Tina knew herself too well—connect the dots, and any ruthless actor would've silenced her by now.
"Lord Isshin."
Vyke's boots crunched over gravel as he approached, the tension in his jaw loosening just enough for a bow.
"Thanks to you."
"Is she alright?"
"Tina performed an incantation. Crimson tears stabilized her."
The words came out clipped.
"Massive blood loss, but no mortal danger."
It was the only scrap of comfort in this wreckage. His smile felt like cracked pottery.
"I don't know how to thank you. But why are you here?"
"Seems you've been hunting me across Limgrave."
Throne leaned against the Minor Erdtree, indifferent to the possibility of it stirring to crush him.
"On Sir's orders. We've swept every inch. Even posted guards at the Divine Tower."
As expected. Throne's masked face tilted. Now you've got too many targets to chase. Let's see you juggle that.
He flicked a dismissive hand.
"My business can wait. What's your move?"
The question punched through Vyke's ribs. His fists clenched, knuckles bleaching white.
"Find the truth. Then blood."
Throne watched the tremor in the youth's shoulders and shook his head.
"No need to dig. I'll gift you the answer. Who commands Round Table Assassins for black ops?"
"Sir Gideon Ofnir!"
Vyke recoiled from his own answer.
"No—that's impossible. He wouldn't. I don't—"
Gideon had been his lodestar: the wise mentor who burned midnight oil for the Tarnished cause. The man who'd patiently explained celestial mechanics over campfire smoke.
Betrayal. How trite. Throne's laugh was a dry blade drawn across stone.
He knew Gideon's true face—the puppeteer who saw living souls as chess pieces.
"Reality's ugly. Crepus and Ensha died by my hand. They weren't errand boys."
He let the words hang like executioner's rope.
"That's your architect."
Tina flinched. The air turned gelid.
The unknown terrified most. By every metric, Gideon shouldn't be the culprit—yet here they stood, evidence strangling doubt.
"Vyke."
Tina's voice wavered.
"Will you confront him?"
"Suicide."
His pupils were pinpricks.
"If he did this, my answer's simple."
He locked onto Throne, each syllable a hammer strike.
"Leave Limgrave. Return only when I'm strong enough to demand answers."
Throne's slow claps echoed like distant gunfire. Good. Fury without blindness. Understanding power's primacy. The boy had spine.
"Still insufficient."
He let the applause die.
"Your absence costs Gideon nothing. You'll never breach his defenses. He'll brand you a traitor, try you in absentia. Then you're just another strongish Tarnished with a bounty."
Vyke's exile would mean one more thorn in Gideon's side—and one less pawn for Throne.
The youth was stunned; it really was like that. If he just walked away, the corpses of those Tarnished would be draped around his neck like a noose.
"Then what's your play?"
Throne turned. His finger carved a line through the mist toward Stormveil's jagged silhouette.
"Go back. That's how you become a threat worth negotiating with."
Vyke's ability to become a hero of the Round Table was partly due to the credit Throne had handed him, and partly because Sir Gideon Ofnir was doing his best to promote him. However, unlike those idols in the entertainment industry who would blow away at a puff of wind, Vyke, as an idol, truly had real power and status; he wasn't some plaything of capital.
Therefore, Sir Gideon Ofnir had to pick an opportunity before he dared to move against Eina, and it had to be a certain kill to cover up the truth. That way, all the blame would be carried by the Death Eater. Vyke would, with bloodshot eyes, slaughter all evil, becoming the sharpest blade among the Tarnished and clearing the fog for him.
Of course, at this moment, the honest youth hadn't thought of that much. He repeated Throne's words over and over, finally getting some inkling.
"You want me to go back and lead a rebellion?"
"That's not necessary, and it has nothing to do with me."
Throne shook his head. This guy had good perception, but in some aspects, he was similar to Melina.
"Then what am I going back for?"
Vyke was a bit confused.
"To seek the truth, to accumulate power. Remember, you are only considered a hero among the Tarnished; away from them, your power is insignificant."
These words were profound. Vyke didn't grasp them, but Tina clearly understood. She took a step forward, and as a Finger Maiden with transcendent status, she immediately drew the attention of the two men.
According to the doctrine, she should have killed the two men and then committed suicide; this was the so-called spirit of devotion.
"I won't go as far as to sacrifice myself for a mistake. No matter how much one talks of righteousness, these methods are ultimately evil, and evil should be denounced."
With one sentence, she defined the matter.
Vyke also relaxed slightly, as he hadn't known how to face this maiden.
"You see through it clearly."
Throne nodded in approval. The most annoying phrase in the world was 'I'm doing this for your own good.' "A person's path must be walked by themselves. Not even parents or friends have the right to interfere, because at the end of every path, there might be an abyss or a smooth road. At least one won't regret a path they chose themselves."
