Throne burst out of the hole, his eyes sweeping around, a smile playing on his lips. Oh, are they that enthusiastic? More than a dozen Rotten Strays were scattered everywhere, and several dark figures circled in the sky. Their bodies were decayed, and their heads were enormous. Weren't these the Rotten Giant Crows that made the Tarnished suffer?
Logically, Rotten creatures rarely act in groups, so this was clearly not just a matter of bad luck. Kill them all. Throne leaped over the splashing corpses, a magic crest appearing on his left hand. Night Comet swept across the sky like a machine gun. Whoosh whoosh whoosh—
The black magic was almost invisible in the night. Two clumps of flesh exploded in the air on the spot.
The remaining Giant Crows and Strays were startled and converged from all directions. If it were Throne ten years ago, he would definitely avoid their sharp edge, but now he merely lifted his foot and clenched his palm.
"Scram!"
The fierce wind reversed, sending these Rotten creatures flying backward. Even if they were infected with rot, they were still just a group of animals.
They tumbled on the ground, and before they could get up, putrid blood burst from their bodies, looking like a magic trick. Limbs were severed, black feathers splattered. Two Giant Crows ignored their cut-open abdomens, spread their wings, and charged furiously along the ground, thrusting their heads forward. The swordsman didn't move, his azure eyes simply watching them.
Then, at about five meters, both bird heads suddenly detached from their bodies. The unbalanced headless bodies flapped a couple of steps before sliding to the ground. Throne opened his hand and grasped the returning Moonveil. Reality had no health bars; how could mere flesh and blood withstand a 'flying sword' strike?
Swish—
He flicked his right hand, shaking off the putrid blood, then slowly bent his knees.
"You came, why leave now?"
Nothing could be seen in his vision, but Melina had already told him the result. With a gentle tap, he vanished without a trace, only the bare branches swaying back and forth.
Hundreds of meters away, Melina stood beside several corpses, the Black Knife in her hand still dripping blood. She expressionlessly looked up at several shrimp-like Kindred of Rot in the distance, who were on guard with spears. It was too eerie. That short dagger only needed a gentle stab, and a noble Kindred of Rot would die on the spot, barely even shedding blood.
They communicated silently, then suddenly raised their long spears, and countless spiderwebs surged forth. The biggest difference between animals and creatures is intelligence, and the Kindred of Rot were clearly some kind of creature. They obviously knew they had to trap their opponent to kill them.
Melina bent down, about to dodge, when she suddenly felt a strong gust of wind from above, and a 'comet' fell in front of her. It landed silently, only the sweeping sword edge severing all the spider silk. Throne stood there, turned his head, and said,
"Idiot, this thing tracks. You'll regret it if you get tangled."
Melina was stunned for a moment, but felt no gratitude for the help.
She frowned and snapped, "You broke your word?"
"Ah? Sorry, I called you an idiot again." Throne smiled, then suddenly threw Moonveil. The long sword spun and plunged into the forehead of a Kindred of Rot trying to turn back and report, sending the ugly body crashing to the ground. Buzz... Moonveil floated up, reflecting the moonlight after the Night Sorcery faded.
The other Kindred of Rot watched, their segmented limbs swaying back and forth, which was this peculiar creature's expression of 'fear'.
"Can you speak human language?"
Throne glanced at them, then after a few seconds, shook his head slightly, "Looks like you can't. Then please, do as you wish."
Blood splattered as he leaped, the sound of blades cutting flesh was continuous, and the trembling of segmented limbs was fierce at first, then fell silent.
"Killed them all so quickly?"
Lansseax walked over, as if admiring new clothes in a shop window.
"You didn't think I'd have a tough fight, did you?"
Throne put away his sword exasperatedly. Strength was strength.
He hated it when he was cool and invincible one moment, then thrashed by grunts the next. Just some beasts, easily swept away.
"But you're getting stronger."
Melina suddenly interjected. When they first met, the man wasn't her match, but now, facing a siege of a dozen Kindred of Rot, he was so effortless.
