Surrounded by jagged rocks and steep, undulating cliffs, the ravines held no water, only scalding lava. He had tested it; there truly was no mercy from the 'Old Dog' Miyazaki. While it wouldn't melt him instantly, rolling around in it was out of the question. After all, this was magma capable of dissolving steel, not just boiling water.
Melina bit her lip, feeling she had asked another stupid question, and simply changed the subject: "What are you going to that Hermit Village for?"
"Remember the Tarnished captured at Raya Lucaria Academy?"
The girl tilted her head, thought for a moment, and replied, "That Aberrant Sorcerer?"
"Yes, this is his hometown. However, the volcano was too large; he needed a guide. At this time, Hermit Village shouldn't have been wiped out by the Academy yet. I just don't know if Azur is still there. I have to be careful."
Ten years ago in Sellia, he had learned his lesson. At that time, Lusat was more dead than alive, and if Radahn hadn't arrived quickly, he would have been finished. But times had changed. Now he only needed to be a little cautious; even if Azur himself attacked, he wouldn't be able to defeat Throne. Strength is the foundation of exploration. Having tasted the sweetness of primeval glintstone, he was determined to get his hands on Azur's. When the time came, evolving from a single-core to a dual-core drive would be a leap far greater than mere devouring.
"Turn left ahead, and then we have to be careful," Rya said timidly. The mountain path was narrowing. Fortunately, the Mt. Gelmir Army stationed here had already collapsed, leaving behind only some barricades and encampments. Throne slowed his horse, looking left and right.
"Rya."
"Yes?"
"Your strength is very weak. How did you manage to wander around this area? Did you have an escort?"
Throne was curious; he rarely had such a combat-incapable existence by his side. Just as he finished, he felt a light pat on his head. Turning around, he saw Melina glaring at him. So you're great at killing people, big deal. Do you think everyone in The Lands Between is an executioner?
"Ac-actually, I'm quite good at concealing my presence. Sometimes I can walk right under people's noses without being noticed. My mother—no, Tanith said it's my talent."
Understood, extremely low presence, huh? No wonder someone as easily fooled as you dares to run all over The Lands Between in the future. Throne nodded, his expression shifting. He hopped off his horse and asked while putting on his armor: "How much further to Hermit Village?"
"Just keep going straight along this road. It's just that this path is very dangerous. How about we climb over the cliff beside us? I know where we can tie ropes."
"No need, that's too much trouble."
Throne wanted to settle everything before Morgott arrived, so he climbed onto a large rock nearby. From here, he could see a recently abandoned military camp. Some short, ragged dark shadows were picking up weapons and food from the ground, trying to put on discarded armor that didn't fit. Demi-humans. Could they have been brought from Liurnia when Rykard split the family? Throne had seen demi-human slaves inside the Manor before, but now they had all become snacks. He thought for a moment, then simply beckoned, making the pebbles on the ground float up, before snapping his fingers. Snap, snap, snap, snap... Suddenly, a chorus of screams erupted. The demi-humans, their heads covered in lumps from the impact, turned around to see a knight who had appeared there at some unknown time.
"Clear the way."
Silence gripped the battlefield for a breath—then shattered as the demi-humans erupted in guttural shrieks, surging forward with crude clubs and jagged short swords. Two hulking Large Demi-humans led the charge, their frames towering over ordinary men. Just as expected—no comprehension of human speech. Throne didn't waste another word. He tilted his head back and unleashed a roar that split the sky. ROAR! The effect was instantaneous. The frontmost Large Demi-humans buckled first, then the entire mob of nearly a hundred screaming warriors collapsed like puppets with cut strings. Some dropped to their knees. Others slammed face-first into dirt, bodies crushed beneath an invisible weight. This trick works wonders on weaklings. Saves time. Throne's lips curled in approval. Pressure was a mental assault—no defense, no warning. Just raw dominance. Kill them? Interrogate them? Kill them after interrogating them? Throne considered for half a second before turning his head. Behind him stretched a lake of molten rock, bubbling and hissing. Then—SPLASH. A massive shadow erupted from the lava. That familiar lizard-like silhouette—none other than his old "friend," the Magma Wyrm.
"Forgot you vermin love these hellpits."
Throne smacked his forehead. The dragon pressure vanished. The demi-humans scrambled up, weapons in hand, and charged again. Brainless. Did they think a single overgrown salamander tipped the scales? He gauged the distance to Hermit Village and raised his right palm.
"Fine. Let's greet them properly."
A magic sigil flared in his hand. A glintstone projectile streaked through the air and punched into the cliffside. The explosion sent boulders raining down, burying the Magma Wyrm in an avalanche of stone. Throne barely had time to turn before a spiked club whistled toward his skull. CRACK. His gauntlet caught the weapon mid-swing. Not a single inch of his armored frame budged. He didn't bother looking at the Large Demi-human's horrified face. His right fist clenched. Gravity Spatter. Pebbles hanging in the air suddenly jerked sideways, accelerating into a lethal hailstorm. This time, Throne held nothing back. A dozen crimson flowers bloomed in the space of a heartbeat. Demi-humans twitched and spasmed as the stone shrapnel shredded muscle, shattered bone. They died before their screams could form, reduced to pulped meat and splintered limbs.
"Next time, learn to speak civilized."
