"Haven't you woken up yet?"
Throne saw the eyeball in the center of its forehead fixate on him, and in an instant, a wave of ancient, insane, and tyrannical killing intent swept over him like a mental shock. Just as the purple arcs of gravity gathered, he vanished instantly, and a moment later, a halberd pierced through his afterimage.
Azure particles gathered in the distance, but the assembly speed was slower than normal. Throne frowned slightly and looked up to see the Tree Sentinel nearby, already engulfed by purple arcs of electricity, being dragged downward as if he were made of stone. Thud!
That massive pincer slammed into the shield, sending the Tree Sentinel flying, only for another wave of gravity to drag him back—this time, it was those blade-like wings. A burst of sparks erupted, and the massive golden shield was left with deep gouges. Caerlus roared repeatedly, wanting to say, "We are both servants of the Greater Will, why are you attacking an ally?"
"Its autonomous consciousness is blurred, and it cannot distinguish friend from foe using energy. No wonder the Two Fingers dare not awaken them until the critical moment." Seeing this, Throne muttered to himself. This intelligence was crucial. If Astel could truly be easily controlled, the Two Fingers would have long since brought it to Leyndell to serve as their left and right guardians.
Dare to ask, what Tarnished could break through Astel's tag-team? But the question remained: why could the Two Fingers communicate with it? Could it be that Astel's method of distinguishing friend from foe isn't based on energy, but on essence? No matter how strong the Tree Sentinel is, at his core, he is still just a human.
"But they ultimately have a connection."
Ranni sighed, thinking of a crazy conclusion: "Could it be that you want to lure it to destroy the Golden Army?"
"I've thought about it, but it's impossible. I can't lure it hundreds of kilometers away."
"Then why aren't you leaving?"
"No rush. Since this is a mindless killing machine, what I need to do is—"
Watching the Tree Sentinel flee in a sorry state, Throne put away the Rivers of Blood and drew the Dark Moon Greatsword.
"Is to provoke it, make it even more berserk, and make it even harder to communicate with."
Ice Mist Barrier.
Frost spread, mixing with the wind and snow, shrouding the ruined town in haze, with only the central area remaining untouched by any ice mist. Throne looked down from the air and saw that Astel had already pulled half of its body out. Its centipede-like body was formed by connecting circular gems, appearing both magnificent and eerie.
"Why doesn't it use teleportation? Could it be that the place where it lands is also a place of sealing? It's very possible. After all, the Greater Will only uses this thing for targeted elimination, not wanton destruction."
He jumped into the purple gravity zone surrounding Astel and immediately felt his body sink. He then added another layer of gravity to himself, falling like a meteor. Thanks.
Gazing at the massive pincer snapping at him from the front, Throne gritted his teeth, tightened his core mid-fall, and the Dark Moon Greatsword bloomed with a dim blade of light. Moon Ring! Clang—Swish, swish, swish...
Throne dodged the pincer, his rotating body turning into a moon ring that slashed across Astel's head, then used the momentum to sweep from its head to its back, leaving behind a trail of brilliant sparks. So hard. Throne landed and slid several meters like he was ice skating, then plunged his sword into the ground to dissipate the momentum.
He shook his hand, feeling as if he had just struck steel; such a heavy sword had only left a shallow mark. That makes sense. With such a massive body, if its defense were poor, it would be nothing but a paper tiger. Astel shook its head, looked over, and stopped the action of pulling its body out. Instinct made it feel threatened; this adversary was not easy to deal with.
The space around its body began to distort, and massive meteorites were pulled from the void, hurling toward Throne in an overwhelming barrage. The latter raised his left hand. Frost Barrier. A frost spell originating from Ranni seemed to receive a bonus here in the Mountaintops of the Giants. A crystal-clear wall several meters thick blocked his front, right until the meteorites slammed into it.
