Rya walked the path, guilt gnawing at her. Her gaze drifted to the right, where an eerie ritual unfolded. Hermits in linen robes stood in concentric circles around an underground jail. Silent, motionless, like statues carved from fear. It was unnerving.
"Don't worry about him. This man has been everywhere; a mere Hermit Village means nothing."
Melina's voice was soft, reassuring, her presence fading back into the doll.
"Yeah, Throne is indeed very strong."
Rya nodded. That much was undeniable. She passed through the center of the village without any hindrance, as if those invisible eyes couldn't see this blank sheet of paper at all. However, the deeper she went, the darker it became. Wooo—
The dry, searing wind whipped across the cliffs, carrying with it the scent of cracked stone and ancient dust. Rya pressed herself flat against the ground, her fingers scraping against the unyielding rock as she inched forward. Ten minutes crawled by, and the Hermit Village lay behind her. She squinted into the oppressive darkness.
"Miss Melina, I can't see anything. Could he be hiding in some basement down there?"
"No."
Melina's voice was steady, but there was a weight to it that made Rya pause.
"Throne said Azur glimpsed the Primeval Current. Whatever that thing is, it shattered him. Over time, he'll become little more than a husk—a living corpse."
She paused, letting the words hang in the air. No one truly understood the Primeval Current. Those who sought it found only despair.
"His body and soul are torn apart. He can't wander far. If he's still influencing things, he's close. And he doesn't know we're onto him."
"Got it. I'll scout ahead."
Rya didn't fully grasp the details, but she knew her role. She hoisted herself onto a jagged rock, scanning the horizon. Her eyes locked onto a faint green glow in the distance—a flicker like a dying firefly.
The clouds shifted, and moonlight poured through, illuminating the glow with stark clarity.
"Hmm. Someone's there."
The light revealed a figure kneeling on the ground, draped in ornate robes. Bandages wrapped around his head, and through the gaps, a gem-like light pulsed as he tilted his head skyward.
"That's him."
Melina's voice was firm. She'd never seen the Primeval Sorcerer before, but she knew.
"What now? Are we engaging him?"
Melina hesitated. Throne hadn't given clear orders beyond finding Azur.
"We wait. Let him come out of the Evergaol. Then he can decide his fate."
"But the hermits—"
"He'll cut through them like paper."
Melina's tone was cold, almost dismissive. Years with Throne had hardened her. Before she could say more, Rya's choked gasp cut her off.
"Miss Melina—look!"
Under the moonlight, the kneeling sorcerer stirred. A mechanical clacking echoed through the silence, like gears grinding into motion. His oval-shaped head turned toward them. No eyes. Just a gaze emanating from the top of his skull.
Rya glanced upward instinctively, but all she saw was the cliff face looming above.
"What… are you doing?"
The voice came from behind, soft but chilling. Rya leapt to her feet, spinning around. The mountain path was lined with hermits in flaxen robes, their faces blank. They stood motionless, then tilted their heads upward in unison.
"What… are you doing??"
The words rippled through the group, synchronized and eerie.
Rya stumbled back, her heart racing. Spirit particles coalesced in front of her. Melina materialized, twin Black Knives in hand, her expression grim.
"Damn it. He's alive."
Inside the Evergaol, Throne leaned casually against his sheathed sword, chatting with the Thief of Fire in the pale purple haze of the sub-dimension. Their conversation was light, almost jovial. There was no conflict here—only mutual benefit. Throne had promised to help him escape, and the Thief had no reason to keep secrets.
"So it's not the flame itself they're after. It's what's wrong with it."
Throne's voice carried a knowing edge.
The Thief smirked, his tone dripping with disdain.
"I hit a nerve. The watchers guard a secret, and they're terrified it'll get out. That's why they're hunting me."
"The Giants' Flame of Ruin—can it burn the Erdtree?"
Throne's question was blunt, deliberate.
The Thief froze, his eyes widening.
"How do you know that? Have you been talking to those blind Prophets?"
"Prophets?"
Throne's mind drifted to the Tarnished with their covered eyes and shackled necks. They weren't common and were among the last to be exiled for a ridiculous reason:
"They prophesied the burning of the Erdtree?"
Throne's voice cut through the heavy silence.
