Boom—
The Shaded Castle's walls exploded like a child's kicked-over blocks. The shockwave hurled onlookers across the moat, bodies shredded by debris like grapeshot. Wooden houses collapsed in a chain of splintering groans. Screams, cries, pain—all melted into one dissonant hymn. Margit had no attention left for such noise.
The giant tail barred his retreat. As it reared upright, realization struck: this thing had no front, no back, no head, no tail. Just a writhing mass that could become anything. Golden Order incantations were useless. Curses, then?
But the flames licking the monster's form burned ten times hotter than his own. Even for him, this was trouble. The Crucible Avatar didn't wait. Its body swelled like a bloated carcass—then split open. Aspect of the Crucible: Throat.
Mass meant firepower. His world became flame. No one knew better than him how cursed those fires were. Golden Barrier! The incantation unfurled just as the inferno hit, waves of fire breaking against it like a storm-surge against a dam, spilling skyward and earthward in equal measure.
No time to breathe. The Avatar's body stretched like wet clay, horns coalescing into a single spiraled lance. Crack. The barrier—the same one that had weathered Rykard's full fury—shattered like glass. The monster filled his vision, lunging with grotesque glee.
Its head yawned open like a flower, the pistil a nest of arms waving, beckoning, inviting. He—
Boom!!!
A cerulean comet of magic smashed into the thing's gut. The explosion launched it skyward. Margit threw up an arm against the dust-choked air.
When he lowered it, a familiar silhouette stood before him. Silver-plate armor, scarred and heavy. A crimson cape. The pale tassel swaying from the helm.
"You—"
The figure turned. Pride dripped from his voice.
"Fell Omen. Few days apart, and you've grown pathetic."
That armor. Him. Margit's fingers twitched around the golden blade. At Volcano Manor, this bastard had cost him subordinates, time, dignity—all for nothing. The urge to ram steel through his spine flared hot.
But he stopped. This was a rescue. Why? At the Manor, they'd torn off the gloves but never crossed blades. Throne should've wanted the monster to consume him.
"How is it you?!"
"Surprised, Margit?"
Throne kept his eyes on the monstrosity, smirk audible. Moments ago, in the void, it had abandoned him—drawn by better prey. Throne had hesitated. Then donned the dark moon armor and charged.
Margit wasn't wrong. Letting the Avatar eat him served Caria's interests. But Ranni had been right: the old habit flared. Morgott was a hero. So Throne helped.
Besides, if this monster grew too large, 'soft-hearted' Throne would have to clean up the mess anyway. The Lands Between's timeline was already frayed. He couldn't let it unravel further.
"You are a hero," he said. "And so am I."
He grinned as he spoke, the words bright and unburdened. Margit inhaled deeply, gave a slow nod—like he'd found something rare. Whatever that thing was, whoever cared only for their own hunger, letting it consume everything until nothing remained—no matter how strong, how clever—they could never be called a hero.
But even if you hated someone, you could still recognize this much:
"You're a hero too. Truce for now?"
Throne's mouth curled under his helmet. His "habits" depended on the opponent. No point playing the hero if the other bastard just turned tail and ran. Heroes respected heroes, but only if they deserved it.
"Fine. We kill it first."
Agreement settled, the rest was simple.
"I'll lead."
Throne vanished with a Starlight Leap, reappearing in front of the Crucible Avatar.
The thing had just landed, cracking the earth. It lifted its head as the swordsman arched his back, greatsword raised high. Banzai, Caria! The magic blade blazed blue, stretching ten meters before slicing through hair and tentacles alike.
A flash. A clean sever. The blade left a gash across the creature's forehead, nearly splitting its gaping maw in two. Low magic resistance. Makes sense—glintstone's not of this world.
Throne had watched the fight before joining. Golden Order Incantations weren't his strength—he couldn't lace Morgott's boots there—but he had other tools. Whatever you resisted, he had an answer. His toes brushed the ground, then pushed off hard, leaving a shattered tail behind as he darted forward.
