Throne watched the madness unfolding before him and made his decision. Even if it meant becoming a traitorous disciple, some people had to die. The stone beneath his feet clicked and clattered. Azur's presence was undeniable—whatever ignorance or crudeness he possessed, the weight of the sword in his hand was real.
"Ignorant," Throne muttered under his breath.
Magic erupted from Azur's body, raw and unfiltered. It coalesced into scythes forged of pure energy, slashing upward like the petals of a deadly flower closing in on its prey.
Clang—
Throne was already gone. Starlight Leap carried him a hundred meters away, his boots gripping the rock wall as he hung upside down, his expression grave. The casting speed was inhuman. Faster than any sorcerer he'd ever encountered. But it made sense. Back in Sellia, Radahn had been the same when dealing with Lusat, who was already at his limit. A Primeval Sorcerer like Azur was no lesser than any demigod in their prime.
"Why does someone so ignorant wield such power?" Azur raised his staff, and Throne's instincts screamed. Whoosh! A beam of light cannoned forward, obliterating a chunk of the rock wall.
Throne dodged with Bloodhound's Step, landing just in time to see the beam sweep across like a colossal blade. Comet Azur—legendary sorcery. With enough magic, it could carve the world in half. And in the hands of a legendary sorcerer, its true power was unleashed. Throne didn't dare test it with his armor.
The ground beneath him glittered with starlit spots. The Hermits, fanatical and deranged, surged forward, desperate to reach the Primeval Sorcerer. Melina didn't hesitate. Her blade flashed as she plunged into the fray.
These sorcerers weren't coordinating like usual. They ignored the Black Knife before them, their focus singular—Throne. Magic rained down from every direction, a relentless barrage. Too dense. He took several Comet Azurs head-on, his armor shuddering under the impact. A barrier erupted from his hands to deflect the next strike. Boom! Boom! Boom!
Bright parabolas streaked across the sky, mushroom clouds blossoming from the ground and rock walls. Throne sprinted through the chaos, his boots scraping against the near-vertical surface. Two hundred meters away, Azur stood, magic surging around him like a storm.
The man was a turret, hurling spells as if they cost nothing. He pushed the destructive potential of a sorcerer to its absolute limit—and he was acutely aware of Starlight movement. If Throne couldn't close the distance, then—
He leapt off the cliff, watching the rock ahead evaporate under Azur's relentless assault. Raising his left hand, Throne summoned Thopss Barrier.
Thrum—
The sound was like tearing cloth. Comet Azur ricocheted off the cyan barrier, shooting skyward in a blazing beam visible for miles. Throne felt the force push against him, his boots sinking into the soil as he strained to hold his ground. This was a contest of strength, of raw magic power. Both wielded primeval glintstone. It was time to see who had more.
Seconds stretched into eternity. Dust rose and evaporated in the heat, curling into wisps of white smoke.
"What is this?!"
Azur's voice was sharp with disbelief. He recognized it as something new, born of Magic Collision Theory. But there was no time to study it. Thopss Barrier deflected magic—with the same formula, Throne held the advantage.
As a master, Azur wasn't stupid either and immediately stopped this futile consumption. But as soon as Comet Azur ceased, a spinning greatsword hurtled toward him. A Comet Azur streaked down from the sky, intercepting the blade and burying it in the ground. Hundreds of meters away, Throne drew his bow, notched an arrow, and fired. Azur retaliated with glintstone Stars, the air between them alive with light and destruction.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Particles of shattered magic hung in the air like mist. Throne's eyes burned—this was the strongest sorcerer he'd ever faced. Casting speed, raw power, surgical precision—even a Professor of Sorcery would seem like a child next to him. Comet sorcery flowed from his hands like breath, instinctive, no sigils needed.
No wonder the Astrologers' legacy had endured millennia. No wonder Liurnia had forced Radagon to kneel. Throne raised his staff, and the air itself trembled as magic coiled around it. Stars of Ruin. Twelve spheres of light spiraled forward—only for a single beam to slash through them, detonating each into a sunburst of radiance.
