The werewolf studied Melina with slow, deliberate focus. His nostrils flared at her scent. He already knew about the transaction. Now his pupils contracted to slits. "This Melina... she's not simple."
A dry chuckle. "Of course she isn't. Anything that can call spirits is tangled in deeper secrets. But she won't bite."
"Your judgment call." Blaidd's claws tapped the table. "Pass Her Highness' test and we're square."
Throne rubbed his stubble. "Why does that sound like an accusation?"
Blaidd leaned forward. "So. You woke in Limgrave. Infiltrated the Tarnished. Slew Godrick. Then... her?" His ears twitched toward Melina.
She opened her mouth—
The werewolf's growl cut her off.
"Coincidence." Throne shrugged. "She offered a deal. I was heading to Leyndell anyway." His thumb jerked toward Melina. "Turns out she's useful."
"Wise." Blaidd's tongue licked his fangs. "She reeks of those scheming little vipers from the capital."
Wine sloshed as he drained his cup. "All your carnage... none traces back to Her Highness?"
"Burner names. No Carian sigils left behind." Throne's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Unless you turn traitor."
Blaidd's laugh was all teeth. Impossible. Not after Throne severed ties with royalty, leaving his identity a bleeding wound.
Trace the blood trail? You'd find a nameless sorcerer. Anyone who could connect him to Caria was either corpse-cool or trustworthy. Sellen knew. Radahn might suspect. Neither would talk. Now Melina too. The Death Eater moldered in his grave. Raya Lucaria's turncoat was erased.
Now? Just a Carian knight on black ops.
Throne didn't leave loose ends. He moved like a scythe through wheat. Countless dead. Miles traveled. Yet the Erdtree's hounds still sniffed blind. Some truths required deduction—and deduction broke against Caria's dominion over half of Liurnia. Blaidd's nod held no doubt.
He knew this man's work. If Throne said the trail was cold, it was glacial. "But a giant can't hide among dwarves forever. They'll unmask you."
Throne's laugh boomed. "Let them." His fist hit the table. "When the Tarnished become lords, who do you think the Two Fingers will sic them on?"
Blaidd's silence was answer enough. His yellow eyes gleamed like dagger points.
Ranni had struck first against the Golden Order. Eliminating threats was inevitable. And Throne? He'd outpaced even Blaidd's ruthlessness. Just an assistant, while Throne and Her Highness were bound by shared ambition.
Blaidd's claws flexed. "Your play?"
"Kill."
Throne's gauntlet creaked as he clenched it. No masks now. Melina saw the raw hunger in him. "No treaties. No parleys. Just their blood. Their lives. Their Great Rune."
Sometimes his thoughts were very complex, so complex that Melina couldn't follow their labyrinthine turns. Other times they struck with the blunt simplicity of a headsman's axe. But he wasn't wrong. The victors feast. The losers rot. Hadn't the Lands Between always worked that way?
Blaidd's hackles rose. The air thickened with the copper promise of violence.
"That's right, there's no use thinking so much. Whoever it is, kill anyone who blocks the path! Use their bones to pave the upward staircase for Her Highness!" The werewolf liked this simple logic—at worst, he'd just get killed—and his eyes held gratification: "You are much stronger than before. I have no intention of prying into secrets, but it is truly enviable." This was sincere.
He still remembered when he first met Throne; this noob would probably have been scared to death by a howl of his, but now he could actually solo Godrick. Even if many tricks were used, those qualified to challenge a demigod were all renowned heroes. "You flatter me, I'm still a bit worse than you." Throne lifted his chin happily; he was indeed a little bit stronger than when he left Liurnia.
If the Tarnished saw him now, he would at least have a boss-level health bar. Plus, with many skills and a small size, they would probably suffer quite a bit. "Damn it, you're mocking me, right? Even those Tarnished couldn't possibly have your speed of getting stronger!" Blaidd punched Throne in the chest, unaware that he was thinking about how to be a good boss and torture others.
This punch was a bit heavy, making Throne wince, but he still retorted: "I'm not as fast as the Tarnished, just steadier than them." The biggest difference between the two was that Throne couldn't achieve qualitative change through quantitative change.
After killing Godrick, he had a vague feeling that ordinary knights were no longer of much use to him; at the very least, they had to be high-grade ones like Cleanrot Knights or Redmane Knights. Come to think of it, I can be considered a second-rate hero now, right? Once I digest this great rune, I can take another step up. By then, I should be able to take down Oleg in a righteous duel.
This had already entered the hall of mastery; at the very least, Carian Knights represented by Allen were no longer his match. The next step should be to kill those sorcerers. It's rare to see people who only add to 'Intelligence'. Then, go find Ranni to learn some high-level magic. If I had high-power magic like Comet Azur, Godrick would have been kited to death by me long ago.