This was Throne's obsession and the source of his motivation that had brought him this far. Tina gave a slight bow and explained, "What this lord means is that you don't have to believe his words; you only need to remain vigilant and find the answers yourself."
It was all just speculation.
Vyke wasn't stupid either and immediately recalled why the bodies had to be destroyed earlier.
"Lord Isshin, could it be that you..."
"Yes, everything started because of me. I killed all those people, and the two of them were lucky enough to escape with their lives."
Throne had plenty of experience in taking the blame and had made a complete plan.
"Who... who would believe that?"
"He will believe it, and he must believe it. Otherwise, how can he explain why the Round Table Assassins came here?"
Throne countered, his voice full of amusement. He liked using overt schemes. Even if Sir Gideon Ofnir knew Vyke had issues, what could he do?
The latter was no longer a Tarnished who could be wiped out at will; this Tarnished idol he had personally promoted had formed his own faction.
"Sir Gideon Ofnir cannot cover the sky with one hand. There are also voices of dissatisfaction among the Tarnished. He will be wary of you, but he cannot kill you. He must take this way out."
"Of course, this is dangerous. Make your own decision. To confront Sir Gideon Ofnir directly—even I don't have full confidence. If it really doesn't work, I'll send you out of Limgrave, and we'll part ways here."
Power is a double-edged sword, which is why Throne refused to ascend to a high position. If the same thing happened to him, he would absolutely not hold his nose and admit it; he would only draw his sword and start killing.
But Sir Gideon Ofnir wouldn't; he had too many assets he needed to preserve. Vyke fell silent. These words did seem to have some truth to them, and this Lord Isshin was truly straightforward, not taking the opportunity to deceive him. The truth needed to be found by oneself, and when the truth came to light, the gathered prestige would be the best weapon.
Besides—
I clearly did nothing, so why should I take the blame and become a traitor! Justice and righteousness burned fiercely in his heart. Vyke knew that whether in power or strategy, the gap between himself and Sir Gideon Ofnir was too vast, but wasn't a so-called hero supposed to fight against evil?
"No matter how insidious or powerful he is, I believe justice resides in the hearts of the people."
Vyke's face was full of the romantic colors of an idealist, making it impossible for Throne to mock him. He actually agreed. These idealists are truly admirable; I clearly already explained the dangers to him. Throne's thoughts were simple and realistic.
He needed someone to split the Tarnished from within and dismantle their cohesion. Whether it succeeded or not had no impact on him; it was just a casual move on the board. How could he allow others to sleep soundly beside his bed? Throne would never permit the Two Fingers' sharp blade to be pressed against the soft underbelly of Caria.
Playing hard to get—Vyke and Tina both couldn't figure out what this person's goal was. Reasonably speaking, no one helps for nothing, so they exchanged a glance, and finally, Vyke asked:
"Lord Isshin, I want to know exactly what you are doing?"
"Are you curious?"
"Yes, you are the person I find most unfathomable." Vyke replied solemnly.
Elusive as a divine dragon, occasionally appearing only to help him, with no relation between them—he truly couldn't figure it out.
"Perhaps, I dislike tragedies, and I don't wish to see a hero in his twilight years."
Throne spoke in riddles. Of course, it was impossible to state clearly that he intended to take down the Erdtree, but in his heart of hearts, he had come to accept this youth.
Even if they became opponents, it should be a battle with real blades and spears, rather than facing a chaotic person scorched by the Frenzied Flame. Winning like that would yield no sense of accomplishment. While Vyke was still deep in thought, the figure of the man before him had already begun to fade, turning into strands of starlight that scattered with the wind.
"Until we meet again. I hope that next time we meet, we can open our hearts to each other. We can decide then whether we are friends or foes."
"Wait!"
Tina suddenly took a step forward. Due to the urgency of time, she only managed to ask: "Are you him?"
Those indifferent deep blue eyes swept over, and a few words vanished into the wind.
"Perhaps I am."
The maiden reached out to grab, but only caught a few particles that vanished from her palm like shifting sand, which she then slowly withdrew to her chest. Mystery and eeriness were now at their peak. The woods returned to silence, with only Tragoth's roar coming from the distance. The youth turned his head stiffly.
"So you know him too?"
"I'm not sure."
Tina also shook her head blankly, her heart full of regret as she still had many questions unasked.
"However, one thing is certain: he is helping you, even if he might gain some benefits from you."
No one was a fool. This Isshin didn't look like Vyke's half-brother either, but some things were simple: even if one knew they were being used, they still had to do it.
"It's just like last time. I became the hero and he obtained the great rune. It's like an invisible hand pushing me forward."
"I understand your doubts, but are you willing to take Eina and become a street rat like those Those Who Live in Deaths?"
