Three days. That's all it took for his strength to return. Throne flexed his fist, testing the familiar surge of power. The memory of his fight with Rykard lingered—brutal, consuming. He'd expected weeks of recovery, like after Greyoll. But this? This was something else.
The crimson tears flask helped, but its potency waned with overuse. He'd shattered his mana threshold twice. Was it Rykard? No. Something deeper. The Ancient Great Serpent. Its essence lingered in his veins, a gift of vitality and recovery. That serpent's power was legendary. And now it was his.
He exhaled sharply. This was more than defeating a demigod. This was evolution. Strength born of devouring something primal, something ancient. The thought thrilled him. Even Rykard's Blasphemous Great Rune was digesting faster.
A grin tugged at his lips. Two more serpents—would that grant immortality? He shook his head, dismissing the fantasy. One serpent was a miracle. Two? Impossible. Still, as he continued to fight, to kill, his recovery would grow stronger. Not as directly, perhaps, but inevitable.
He stood as Millicent approached, trailed by a dozen women. Their clothes hung in tatters, skin marred by bruises and cuts. They clung to each other, trembling, too afraid to look at the blood-soaked ground. Millicent crossed the crimson pools, her face tight with rage.
"Master," she said, voice low. "The manor had a dungeon. Those monsters—they treated them like cattle. Every day, they—" She stopped, jaw clenched. The words were too vile.
"Expected," Throne said. "They were meant for some Count or another. Consumables. Are you happy?"
"Yes," Millicent shot back, shoulders squared. "I've found my reason to swing my sword."
Her pride was palpable. She'd saved these women, felt their gratitude, and it had filled her with purpose. Even the rot's pain seemed to ease. Throne approved. Malenia fought for Miquella. Millicent had found her own cause.
Still, he couldn't let her bask in it. Not yet.
"Do you know why no one's cheering?"
Millicent blinked, noticing the eerie silence of the village.
"Are they afraid of retaliation?"
"Yes," Throne said. "Kill one Baron, and another takes his place. The sword doesn't solve everything."
"Then I'll kill them as they come!"
"And when you face someone stronger? Someone you can't beat? Sacrificing yourself is noble, but it won't change the outcome."
Millicent froze, her fire dimming. Throne gestured toward the women.
"Let's focus. What do you plan to do with them?"
Millicent hesitated. Take them along? She couldn't say it. Throne wasn't here for a rescue mission. They'd only slow him down. But leaving them? That was a death sentence. Staying here, guarding this village forever—impossible.
Her face twisted in frustration. Cutting people down was easy. Cleaning up the mess? Harder. And this wasn't the only village suffering. Nobles ruled everywhere, their cruelty unchecked.
She knew Throne wasn't here for a tour; wouldn't they just die faster? The thought gnawed at her.
"Even I can't wander The Lands Between with hundreds of women."
Throne's words cut deep, but they held truth. His voice shifted.
"That's why I need Caria. Imperfect, but it'll shelter them. In these lands, survival's the rarest currency."
Millicent had crossed Liurnia herself. She nodded without hesitation.
"I understand, Master."
Her opinion of Ranni sharpened instantly. Where steel failed, the Lunar Princess prevailed. Yet she didn't fully yield to Throne's plan.
"Send me to The Shaded Castle first. I'll clear the surrounding villages, then escort survivors to Volcano Manor."
Her grip tightened on her sword.
"My blade may lack edge, but my resolve doesn't. All evil dies tonight."
The girl had embraced 'slay on sight' like a holy mantra.
Throne shook his head, amused. This went beyond even Alexander's zeal. At least she killed with purpose—flawed, but it'd keep her from becoming Shura.
"Go then. Watch your back. You'll face real fighters out there. Regroup at The Shaded Castle fast."
"Yes." Millicent snapped a salute and strode off, steel singing at her hip. Stubborn, yes—but better a righteous blade than a wicked one. If she held course, she might carve out a life worth living.
Throne watched her disappear into the gloom. Another headshake. He turned.
"Why aren't you running?"
The Nomadic Merchant grinned through grime.
"Observing your futile labor. Evil always slips its chains. Topple the Golden Order, build anew—rot still creeps in. No society kills it completely."
