The fire roared to life—then died just as fast. Throne stood untouched at the center, his robes pristine. The flames might as well have been a dream. His body tensed, then relaxed. He lifted his head.
One step. He was in front of the burly man. One slash. The blade split the skull clean through.
"New trick."
The words came slow, measured. Around him, Tarnished clutched their eyes as Frenzied Flame erupted from their sockets. His killing intent sharpened to a razor's edge.
"Frenzy enough, and the impossible happens."
Silence swallowed the village. Corpses littered the ground around the swordsman. Even the villagers who'd reached the peak of frenzy lay dead. Frenzy didn't rewrite physics. When Throne's blade cut, things stayed cut.
Ten years since he'd last faced the Frenzied Flame. He was stronger now. Wiser.
Chaos fire. Illusion fire. Dies quick in the real world—but the power laughs at logic. Time it right, and a peasant makes a knight stumble.
His boot came down on the last ember. Crushed it flat. No wonder the Erdtree burned whole villages to stop this. Men. Women. Children. All ash.
This power was too dangerous. It reminded him of something green and grinning. Others needed plans. These freaks just needed to lose their minds.
"The flame doesn't touch you."
Melina materialized beside him, stepping gingerly around the corpses. Disgust twisted her features.
"That blast would've staggered a hero."
"What does it do?"
"Think of it as... a knife to the mind."
"Fatal in a fight."
Throne nodded. Another piece of the puzzle clicked. Then—
"You hate it."
"What sane person wouldn't? And I feel it—this need to cut them down."
Her fingers brushed the scar over her left eye. Hatred burned sudden and bright in her gaze. Like she could tolerate anything else, but this had to die.
"Let it spread, and it's over. The source never dies. Like rot for the mind—too much, and even Tarnished break."
Throne's frown deepened. Like he was tasting something foul.
"They're frenzy without the rot. No wonder the Two Fingers watch them. These types have no limits. Golden Order folk would've snapped meeting this flame. Yet here they are, chatting."
Melina's nose wrinkled. Even the air here felt tainted.
"Since Shabriri's not here—next village."
She turned. Froze.
Throne had both hands over his eyes.
"You—what's wrong with you?"
Her throat worked. Then his hands dropped.
Pale yellow fire blazed from his sockets.
Frenzied. Flame.
Shing—
The Black Knife cleared its sheath. She moved like lightning, blade kissing his forehead. Her arm shook. She couldn't bring it down.
In those eyes, she saw no madness, but rather a hint of amusement. It stole her breath.
"You held back." Throne smiled. Approving.
"You—how?!"
Her grip on his collar tightened. The knife trembled harder.
"Nothing special. To a Tarnished, the Frenzied Flame is just a power, no different from an Erdtree incantation. These few simply accepted twisted heresies, which is why they became powerful and dangerous."
Melina blinked. That was true; although Tarnished who used Frenzied Flame incantations would be hunted by the Church, it wouldn't cause too much of an impact as long as it wasn't used excessively. She slowly let go, but immediately gripped him tightly again: "Wait, you're not a Tarnished!"
Could your reaction time be any slower? Throne looked at Melina, speechless. As he touched his own collar, the moment they made contact, Melina instantly pulled back. She backed away several steps, rubbing the back of her hand: "What are you doing?"
"What are you doing? Why does it feel like I'm unclean, like I've eaten dung? Don't overthink it; this is likely a side effect of devouring the Ancient Great Serpent."
"What do you mean??"
"It means my devouring ability has become stronger. Before, even if I killed strange creatures, I could only take the power of their physical bodies. At that time, I was wondering if this ability wasn't strong enough to touch their essence."
Throne muttered to himself, not intending for Melina to understand. Except for dragons, devouring only strengthened physical attributes. Just like the deathroot hunters, Bloody Fingers, or Kindred of Rot; killing them didn't grant him Beast Power, Blood Power, or Scarlet Rot. Wait, no. He had obtained Bloodflame from Mohg's clone. He was different from the Bloody Fingers and the blood priests; he was clearly closer to the Formless Mother, and thus closer to the source of power. He seemed to have discovered a blind spot that had troubled him for a long time. For these special powers, it seemed necessary to kill special individuals—existences as high and mighty as Mohg. Ordinary powerhouses were too far from the source. And these sources, in the final analysis, were all gods who mastered a certain rule. He looked at the corpses at his feet; these people were clearly not important figures, so there was only one conclusion—"The Ancient Great Serpent really is a potent supplement."
Throne turned his head slightly and looked at Melina, who was still full of wariness, asking curiously: "By the way, if I were truly granted the Frenzied Flame, what would you do?"
"I—I would kill you!"
Melina bared her fangs and brandished her claws, proving she was very fierce.
"You'd be better off crying and begging me not to go frenzied."
"In your dreams!"
Heh, I don't believe it. Throne didn't continue to tease her and withdrew his gaze: "Don't worry, the Frenzied Flame won't have any effect on me. On the contrary, I want to go and see that Three Fingers—the thing that can make even the Greater Will wary."
The latter half of the sentence was too quiet to be heard clearly. He didn't want Melina to worry, but he also wouldn't give up this power. Being able to break through Radagon's seal without burning down the entire Erdtree—that was the real difficulty. He stood in the center of the deathly silent village, slowly rummaging through the corpses, pulling several people out from a pile of severed limbs.
"Nobles?"
Melina also walked over, looking at the ornate clothes on the corpses with surprise.
"Yes, precisely nobles. As far as I know, apart from the Tarnished, the Frenzied Flame cannot actively erode people. Only by accepting the Frenzied Flame can one ignite its fire."
"But that doesn't make sense, they..."
