She pushed him away with all four hands, stepping back several paces. Her wide-brimmed hat tilted low, hiding her face completely.
"I-Insolent! Who gave you permission to embrace me?"
Her voice trembled, and her body did too. She couldn't lift her head—not out of anger, but something else entirely.
Throne smirked. He'd learned her weakness back in the Caria treasury. Hardness met hardness, and she folded every time. No matter how annoyed she got, pushing forward always worked. He stepped closer, arms open.
"This is my apology. Or call it a reward for conquering Mt. Gelmir."
"Who would want a reward like that! Damnable, insolent fool—did you learn this from that smelly Ancient Dragon?"
Her voice crackled with frustration.
"You said 'insolent' twice. Running out of insults already?"
"You don't like it?"
"O-Of course not! I am your Lord. How can a knight do such a vulgar thing?"
She paused, her tone shrill.
"At least… at least notify me first. You can only act after permission is granted."
"Ranni, can you look up at me when you speak? If you don't like it, I won't break the rules again."
Look up? Impossible! And who said I didn't like it?
Her body felt wrong—hot, dizzy. Maybe it was malfunctioning after too long. She glanced around quickly, ensuring no one was near.
"C-Come here."
"Huh?"
"I said come here!"
Her voice sharp, regal. Throne shuffled forward cautiously.
He wasn't sure what she was planning. If she lashed out in shame-fueled rage, it'd be trouble. As he reached her, she lunged—brief, fleeting. Her hat bumped his chin, but it was unquestionably an embrace. Four hands touched his back, then snapped away like they'd been burned.
"Ah, this—" "You are not allowed to ask anything!"
Her voice soared an octave higher, hat still shielding her face.
"I'll let this slide, but remember—whatever you and Melina did, you must tell me everything. No acting on your own. At the very least, wash off the blood and sweat. It's filthy. And paint ten portraits for me. They must be better."
She rattled off demands, her words sharp. Throne's smile deepened.
"Ahem, can I ask one question?"
"Speak quickly, I wish to rest!"
"Can I embrace you in the future?"
She froze, as if savoring the memory. Then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded and vanished instantly, like she was fleeing for her life.
Throne stood rooted, unsure if he'd seen correctly. Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, the Lunar Princess glanced at her mother floating in the air. She leapt off her high-backed chair, buried her face in a cushion, and curled into a ball. Insolent fool, I lost to him again. At least it was only in front of him. Otherwise, where would my dignity be?
"Hahahaha, I won! Pay up, pay up!" On the outskirts of the volcano, Moongrum laughed loudly. Allen pulled a pile of runes from his breast, dropping them sullenly into Moongrum's hand. He muttered curses under his breath.
"Damn it, this Throne has some nerve, actually daring to charge right in."
"What do you know?"
The rigid knight weighed the coin purse. Her Highness's personality worked in his favor. As long as Throne broke through bit by bit, he'd keep winning. He fantasized for a moment.
At the rate these two are going, by the time they reach the end, I'll probably be the richest man in Caria. Heh, I've finally found the trick.
While Moongrum was making a fortune, Throne also revealed a smile. He sniffed his palm, which carried a cool, faint fragrance. 'As long as I'm thick-skinned enough, Ranni is no match for me. What should I do next?'
His mood instantly brightened, and even the fatigue from battle faded significantly. Given Ranni's personality, she certainly wouldn't dare look him in the eye for a long time, which was perfect for avoiding what came next. He was about to go rest when he saw Allen walking toward him with a dark, unhappy expression.
"You saw?"
"Yeah, and you cost me money."
Allen tossed his helmet aside and scratched his hair.
"I didn't expect Her Highness to respond to the hard approach rather than the soft. Why has no one ever tried that before?"
"Because none of you are 'hard' enough." Throne laughed and warned, "Keep this secret in your heart. If Ranni finds out you lot were peeping, there will be hell to pay."
"On what grounds?"
"The only one allowed to shame her is me."
Throne pointed to his chest and asked with some confusion, "Why are you looking for me? I don't have time for idle chatter right now."
No time? And then you're going to find that Melina? The knight gritted his teeth and could only say resentfully, "We found some interesting things during the search. Do you want to come take a look?"