Thud! Thud! Thud! With several muffled sounds, the wall was blasted with cracks, and Throne clenched his left hand tightly. Thops's Barrier. Beep—
A brilliant, thick purple beam dissolved a large hole right through the Frost Barrier. It struck the Thops's Barrier and refracted. Throne calculated the mana consumption, analyzing the energy of this strike.
It was incomparable to the Fallingstar Beast; the latter was like a child in front of it. Moreover, this wasn't the end. A second round of meteorites arrived, mixed with streaks of purple beams. Astel seemed particularly obsessive, just firing crazily. This time, Throne didn't stay put. He shouldered his greatsword and sprinted around Astel.
He felt as if the snowfield had begun to boil; the splashing white snow mixed with the scattered purple particles, which was quite a sight. Beauty meant death. Astel's energy seemed endless, and the circle Throne was drawing in the snow grew smaller and smaller, until it was within a hundred meters—
Dragging the sword, charging forward!
His footsteps paused, and he immediately switched to a straight-line sprint. Halfway there, Throne saw Astel raise its two massive front palms, with purple-black spheres of light gathering within them. Dark Wave. Bang—
The palms slammed down, and the purple light spread in all directions.
The thick snow all flew up, revealing the bedrock beneath, only to crash down again in an instant, even causing the ground to sink several meters.
"I was already guarding against this move of yours!"
Throne appeared in the air. Starlight Leap didn't care about inertia or physical laws. He first slashed with a Dark Moon sword beam from dozens of meters away.
Seeing the sword beam torn apart by the pincers, he raised his left hand again. Gathering Ice into a Star. Dense frost condensed rapidly, and in the blink of an eye, a large ice ball with a diameter of about ten meters formed in the air. Throne reached out and pressed down on the top of the ice ball, and the purple light of gravity spread to the entire sphere. Falling Ice Star!
He pressed down on the top of the ice ball, smashing it downward. Before it even touched Astel's head, he felt a marsh-like resistance, and another layer of purple light blossomed at the bottom of the sphere, resisting the descent. Reducing gravity? Good thing you can't move! Throne also got ruthless.
He turned the greatsword horizontally, his eyes turning golden, his skin flushed red from Burning Blood, and he raised the sword high, slamming it down heavily. Fall for me!! Bang—
This strike caused the entire ice ball to crack and broke the stalemate between the two.
Just as the ice ball was about to hit Astel, the latter raised its head, opened its mouth wide, and spewed out an even more brilliant purple beam of light. Piercing, exploding—the ice star burst in mid-air, scattering crystal-clear fragments everywhere. But a figure fell through the ice shards, a sword blade shimmering with cyan light cutting through the purple beam.
This was the pinnacle of mana form transformation: concentrating the Thops's Barrier onto the blade to form the strongest anti-magic sword strike! Like drawing a blade to cut water, it actually sliced the high-energy beam open from the center.
Before Astel could figure out what was happening, a pair of iron boots stepped onto its eye socket, the greatsword held in a reverse grip, and it was thrust fiercely into the hole in Astel's forehead.
"Get back and keep sleeping!"
Naturalborn of the Void, Astel's body was forged like steel—unyielding to brute force, impervious to energy. The Nox records claimed hundreds of warriors with Flowing Curved Swords had hacked at it to no avail, their blades scraping harmlessly across its hide. Even steel has its flaws.
Throne had spotted the weakness from the start: a gaping hole in its forehead, pulsing like a grotesque eyeball, swirling like a dying nebula. When the ice star shattered, he lunged, boot slamming into its eye socket as he drove the greatsword deep into that void. No sound, just the sickening resistance of wet clay.
Astel convulsed beneath him. Its pincers wrenched wide, mandibles stretched to tearing point, head thrashing violently. Throne barely registered the physical struggle—what burned through his skull was the screech, bypassing ears, carving directly into his soul. Pain. Fury. Rage.
This thing wasn't some mindless machine. It was a predator of the cosmos, and Throne's blade had found its nerve. As he twisted the sword, that fury boiled over.
Crack.
Two massive palms smashed into Astel's own face with such force the exoskeleton fractured.