"As Golden nobles, they should be the mortal enemies of the Frenzied Flame, ready to extinguish it at the first sign of trouble, right?"
Throne turned around and pointed to the hundreds of corpses.
"But without the nobles deceiving their superiors and concealing the truth from their subordinates, how could this Frenzied Flame have spread?"
Melina was speechless. This situation was different from the spread of the Frenzied Flame in history. The Frenzied Flame was a plague with no cure. Resist it, and you burned alive. Surrender, and the Golden Army crushed you to ash. Nobles didn't succumb to the Flame—not because they were above it, but because they were human. Faced with annihilation, their despair ran deeper than most. And the Three Fingers? Their power was both terrifying and irresistible. Melina's voice sharpened with disgust.
"Those traitors!"
Her anger simmered. She knew the Frenzied Flame promised only ruin. It was poison, swift and merciless—one taste, and frenzy consumed you. The Lands Between teetered on the edge of collapse. Nobles, with all their access to knowledge, must have been scrambling for an escape. The Frenzied Flame? A mere symptom of a deeper rot. Even those women—their schemes likely ran deeper than mere diversion. But it wasn't my concern. Passing through, I'd kill them on sight, purge them entirely. Call it a way to pass the time on this journey. Melina stepped back, distancing herself from the blood pooling at her feet. She turned, her tone cautious.
"Are you still going to The Shaded Castle?"
"Yes. The Frenzied Flame and the nobles are pawns in a larger game. I'll sweep them aside while I'm at it."
She clicked her tongue.
"That's quite the boast."
"It's the truth. These factions are beneath notice."
Throne shrugged. The Three Fingers were buried deep; the Frenzied Flame couldn't touch him. The nobles? Puppets of Morgott's fading power, insignificant on their own. High and mighty? How many heroes could they muster? How many demigods? Melina fell silent. She'd forgotten Throne's confidence—unyielding, unshakable. As his strength grew, why waste energy on petty threats? But Throne didn't move. He waited, eyes narrowed, until the light faded and shadows stretched long. Only then did he stir.
"Finally here."
Melina blinked, shaking off her daze. She scanned the horizon.
"What's here?"
"The madmen of the Frenzied Flame. Predictably slow."
Throne drew Rivers of Blood from the earth, the blade spinning in a crimson arc.
"I waited for them to come to me. Saves time hunting them down. And keeps Millicent out of danger."
Melina's sharp gaze snapped northward. A dark mass shifted in the distance. Her breath hitched.
"So many."
Thousands of frenzied figures surged forward, a rolling tide of madness. Their guttural cries echoed across the field. Their ranks were a chaotic mosaic—ragged commoners, armored knights, Tarnished, demi-humans, misbegotten—all united by the flames burning in their eyes. Madness. Chaos.
"Is someone controlling them?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. Doesn't matter. Their power's useful to me, so they die."
Throne's fingers danced along the katana's hilt. He had encountered the Frenzied Flame on his way, and it seemed to have been festering for ages. Since its power could be absorbed, and the stars' future had no place for its chaos, the choice was simple.
"Their luck's rotten, hiding in shadows only to cross my path. No need for pretenses. No need for hesitation."
"I'm in a hurry."
"You're not planning to deal with these thousands of people by yourself, are you?"
Melina blinked. At least it looked impressive. Their reaction was fast—they'd gathered in half a day.
"What twisted heresies, what return to chaos—" He leaned forward, toes digging into the soil, fingers tightening around his blade. His killing intent drowned the madness.
"Just crush them all!"
No one knew where these Frenzied Flame followers came from. No one knew why they were here. For Throne, it didn't matter. Bang—Before Melina could react, he was gone. The gale blasted her face, forcing her to shield her eyes. When she lowered her hands, he was already streaking toward the Frenzied Flame's blinding radiance. Ineffective. Throne was madness's natural enemy. Mental erosion couldn't touch him. The flames bounced harmlessly off the Thopss Barrier. A crimson blade arc erupted. A chunk of the writhing crowd vanished. Madness couldn't blunt the katana's edge. Flesh split, but their vitality lingered. Fear wasn't in their vocabulary. They closed in from every side. Throne glanced down and lifted his foot. Dragon-Storm Stomp! The gale exploded. Dozens of bodies flew like paper, then crumpled into paste as gravity reclaimed them. Forget the Frenzied Flame's mental erosion—these followers were weak. Pathetically weak. No wonder the Golden Army wiped them out every time they appeared. Throne scanned the chaos. No formation. No weapons. Just disorder. How did they expect to fight a demigod with their heads? Did they really think those crawling with broken legs were evil spirits—"That's supposed to scare me?"
Storm! A blade of wind, ten meters long, screamed down like a thousand birds. Where it passed, bodies turned to mist. First came the hurricane. Then the energy storm, thick enough to choke. Glintstone Phalanx. Carian Greatsword. Cannon of Haima. Crystal Burst. This was Throne's showcase. Lights rose and fell. Explosions rumbled like distant thunder. A regular army would've adapted by now. But the Frenzied Flame followers? They had no reason. They just surged forward, one after another, trying to grab him. Even getting close was a luxury. Packed so tight, most never saw him before magic hurled them skyward. Swish—Throne landed, moonlight style, and turned. A glintstone arrow grazed his cheek. His golden eyes locked onto the caster through the crowd's gaps. A Tarnished with a staff, attempting a sneak attack. The gaze froze him. Even his madness cooled. Before he could vanish into the crowd, his vision went black. His body lifted.
"You want to dance too?"
Throne gripped his head, his peripheral vision catching a few Tarnished clutching their eyes.
"Wind-up's too long."
Throne threw the mage, scattering bodies like bowling pins. He vanished before the Frenzied Flame's slash arrived, pinning the fallen with a single strike.