"It's possible, but I have a bad feeling about this. Logically, Volcano Manor should have a Crucible Knight, yet I didn't see him."
Throne's brow furrowed. Despite their victory, he couldn't shake the unease settling in his chest. A Crucible Knight? Ranni didn't ask how he knew one should be here, but her frown deepened.
"What do you think the reason is?"
"Maybe the timeline's too early, and he hasn't appeared yet. Or maybe..."
Throne cut himself off, his lips pressing into a thin line. The speculation was too grim to voice. He turned toward the breach in the church. Rya and Melina were approaching together. This kindling maiden was just a tool, and the final insurance lay elsewhere entirely.
"Forget it. It's all just speculation. As long as he doesn't suddenly pop up, I'm not afraid. With the combat power we have, we're not exactly pushovers."
Throne regained his composure, only to lose it again almost immediately. Melina and Ranni's gazes locked. Electricity crackled in the void between them, sending Rya stumbling back in alarm. She retreated to the side, glancing timidly between the two.
"Rya, don't be afraid of her. Come to my side."
"You're that little snake? Come here. Caria will provide you with protection."
They spoke almost in unison, leaving Rya frozen in the middle, utterly bewildered. She liked Melina, but she also knew this demigod wasn't someone to trifle with. I didn't expect this little girl to have the effect of drawing fire. Perfect bait to make them fight—that way, they won't pay attention to me.
Throne watched from the sidelines, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. He wasn't panicked in the slightest. The Carian Army stood across from them, and everyone knew Ranni was meticulous about her dignity in formal settings. Melina had noticed this too. Since blooming, her intelligence had sharpened considerably. Just as Rya struggled under the weight of the demigod's presence, Melina stepped forward and gently held the girl's shoulders.
You! Ranni's eye widened slightly. Melina, bold now, widened hers in return. With both of them having only one eye, the glaring match was almost comical. Throne couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter.
Almost instantly, two gazes filled with killing intent snapped toward him. The knight straightened, his hand resting on his sword, his expression solemn as a statue. Melina and Ranni rolled their eyes at him in unison before locking gazes again.
After several minutes of silent glaring, Ranni suddenly realized how childish she was being. What's wrong with me? Has this stupid woman somehow lowered my IQ? A faint sense of crisis crept over her. It was as if Melina was trying to drag her down to her level, then defeat her with sheer experience in zoning out. I can't fall for her trick!
Ranni turned to Rya, her expression softening.
"Come here. From now on, I allow you to serve by my side. It will be safe, and full of honor."
"Don't go. It's no big deal. Follow me from now on—you'll be able to help on our journey."
Melina patted her chest as if to guarantee it. The confrontation was direct now. Ranni's expression hardened, their gazes meeting like a private voice channel had opened between them.
You don't give me face?
I met Rya first. She's my friend. Why should she listen to you?
Well, I met Throne first. Why do you have the cheek to stay by his side?
Because he needs me, and I need him. Rya doesn't necessarily need you, and there's no reason for you to keep her.
Melina's logic was uniquely her own, leaving even Ranni momentarily dizzy.
Rya stood there, the picture of pitiful desperation. Her pleading gaze locked onto Throne's for a fleeting moment before he had to look away. Sorry, he thought, I'm not cut out for this kind of thing. By then, Ranni had already pieced together her argument. She lifted her chin, her voice sharp and dismissive.
"These are two entirely separate matters. Fine, I can't be bothered to waste any more words on you."
She paused, dragging out his name like a weapon.
"Throne~" Her head tilted slightly, her tone deliberate. "You saved her, so you decide."
Don't do this, Throne thought, why drag me into your one-on-one duel? Two pairs of eyes bore into him, unrelenting. He took a deep breath, his voice steady.
"Rya should stay in Caria. It's safer there. She isn't suited for traveling through dangerous areas."
Throne wasn't one to fold under pressure. When it came to serious decisions, he always chose reason over sentiment. Melina's face fell, disappointment etched into her features, while Ranni's smile widened, triumphant. Throne pressed on, bracing himself.
"She doesn't need to stay by your side serving tea and water. Let her study at the Raya Lucaria Academy. She needs to learn something, after all."
Ranni's smile faltered, her nod stiff but conceding. As the two women continued their silent standoff, Throne seized the moment to wink at Rya, a silent assurance that he'd found her a place.
