How truly magnanimous. Perhaps these are the kind of people who make assassins feel ashamed of themselves in stories. If you're my enemy, lay your cards on the table. With that overwhelming power that crushes everything, he's the natural enemy of all assassins. "A hero, maybe?" Throne, who had come as an assassin, shook his head.
A brief encounter taught him one thing:
In the face of General Radahn, any scheme or trick is useless. What could bring him down isn't a hidden strike but an outright kill. 'Walking a tightrope between two giants?' Throne glanced up at the sunlight filtering through the leaves. A thrill surged through him, igniting an endless excitement.
Neither side's enemy, yet tangled in conflicts with both—Caelid was a chessboard, and the lofty demigods, generals, and knights were the pieces. Throne, like a player, raised his hand. The opponent across the board remained unseen, but Throne knew who sat there.
The Erdtree. The Two Fingers. That Supreme Will. Maybe even the Goddess of Rot. These supreme beings could crush him into dust with a flick, yet he felt no fear—only exhilaration. This was the second major event he'd stepped into that would reshape The Lands Between.
In Stormveil, he'd been a bystander with no reason to intervene. But this time—
Throne grinned, his manic nature flaring:
"Sorry. I took the initiative."
The rapid clatter of hooves ceased. The warhorse pawed at the mud, uneasy. The knight atop it gazed at Sages Town in the distance. Throne hadn't followed Radahn, and the general, busy with the aftermath, hadn't noticed. So he'd come here instead.
If Sellia was a town that felt like a city, Sages Town was barely more than a village. Nestled on the swamp's west bank, surrounded by forest, it seemed a perfect hideout. But the town was already ruined. Buildings lay shattered, torn apart by some immense force.
Not a living thing stirred. It hadn't even been an hour, had it? Throne clicked his tongue and guided the warhorse slowly through the gates. His hand gripped the hilt of his blade as he scanned the scene. The place looked like it had been bombarded by heavy artillery.
Meteorites of all sizes had leveled every structure, leaving craters in their wake. Dozens of insect corpses littered the ground, smashed and torn apart—a complete body was rare. In the town's central plaza, the corpses had been arranged into something grotesque.
A giant ball of insects, its surface crammed with mantis shrimp heads. "The landing shockwave tore apart everything within ten meters, and Gravity Magic pulled the rest together, kneading them into a ball." As a combat expert, the image formed instantly in Throne's mind.
Radahn truly lived up to the title of 'General.' He wasn't skilled in delicate swordplay, but he knew how to kill on a massive scale. No survivors. Throne sneered, released the sword hilt, and dismounted. He wandered through the sea of blood and corpses, his frown deepening.
Not a single human body. And what of Gowry? Had his disguise been ripped away, reducing him to one of these nearly hundred insect corpses? As the only NPC tied to the 'plot,' Throne was deeply invested in this sage of middling strength. He hadn't seen a trace of him last night—and now, not even a corpse.
"Did he not return, or did he escape the massacre?" It wasn't just the insect corpses; there were also the remains of Mushroom Men. This type of enemy was also extremely disgusting, and he had been taken care of by Radahn before he could even encounter them. About a few minutes later, Throne stopped his steps. In front of him was a crater ten meters wide and five or six meters deep.
At the bottom was a large puddle of rotten flesh, and among the flesh and blood were some mushrooms. A broken fungal cap lay to the side, like a shattered crown. Is this that King of Rot? Throne looked down at his feet. The area around the crater was covered with circular holes, occupying nearly a hundred square meters of land like a star ring.
He crouched down, dug into a hole, and pinched out a few strands of soft mycelium. "Tentacle attacks? Judging from the attacks, it's enough to pierce through knight plate armor, and the coverage area is so regular. I'm afraid Radahn used some kind of Gravity Magic to block the attacks inside." Things that Campore could do, Radahn had no reason not to be able to do.
And this thing was able to break through the restraints of Gravity Magic to scratch Radahn's armor... Throne pondered silently for a moment, giving an evaluation of a first-class hero. Countless mycelium piercing without dead angles; Oleg definitely couldn't win, and Godrick would have a hard time against it too. I didn't expect the Kindred of Rot to have such high-end combat power.
He looked at the broken mushroom crown in the crater. If he remembered correctly, this thing should be a symbol of the Kings of Rot. Kings? So does that mean there is more than one? Throne opened his fingers, watching the mycelium drift away with the wind, and then stepped into the huge ruins in front of him. The ceiling was already gone, and a large brass bell stood in the center.