Adam blinked, stunned.
"Wait, you didn't hear it from them?"
The knight before him, encased in impenetrable armor, felt like a walking enigma.
Right. Those charlatans knew the Erdtree would burn, but not how. Adam was a small-time opportunist who'd stumbled onto a massive secret. Meeting Throne, who shared that knowledge, felt like finding a kindred spirit.
"Burning the Erdtree is a capital sin," Adam said, his tone mocking. "Forget the method—just thinking about it's a crime. But this secret's worthless. No one's crazy enough to actually do it."
"Not necessarily."
Throne's voice was calm, almost casual.
"When a Tarnished reaches the Erdtree only to find their path blocked by thorns, they'll claw like a desperate gambler for a way forward. Sin won't stop them. That's why this secret can't be exposed. Some clues must remain. Don't you think mere exile is too gentle?"
"Someone intentionally preserved the secret?"
Adam's chubby face paled. He dropped the subject, sensing danger in continuing.
"You want to use this flame to burn the Erdtree, don't you?" Adam asked, his voice tight.
"Correct. I have that intention."
Throne didn't bother hiding it. His smile was sharp, deliberate.
"And you'll definitely help, right?"
"I have to help! If you kill them, I'll be free!"
Adam slapped his chest, bold and unashamed. No point hiding his motives now. They were both smart men. If the secret fell into the hands of an enemy of the Erdtree, it wouldn't matter if Adam lived or died. If Throne could wipe out the Fire Monks, Adam would no longer fear being hunted.
They exchanged knowing smiles. Throne stood.
"Record the method of obtaining the Flame of Ruin and give it to me. When the time comes, I'll take it."
"Let's get this straight," Adam said, his tone blunt. "My method can only get you a small portion of the flame. If you're too greedy and die, don't blame me."
"I won't blame you."
Throne shook his head. If Marika could create Melina, there had to be a way to activate this flame. If she could be a kindling maiden, he could manage it too.
"Then let's get out of here. Things should be coming to a head on my end as well."
"Out?"
Adam's face turned wary. He'd forgotten—to leave an Evergaol, one usually had to kill the prisoner inside.
"Don't look like that."
Throne's voice was steady.
"Do you know why Evergaols can only imprison heroes?"
"I don't."
"Because—" Throne stood tall. Violent magic erupted from him, illuminating the entire prison like a torch.
"They can't hold Demigods!"
"These madmen are so strange."
Melina shielded Rya behind her, facing off against a group of hermits. The opponents made no move to attack, merely repeating the same phrase over and over:
"What... are you doing?"
After hearing it twenty times, Melina's patience wore thin. She felt an invisible pair of eyes staring at her. Glancing back, the half-man, half-stone Primeval Sorcerer hadn't moved. She understood now. Azur could barely move, so he used the 'eyes' of these hermits to monitor his surroundings.
If Throne had come to investigate, he would have been spotted long ago. But these eyes, functioning on 'intuition,' couldn't see Rya. It was only when the girl saw Azur's true form that he reacted, likely wondering how she'd discovered him—whether it was premeditated or an accidental encounter. The feeling was distorted.
Call him foolish, yet his clever hiding method was enough to fool anyone. Call him smart, yet regarding the purpose of her and Rya's visit—
Did he even need to ask!?
Melina charged forward. As soon as she moved, a vast array of lights flared up ahead. Glintstone Pebble, Night Comet, Crystal Wall...
Various spells, some recognizable and others never seen before, were all aimed at the pouncing Melina. Good, they really couldn't see Rya. Melina didn't know why she was still worried about the girl at a time like this.
She threw a Black Knife, piercing a hermit's chest, and pressed her free left hand to the ground. Golden Piercer! Incantations met sorcery as gold and azure brilliance exploded in the air.
The girl, bathed in light, sprinted and leaped, watching the crystal spikes erupt from the rock beneath her before rolling forward on the ground. She lunged forward like a panther, pulling the Black Knife from the corpse.
Standing up, she drove the right-hand Black Knife into another hermit's chest, then jumped, kicking the corpse away with a back-kick and using the momentum to leap backward. A Night Comet grazed past her.
