritage method.
Lacking information and unable to experiment, dwelling on it was pointless. He shifted his focus to what lay ahead. With a Demi-human cooking nearby, Throne found a moment of calm. The faint, gamey stench of wolf meat filled the air as he picked up a branch and sketched on the ground.
Caelid stretched before him like a vast peninsula, its pale red soil resembling a shoe kicked into the sea by The Lands Between. To the north, dragons gathered; to the west, it connected to Limgrave. The administrative center, Redmane Castle, sat on a small island in the southeast.
"In the center lies a massive swamp," Throne muttered, pinching his chin. "The Caelid Highway circles it, passing through Sellia, a crucial magic town." He'd already questioned the Demi-human, Boor.
Boor didn't know much, only that the Redmane Army was divided. One part guarded the border, while the other campaigned north, aiming to strike the dragons hard while the Haligtree Army rested. Throne hadn't come to Caelid for a vacation. He had Ranni's instructions to fulfill and his own goals to pursue.
Taking out Radahn would be ideal, but if he couldn't—or shouldn't—he'd settle for his secondary objectives. At least he'd prevent hundreds of thousands on this red plateau from being buried with him. Intelligence was key. He had to figure out where Radahn had gone.
If he couldn't even find the man, what chance did he have? Throne now held one opportunity, a slim possibility worth trying. If nothing else, eliminating Grace would make use of it. And he could deal with the mess trailing behind him. Too many people wanted him dead.
"Sir, the food's ready."
The Demi-human approached, carrying a ceramic basin filled with wolf meat. The unpleasant, gamey smell wafted up. No spices, no salt, and the meat was tough to swallow. Still, after enduring Sellen's dark culinary experiments, Throne ate with gusto. He glanced at the salivating Demi-human and pushed the basin toward him.
"Don't hold back. We're even now. You owe me nothing."
"But… but you're a knight lord, and I'm just a lowly Demi-human." Boor trembled, his fear palpable. He was sharp enough to know the risks of a misstep.
"I'm an executioner, not a lord." Throne shook his head. He wasn't here to preach freedom or equality. Every world had its rules, and The Lands Between's hierarchy was etched deep into the Demi-humans' marrow.
"Eat."
"Yes, my lord." The famished Demi-human dug in, the unpalatable wolf meat transforming into a feast in his mouth.
Wolves in The Lands Between were fierce, and catching one wasn't easy for these short-statured Demi-humans. Throne chatted with him intermittently—about his tribe in a northern cave, about Caelid's relative equality where any warrior could thrive, and about Redmane Castle's annual warrior festival.
Caelid's customs crystallized in his mind. A warrior's kingdom, fierce fighters united under the Redmane banner, fighting with unrelenting bravery. It fits me, he thought. If I'd started under General Radahn, I might've been knighted outright, launched into a conquest.
Throne shook his head, banishing the fantasy. His loyalty to Lady Ranni was unwavering. Radahn served the Golden Order; climbing higher under him only invited greater peril. "So, where to now?"
He studied the crude map he'd drawn with a branch earlier, his thoughts deepening. Radahn would be in the north. Should he seek him out directly? But what then? Could words bridge the chasm between Radahn and Malenia? Or assassination—striking down the Starscourge amidst thousands of Redmane soldiers?
Each scenario struck him as absurd. He could head to the Siofra River, but the Minotaur forest blocked the path to Mohgwyn Dynasty. Those Minotaurs would shred him before he got close. Or he could scavenge Caelid, gathering every oddity to strengthen himself. But with only half a month left, last-minute cramming wouldn't cut it.
Throne hesitated. His gaze drifted to the Demi-human scrubbing a ceramic basin by the creek. Decision made, he pressed his ring. "I'm requesting tactical guidance."
The Princess of the Moon had promised he could call in emergencies. After careful consideration, Throne concluded every moment qualified. The decisive battle loomed; two of The Lands Between's most powerful lords were set to collide. If he provoked two great gods, they'd investigate the moment news reached them.
As a minor player, Throne faced four demigods. How could this not be an emergency? Embarrassing the witch had become routine, but Ranni never complained. From her perspective, Throne fought for Caria.
He ignored danger, worked tirelessly—a model employee, a knight's benchmark. "So, you plan to intervene in Malenia and Radahn's decisive battle? At least to stop the Scarlet Rot from poisoning this land?" The doll's voice was soft, thoughtful.
"My knight, why do you believe Malenia is no match for Radahn? Why assume she'll unleash the Scarlet Rot?" Because I've seen the CG. Throne cleared his throat. "Because I've met Malenia. I know she has reasons she can't lose. Given her character, if defeat loomed, she wouldn't hesitate." His explanation was calm, reasoned.