There was no need to ask to know that this was the original center of Sages Town. Throne searched carefully through the rubble, occasionally flipping out a torn piece of paper to take a look. It wasn't that he was bored, he had some doubts that hadn't been resolved yet. For example, how did the Nox Swordsman run to Sellia, and to what extent had the Primeval Sorcerers' magic research reached?
At the very least, he could scavenge for junk; finding a scroll about Gravity Magic would be good too. After the battle last night, Throne was very eager for Gravity Magic. It could be said that among the three major magic schools he had come into contact with, Gravity Magic gave him the greatest boost.
Offensively, he could suck distant enemies over to slash them; defensively, a Gravity Wall could render many physical attacks ineffective. Combined with the Thopss Barrier, it could only be described with two words:
Invincible. Unfortunately, Radahn was too violent. After searching around, he couldn't even find a complete book, only seeing a few glints of gemstones in a certain corner. Hm?
He raised his eyebrows and used Storm Stomp to blast away the rubble, seeing a twisted corpse underneath. This was the first time he had seen a human corpse. It looked like a sage, and then they died without even making a sound. There were at least a dozen sages who died last night, so this was nothing. Throne's attention was entirely drawn to the staff in its hand.
Its design was rugged, lacking any of the self-amusing delicacy of the academy. At the top was a huge, deep purple glintstone; judging by its size, it would be enough to use for bashing someone's head in. "The Mage's Divine Artifact, the meteorite staff??"
Throne bent down, pulled the staff out of the bloody palm, took it in his hand to examine it for a moment, and waved his hand to release a Glintstone Pebble. With the same amount of magic consumption, this thing was a circle larger. Throne was stunned and couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Hahaha, I actually picked up another good item." He felt he had more and more potential to be a scavenger.
Just as blades had differences in strength—ordinary mass-produced goods would chip when striking hard objects—magic could also be boosted. A staff was inherently a complex work of art.
Speaking of star-frost alone, it could serve as a casting medium, but it was difficult to achieve too strong an amplification; one unit of magic would at most strengthen it by a tiny bit, while this meteorite staff could achieve 1.5 times the power. It was worthy of being a professional-grade staff for a sage. It would be even better if this glintstone could be installed on star-frost.
Throne stroked it with satisfaction. Actually, it didn't need to be installed; based on the weight and hardness of this staff, it could completely be used as a blunt weapon. Satisfied, he put it away and wandered around the town a few more times, even testing the weapons and muscle strength of the Kindred of Rot. After doing everything, he finally mounted his warhorse, which kept snorting.
The Sages Town in front of him had already been destroyed; don't even think about finding more clues. Recalling the chaotic battle last night, Throne also felt a burst of sighing. The plan had suffered an accident, making the originally vague path suddenly clear. Because it was too clear, it conversely made one somewhat unable to come to their senses.
When in Stormveil, he knew clearly that the result was Godrick being defeated and licking feet, but Throne hadn't changed anything. One reason was that there was no reason, and second, what could he do if he changed it? Kneel on the ground and lick Godrick's feet instead?
Actually, Throne himself hadn't realized that ever since he arrived in The Lands Between, like a butterfly flapping its wings, many things were quietly changing.
Just like the situation in Liurnia being overturned, just like absorbing deathroot making the Erdtree faction feel an inexplicable threat, and even as small as rescuing Alexander—this small Pot Person changing his fate—he would also become another butterfly wing, stirring up the winds and clouds. Everything was like a chain reaction, having long since deviated from its original track.
At least I took the initiative. With a bit of gratification, Throne took out the doll. Because the spirit-calling ring had concealment capabilities, Ranni was somewhat confused after the 'camera' connected. "Where is this? Why are all the Kindred of Rot dead??"
Almost an instant response gave Throne a strange feeling, just like men and women in the throes of new love who would stare at their phones, immediately picking them up as soon as the chat software notification sounded. "You... wouldn't happen to have been waiting for the signal to connect the whole time, would you?"
...
After a long silence, just when Throne thought it was 'disconnected', a very dignified voice came into his mind:
"Don't think too much. I just set a magic spell so that it would wake up from its slumber after the doll returned to reality." "So you set an alarm, but why didn't it react the previous few times?" "That's because you were too slow-witted!!"
The princess reprimanded him with dignity, then changed the subject, "You haven't reported to me what happened yet." Throne's emotional intelligence was not high, but he could also tell that Your Highness Ranni was a bit impatient. While kicking the horse's belly, he replied:
"I have already met Radahn.