I just want to lie on Melina's lap and have a good sleep right now. Throne was unwilling, but thinking about how the situation with the Erdtree was down to the last layer of pretense and could break into open war at any time, he had to force himself to stay alert.
"Lead the way."
The two of them jumped down through the hole in the church again.
When he was killing Radahn earlier, Throne naturally hadn't been in the mood to observe the path, but the hundreds of Carian soldiers had performed a carpet search and piled everything up. Snake skins, corpses, weapons, and armor were piled into mountains. Some could be recycled, like the armor of the Gelmir Knights, which could be restored and modified into high-quality gear.
Others had to be destroyed en masse, like the disgusting snake skins, which definitely had to be burned. A group of people was busy working. Throne was led by Allen to the weapons section.
Looking up, he saw sabers, spears, axes, and halberds, but most were corroded or battle-damaged. 'That fellow Rykard has no manners when it comes to eating people.' The Great Serpent swallowed people whole and then spat out the weapons; ordinary mass-produced weapons could only be sent back to the forge.
"Throne, you're here."
Arnold, wearing armor modified from a Cuckoo Knight, gave a greeting in a low voice while the ordinary soldiers consciously moved away. Throne considered himself a sharp blade and had no intention of being a commander, nor did he feel the need to mingle with the common soldiers, so he just walked up and held out his hand.
"What is it? Let me see."
"It's this greatsword. Damn, it's heavy."
Arnold, who already had the strength of a knight, dragged over a dark-red greatsword with both hands. Its surface showed no corrosion or damage, making it very conspicuous among the pile of junk. Throne took it, holding it in one hand to examine it closely.
"This sword is unusual."
"Yeah, I thought it looked familiar too. It's similar to the Crucible Knight corpse I fished up," Arnold said casually.
Crucible Knight? Wait! Throne's expression changed. He carefully observed the root-like patterns on the hilt and was eighty percent convinced.
"It is indeed a Crucible Knight. Was he swallowed by Rykard? That makes no sense. Rykard didn't eat him when he was mindless, so why would he do it now that he's relatively sane?"
Logic punched Throne's subconscious thought square in the jaw. The Crucible Knight the Tarnished had faced belonged to Volcano Manor—a guest general, not some disposable pawn. Even if he'd been marked as reserve food, they'd devour the Gelmir Knights first. Had my arrival triggered some unforeseen disaster? Throne couldn't say, but his gut screamed danger.
The Lands Between shifted unseen, like tectonic plates grinding beneath the surface.
"What's happening?"
Allen leaned in, curiosity sharp in his voice.
"Rykard fought a Crucible Knight. The knight escaped."
"Isn't that expected? Crucible Knights aren't cannon fodder."
"True. But this knight was part of Volcano Manor. He wouldn't have ventured this deep otherwise."
Infighting? Allen froze. No one truly understood the Crucible Knights—their goals, their purpose. They were myths draped in steel, ancient and unknowable.
"If they were allies, maybe he uncovered something. Turned them into enemies."
"You think they'd care about justice?"
Throne muttered under his breath, then shook his head. "Crucible Knights don't care about anything. Power, justice—it's all dust to them."
"Then it's bigger than that. Something worth breaking their contract. Something Rykard couldn't stomach but failed to devour."
Arnold's voice cut in, sharp and unflinching.
Throne's pupils narrowed. His mind raced, tracing the implications. Who could rouse these ancient warriors? What had they waited for across centuries? Why did one guard Raya Lucaria? What was he protecting?
His pulse quickened. The Crucible Knight in Raya Lucaria—was he guarding Rennala's great rune? It wasn't theirs to wield. It waited for one person, one name. The first Elden Lord—Godfrey.
Godfrey. Damn it. Is it really that dire?
Throne didn't want to believe it, but logic left no room for denial. Godfrey's awakening was plausible, even inevitable. The only questions were when and whether he'd summon his old army. More troubling, there was no other explanation. Why would a Crucible Knight abandon Volcano Manor, even if it meant clashing with Rykard?