He glanced up. The elongated horror was rising again, flesh warping into dozens of thick, thrashing tails. Bang. Bang. Bang. A drumbeat of destruction. The ground beneath it fractured, dust geysering into the air. Throne wove through the chaos with Bloodhound's Step, but Margit wasn't idle.
One step forward. A massive golden spear coalesced in his grip. He drove it home with everything he had—like ramming a steel pillar into the monster's chest. The incantation flickered, weakening, but Margit clenched his teeth, stepped in deeper.
The force could've toppled a mountain. The Crucible Avatar reeled back, then crashed through the city wall, reducing stone to rubble. Lucky it had no front or back. As Throne reappeared above it, Falling Moon ready to strike, bone-white spirals erupted from its hide—clustered, jagged—shooting skyward.
The air shrieked. Throne didn't flinch. No time. A golden barrier unfolded before him. The horns struck like hail on a lake, rippling the shield.
"Nice save!"
Throne tightened his core, became a spinning full moon—a blue saw-blade carving down from skull to tail, leaving a trench of gore in his wake. Screech—Sparks flew as his boots skidded. He landed outside the city.
As he shed his momentum, his heels reached the edge of the moat. The Crucible Avatar's tendrils writhed. Did it even feel pain? Didn't matter. This was the opening.
Rise. Purple light wreathed him. The river's surface boiled.
This toxic river water was actually pulled up by his Gravity Magic, forming a huge, emerald-green orb above his head. Throne held it with one hand, and before he could release it, a figure appeared beside him. Elemer had arrived. He didn't know where this silver-armored knight had popped out from, but since the other party was helping Margit, he was an enemy.
However, Throne didn't even look at the descending greatsword, because another figure had already charged in diagonally. Clang! The katana blocked the greatsword, and Millicent was thrown several meters away by the overwhelming force, shaking her numb palm.
"Teacher, I'm here to help!"
"I told you to stand by. You really didn't listen."
Throne seemed to have expected this. Catching a glimpse of Elemer and more hunters out of the corner of his eye, he only threw back one sentence: "Hold on and don't die. Wait for the Nights Cavalry to arrive."
As soon as he finished speaking, he lightly waved his hand, throwing the poison orb at the Crucible Avatar, which had just pulled itself out of the city wall.
Splash—This poison orb, over ten meters in diameter, slammed accurately onto the monster, instantly drenching it like a drowned rat. Not only did it become multicolored, but it also emitted waves of foul stench. 'It can't even resist poison?' Throne crouched down, still not looking at Elemer, who was charging right in front of him, even though the latter was wielding a greatsword in one hand and a briar shield in the other, spinning his body in an unstoppable manner. Dragon Storm Thrust.
Just as the shield and sword were about to strike him, he stomped his right foot, and the force combined with the released gale actually sent the heavily armored hunter flying.
"Where did this monster come from!"
Elemer retreated several steps before steadying himself, using his shield to block the continuous Waterfowl Dance, and turned his head, his face filled with shock.
The shattered city wall had a hole punched through it, along with the monster's abdomen. The howling gale tore the large hole open, and in the end, it reached a diameter of several meters. The 'woo-woo' whistling sound still lingered in the air, and a golden warhammer had already struck the monster on the head, smashing it into the ground with a 'boom'!
"You are strong."
His iron boots scraped against the ground once more, forcing his body to turn, and he heard Margit's words in his ear.
"You're not bad yourself."
Throne replied indifferently, then saw the monster, half of whose body was stuck in the ground, surging forward along the ground like a puddle of melting mud. It was extremely fast, and it split into countless bodies, just like dark red ribbons, winding and swift.
"It is adapting to the fight. Don't get caught."
"You don't need to remind me of that."
Margit gritted his teeth. This projection didn't have the high mobility that Throne possessed, and his top-tier Golden Order Incantations weren't very useful.
Seeing this dazzling attack, he simply raised his cane. Golden Sword Rain! He struck the cane down, and a dense shower of golden light swords fell from the sky, embedding themselves in the ground like a dense graveyard of swords. Even a thousand-man unit would have suffered heavy casualties on the spot.