It was he who slaughtered all the Kindred of Rot here, and the matter in Sellia has also been successfully resolved." He took the opportunity to report what happened last night, which could be called detailed, and even put forward several conjectures as to why Radahn arrived in time. "It seems the war to crusade against the Dragon has ended, which is why he had time to come from the north.
If it weren't for your coercion, those Primeval Sorcerers would've launched their conspiracy after the war." Ranni's mind worked swiftly, piecing together the fragments of his words to uncover the core issue. No, they wouldn't have had the chance. Without me, they'd have been stabbed in the back by the Kindred of Rot.
Thorne grinned but kept the thought to himself. Dead men's tales held no interest for him. "In that case, the Redmane Army will march from the north to rendezvous. Let me calculate the timing." He paused, the map of Caelid unfolding in his mind. He factored in the forced march, considered the Haligtree Army, and arrived at his conclusion.
"They'll barely make it in time for the final clash." Strategically, the Haligtree Army now held the advantage of waiting at ease. The Redmane forces would be thrown into battle without rest. Malenia's hand was unmistakable in this. "It seems this battle is inevitable."
Ranni sighed, her voice firm. "I'll say it again: if you plan to leave, do it early. Don't expect me to mediate." "Impossible. I've already crossed paths with Radahn. Short of Radagon himself, no one can sway his resolve." Thorne smiled, brushing aside the idea of retreat.
You fool. You're determined to throw your life away, and I can't fathom how you, alone, could alter the course of this final battle. Ranni's frustration simmered beneath her composed exterior. "My knight, this is your choice. But I must ask—what is your opinion of Radahn?"
"A brave warrior. 'God of War' suits him better than 'General Radahn.' Beyond that..." Thorne paused, then chuckled. "He's far more straightforward than you."
Ranni, mid-nod, froze. "What right do you have to say that!" "Just a feeling," he replied with a laugh.
The autumn wind carried the sound of hooves, sharp and urgent. His laughter, light and careless, betrayed no concern for the battle that would decide the fate of The Lands Between.
Sellia recovered with startling speed. Though thirty percent of its buildings lay in ruins, the townsfolk returned within a day, clearing rubble while resuming their lives. Thorne finally understood why Caelid was dotted with fortresses and strongholds.
Monsters and demons erupted from the land at random, clashing with the people in chaotic battles that reduced towns to rubble. The scene before him was surreal. An inn, its roof blown off, had set up a tarp and reopened for business. A tavern, its structure obliterated, had become an open-air gathering. The owners greeted customers while clearing debris.
"These Caelid folk are oddly optimistic. Too lazy to even ask for news?" Thorne strolled across shattered stone steps. Overnight, the town seemed unchanged. The market opened as usual. The central plaza, once home to an exquisite fountain, was now a crater carved by Stars of Ruin.
He scanned the area. Except for a few stalls, everything remained intact. Too carefree. Thorne, who had turned Liurnia upside down, was at a loss for words. This was the difference in local customs. He glanced down at the bag hanging from his waist.
"Your Highness, if the people of Liurnia were this bold and open-minded, the Cuckoos wouldn't last a year."
"Your Highness, are you still watching?"
Still no response. Throne's persistence was impressive, like a needle stuck in a groove. Twelve attempts in, the princess was thoroughly fed up.
"I'm watching! Can't you keep it down?!" "You said to report everything. You're not mad, are you?" Throne smirked, recalling yesterday's teasing. Ranni's reactions had been sluggish ever since. "Hmph. Why would I be mad at you?" Her voice echoed faintly in his mind, dismissive. "And what's there to report, anyway? "The Lands Between is vast. Every region has its quirks."
Inside her magic tower, Ranni propped her head on her hand, bored. Watching Throne's mundane exploits was a waste of time. Still, she didn't dare sever the link. Her knight had a knack for finding trouble. One moment of inattention, and he'd be neck-deep in danger again.
"The final battle's approaching. Why aren't you preparing with Radahn? Why are you wandering around?" "The General's tidying up loose ends. He'll summon me soon." A pause. Then her voice cut through, sharp and incredulous. "Honorifics already? That was quick." "Ahem. My loyalty to Caria—and to Your Highness—is as clear as the sun and moon!"
"Don't try to play dumb." Ranni, thousands of miles away, shifted slightly. Her voice was ice, stripped of emotion. "Radahn's strength surpasses mine. His charisma is undeniable. If you switched sides, I'd understand."