What could compel such a betrayal? If Godfrey had awakened, his mere presence would sweep through The Lands Between like a storm. Throne stood motionless, victory suddenly hollow. Allen and Arnold exchanged a glance and stepped back. If something could unnerve this man, it wasn't just trouble—it was catastrophe.
Throne remained frozen, his thoughts a maelstrom, before slowly surfacing. Overthinking wouldn't help. He had a hypothesis; now he'd prepare for it. His gaze dropped to the sword in his hand. With a slow, deliberate motion, he sheathed it in the spirit-calling ring. The Crucible Knights weren't the only threat. The Godskin Nobles loomed as well. His burdens rivaled Morgott's.
"That's enough for now. Continue the search and guard the manor's outskirts. I need rest."
Throne's voice was steady, his earlier hesitation gone. He strode out, his steps light, leaving Allen and Arnold behind.
They exchanged another look, silent and uneasy.
Jealousy was one thing, but without this man as their sail, the great ship of Caria wouldn't get very far. Mt. Gelmir lay in ruins, its restoration a fool's dream. Throne didn't plan to settle anyone here long-term. At most, he'd station an elite squad—just enough to needle Leyndell from the flank.
The Golden Army's arrival forced retreat into the volcano's depths. If their numbers were few, the defenders could ambush. A glance at the map revealed the Grand Lift of Dectus lay a hundred miles southeast of the volcano—the sole route for any army heading south from the Altus Plateau. Of course, Throne didn't need to oversee these details. Ranni, War Counselor Iji, and the others were far more adept in military strategy than he, a former Samurai General.
He climbed out of the cavern and followed his instincts toward Melina. As he drew closer, the sharp clang of metal echoed through the air.
Peering around a crumbled wall, he spotted Melina and Millicent darting across rooftops and walls, their daggers and long blade sparking furiously with each clash. Couldn't Millicent take a moment's rest?
Throne shook his head with a wry smile but didn't intervene. Women fighting was a sight worth watching.
Millicent kicked off a wall, spun midair, and brought her twin blades down in a savage strike, landing squarely on Melina's crossed daggers. Melina slid forward, pivoted, and thrust a blade behind her. Clang! The dagger met star-frost, but Melina instantly crouched, sweeping her leg to force Millicent back. Seizing the opening, she pressed both hands to the ground.
Golden Piercer. Golden ripples shimmered in the air as spears thrust out in rapid succession. Millicent charged head-on, her blade releasing waves of cold air as she swung with precision, leaving a massive field of sword light in her wake.
"Waterfowl Dance."
Throne narrowed his eyes. This was Malenia's signature move, and Millicent had enhanced it with frost.
The Golden Order Incantations shattered under the sword's energy. Millicent surged through the frost and golden particles, her blade thrusting forward without hesitation. Swish—
Melina ducked low, feeling the chill of the blade skim her head. Her left-hand short sword scraped against Millicent's blade, sending sparks flying as she arched her back to close the distance.
An inch longer meant an inch stronger. Melina, with her assassin's instincts, thrived in close quarters.
"Master Mel, cut her off."
Throne couldn't help but call out. He watched as Melina closed in, her right-hand short sword failing to pierce Millicent's chest. Today's Millicent wasn't just Malenia's heir—she'd trained under the 'Fist King' Alexander. Pa!
Millicent pressed her left hand down, grabbing Melina's wrist and yanking it aside, meeting her with a powerful roundhouse kick. The impact slammed into Melina's abdomen, nearly sending her flying. Yet, she still managed to slash with her reversed dagger, cutting Millicent's left hand. Millicent hissed in pain and let go, leaping back half a step.
Both women spun and swung their legs in unison. Spinning back kick! Bang! Their long legs collided, creating a burst of wind pressure that sent them stumbling back. Melina twisted her ankle instinctively, but Millicent charged forward immediately, arms swinging. A warrior needed no rest—only relentless attacks to overwhelm the opponent.
Just meters away, Millicent leaped into a flying kick.
"Senpou Kick." Throne murmured to himself. He saw Melina instinctively cross her daggers to block and thought, Fool. Millicent kicked the blades, using them as a stepping stone to leap higher. From above, she raised her sword and thrust downward.
Simple, direct, and without a hint of wasted motion, yet inc...