The doll nodded. Based on her understanding of Malenia, she knew the latter was capable of such actions. Still, she had doubts. "How do you know Malenia came to Caelid to rescue Miquella?"
"My Lady, do you think Malenia wants the throne?"
The doll paused briefly. "Of course not."
Years ago, Radagon had taken the three siblings to Leyndell. Even then, Malenia had shown signs of a brother complex.
"So, do you think Radahn would abduct Miquella?"
This time, Ranni answered without hesitation. "Brother—no, Radahn isn't that kind of man."
The man radiates openness and gratitude, even toward his enemies. Taking hostages? Unthinkable.
"So someone else orchestrated this." His gauntleted fingers tighten around the hilt of his sword. "They want Radahn and Malenia to destroy each other."
"Who?"
"I'll follow the blood trail to whoever benefits most." Throne raises one hand toward the storm-wracked sky, the other pointing at the scorched earth beneath their feet.
His voice drops to a growl. "Either someone seeks to end The Shattering by reforging the Elden Ring...or they want both armies annihilated. Leaving the throne vacant. Letting them scavenge the remains." The doll in his hands goes eerily still. Silence stretches between them, broken only by the shuffling footsteps of a Demi-human scrubbing a ceramic basin nearby.
The creature pauses, cocking its head at Throne muttering to a lifeless figurine. "Dead end," he concludes after a minute.
Ranni's voice finally crackles through the doll's porcelain lips. "My power can't kill Radahn. Can't even wound him. The battle will happen. The rot will bloom in Caelid—that's inevitable." Her tone carries the weight of a funeral bell. The Lunar Princess values freedom, but not at the cost of a continent's worth of lives.
Throne expected this. No conventional tactics would work here. Too many factions have stakes in this clash—the future of The Lands Between hangs in the balance. Sellen's radical theories flash through his mind. Action, not debate, matters now.
Ranni's doll tilts its head. "You feel powerless."
"A little." He exhales sharply. "But I'm still going."
"That's irrational. Retreat to Limgrave. Observe. Malenia might yet prevail."
"You're getting soft. Thought you'd tell me to charge in and tip the scales."
"The Scarlet Rot will be unleashed. You said so yourself."
Throne snaps a crisp salute. "Appreciate the concern."
"Concern? I'm fulfilling my duty as sovereign!" The doll's voice spikes with static.
Throne's laughter booms across the ruins. Fighting alongside someone like her always lifts his spirits. But the mirth fades fast. His knuckles whiten around his sword hilt.
"My mind was made up at Stormveil. After crossing half the continent to reach Caelid? I'm not turning back."
"You'll die."
"Maybe." He taps the hidden dagger at his waist. "But I like my odds."
Some call it recklessness. Others name it courage. Throne knows the difference. Heroes don't avoid mountains just because tigers prowl there.
Ranni understands this better than most. Her childhood was shaped by such iron-willed souls. Without them, Caria would've fallen centuries ago.
Blaidd was right about you, Throne. You've got the heart of a hero.
"Very well." The doll's glow intensifies. "If you survived Raya Lucaria's traps and the Death Hunters...perhaps you'll find a way."
"Your faith honors me. Where next?"
The doll falls silent for a long moment. When it speaks again, the words crack like a whip:
"Since you have no clue, you should go to the center of Caelid, the magic town—"
"Sellia."
The dragon's cry tore through Caelid's northern skies. A black shape plummeted from the mountains—wings crumpled, a meteor of scales and fury. Before the dust settled, soldiers surged forward.
Axes split bone. Clubs shattered joints. The dragon's wings snapped first, then the net came down, pinning its thrashing bulk. Shields locked tight against the searing breath. Knights advanced, greatswords blazing, flames licking up to scorch the beast's hide.
Thud. Thud. The golem's footsteps shook the earth. It drove its spear deep—once, twice—until the dragon shuddered and lay still. A knight wrenched the head free, lifting it high toward the hill. The roar that answered shook the valley. "Redmane—"
"Victory!!"
On the ridge, the general watched. Crimson cloak. Helmet tassel like a lion's mane. Arms crossed over his chest, he gave a slow, approving nod. His laugh rolled thunderous over the cheers. "Haha! You lads did well!"
A greatbow knight approached, bow slung across his back. "General, your tactics won this. Gravity Magic to ground it, the net, the golem—"
The general turned. A thick finger jabbed the air, cutting him off. "Wrong, Ogha. Tactics mean nothing without spine. You saw that breath? Men held the line."
"Charging forward with shields, cowards cannot do that."
"That is also the high morale brought by you, General."