"Teacher, that is..."
Millicent turned her head sharply, her eyes filled with fervor. Such a powerful expert truly opened her eyes, making her fighting spirit boil.
"The First King, Godfrey, the supreme powerhouse who ascended the throne through sheer strength," Throne answered solemnly, flicking his thumb to unsheathe Moonveil by a few inches.
Clang—
The strongest king, even as a spirit projection, was enough to command respect. But respect did not equal fear. Over the past two days, I had recovered quite well. Fighting upon seeing the enemy—Throne was not a spirit, nor did he have any glittering special effects, but his boiling fighting spirit touched that golden sun. It rose, and a blink later, it crashed down heavily. Boom!
The sailboat sank, its deck letting out a groan under the unbearable weight. The resulting gale swept the sailors away; they fell into the sea screaming, only to be swallowed by the waves and vanish. The light withdrew, transforming into a robust old man.
He was entirely golden, seemingly drifting between reality and illusion, yet his knotted muscles, hedgehog-like long hair, and the heavy axe on his shoulder were still lifelike, looking like a statue with special effects. With a perfect physique, his violent energy suppressed the restless waves. He leaned forward with a smile, proud and majestic.
"So you are that Carian Knight?"
"That is I."
Throne stood tall, gesturing for Melina and Millicent to retreat behind him. He added, "Your Majesty Godfrey, sending only a projection... you underestimate me."
He had finally met him. He was surprised that he felt no shock or bewilderment, only composure. After some thought, he understood why. No matter how many legends surrounded this man, he was essentially no different from the enemies Throne had killed before. Godfrey paused, then laughed heartily. His boisterous voice echoed, causing Melina and Millicent to cover their ears.
"Good, you have guts! When did such a powerhouse appear in this boring Lands Between? As for a spirit? It is indeed disrespectful, but as a greeting, it suffices."
He had not been fully resurrected. Throne's eyelid twitched as he realized something. A ruthless man like this might be curious, but since Throne had snatched half a shard, Godfrey would definitely not show mercy.
"Don't overthink it. The incompetent aren't worthy of my hand. Now that I've seen you, I can rest easy."
Godfrey's words were full of arrogance, but considering his legend, such arrogance was only natural. Not just any random person was qualified for his serious attention. Throne threw a doll to Millicent. Ignoring the two confused women, he whispered, "You two can swim, right?"
Swim? Both were stunned, but then they realized. Regardless of whether Throne could beat Godfrey, this sailboat wouldn't survive their clash.
"Teacher, I want to witness..."
"Witness my ass."
Before Millicent could finish, Throne tossed her off the ship, while Melina jumped onto the railing herself.
"Be careful. We'll meet at Elphael."
"Keep an eye on Millicent. Godfrey isn't the only one coming. You be careful too, don't get targeted."
Throne raised his blade. The leaking sword qi instantly covered the deck with cracks. He lifted his head high.
"Now then, King Godfrey, let us begin."
Interesting. Godfrey was quite pleased. This man didn't flee, wasn't reckless, and showed no fear. He was a battle-hardened expert, far stronger than that descendant named Godrick. Let me test your mettle. He didn't crush the ship with a stomp.
With a light step, he was in front of Throne, swinging his heavy axe in a horizontal slash. Want to compare techniques? Fine, I also want to see your martial arts. For their first encounter, Throne also intended to probe. He simply raised his blade to parry. Ding. Feeling a surge of power from his wrist, he drifted backward light as a feather, avoiding a grasping palm.
He stood on the railing as if gravity had forgotten him. The sea breeze tore apart. Godfrey charged, head down, a battering ram in motion. Throne stabbed toward the crown without looking. A golden hand caught the blade mid-air. Throne twisted his wrist—nothing. The grip held. He was yanked forward, met with a knee that hit like a cannon.
Bang—
Throne's palm slammed against the knee. The force rippled through him, carving a ten-meter trail of white foam across the sea. Power enough to split the ocean. His pupils narrowed. Godfrey wasn't just a brute. His martial arts were refined, deadly. Of course. Even an equal in strength would buckle under such precision.
"Good reactions."
"You flatter me."
Time froze as their movements intertwined, then exploded. Clang! Throne drew Rivers of Blood. Godfrey released the blade, leaning back. A blood-red arc of sword qi flashed past, grazing the tip of Godfrey's nose. Fast. Too fast.
Godfrey lay flat, his back nearly touching the deck. He watched Throne focus, one blade in a standard grip, the other reversed. Secret Sword: Twin Stream Vortex Cloud... Not a chance. Godfrey tightened his core. As the blade light closed in, he kicked upward. Boom!!
A white shockwave erupted, clearing the deck of debris. Throne crossed his blades, launched into the air. He stabbed Moonveil into the mast, spun, and landed steady atop its ten-meter tip. Mountains on one side, sea on the other. Throne didn't care for the view. His head snapped up.
"Above!"