The girl performed a backflip like a gymnast, landing on another hermit's shoulders. Puchi—crack. A Black Knife stabbed into a nearby hermit's eye socket. With a twist of her hips, she snapped the neck of the hermit she was riding.
At that moment, her pupils constricted. Lights coming from all directions illuminated her brilliantly. These people didn't care that two or three of their allies were nearby; they bombarded the area together. No, even those hermits only two or three meters away were releasing Founding Rain of Stars.
These madmen... Boom!!
A pillar of smoke rose into the night sky. As the dense magical sigils dimmed, they looked blankly at the dust and raised their hands again. Whoosh—
A gale cleared the surrounding area. Before the magic could be released, a giant sword composed of fierce winds slashed down, turning over a dozen people in a straight line into blood mist before sweeping to the side.
"You're already outdated, Melina."
Throne, clad in heavy armor, stood before the girl. His greatsword reflected the moonlight. Within a sixty-degree arc in front of him, the crowd had all been cut at the waist, looking like a vast patch of felled tree stumps.
"Do you want me to stab you a couple of times?" Melina said expressionlessly.
"I believe you would."
Throne nodded heavily, glancing at the hermits behind them. They seemed to have entered a state of network lag, standing motionless and letting him kill them. This eerie state kept the Thief of Fire, who was clutching a flail, from moving as well.
"Mystifying nonsense," Throne cursed, roaring at the sky: "Did you just fail to react, or do you think I'm an idiot?!"
Things had reached this point; the daggers were out. If the sorcerer's true body could escape right under his nose, he might as well bash his own head in. The autumn wind was bleak. After a short while, the remaining hermits spoke simultaneously, saying the same words: "How... did you find out?"
"Because I've seen Lusat. Otherwise, where do you think the primeval glintstone came from? You're in a better state than him, but fundamentally, there's no difference."
Throne tapped his breastplate, producing a 'thud-thud' sound.
"What fundamental difference?"
"Foolishly glimpsing the Primeval Current—that indescribable thing. The consciousness leaves the body, with only a few instincts remaining to maintain it. This is the end for the foolish!"
Throne tore away the fig leaf without hesitation. No matter what words were used to sugarcoat it, seeking the Primeval Current was nothing more than a foolish path to self-destruction.
The voice paused for a moment, then the hermits shook their heads in unison: "Foolish? No. Though that sight inspires terror, it is also indescribably magnificent. Since you carry Lusat's primeval glintstone, this is fate's design. Embrace me—let me take one more step forward without fear's chains this time."
So he'd glitched out. The Primeval Current's vastness had trapped most of his consciousness beyond the stars, leaving his abandoned flesh to petrify over centuries.
"Hard pass on the hugging. Also? I'll be taking that glintstone."
Throne wasn't refusing—he just wanted the exact opposite of Azur. Where the sorcerer sought escape from the material world, Throne only craved the meat left behind.
"Fool. You stare at shadows while truth burns behind you."
The sigh came from everywhere at once. Rya's muscles locked as a jade-carved monstrosity brushed past without glancing down. Stone grated against stone as it raised skeletal hands.
"Not even the Erdtree lasts forever. Shatter your chains. Taste truth. That's freedom."
The Primeval Current yawned like a throat. Human instinct recoiled. Fear bred more fear. What worse horror than feeling your mind dissolve like sugar in tea?
"I'll face it this time. Embrace it. One more step and I'm through."
"So you need Lusat to shove you in?"
"Precisely."
"You'll glimpse the Current too—supreme blessing every sorcerer prays for!"
The voices came from the walls now. The hermits' faces had shed their blankness, twisted into identical rictus grins. Azur's willing converts. They'd have vanished with him regardless. For Current-chasers, even a sliver of hope was enough.
"You're wrong about one thing, Master Azur."
"Oh?"
Throne materialized above the sorcerer's head, greatsword cleaving through a staff as dawn light caught the blade's arc. Each word hit like a hammerstroke: "I'm not a fucking sorcerer."
Let's settle this. As long as all the Primeval Sorcerers were physically destroyed, Sellen would completely lose any thought of pursuing that bullshit Primeval Current. She wasn't crazy yet; she wouldn't go as far as killing Throne to take the stones. As for whether doing this counted as disobeying her master's orders?