The shockwave ripped at his cloak. Azur's version of the spell was stronger, no question, but the explosions had already swallowed his opponent.
"Your weakness? You can't move."
Throne crouched—then launched himself skyward. He tore through the glowing debris, particles clinging to his armor like molten embers. Below, Azur lifted his staff.
Cyan magic twisted, thickened—not a hammer. A colossus of force, ten meters wide, crashing down. Throne didn't dodge. Didn't raise Thop's Barrier. Just clenched his left fist.
The greatsword embedded in the earth ripped free.
BANG.
A meteor struck the cliff. Smoke geysered. The rock face splintered, cracks spiderwebbing a hundred meters. Throne lay embedded in the stone, spread-eagle, staring at the dent in his breastplate. Monkeys fight bare-handed. Armor exists for a reason.
He looked up.
Azur stood atop a boulder, motionless. A blade of cold moonlight jutted from his chest. Glintstone shards drifted away, trailing crimson.
"You're the better mage. But killing with magic? I'm faster."
Throne yanked his left hand back. The Dark Moon Greatsword tore free, dragging Azur's half-crystallized body with it. Meanwhile, Throne pried himself from the crater, crouching in the wreckage.
BANG—
He shot forward like a cannonball, fingers locking around Moonveil's hilt.
Rya looked up. Two stars streaked toward each other—then the slower one flared, its light searing. The sight belonged in myths.
Magic Threshold release? Throne's eyes snapped shut against the glare.
No wonder Azur never moved. A stationary turret, annihilating everything. But too late. He'd danced with death enough times to know—unleashing that power took time. And against a swordsman? One man could slaughter nations.
CLANG—
Moonveil left an azure scar in the air as he swung toward the erupting Comet Azur. For a heartbeat, the sorcery's power surged, dwarfing both blade and wielder.
"Return to nothing. Lusat is enough."
Azur didn't waste breath. He'd see if that armor could withstand a beam that vaporized mountains.
Then his eyes widened.
A thread of cyan flickered within Moonveil's azure arc. The blade met the light—and the world split. Like Moses parting the sea, the torrent of magic cleaved in two. Zzz—zzz—zzz—A thousand birds shrieked as Throne's arms shuddered, the force like holding back a tsunami. The energy roared past him, screaming into the sky.
The barrier crystallized along the blade's edge—the Magic-breaking strike. For the first time since encountering the Primeval, Azur felt curiosity. He didn't resist. Just watched his staff dissolve, flesh tearing under the storm's fury. Then a knight forced his way through the tempest, long blade flashing.
A single cut split the Torrent in half.
Their eyes locked. Time stuttered. The knight's left hand gripped the hilt at his right hip as he read the dying magician's lips.
"This barrier is brilliant. Who crafted it?"
"A Magic Apprentice. Thops."
Throne laughed, loud and unburdened. He didn't wait for shock to register. The blade left its sheath. Steel met azure light. Flesh parted. Crystal shattered.
Twin strikes reduced Azur to falling motes of starlight, extinguishing the glow that had moments ago burned so bright. From the wreckage, Throne plucked a single emerald-green stone pulsing with faint radiance. The second primeval glintstone.
He slapped it into the spirit-calling ring without hesitation—skin never touching the artifact. Boots hit dirt in front of Rya. Arms crossed. Blades sheathed.
This was Starscourge.
Primeval Sorcerers descended from Astrologers. Tonight, Throne had felled a star. The ruined village, the broken magician at his feet—none of it stirred him. Magic was just another weapon. Truth? A hollow word.
"To live is the truth."
Turbid breath escaped his lips. Simple survival left no room for madness. Only one flicker of warmth cut through the calm: pride for Thops. That earnest apprentice, that overlooked follower, had earned the highest praise. With the system Throne built, he'd crushed two masters and trampled Raya Lucaria beneath his boots. Who'd dare call him mediocre now?
"Done?"