Godfrey descended like a raptor, spinning, his heavy axe slashing down. Creeeak—
The mast split cleanly in two. At the base, Godfrey twisted the axe, sparing the deck. The white sails fell. The axe swung again. Clang! The sails tore apart. Throne's dual blades struck the axe head.
Only minor cracks formed under Godfrey's feet. Throne's pupils shrank. This force-neutralizing technique defied physics. Destructive power was one thing—Throne could reduce the ship to splinters with a full strike—but fighting at this pace without damaging it? Like dancing on an egg. Control. Mastery.
Throne flicked his wrist, landing softly behind Godfrey. His toes touched the deck, and he spun, blades whipping out like lashes. Backstep Thrust. One for the throat, one for the chest. Two crisp clangs as the flat of the axe blocked them like a shield.
Before Throne could retract, Godfrey released the axe, stepped forward, and wrapped his arms around Throne's back. Bear Hug. A grip intense enough to twist steel. Throne planted his legs against Godfrey's abdomen, preventing himself from being crushed. Bones creaked. A stalemate.
Godfrey smiled—satisfied. "Your strength is still a bit lacking."
"If I have to use my full strength against a mere projection, I've already lost."
Throne sneered inwardly. Did he think I was a fool? Revealing trump cards during a probe would only weaken him in a life-or-death struggle. Godfrey looked like a brute, but his mind was sharp. Seeing his thoughts exposed, Godfrey laughed harder.
"Good, then work harder!"
His arms tightened. The wooden deck cracked. Throne switched his blades to a reverse grip, scissoring them toward Godfrey's neck. A blade was faster than a bear hug.
Godfrey released his grip, ducked low, and snatched the embedded axe handle nearby. A vicious upward slash forced Throne into retreat—the warrior flipped backward, landing just in time to see a golden boot filling his vision. The kick hit like a cannonball, slamming into his crossed blades with hurricane force. No blood spilled, but steel bit deep into flesh as the impact launched Throne through the air.
He skidded across the deck, boots carving grooves in the wood. Godfrey didn't even glance at the gashes on his leg. The golden warrior pivoted, great axe whirling at his waist like a top before snapping to a dead stop. Swish-swish-swish—a storm of blade marks erupted between them, reducing the deck to splinters. Throne's eyelid twitched. Perfect spacing. The attacks bloomed just beyond his reach, precisely where the heavy axe could counter.
Both hands gripped the haft. Godfrey swung downward like a woodsman splitting oak. Gone was the earlier fluidity—this was raw power meant to shatter bones. Showing your hand? Fine. No more holding back.
Throne's wrists flicked. Twin blades that had pointed at the deck now arced upward, trailing crimson and azure through the golden light. CLANG!!! The collision sent shockwaves rippling outward. Two masters multiplied their strength a hundredfold in an instant, technique dissolving into pure devastation.
Such force would flatten mountains. The sailboat stood no chance. Wood exploded into a cloud of shrapnel, seawater geysering ten meters high before crashing down with the debris. Tap. Throne landed light-footed on a drifting plank, sword extended toward the mist.
Gold gleamed through the settling spray. Godfrey crouched on a floating crate, eyes locked on his opponent. One gaze cold, the other burning—but across thirty meters of churning sea, neither advanced. After a long stare, Godfrey broke the silence.
"You fight well. No wonder Morgott fell."
"You live up to your reputation. Calculated... until the blood starts flowing."
Throne never lowered his guard.
A hideous grin split Godfrey's face.
"Hah! You haven't seen true madness. Pity this toy boat couldn't handle a proper strike."
He cracked his neck, tendons standing out like cables.
"But I've confirmed it—you're worthy prey. Sharpen your blades. I'm coming for you."
His killing intent stilled the waves. Throne inhaled, answering with his own rising bloodlust.
"Killing a projection bores me. Bring your real body next time."
"Good. That fire might make me shed these chains."
Godfrey clenched a fist the size of a ham.
"But grow stronger first. Crushing you now would be... unsatisfying."
Arrogance laced with something darker—hunger.
Throne gave a single nod.
"Your name," Godfrey demanded.
"You'll hear it when your head rolls."
The golden king paused, then roared with laughter. "Confidence worthy of respect!"
His mirth mingled with the crashing waves. A swell rose—when it fell, only drifting timber remained.
Throne sheathed his blades. Godfrey's appearance fit the pattern, yet defied expectation. No killbox, no elaborate trap—just a warrior following his whims. Kings answered to no logic but their own.
He examined the split skin between thumb and forefinger, then turned his face to the iron-gray sky. Time to train harder.
Godfrey's arrival didn't crush Throne's spirit, but it tore through his sluggishness like a blade. The projection wasn't just a match for a demigod in raw strength—Throne saw mastery, precision, control threaded through every move. Their clash became a duel of skill, each strike calculated, each counter deliberate.
Throne used tachis to show respect with his strongest sword techniques, and the outcome hit like a cold truth.