Rya didn't want to hide away in some academy, but she kept her thoughts to herself, bowing respectfully instead. Her eyes drifted toward the slowly approaching Carian Army and the nearly ruined volcano. She took a shallow breath, the air no longer sweltering but tinged with something new—hope.
Looking back, Lunar Princess Ranni wasn't as terrifying as she'd imagined. What kind of terrifying person would engage in a war of words with Melina? Wouldn't they have lashed out long ago? Even that knight didn't seem so intimidating anymore. It turned out that the fear she'd felt before was something called a persona. Stripped of it, he was just a kind person—at least to his own people. For Throne, as long as Ranni and Melina didn't come to blows, their arguments were almost amusing in their absurdity.
Ranni was obsessed with appearances, skilled in sarcasm and veiled attacks, but against Melina's unshakable calm, it was all futile. No matter how Ranni provoked her, Melina's expression remained blank, almost dazed. It was more disarming than any sharp retort. After several rounds, when Ranni seemed on the verge of snapping, Throne would clear his throat.
"Your Highness, mind your dignity."
Those words always brought Ranni back from the edge, her poise reasserting itself. Throne, ever fair, couldn't stand by and watch Ranni take all the losses. When Melina showed signs of pressing her advantage, he frowned slightly.
"Enough. Moongrum and the others are almost here. Take Rya to rest; we still have to clean up the battlefield later."
"Fine," Melina said, nodding slightly. "I'll spare her some face."
She reached into her bosom, pulling out a folded piece of paper.
"What do you mean, spare me some face?!" Ranni turned her head sharply, annoyance flaring. Her eyes landed on the sketch Melina was unfolding. The brushwork was skilled, capturing a girl with her hand on a windowsill, gazing outward, quiet and lonely. It was unmistakably Melina.
Oh no, Throne thought, his heart skipping a beat. He curled his toes, knowing exactly where this was headed. She fell for the provocation.
"You just said you gave Throne many gifts," Melina said, her tone flat, holding up the sketch like evidence. "I have nothing to offer, yet he gave me a gift."
Melina's face betrayed nothing, but the smug glint in her eyes burned bright. Let them posture and sneer—she held the winning card now. Without another word, she folded the crude sketch against her chest and hauled Rya away by the wrist. Ranni's porcelain features locked rigid.
First confusion, then dawning horror twisted through her doll's joints. Her head turned in jerking increments, rusted gears protesting. When her gaze met Throne's, his nose flared—that scent, unmistakable, the frigid musk of Dark Moon. Inspiration struck like lightning.
"Your Highness," he murmured, "dignity. Remember your station."
Ranni's mask of composure cracked. Across the lava trench, the Carian host stood arrayed in silver ranks. It took three ragged breaths before the glacial hauteur reclaimed her face.
"Know this, Throne—were dignity not shackling me now, I would cast it aside without hesitation."
"Why?"
Her head tilted just so, moonlight glinting off clenched teeth.
"To throttle you where you stand."
The venom in it made Throne's cheek twitch. He looked away, exhaling through his nose. Another battlefield, another minefield of feminine wrath.
Banners snapped like whips above the phalanx. At their head, Moongrum nursed a singular thought: every coin of his wages rode on Throne breaking through the princess' defenses sooner rather than later.
Public decorum demanded discretion. He slowed his march accordingly. 'What's left to reward him with? The man's claimed every glory under the moon.' His gauntlet tapped a treasonous rhythm against his cuirass. 'Might as well gift-wrap herself.' Iji's intelligence network had proven... enlightening. Who knew Her Highness faced such competition? For the sake of his purse, he'd give this romance a firm shove. Yet as they reached the cliff's edge, the air curdled. Victory's glow was absent from Ranni's bearing.
Moongrum's fist crashed against his breastplate. BANG. Hundreds of gauntlets echoed the salute, steel thunder rolling through the caldera. Ranni's raised palm stilled them—one gesture, and an army bent the knee. This was the weight of crowns, the price of thrones.
Throne stood taller for it. Every inch of their ascent bore his blade's notches, his gunpowder stench. Let any man dare challenge that.
Scorching winds lashed the banners. A sea of silver spread before her, yet Ranni's chest ached. Power had never been her ambition. Every step here was his doing—his battles, his sacrifices propping up her reign.