Melina strode over, face streaked with blood, short blade glistening. The look in her eyes bordered on unhinged.
"Stop staring. I cleared the lunatics. Every last one."
"Next time, wipe your face first."
Throne dabbed her cheek with a handkerchief, then surveyed the battlefield—crystal shards embedded in meat, the air thick with ozone and iron.
"Two Primeval Sorcerers left in the world now."
"You and Sellen? Sure she won't hold a grudge?"
"Unless you gossip, Master won't care."
He shrugged.
"Her fondness for me outweighs her obsession with the Primeval."
"Shameless."
She spat and turned to tend to Rya. For the girl from Volcano Manor, tonight might as well have been a clash of deities.
Throne didn't move. His gaze fixed on 'Thief of Fire' Adam emerging from the shadows, face taut with unreadable tension.
"Thought you'd run."
"I can't, Your Excellency."
Adam's salute was flawless, his smile bitter.
"My earlier disrespect… forgive me."
Power commanded respect. Faced with strength that could sunder mountains, a man's life wasn't his own. This was the realm of demigods. What hope did a Fire Monk have?
Throne smiled. Dawn of freedom, indeed.
The man's cunning impressed him. Surviving until the Tarnished's return was no small feat.
"I'll kill all the Fire Monks for you," he said, "but in return, you'll give me the method to steal the Flame of Ruin."
"Of course."
Adam obeyed without hesitation, pulling a rolled parchment from his robes and presenting it with both hands.
"This is the method. We've spent countless years perfecting it."
He paused, his voice tinged with resignation.
"I've tested it myself, but my aptitude is limited. Stealing a sliver was the best I could manage. You'll fare far better."
Adam hadn't stolen much of the Flame's power—otherwise, he wouldn't be stuck at the strength of a third-rate hero. Even his move, Flame of the Fell God, couldn't defeat a true powerhouse, despite containing a fragment of the Fell God's essence.
Throne took the scroll, his eyes scanning the text. His brow furrowed at certain passages. So that's how it was. No wonder Marika had created Melina. No wonder a single spark could ignite a fire capable of consuming the Erdtree.
"What are you looking at?"
Melina's voice broke his concentration. She approached just as he closed the scroll.
"Nothing," he said. "Just a backup plan for burning the tree."
"Burning the Erdtree? Let me see."
Melina's eyes lit up at the mention of it. She reached for the parchment, but Throne sidestepped her grasp. She stared at him, confusion flickering across her face.
"You wouldn't understand it," he said, his tone laced with mockery. "Don't waste your energy. Besides, I told you—it's just a backup plan."
Adam glanced between Throne and the visibly frustrated girl, piecing together some unspoken truth. He remained silent.
"Your Excellency," he ventured cautiously, "do you have any other requirements?"
A hint of guilt crept into his voice, fearing he might become a pawn in Throne's schemes. Throne waved him off.
"Go on. Live well."
Adam hesitated, stunned by the dismissal. He stood frozen for a moment, ensuring the words were genuine, then bowed deeply and retreated into the shadows.
Melina watched the strange monk disappear into the darkness.
"You trust him?" she asked casually.
"He has no reason to lie to me," Throne replied. "A life in hiding isn't easy."
He summoned Torrent and helped Rya onto the horse's back.
"Let's go. If Morgott isn't blind, he'll be here soon. We need to move."
This was a layered scheme. Throne had gained unexpected benefits—and intended to use them to outmaneuver Morgott.
"That thing," Melina pressed, her voice cold. "Why won't you let me see it?"
She didn't buy his earlier explanation. What do you mean I wouldn't understand? He was clearly hiding something.
"Seeing it would only burden you without any benefit," Throne said. He kept his thoughts to himself. If she understood the scroll, her memories might return—and that was a complication he didn't need.
Melina wasn't satisfied. She pointed east, where the Erdtree loomed on the horizon.
"Leyndell is right there. How much longer are you going to keep things from me?"
Once again, she felt the call from her soul, urging her to abandon everything and return to Leyndell.