A fair point. Throne's eyebrows flickered, then settled.
"I do what I can. Clear conscience is enough. Never aimed to play savior."
"Well spoken."
The merchant leaned in.
"But with such power, why stop halfway? Why not end suffering itself?"
Something prickled in Throne's memory.
"Explain."
"Oppression springs from class. Class springs from difference. Divide men by strength, stature, station—agony persists. Would you hear our Path?"
The merchant's eyes burned like pyres. He savored Throne's startled face—strong men always twitched at this part.
Throne spoke first.
"Burn the world to ash. Melt all into one. No more high or low. Equal in annihilation—purest equality."
"You—you know!"
Ecstasy twisted the merchant's face. Then his smile froze mid-breath.
Swish.
A head tumbled through the air. Throne flicked gore from his blade and spat.
"Damn it. Madmen everywhere."
Noble atrocities weren't news. Millicent overreacted, if anything. Those atop the heap always wallowed in filth—he could imagine worse. But if she wanted to play hero, he wouldn't stop her.
Just the Frenzied Flame joining the dance... no. Inevitable, really. Throne exhaled smoke from his nostrils.
He suddenly remembered that the Frenzied Flame sprouted from suffering. Despair bred that collective suicide logic—everyone burns together. And damn if the reasoning didn't seduce. Extreme anarchists. Reduce all to cinders, erase every hierarchy. Equal in the crucible.
The Lands Between grew more desperate, and with it, the Frenzied Flame seethed hotter. A king would rise, spreading despair's fire across the world. Throne clenched his fist. He walked the Path of the Stars—how could he let his foundation burn? And deeper still, he loathed the Frenzied Flame. What salvation was chaos, even humanity erased?
He paused, punched open a wooden door, and stepped inside. A mother and child huddled together. A man gripped a wood-chopping knife, trembling as he pointed it at Throne. No scent of the Frenzied Flame here. Had they not acted yet?
Throne scanned the room, then waved the flower in his hand at the little girl.
"Thanks. It's nice."
He turned to leave. At the door, his hem caught. He glanced back. The girl held a vase; her parents hadn't stopped her.
"I'm giving all these flowers to you. I can finally go out and play."
Her innocence was jarring, unafraid of the blood-stained executioner. Throne forced a smile, took the vase, and spoke to her father.
"Leave tonight. Find a way to Mt. Gelmir. Someone will take you to safety."
He strode out, ignoring the man's confusion, and closed the door behind him. The streets still smelled of blood.
Windows slammed shut, a series of thuds echoing. Throne didn't care. The sound of hooves grew dense. He leapt onto a nearby roof. A troop of cavalry charged, led by Leyndell Knights. They'd come as backup, but Throne's focus was elsewhere—the Frenzied Flame.
"Melina, I've detected the scent of the Frenzied Flame."
"What!?"
Her scream echoed in his mind. She loathed the Flame more than anything, though she couldn't say why.
"Don't shout. What's surprising? The more desperate this world becomes, the stronger the Flame burns."
Throne watched the knights charge into the village. He raised a finger, pointing.
"Then find a way to deal with the Frenzied Flame followers. They spread fast. Some go mad, some burn themselves—none can be left behind."
Melina's commanding tone was rare. Throne raised an eyebrow.
He reached out, pulling a spear into his grip.
"In a hurry? Afraid I'll go mad?"
"I don't know, but they can't stay. Aren't you going to The Shaded Castle? Clean up the Frenzied Flame along the way!"
"Tsk, don't order me around."
Throne stepped forward. The spear flew like lightning, piercing a knight's chest, pinning both man and horse to the ground. Chaos erupted. Knights scattered, some trying to retreat. The sky darkened. They looked up.
Comet Azur's light blossomed above their heads. BOOM!! A gale whipped Throne's robes. The village entrance became a crater, the newcomers obliterated. Throne turned away, leapt off the roof, and vaulted onto his horse.
"Fine. You track the scent, and I'll tear things apart."
The Spirit Steed bolted, leaving the silent village behind.
Melina was very sensitive to the Frenzied Flame and immediately alerted Throne.
"Northeast, not very far."
"Good."
