"This Baleful Shadow is monstrous." "Nonsense. It's a born killer—even defies demigods." Throne clenched his jaw. If the Two Fingers were truly powerless, Ranni wouldn't be holed up in her magic tower, too afraid to step outside her manor. This thing had to die. If more Baleful Shadows allied with the Black Knives, Caria wouldn't stand a chance.
A sharp whistle cut through the air.
A figure emerged from the dust, blood dripping from its chest and abdomen despite the crimson tears it had consumed.
"Cover me."
"Got it."
Melina lunged forward, her movements razor-sharp. Her fighting style mirrored an assassin's—swift, precise, deadly. Perfect for countering the enemy's sweeping strikes.
She sidestepped the blade's arc, circling to the side. Her dagger gripped in a reverse hold, she aimed for the wolf-man's throat. The greatsword swung back at her, but instead of retreating, she pressed closer. She slipped into the wolf-man's blind spot, grabbed its wrist, and bent low. With a fluid motion, she executed a shoulder throw.
Thud.
The wolf-man hit the ground, its body bouncing slightly. Melina didn't rush in for the kill. Dozens of golden ripples bloomed in the air around her.
Golden Piercer.
"Nice job."
Throne watched the wolf-man roll to dodge the floating cannons. His gaze flicked to the black ball rolling past. His eyes glowed gold.
"Your turn!"
He leapt, twisted mid-air, and drove his leg into a back kick.
Wham!
The sphere shot forward, accelerating with a rumble. Melina's relentless incantations kept the Baleful Shadow pinned, denying it any chance to recover.
The black ball surged from behind her. The enemy batted away a golden spear and leapt over it. In an instant, it closed the distance.
Melina didn't flinch. Her dagger ignited a golden mist of fire, incinerating anything it touched. But a red-and-black swordlight cleaved through it in a single stroke.
The Baleful Shadow pressed in, its face blank, its killing intent boiling. Ahead, the thrusting greatsword; behind, the rumbling black ball. Melina's expression remained impassive as she vanished.
Whoosh—
The greatsword stabbed empty air. The Baleful Shadow froze, catching sight of the black ball hurtling toward it at full speed.
Crash!
The impact sent its body spinning, blood spraying in an arc. The black ball had surpassed its limits—even it couldn't stop it. Throne tossed aside the flask of cerulean tears and raised his hand. A long spear materialized in his grip. A purple flash, then a deep blue enchantment. His golden eyes locked on the falling arc.
The ground cracked beneath him. He'd leapt too hard. The spear shot forward, wrapped in layers of shrieking white air currents, its deep blue magic entwined with dragon power.
Storm Assault.
Gravity Magic. Glintstone Sorcery.
Whoosh—
A pale shockwave exploded in front of Throne.
A blue meteor streaked through the cavernous hall, bursting into sparks mid-air. Too fast to follow. The greatsword blocked its chest like a shield. The Baleful Shadow watched the spear, its body forced back until—
Bang!
It slammed into the ceiling. The peak of Nokstella bulged under the force.
The Tarnished on the outskirts all looked up, only to see a star flying toward the 'night sky.'
"What is that?"
The Knight of the Bloody Finger stared, mouth agape. He didn't know the full scope of the mission, but the chaos was unnerving.
"It... looks like a person."
Rogier sprinted back, desperate to save his friend. He muttered under his breath, then froze as gasps rippled through the crowd. What kind of monster could launch a person that high? The Tarnished outside the city watched helplessly as the star soared to its peak before gravity clawed it back down.
Their eyes locked on the sky. Another light flashed—silver armor glinting faintly against the darkness. "Hopeless," someone whispered. Throne stood suspended in the starry void, the Eternal City sprawling beneath him, its false stars shimmering above. Hundreds of Tarnished and sorcerers watched from afar. The galaxy burned bright, and the blade in his hand gleamed like frost.
The Baleful Shadow wasn't dead yet. It struggled to raise its sword, but in the air, strength deserted it. "This isn't your call anymore," Throne said, voice cold as steel.
The girl appeared beside the Baleful Shadow like a specter, her blade deflecting its massive sword. Throne didn't hesitate. Starfall Slash. His lithe frame suddenly weighed ten times heavier. The icy blade cleaved toward the enemy's head, a meteor streaking through the night. In the eyes of the Tarnished, it vanished in an instant.
Blood blossomed in the air like a crimson flower. Inside the pitch-black hall, the shattered black sphere stood frozen. Throne landed with a crash, the impact carving a crater into the floor. Starlight spilled through the hole, illuminating the man half-kneeling on the ground and the girl standing beside him.
A wet thud echoed as the cleaved corpse hit the floor, dust swirling around it. Throne leaned on his sword, glanced back, and smirked. "See? Dead."
The hall brightened as starlight poured in. The silver knight, the pool of blood, and the girl beside him formed a haunting tableau. The mutilated corpse crumbled into ash, eerie and silent. Throne crouched, his brow furrowed, then relaxed. This thing wasn't ordinary. No wonder it had been so hard to kill.
Its physical strength was immense, yet what Throne had drained from it was pure faith power. "It's dead," Melina said, her tone matter-of-fact. "If it weren't, I'd be running." "Then why aren't you getting up?" Throne's mouth twitched. He stayed silent, pulling out a flask of crimson tears and downing it in one gulp.
Falling from that height without Radahn's resilience had shattered both his legs. Even with Gravity Magic cushioning the impact, he was broken. But now wasn't the time to show weakness. "Go. Bring me that sword." "Why don't you get it yourself?" "Excuse me?" Melina sighed, trudged over, and yanked the greatsword from the ground.