Because of duty, she remained chained to strategy tables while he roamed free. Because of crowns, she must forever hold herself apart. The bitterness surprised her—this sharp, unworthy envy of Melina's freedom.
No matter. The game continued. Her hand lifted.
"Moongrum, take the men to hold the pass and confirm that the Nights Cavalry has retreated."
Her voice cut like honed steel.
"Allen, scour this mountain. Leave no enemy breathing."
"Understood!"
Another thunderclap of gauntlets. The host fractured into gleaming companies, dispersing like mercury across stone. A spectacle worthy of legends—yet Ranni watched only Throne's profile, her fingers itching for violence or something far more dangerous.
Throne had been enjoying the quiet when a flash of red hair beneath a soldier's helmet caught his eye. He moved before thinking, crossing the distance in a heartbeat.
"Wait."
He yanked off the helmet. The face that turned to him wore an awkward grin—Millicent.
"Teacher, long time no see."
She raised a hand in greeting. Throne answered with a sharp rap of his knuckles against her forehead.
"Cut the crap. Why are you on Mt. Gelmir? And why the disguise?"
He glanced up just in time to see Allen bolting. That explained it.
Millicent rubbed her forehead, grabbing Throne's arm before he could chase the man down.
"I begged Lord Allen. Don't blame him."
Throne knew he wouldn't actually throttle the knight. Millicent was the stubborn one here. He exhaled hard.
"You shouldn't have left Liurnia."
"You never stop. Why should I get to laze around?"
She planted Starfrost's tip in the dirt and lifted her chin.
"Lord Allen told me your story. The strong are forged in life-and-death battles!"
"You're more than just battles. Malenia bore you, but you're not her. My path leads to freedom—what's yours?"
Throne watched her, silent.
The question had been gnawing at him. Rya was simple. Melina, manageable. But Millicent? She had no freedom to claim. The harder she pushed toward the Haligtree, the more she would vanish.
Millicent straightened, sensing his worry.
"Don't fret, Teacher. Keep moving forward, and the road will stretch ahead."
"Don't say that again. It's bad luck."
Throne turned away, eyes lowered.
"Find Melina. I'll call when it's time to go."
Millicent clenched her fists. She could almost feel it—the rot, the dissolution. But fear? None. Even consumed, even shattered, she'd face it head high.
Ranni had been watching from the ridge, her stare prickling the back of Throne's neck. He met it anyway, chin up. Go on, then. Try me. I'll take your Dark Moon too.
"Stop looking so martyred. That Melina's playing games—wants to sour my mood. Won't work."
Ranni sniffed, arms folded.
"Childish bickering. Not the grand scheme you're imagining."
Throne grinned, nodding sagely.
"As expected of Her Highness. Peerless wisdom."
"Flattery won't save you. I just don't know how to punish you."
Her voice dropped.
"You're already half-dead. If I hit you, I might not hold back. And fools like Moongrum would gossip."
A smile flickered.
"So. Truth. What did you do with Melina?"
Lap pillows. Hugs. Holding hands. Every step ahead of Ranni. Sweat prickled his brow. How to answer? Honesty was suicide.
"Nervous?"
"Just drained. Killed Rykard. Drove back Margit. Running on fumes."
"Yet you can still talk."
She didn't budge. Same trick won't work twice?
Throne felt that he couldn't bluff his way out of this one. Teeth gritted, he closed the distance in three strides, hauled Ranni against him, and buried his fingers in her tangled blue hair. She went rigid in his arms.
The princess's arrogance shattered like thin ice. One heartbeat she stood regal, the next she was just a flustered girl in Throne's arms. Ranni's eyes flew wide as his embrace swallowed her whole. Magic bled from her fingertips, frosting the Dark Moon armor in jagged crystals.
Her hands shoved against his chest—weak, panicked shoves.
"What are you doing?"
The words came out half-breath. He was too close. His scent filled her nose, warm and metallic, drowning all thought of dignity. Throne's laugh rumbled against her.
"You asked about Melina. Words are cheap."
His grip tightened.
"Let me show you instead."
She wanted to retreat, but felt her legs had no strength. Because her figure was too petite, she was lifted up entirely, with only her toes touching the ground. Ranni's pulse hammered in her throat. The onlookers blurred at the edges of her vision.
"I—there are people watching!"