"Don't worry, you'll get stronger." Throne smiled.
To be precise, Melina should be considered 'resurrecting'. The Dragon Girl had no intention of interrupting. She picked up a stick to poke the corpses on the ground and casually asked, "Did you notice anything wrong?"
"Kindred of Rot have intelligence, and they shouldn't be in this area. Take a closer look at the second corpse from the left."
Throne lit a Hephaestus Herb cigarette.
Not because he liked the taste or wanted to show off, but because the Kindred of Rot smelled so damn bad. Melina and Lansseax walked over together, squatted down to look, and indeed saw that the face of this corpse was caved in, as if struck hard by a blunt weapon.
"See it clearly?"
Throne exhaled a puff of white mist, flicked the ash, his expression turning grim.
"They are nearby!"
Kindred of Rot are somewhat shadowy creatures. They act mysteriously, and in a normal place, they would, of course, be easily discovered. But in a place where rot thrives, it's like entering a septic tank, mixed among the old eight, completely indistinguishable. So they must come to the swamp, and hide as deep as possible, not appearing diligent enough to patrol outside.
Throne gripped his sword, running through the forest, a hint of ease finally showing on his face. The Kindred of Rot's grand plan couldn't possibly lack masterminds. If he ran to the center of the swamp, with the added geographical advantage, he would inevitably suffer.
"Therefore, snatching people from the periphery is most advantageous. I need to be quick."
Throne looked up and could see a figure gliding in the night sky. Lansseax's biggest difference from Melina was her enthusiasm. She wouldn't hesitate at all; finding things interesting, she acted as a wingman. This mountain forest was vast, but without vegetation, it was difficult to block prying eyes from the sky. The two sides wouldn't be too far apart.
They must have gone to investigate after noticing the abnormal behavior of the Rotten animals, so Throne didn't make too much noise.
"They must not have reacted yet!" Throne continued running towards the swamp. After about several kilometers, Lansseax landed.
"South, at the edge of the swamp, I saw their tails." The Dragon Girl said concisely, then asked, "We're still a bit slow. That's not far from the bug's lair, and I found some interesting things."
"What things?"
"Dragon footprints. These fools have even lost their pride, actually going to find the Kindred of Rot?"
Lansseax was both disdainful and annoyed. How could they stomach something so smelly?
Throne wasn't surprised, as in the original The Lands Between, Dragons had indeed fallen into rot, whether actively or passively, he didn't know.
"It seems these bugs arrived earlier than I expected."
The man shook his head. It would take time for both sides to connect, and more importantly—
Those who could determine the outcome must be important figures, at least a few Mushroom Kings.
"You're injured. Still good to fight?"
"Need my help?"
"Yeah."
"Fine. I'll do it."
Melina stared, stunned. Back when she'd first boarded this pirate crew, it'd been a struggle just to get them to cooperate.
This Ancient Dragon was too straightforward. Something was off.
"You think everyone's as stubborn as you, needing me to build up their mental fortitude?" Throne muttered under his breath. He turned to the Dragon Girl.
"You go first. If you hit a Dragon, distract it. We'll meet in Sellia."
"Not wiping them all out?"
"In the Great Swamp? Impossible. Too much rot, too many of them."
Throne stayed sharp, always calculating timing, terrain, and alliances. If they were going to act, they'd cripple these stinking bugs hard.
"You're cautious. Fine. Just don't ditch me."
"You should worry about me selling you out."
Lansseax studied the serious man, her knees bending slightly.
"Remember. You owe me."
A dark shadow shot into the night sky, four wings spreading wide before vanishing. Throne watched with a pang of envy. Imagine having wings. Sky's the limit—literally.
Then it hit him. Riding a dragon would do the trick. What am I thinking? He shook his head, banishing the image of dragonback flights, then glanced at Melina.
"Let's go. Stop daydreaming."
"That Ancient Dragon's dangerous. Why not get rid of her now?" Melina said, dead serious.
"If she's useful, I'm not burning bridges."
Throne scoffed, started walking, then paused.