Some of these 'ribbons' were pinned to the ground, unable to move, but others squeezed through the gaps between the swords. In the blink of an eye, they wrapped around Margit's feet. In just an instant, the powerful Fell Omen was rendered immobile, and the areas entangled began to twist, just like a candle being melted by fire. Fortunately, Throne, who was beside him, hadn't disconnected.
He slashed with his sword, leaving a bottomless sword mark on the ground; the ribbons detached from the main body and vanished into ashes in an instant.
"Watch out, this thing is a huge threat to you."
Throne grabbed the frozen-faced Margit and flung him backward, his own scalp tingling at the sight before them.
The ground was covered in these 'ribbons,' as thick as a thigh, with cursed flames burning on their surface and covered in dense eyes, as if thousands of little snakes were crawling on the ground. He grabbed his other sword without hesitation. Fire Dance! A wall of fire unfolded before him, and the sizzling sound, like burning plastic, merged into one.
Then the fire wall was pierced through; it turned out the 'ribbons' had fused together, reaching the thickness of an adult's waist, which allowed them to resist the burning of the flames. Throne was about to retreat, but fortunately, a golden scythe appeared in the void, swinging like a pendulum.
Swish—The ribbons were severed, but this time, they didn't vanish into ashes immediately; they continued to struggle forward, but a spreading layer of frost froze them.
"It's getting harder and harder to deal with. How much power do you have left?"
Throne turned his head and saw that Margit's dark face was faintly turning pale. No matter how exquisite it was, this was still a projection. Like Ranni, its recovery ability and energy were vastly different from the main body.
"Not much, but I can still fight."
Margit remained expressionless, showing no signs of weakness.
"Then retreat. You have a huge attraction for it. I'm going to kill someone and look for its weakness at the same time. If we keep wasting time like this, we're dead."
This wasn't just a difference in energy; more importantly, the Crucible Avatar was learning to fight during the battle. Margit didn't doubt whether he was trying to take the opportunity to escape and turned his massive body.
"Fine, I'll be the bait."
The short conversation lasted only a few seconds, and the monster was coming again. This time, it was several meters thick, directly ignoring the wall of fire set up by the Sword of Night and Flame.
"Disperse."
Throne uttered a single word. Margit sprinted into the castle while releasing a Golden Barrier, while Throne dissipated into starlight on the spot. The dozens of giant hands passed through the particles, focusing only on chasing the Fell Omen.
Dust and flames mixed together to form a thick fog. Nothing could be seen inside The Shaded Castle. Up on a quiet tower, Count Hero stretched his neck, his face no longer holding even a shred of elegance. The plan had gone wrong. With all his calculations, he hadn't counted on another demigod joining the hunt, and one who stood on Margit's side at that.
"Isn't that the Carian chief knight? Aren't they supposed to be enemies?!"
Veins bulged, and his heart was filled with indignation and confusion. Even though the Crucible Avatar still held the advantage, the battlefield had already descended into chaos. The hunters led by Elemer were fighting a young girl.
This bunch of idiots couldn't even take her down, and it wasn't until the equally confused Nights Cavalry arrived that the two sides began fighting in a melee outside the moat.
"These idiots are no longer of any use. Where is Cabine-Ivus? As long as you appear, we can win immediately!"
His nails were dug into his flesh. The Count was even more nervous than during the defense of Leyndell. After all, that time was just changing masters, but this time, if they couldn't kill Margit, they wouldn't even need the latter to take revenge; the Council of Six Houses would wipe out the House of Hero to clear their names. Just as he was in this state of tension, a few particles appeared beside him. His eyes narrowed, and he turned his head stiffly.
The silver-armored knight was standing right beside him, craning his neck to look out as if he were a guard.
"The place you chose is quite good; it's enough to overlook the entire battlefield."
Throne looked out, and noticing the gaze, he turned his head: "Are you trying to ask if we are on the same side when it comes to the goal of killing Margit?"
The Count's face lit with desperate hope.
"Of course. Listen to me—it's not too late to change your mind..."
A sharp whistle cut the air. Before his practiced words could take root, a blade flashed. His head left his shoulders, mouth frozen mid-sentence, eyes still clinging to that fleeting hope.
"From a rational standpoint, I should cooperate with you, but unfortunately—"