Hooves clattered across the ridges. Another village appeared in the distance. Attracted by Calico Village's commotion, people gathered at the entrance. As the knight charged, they didn't scatter—they stood blankly, like puppets.
"Dammit, there really is a connection between the nobles and the Frenzied Flame."
Throne saw this group of people, who were like the walking dead. They were only a few miles from Calico Village; that Baron couldn't have been completely ignorant.
"Are they mad?"
"They will be soon. Better to risk their lives. That Shabriri is very good at deceiving people."
Throne roughly guessed how these Frenzied Flame followers had hoodwinked the nobles, allowing them to spread in the most chaotic northern part of the Altus Plateau. Anyone with a brain knew that the dementia was related to the shattering of the elden ring.
Regardless of the Frenzied Flame's strength, it was at least mysterious enough; it wasn't hard to understand why people would turn to it in desperation. Unfortunately, you've brought your preaching to me! Clang—
The blade gleamed. Throne had no patience to argue fallacies with these madmen; he charged in on his horse. The 'puppets' reacted, looking over blankly as fire gathered in their eyes.
A large wave of pale yellow flames was hurled toward him. This was the flame of frenzy, enough to drive anyone mad. However, a violent wind blew it right back. Whoosh! The wooden walls caught fire. The Frenzied Flame was harmless to these followers, but the Spirit Steed's forehooves trampled down. With the sound of breaking bones, two people were crushed into the dirt.
Torrent touched the embers and let out a pained neigh. Throne quickly unsummoned the Spirit Steed and landed on the ground, then saw people closing in from all directions. They carried no weapons, only spreading their arms to pass the madness to everyone. However, a blood-red tornado suddenly appeared in the center of the crowd, swirling up into the sky.
Those nearby were instantly shredded into pieces of meat, while those further away were sent flying. They crashed heavily onto the ground but quickly scrambled back up. Some had been cut in half but still dragged their upper bodies along the ground.
"They aren't particularly strong, but they're certainly mad."
Throne watched these 'hospitable' lunatics and twisted his sword hilt. Leave none alive!
He charged forward at a speed far exceeding ordinary humans, thrusting his blade into the ground and pulling upward—
Earth Overturn! The earth surged backward. The sound of buildings shattering echoed as the open space in front of the village was completely covered, burying people and fire alike beneath it.
"Eh? You aren't afraid of the Frenzied Flame?"
Melina only then reacted. The Frenzied Flame was the enemy of all living things, even more virulent than the Scarlet Rot.
"When did I ever say I'd go mad?"
Throne stepped onto the earthen slope he had created, severing an arm that reached out from the dirt.
"To be precise, the Frenzied Flame is the enemy of the Tarnished. They are constantly awaiting the arrival of a 'Lord,' and only a Tarnished can become the Lord of Frenzied Flame."
"And so?"
"So you're very lucky. Otherwise, if you had encountered a trading partner who liked going mad, you'd be crying your eyes out."
Throne reached the peak of the slope and saw several figures.
They weren't tattered like the commoners from before; they held axes or swords, and madness gleamed in their eyes. These were Tarnished—Tarnished who had been tainted by the Frenzied Flame and then embraced it. Their eyeballs hadn't even rotted; to them, the Frenzied Flame was simply a unique power.
"Why do you disturb our quest?" said a man with a square face.
He dragged a heavy axe and, unlike those followers, walked with a steady gait. Truly perfect material. Tsk, the Tarnished returning too early really isn't good; they're easily targeted by all sorts of monsters and demons. Throne couldn't help but complain in his heart as he slowly raised his blade: "I hate people going mad."
"That's something you fools will never understand! Only chaos brings equality!" The burly man roared, axe raised high, one arm shielding his eyes.
"To end suffering, we can do anything!"
Madness. Pure madness. Throne tensed, ready to counter whatever trick the man might pull. Then he felt it—a faint tremor beneath his boots. Pale yellow flames erupted skyward. The followers buried beneath the earth had merged into one, their collective insanity fueling the inferno. The Frenzied Flame was far brighter than ordinary fire, illuminating the burly man's fanatical face even as bloody tears streamed from the corners of his eyes.
"Come," he hissed, arms spread wide. "Become one of us, equal brothers and sisters."