"You're not telling Lunar Princess about this. Aren't you afraid she'll settle the score later?"
The words sounded too sharp for someone wooden. Throne froze.
He turned back, surprised, then forced a smile.
"Business first. Ranni'll understand."
He quickened his pace into the withered forest, adding silently, She will. Right?
The journey was silent, lonely. Only the occasional Rotten creature broke the monotony. No enemies crossed their path. Soon, Throne reached the last mountain. Ten years ago, he'd watched two great armies clash from this vantage point. Now, nostalgia was the last thing on his mind.
The Kindred of Rot moved fast through swamp-like terrain. He'd been sprinting, yet still couldn't cut them off. From the high slope, the view was perfect. Under the full moon, he spotted figures a kilometer away. Where's Alexander? That idiot couldn't be dead, could he?
Throne's stomach dropped. Those stinking bugs had no reason to capture him. He pulled out his binoculars. Twenty to thirty Kindred of Rot trudged through the scarlet swamp.
Their slender segmented limbs churned the mud, casting long shadows. The leader stood out—more humanoid, crowned with a mushroom.
"Kings of Rot."
Throne grew serious. Trading injuries for kills wasn't an option. Turning into a glass cannon would break Ranni's heart.
He adjusted the binoculars, scanning the area. No trace of the Living Jar. Only a handful of bugs carried wooden boxes at the center of the group, their contents unknown.
"Should we ambush them?" Melina suggested, her eyes sharp without the aid of binoculars.
"Ambush what? You think they're sprinting like this for fun? They're not even waiting for their own."
Throne's voice dripped with scorn.
After Lansseax, he'd learned not to judge other races by human standards. These Kindred of Rot cared nothing for their companions beyond completing their mission. They wouldn't pause, wouldn't hesitate.
"The plan's simple: chase them, kill them, then head east through the fire wall to Sellia."
"East?"
"There'll be chaos soon. What if we retreat and run into Dragons?"
Throne drew the Dark Moon Greatsword, crouching low, his back arched like a sprinter poised to explode forward. As Melina faded into invisibility, his pupils gleamed gold.
Then—
He ran.
The sound hit first. The team entering the swamp froze. The Mushroom Man at the front turned its head slowly.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Like war drums, the muffled rhythm grew louder, closer, as if a colossal beast charged toward them. Withered leaves trembled and fell. A Kindred of Rot raised its spear, its segmented head swaying.
Look, sir.
Though the bugs lacked vocal cords, the message was clear. The Mushroom Man lifted its gaze, spotting a plume of dust rising in the distance.
Trees splintered. Rocks cracked. A straight line of destruction barreled toward them. The ominous premonition materialized instantly. Why had they raced back to the nest? Why hadn't they waited for their scouts? Fear. Fear of interference.
Enemy attack!
No roar, no warning. The team fanned out, Moonblade Spears at the ready.
In half a minute, the thick smoke loomed larger. One figure, but with the force of a thousand. A mountain would crumble before him; an abyss would be trampled flat.
Bang!
No time to react.
The figure crashed into the swarm, scattering the Kindred of Rot like leaves in a storm. He tore through the center, pivoted in the swamp like heavy cavalry, and swung his greatsword in a devastating arc.
Half Moon!
The sword energy swept outward, but the Mushroom Man reacted instantly. It "bloomed," releasing a web of red mycelial threads that formed a thin, shimmering membrane.
The sword energy struck, slowed, then vanished.
'A technique of the Kings of Rot?' Throne frowned. These were enemies he'd never faced; by the time of the Tarnished, the Kings of Rot were long gone. The Lands Between still held countless mysteries.
Vyke and Bernahl, those quasi-kings, had obtained great runes. Who knew where they'd found them?
Throne paused briefly, then dissolved into starlight. A moment later, white spider silk engulfed the spot where he'd stood.
Where is he?
The Kindred of Rot shook their heads, scanning the area.
Starlight Leap carried him beyond the range of their incantations. Then they saw it—against the full moon, a black dot grew larger, descending like a meteor.
His greatsword blazed with light.