BOOM—The rock pile heaved. The Magma Wyrm shook off the debris, blinking dumbly at the carnage. Had all its allies really died in that blink? Retreat wasn't in its nature. Fear wasn't in its vocabulary. It lunged, four limbs churning the earth like a battering ram. BANG!! Throne crossed his arms, boots carving twin trenches in the soil as the impact hurled him back ten meters. The contest of strength lasted a heartbeat—he planted his feet, steadied himself, and watched as the beast's maw gaped wide. Fire gathered in its throat. THUMP. A brutal uppercut from Throne's armored boot snapped its jaws shut. The force lifted the Wyrm clean off the ground. He lunged forward, pressed a gauntlet to its underbelly, and unleashed magic. Haima Cannon. Blue energy ripped through scale and flesh like a cannonball. The Wyrm's body bloated grotesquely—then detonated in a shower of gore. Blood drenched Throne from helm to greaves, his silver armor now a dripping scarlet. Fortunately, this armor was perfectly sealed. He looked through the slits of his helmet to the right. Two towering shadows dropped from the cliffs—Abductor Virgins, their forms a nightmare fusion of flesh and machine. One wielded crescent blades, the other spinning saws. These constructs knew no fear.
"No end to this filth?"
Throne's fingers closed around the hilt of his greatsword. Not far away, Rya watched the slaughter, her lips twitching unnaturally. Can... can this be called 'kind'? In an instant, dozens of demi-humans were turned into mangled meat, a Magma Wyrm was blown to pieces, and now he was dismantling golems into parts. She couldn't even see Throne's movements clearly. She only saw the steel golems being sliced in two and punched into the ground. The man was as violent as a madman.
"Don't be afraid, this is how he is when he fights."
Melina supported her shoulder and said softly, "There are many mad powerhouses in The Lands Between, but at the very least, Throne won't kill without reason. You have to accept reality."
Rya had never left Mt. Gelmir in all her life, nor did she have Millicent's talent. She had to face the cruelty of this land directly, even if she felt like vomiting.
"Damn, finally finished. I forgot this hellhole is full of traps."
Throne walked back dragging his sword, leaving a trail of bright red footprints behind him. He wanted to mount the horse, but Melina reached out to stop him.
"You're covered in blood, don't get on."
Throne stiffened for a moment. Rya quickly took a blanket from the horse's back: "My lord, let me wipe it clean for you. Don't worry, I'll find a way to wash it off later."
Sigh, I finally have a normal person by my side who is both thoughtful and well-behaved. The man took a deep breath. Dealing with eccentrics all these years had almost given him high blood pressure.
"We'll talk about it later, it's not over yet."
Throne led the horse forward. After a few steps, he turned back and gave the girl a smile.
"Also, just call me Throne from now on."
Throne? Rya was stunned for a moment, staring blankly at the blood-red figure ahead. He was very majestic and terrifying when he killed, yet he could provide a place of shelter when she had nowhere to go. The girl didn't know what use she had; they hadn't even known each other a few days ago. Why? She had no answer, but as she looked at that broad back, an unfamiliar word popped into her mind for no reason. Father.
Throne didn't lead the horse far before entering a canyon. On both sides were steep cliffs. A warm wind blew, making a few stubborn weeds in the rock crevices sway back and forth. The valley made a howling sound like a ghost's shriek, just like a scene from a horror movie. The Spirit Steed stopped, snorting, while Melina on its back glanced around.
"There's an ambush." She said this, yet she looked toward the east, faintly hearing a call. She couldn't hear the specifics clearly, but it was calling her to Leyndell. This voice had appeared frequently after arriving at the Altus Plateau. It was better inside Volcano Manor, but now that she was out—She listened carefully; it didn't seem like a hallucination.
"Yeah, they're hidden quite poorly."
Throne didn't move, turning his head to the dazed Melina: "What are you standing there for? It's your turn to act this time."
Melina shook her head vigorously, jumped off the horse decisively, and pulled out two Black Knives, holding one with a standard grip and the other with a reverse grip.
"Anything else to say?"
"Stay safe. Leave a few alive by the way; I want to know what's inside. By the way, what were you spacing out for just now?"
"I don't know, I seemed to hear someone calling me."
The girl didn't say more. After a few steps, she turned into particles and dissipated in the wind. Calling? What does that mean? Throne frowned, obviously not understanding. He pulled a string of rowa fruit from his pouch, holding it out for the horse. Rya dropped down beside him, blanket in hand, carefully scrubbing blood from his armor. Her fingers moved with unexpected tenderness, brows knit in concentration. A short scream shattered the moment—her head jerked up, eyes wide.
"Don't look."
Throne didn't glance over, his voice lazy as he watched the spectacle ahead.
"It'll be over soon."
More screams cut through the air, sharp and sudden. Metal clashed against metal. Roars. The occasional flare of magic streaked across the dark like dying stars. Between the jagged rocks of the cliffside, bodies moved in silence—no grand brutality, just efficient endings. A different kind of horror.
"Rya."
Throne tilted his chin toward the cliff as another corpse thudded at their feet.
"Interested?"
"N-no."
She ducked her head, scrubbing harder at his pauldron. Her voice wavered.
"Should I... learn to fight? If you order it, I—I could try."
"You're not built for it."
Her hands stilled.
"Then I'm just... useless?"
Throne snorted.
"Power isn't just a blade. I didn't drag you from Volcano Manor to make you a weapon—waste of my time."
He flashed a wry grin, then shrugged.
"Knives matter when the world burns. But the Lands Between won't burn forever. Everyone's got their place."
For example, if you let Melina do what you're doing now, she'd skewer me with her eyes before the first rag touched the metal.