Seeing Throne lost in thought, Blaidd knew he had gained some insight, so he didn't disturb him but turned his head to stare at Melina. The campfire crackled, and Throne, who had completely entered a state of self-forgetfulness, gazed inward, reciting the abilities he had painstakingly learned one by one.
Setting aside the sword skills brought from Ashina, in terms of martial arts, he had Storm Art and Bloodhound's Step, and even more, mid-tier Glintstone Sorcery and Night Sorcery, and he was proficient in the use of Gravity Magic. He even knew some Erdtree incantations taught by Melina, as well as a Dragon Heart for buffs. A pure hexagon warrior.
In others, this would be called "jack of all trades, master of none," but with the Ashina Style as the core, he could always combine them effectively, forming an effect where one plus one is greater than two. 'I didn't expect that I have already become so powerful. Melee, ranged, both are fine. Life-saving skills, burst finishers, I'm not lacking anything.
What remains is to use this as a foundation and continue to study in depth.'
Whether the Dragon Heart can turn into an Ancient Dragon Heart, whether this body, not inferior to a third-rate hero, can become a demigod body, and when Intelligence increases, whether those spells can reach the level of the professor. Moreover, the absorption of the great rune has no loss reduction.
When I slaughter all the demigods and digest them, what level can I stack up to? His heart began to pound. Throne seemed to see a monster, a monster that integrated all factions in The Lands Between, with attack, evasion, burst, and control all maxed out. "It seems you are suddenly full of confidence." Blaidd finally ended the staring contest with Melina, his face full of gratification.
With his keen eyes, he could naturally tell that while he could suppress Throne in martial arts and physical fitness, if the latter got close, he could use other bonus items to crush him in a dazzling way. "Yeah, I feel like I'm on the right path. While specializing in one area is fast, it lacks variety. If I encounter an enemy who can overwhelm me in that area, I can only surrender."
Throne lifted his head, his eyes filled with confidence. Under the same conditions, Oleg couldn't kill Godrick, but I can. This is the benefit of having many skills; others will never know how you will strike. "Don't be too arrogant. After returning to Caria, settle down properly. I have seen too many geniuses fall because they were impetuous." Blaidd advised calmly. "I will.
Liurnia doesn't lack sparring partners." Throne laughed. Those damn sorcerers and Cuckoo Knights, it was time to settle the score. "By the way, I have a spirit-calling ring here, but I can't open it." He took out the ring he got from Godrick. He had tried it before, but there was no reaction. "I don't understand this thing. When you go back, ask Her Highness. Let's discuss your problem first."
Blaidd suddenly took out an ugly mask from his bosom very seriously. AI Model: gemini-3.0-flash
"What is this?" Throne's attention shifted instantly; the energy fluctuations from this thing felt somewhat familiar. "Looks familiar, doesn't it? You used to have something similar, though it was much more refined." I had one too? Throne thought for a moment, and his expression suddenly froze.
Could this be... "That's right. I forgot to tell you just now—our entire conversation," Blaidd paused deliberately, "I've been broadcasting it to Her Highness the whole time." Throne was stunned, his eyes slowly widening. Fine, Blaidd, you honest-looking werewolf, you're secretly plotting against me too!... Caria Manor, Three Sisters. At the top of the tallest white tower was a small bedroom.
No bed was in sight, but books were piled everywhere. A doll sat majestically on a high-backed chair, her eyes snapping open. "That annoying Throne.! If Blaidd hadn't happened to run into him, I wouldn't even know if he was dead or alive!" With a flick of her hand, frost froze the pages of a book.
Still fuming, Ranni hopped off the high-backed chair and paced back and forth in the center of the room. After waking up, he didn't report his safety immediately. Instead, he's been living leisurely in Limgrave. Doesn't he know how hard I've worked to find him all these years? Oh, it seems he really didn't know. But as a knight, he shouldn't let his monarch worry.
Reporting in with all haste should be his most important task. Uh, but he did achieve a great feat by killing Godrick, and that opportunity couldn't be missed. It seems slightly more important than reporting in. Ranni froze in the middle of the room, her four hands clenching and unclenching.
Sometimes being too intelligent wasn't a good thing; the clash between logic and emotion could feel like a mental split. Some relief, some joy, and some powerless rage—all sorts of strange feelings mixed in her heart. The sensation was quite uncomfortable, but a thousand words condensed into one sentence—
"Curse you, Throne.. You've brought shame upon me the moment you woke up."
Throne would probably burst into tears if he heard this. I didn't want this, I didn't know anything, why am I taking the blame? However, the words 'taking the blame' weren't in Ranni's heart. Setting aside her demigod majesty, she was extremely happy about Throne's resurrection. But as she thought about it, her attention involuntarily shifted to another person. "Melina? She doesn't seem simple.