Throne was already gone, sword wrenched free, body rolling back in a rapid retreat. Boom. Boom. Boom. The hands cratered the earth where he'd stood. Astel writhed, half-buried, but its torso twisted toward him, high-energy beams searing the air.
Snow vaporized instantly. The frozen wastes reeked of scorched ozone.
"Pathetic tantrum."
Throne bared his teeth, sucking in a breath. Let it rage. This mountain was empty. Let it tear the whole place apart.
"There's a god to the southeast. Do me a favor and flatten it while you're at it."
"Can we kill it?"
Ranni's voice flickered with interest, watching Astel reel from the wound.
"No. It's barely trying."
Throne blurred backward with Bloodhound's Step, gaze slicing southward.
"And it's not the only one hunting us."
Through the blizzard, figures loomed—tall, indistinct, closing in. Astel's rampage had drawn attention. Only the strong would dare investigate. Crucible Knights? Worse? Far from Caria, alone, Throne couldn't afford risks.
Astel wrenched itself free with a final heave. Throne didn't wait.
"Fall back."
He bolted.
The sudden retreat stunned even Astel. It hovered a moment, body collapsing inward—then vanished.
True artillery platforms fight from the void. Throne kept Ranni watching his back. The instant Astel disappeared, he hurled himself sideways.
THUD.
A barbed tail speared the ground where he'd stood. Then Astel materialized above, massive palms slamming down—
BOOM.
Gravity ripples spread, and the ground within a hundred meters erupted upward. Stone shattered midair, crushed to dust under collapsing force—but Throne was already gone, a flickering shadow sprinting beyond the kill zone.
Astel scanned the wastes. Nothing. The prey had slipped its grasp.
Starlight pulsed. The hunt wasn't over.
One second intervals. Like stars flickering in and out of existence. Each appearance spanned tens of meters—ghostly movements impossible to track, let alone attack. Astel spread its crystalline wings and gave chase, conserving energy.
Throne flickered several times, then stopped. He sheathed the greatsword and drew a Moon-blade spear from the spirit-calling ring. The weapon thudded against the ground.
"Didn't your master teach you—"
His front foot slammed down. Ankle pivoted. Waist twisted as he turned, body stretching to hurl the spear.
"—not to chase a cornered enemy?"
The transition from blind flight to sharp counterattack was seamless. The air exploded as the spear shot forward, aimed straight for the hole in Astel's forehead. Still smarting from the last hit, Astel instinctively raised its hand, palm shielding its head. The spear punched through the palm and lodged into the hard skull.
"Damn it. Even the palm's that tough?"
Seeing the second strike fail to cripple, Throne turned and ran. The ice mist had thinned from the spear's shockwave, revealing figures ahead. Dark red armor. Towering bodies. Helmets shaped like giant axes. Heavy footsteps crunching snow. Crucible Knights. One. Two. Three... five in total.
Impressive lineup. Throne scanned them. They hadn't attacked yet—they hadn't figured out his identity. But he wasn't naive enough to trick them into teaming up against the boss. Even with a changed appearance, some skills were unmistakable when pushed to the limit.
Time froze. Throne landed softly in the snow, straightened slowly, his voice low and menacing.
"Gentlemen, help me stop that monster, and my Lord Mohg will reward you handsomely."
Mohg? The Lord of Blood? Ordovis, leading the group, hesitated. He was here for the shards—helping some Bloody Finger wasn't on the agenda. Before he could refuse, Throne swept past him.
What the hell are these Bloody Fingers up to? Living too long had stiffened his brain. Just as he turned, a roar from the knight beside him cut through the air.
"My Lord, something's coming!"
"What?"
Ordovis looked up. A massive shadow burst from the ice mist. That dripping eye on its forehead locked onto the knights. Unlike the Tree Sentinel, these newcomers radiated an aura Astel despised. Eyes met. Astel's mouth opened, gathering a high-energy beam.
Ordovis raised his shield, rage boiling in his chest. Lord of Blood Mohg, how dare you scheme against us!