The blade still flickered with red and black flames, though weaker now. She handed it to Throne, who took it gingerly, as if it were coated in poison. "So this thing can be consumed? Where do they even get more? They can't exactly go looking for Maliketh the Black Blade, can they?" Throne examined the greatsword, noting its resemblance to Blaidd's Royal Greatsword. Tainted by Destined Death, it wasn't mass-produced. Even with countless Baleful Shadows, they couldn't each have one.
"Guess I just cleared a major headache for Ranni," he chuckled.
He'd done it backward, hadn't he? Radahn should've been first, then deeper into the fray. Instead, the Starscourge General still lived, unharmed, while a Baleful Shadow had been his first kill. No helping it—when enemies crossed paths, they didn't wait to be slaughtered on schedule.
Besides, it was early yet. More Baleful Shadows lurked. Whether the Two Fingers knew who'd killed this one hardly mattered. They were fated enemies. No reason to hold back.
Clatter, clatter—urgent footsteps echoed from outside. The Night Maiden entered, flanked by dozens of swordsmen. Her gaze swept the chaotic hall, landing on Throne half-kneeling on the ground. Her heart leapt into her throat. Relief washed over her when she spotted the intact treasure chest holding the sacred relic.
"You've already killed it?" "Mhm. Have the Tarnished withdrawn too?" Throne shot Melina a glance. She hurried over with a chair, its leg broken.
Annelina's orange-yellow eyes widened as she noticed the girl. "Wait, her aura—"
"Don't ask. Don't say anything. Just know she's my companion."
Throne's voice cut cold and final. He sat on the broken high-backed chair, his presence deep as the sea.
Surrounded by ruins, blood still fresh on his blade, Throne exuded a mountain-like pressure without effort. Burning bridges wasn't an option. The aura was repulsive, but beneath the glinting sword, the maiden swallowed her aversion. Still, her eyes flicked toward Melina. Impossible.
How had she come to the Eternal City? There had to be a connection, but how could someone tied to her serve as a Carian Knight's maid? Annelina's thoughts churned. Her gaze toward Throne shifted, tinged with respect. Knowing Astel, commanding such a mysterious maid—could he truly be the Carian King Consort?
Throne didn't care for her respect. Without a Baleful Shadow's head, his words held little weight. Let the Nox think what they would.
The maiden composed herself. "Yes, the Tarnished have withdrawn. They fled straight back to the Main Stream."
"No surprise. Once they realized Nokstella had a powerhouse rivaling a Dragonkin Soldier, they had no reason to keep fighting."
Throne nodded. That strike hadn't been earth-shattering, but it cooled the Tarnished's fervor. Everyone came seeking fortune—why risk their lives against a powerhouse?
"This isn't over. More Baleful Shadows will come. Their backers will double down." The maiden inhaled softly. The alliance between Caria and Nokstella wouldn't stay hidden long. She had no way back.
"I understand. I'll follow your arrangements for what comes next." "Good. None of us have a way back." Throne rose slowly. His knees, which had felt like they'd been pierced by arrows, had mostly recovered.
"I'll report immediately. We need to move before they react." "In such a hurry?"
Throne didn't answer. Nokstella had been a bystander caught in the crossfire. Now that he understood their goal, the crisis wouldn't end without securing the Dark Moon Ring.
As for his tardiness, the Baleful Shadow's head would suffice as an apology.
He walked forward in silence. Annelina hurried after him.
"Sir, at least let us escort you out."
I thought you'd offer treasure as thanks. So stingy.
Throne rolled his eyes. He couldn't embarrass Caria. He waved a hand dismissively.
"No need."
"No one's stopping me from leaving." He changed into his robe and rapier as he walked. The shift was seamless, his excuse already prepared. The Nox exchanged glances. They'd only known this Carian Knight for two days at most—silent, fierce. They didn't dare press further.
"Sister, what's on your mind?"
A swordsman approached the maiden. She pulled off her headscarf, revealing a face identical to hers—twins. The maiden didn't respond. Her gaze stayed fixed on the two retreating figures, lost in thought.
"I was thinking… if only the Eternal City had a King like that." Her voice carried a quiet lament. The swordsman beside her felt a pang of envy.
Outside the Eternal City, chaos reigned. The Dragonkin Soldier roared at the sky. Near the gaping hole it had smashed through, thin, mushroom-like shadows peeked out. They watched the dust rising from Nokstella's peak, murmuring the same words.
"That's… Gravity Magic."
Throne preferred leisure when there was nothing to do. But once he set his sights on a goal, his efficiency was unmatched. He left Nokstella without wasting a second. The Tarnished were still mid-retreat, their speed beyond reason.
When Throne blended into the crowd, the Tarnished mistook him for one of their own—a brave soul who'd stayed behind to cover the retreat. Scattered applause broke out around him.
The Academy sorcerers and Tarnished retreated all the way to the waterfall elevator, fortifying their defenses at the base. The Nox's distinct look made infiltration impossible. But among hundreds of Tarnished in varied attire, who could spot him?
Whispers buzzed everywhere. They debated Nokstella's powerhouses, its wealth. Occasionally, a sneer cut through—those who earned riches but wouldn't live to spend them.
Throne found a corner and sat. His gaze settled on the Academy sorcerers. Those glintstone crowns made them stand out. Beyond the squads of marionette soldiers, he noticed something unusual. Only a dozen or so.
Silver skin, bald heads—not slow and gelatinous like the Silver Tears.
'New combat weapons?'
Throne pulled his hood lower. He'd seen these before. Their bodies were weapons—arms shifting into blades, shields.
They had extremely high resistance to physical attacks, and there seemed to be a metal skeleton inside, making them quite fast. The more he looked, the more they resembled 'Terminators.' Whatever. He'd more or less achieved his initial goal.