Without even needing to think, Vyke shook his head firmly. He had a stubborn personality and would rather die than take the blame.
"Then that's that. Just do as you think best. Even if this confuses the Great Two Fingers, it aligns with His teachings."
The Finger Maiden, who had also narrowly escaped with her life, had a clear stance and was not a foolish person who repaid evil with kindness. Since even a delicate girl said so, Vyke didn't bother thinking further. He picked up Eina and gripped his war spear.
"Perhaps this is what they call a win-win. Let's return to the battlefield first. Tragoth is trustworthy; he can be the witness to this matter!"
.........
Throne hadn't gone far. He watched with his own eyes as Vyke took the Finger Maiden back to the battlefield, where they happened to meet Tragoth, who had returned after losing his target. The two sides embraced, seemingly celebrating their survival after the ordeal.
Meanwhile, hundreds of Tarnished were cleaning up the battlefield. They weren't a bunch of brainless NPCs either; most were whispering among themselves, as if they had discovered that the whole affair wasn't that simple. The seeds of doubt had been sown.
Just like the shattered corpses of the Black Knife Assassins on the ground, Sir Gideon Ofnir could not explain it away no matter what, and this way out would be handed to him by Vyke, and he would have to grit his teeth and take it.
"This is what they call being outwardly harmonious but inwardly divided. Let them slowly pit their wits against each other. No matter who wins or loses, it's good news for Caria." Throne smiled coldly and leaped down from the treetop. Although he still hadn't met Sir Gideon Ofnir, he had won another round. The Tarnished still had no king. Theoretically, Sir Gideon Ofnir and Vyke had the same status. When distrust fermented, it would cause the Roundtable Hold to split, and a solid fortress is often breached from within.
If I can defeat the enemy without fighting, why should I lead troops to bump against the iron walls of Stormveil? Throne's mind was very clear. He had never considered the vast number of Tarnished as enemies; the only enemies were those Tarnished under the command of the Two Fingers. When the Round Table Assassins were mostly killed off, Sir Gideon Ofnir lost an arm.
When Vyke split the Round Table, his strategic brilliance would have nowhere to be applied. If Ofnir relied only on brute force, no matter how strong he was, Throne would welcome it. Speaking with a blade is the simplest thing; what's difficult is how to make the enemy only able to speak with a blade. Throne walked out of the Mistwood and saw Melina from afar, wearing her black and white attire.
She was standing quietly below the cliff, with no signs of battle.
"Playing hide-and-seek was fun, wasn't it?"
Throne smiled as he went to meet her, reaching out to take the doll and illusory mask the girl threw to him.
"Not really. Those idiots were too easy to shake off." Melina said so, but there was actually a smile at the corners of her mouth.
She had encountered at least two or three hundred Tarnished in pursuit—a veritable dragnet. However, Torrent jumped down a cliff and immediately vanished. Then she took off the mask and immediately spiritualized, hiding in the doll while watching a group of Tarnished search every inch of the ground.
Afterward, Melina revealed her true form again and walked openly through more than a dozen blockades. After all, no one would equate a greatsword-wielding hunk with a delicate young girl; this was something that couldn't be solved by just a disguise. Escaping safely from the enemy's encirclement made the Kindling Maiden quite happy.
Of course, she immediately suppressed her smile and countered: "Weren't you the same?"
"Heh heh, this is the joy of being a 'camper'. You could say we're two of a kind."
"Who's two of a kind with you!"
Melina's dull face immediately became lively. She coughed lightly and quickly resumed her wooden state.
"What's the next step? Are we going to find those Those Who Live in Deaths?"
"A waste of time. Let them rot in the Siofra River. With tensions this high, they won't dare show their faces."
Throne spread his hands, grinning.
"We're just passing through."
Passing through? After digging mass graves and slaughtering the Round Table Assassins along the way?
Melina exhaled, mourning Sir Gideon Ofnir silently. Throne defied description—a virtuoso of chaos, if nothing else. He said nothing, just ran his thumb along the braided cord of his sword hilt. Half a month in Limgrave, and every move had been casual, effortless.
It had taken no longer than mindless travel would have. Yet he'd danced with death, fractured the Round Table, and pried loose secrets about Caelid. Most crucially—
He'd redirected the storm, shielding Ranni from the worst of it.
Throne peeled off the white mask, revealing his true face. The black robe followed, discarded like a shed skin. He shrugged into a blue tunic layered over leather armor, the fabric dyed deep indigo, stitched with patterns that whispered of distant lands. His sword hung light as a reed; his gaze lifted like a hawk's.
This was the "Warrior" starter set, but on Throne, it looked inevitable—a second skin. His smile softened, almost unassuming.
"Move out. Caelid's where the real spectacle begins."
Limgrave had been a backroad. Eastward, the air already reeked of blood and legend.