The aura radiating from her suggested a connection. Could the other have taken an interest in Throne as well? Her Highness was cunning, a strategist of unparalleled brilliance. She wouldn't fall for something as flimsy as an "amnesia" excuse. Among countless Tarnished, she had singled out Throne. That alone spoke volumes. And Throne had already proven his worth.
Was she using Throne to target the Erdtree? He'd said, "After killing Godrick, her attitude changed." Did that mean Godrick was just a test? Ranni's suspicions deepened with every thought. She even theorized that someone had orchestrated a plot against the Roundtable Hold—all for a test of this magnitude.
She suspected Throne hadn't been entirely truthful about his first encounter with Melina, withholding critical details. This irked her more than his failure to report his safety. She moved to the window, the sea breeze from the west coast brushing through her ghostly blue hair.
War Counselor Iji sat cross-legged at the tower's base, seemingly asleep. Around him, powerful figures lay hidden, their presence cloaked in shadow. The Three Sisters remained heavily guarded, blades at the ready for any threat from the darkness. "Godrick was a direct descendant of the Golden Lineage. And yet, you remain as cold-hearted as ever."
Ranni's gaze drifted, as if recalling events from a distant past. Slowly, a smile crept across her face. "I'm sorry, but I won't let you have your way this time. Throne is my knight."
Leyndell, Roundtable Hold. The innermost chamber was now under strict guard. Confessors in long robes and Leyndell Knights clad in golden armor secured the building. Not even a fly could slip through. Nobles, regardless of their status, stood at the foot of the steps, their faces a mix of awe and apprehension as they gazed up at the solemn structure. News of Godrick's death had already arrived.
The nobles masked their shock with forced jubilation, their hearts pounding in their chests. A true demigod had fallen—and at the hands of a Tarnished, no less. The implications were staggering. For the seasoned elders, the intelligence buried within this news was overwhelming. Which Tarnished had done it? Did this mark their official emergence onto the stage of The Lands Between?
How should Limgrave's situation be handled? Each question was enough to fuel heated debates among the great families for days. As for why they had gathered here—it was simple.
Lord Morgott, elusive as ever, was set to meet with the Two Fingers today. Was this a questioning? A compromise? Or perhaps the forging of a new agreement?
Every word exchanged between these two figures would shape the future of The Lands Between. If Morgott weren't so notoriously difficult to approach, the palace's threshold would've been worn thin by now. Countless high nobles would remind him that the laws of the ancestors were immutable, and that the power vacuum in Limgrave could only be filled by the nobility.
The clamor outside failed to penetrate the building's deepest sanctum. There was no heated debate, as the nobles had imagined. Morgott simply sat on a high-backed chair, his gaze fixed on the immense Two Fingers across from him. Besides the two of them, only Enia, the petite yet formidable Finger Reader Crone, was present. Morgott's brown cloak concealed nearly every inch of his skin.
Sitting motionless, he was indeed filled with kingly majesty. The Fingers twitched gently, as if speaking. Enia, ever the professional, stood straight-backed, gripping her strange staff. Her voice was devoid of emotion as she repeated, "Lord Morgott, the matter in Limgrave has reached its conclusion. Godrick is dead, and his great rune has been seized."
"I'm aware, but the Roundtable Hold wasn't responsible." "Correct. Gideon admitted failure. It seems the great rune fell into the hands of an unknown Tarnished." Morgott's brow tightened. A joke? He'd endured immense pressure to give the Roundtable Hold the chance to kill Godrick, and they'd failed.
Not only had they lost Oleg, but the great rune's location was now a mystery. All his effort, wasted.
"Are you certain Gideon Ofnir didn't lie?"
"Certain. We're waiting for this so-called hero. A great rune can't be used without activation through a Divine Tower. Sooner or later, they'll reveal themselves."
Enia spoke, but the Fingers seemed unfinished, their silence heavy with unspoken concern. If the Tarnished who claimed the great rune avoided the Divine Tower, the consequences would be dire. It wasn't just the Tarnished and the Golden Lords who sought the great runes; ancient forces lingered near the towers, their intentions clear.
Morgott felt no such worry. As the Grace-Given King, his duties were clear.
"Godrick is dead. What happens to Stormveil and Limgrave?"
The Lands Between wasn't yet the apocalypse of the Tarnished's return. A power vacuum this large couldn't be ignored.
You couldn't kill a demigod, seize a great rune, and simply walk away.
"Gideon has a plan."
Enia stood, handing Morgott a letter with practiced respect. Such matters didn't require the Fingers' direct involvement. Morgott took it, his frown deepening as he scanned the contents.
As expected, Gideon proposed the Tarnished fill the void. Legally, they'd killed Godrick and conquered Limgrave, granting them the right to claim it—provided the other Golden Lords didn't interfere. Gideon's request was measured, humble even.
The Tarnished had awakened too soon. They weren't strong enough to become Elden Lord. Even defeating the weakest demigod had drained them entirely.