Dull explosions echoed through the storm's howl, one after another, rolling in from behind. Throne kept his head low, sprinting forward. As he ran, the corners of his mouth twitched upward, and soon he threw his head back, laughter tearing from his throat.
"Hahaha… Interesting. So, surrounded by enemies, are we? Fine. Fight to your heart's content."
Ranni listened to his wild laughter and sighed. "Your personality is truly detestable. How could you think of making them fight each other?"
"It's called 'all's fair in war.' Who told them to try and kill me?"
Throne stopped and turned, realizing he'd run several kilometers east in one breath. This was why he could wreak havoc in The Lands Between so recklessly—his decisiveness and speed. Even if he couldn't win, no one could stop him if he chose to flee. When his pounding heart steadied, Throne touched his ribs and lifted his hand. Blood smeared his palm.
The wound came from the friction of cutting through the energy beam earlier; his simple cloth clothes offered no defense.
"Are you injured?"
"Minor. It'll heal soon. This Astel… truly lives up to its reputation."
Throne flicked the blood from his palm and licked his lips. His ears still rang, his head spinning like a traveler sick from hours on a bus. The lingering effect of Astel's silent roar. If it could affect him, ordinary soldiers would fall in droves from a single cry.
Destroyer of civilizations. Blade of the Greater Will. The records in the books spoke of it:
A brilliant meteor falls from the firmament, smashing the glorious city into the ground.
Astel spreads its beautiful wings, dead warriors piled like mountains.
"The one under Liurnia is the ultimate form. This one's a bit lacking."
Throne watched the purple light beam pierce the ice fog and muttered to himself.
"With Godfrey and Astel, our path won't be easy."
Ranni's voice carried worry.
"That's what makes it interesting."
Throne kept watching, then finally looked away. As he expected, the Crucible Knights were retreating. They had no reason to fight a monster to the death, especially since this battle had started inexplicably. What a pity. He'd hoped to take the chance to slaughter this Astel. Throne felt a flicker of unease. These beasts of the starry sky might be connected.
The seal of Caria could block the Baleful Shadow, but it might not block the call of its own kind. Yet he couldn't fight several Crucible Knights and force-kill the 'Dark Star' at the same time. Even if he succeeded, he'd have no energy left to deal with the knights. Throne knew better than to risk himself as the 'mantis stalking the cicada.'
"Let's go. These Crucible Knights will recover their senses soon. It'll be trouble if we're stuck with them."
Ranni stayed silent. She knew things couldn't be perfect, but at least there were signs, allowing for some preparation.
"Where to next?"
"North. If I'm not mistaken, the Golden Army has also reached its limit."
The dull sounds of battle still echoed. Throne turned and left without hesitation. Astel wasn't controlled by the Erdtree, and with the Bishop of the Two Fingers dead, no one could stop those restless knights now.
"Eh, that Astel's drilled back in."
Throne hadn't taken two steps before Ranni's words made him turn back, his breathing slightly ragged. It was afternoon, the wind and snow had stopped, and the Crucible Knights were nowhere to be seen. The huge monster circled in the snow a few times, and surprisingly, returned to the underground through the breach. It did not rage impotently and cause destruction everywhere as Throne had thought; instead, it returned to its lair.
The man was stunned for a moment, thinking to himself that it was fortunate he hadn't made a rash judgment, thus avoiding being slapped in the face. Thinking it over, there was only one reason for Astel to return underground—
"It feeds on the great rune, craving evolution."
As a fellow predator, Throne knew that the great rune was essentially an energy source, a manifestation of laws, and that Astel also had juvenile, mature, and crippled forms.
"Does this mean we will soon face an even more powerful 'Dark Star'?"
"Possibly two."
Throne took a deep look. The Crucible Knights were still lurking, so he still didn't risk going to slaughter Astel. He felt this was a good thing. At least in the Consecrated Snowfield, there was no need to worry about a crazed star-killer. For a short time, Astel would not come out again. Likewise, as time passes, when it finishes digesting, I will also be stronger.
Consecrated Snowfield, central region. After a short respite from the snow, as evening approached, the howling north wind and the sky-filling snow filled every inch of space again. The extremely low temperature froze plants into icicles and killed any animal that dared to challenge its authority. The wind and snow were too heavy; even Torrent couldn't stand it.
Most of its lower legs were submerged in the snow, and it walked with heavy, huffing breaths. Throne, on its back, was expressionless, only focused on wrapping his cloak tighter to keep the blizzard from getting into his clothes. The battle during the day had little effect on him. After spending so many years in Ashina and The Lands Between, he had long been accustomed to various accidents.
Everywhere he went was filled with ruins, and he didn't know how many towns had been destroyed, directly or indirectly, by his hands. But isn't that just how The Lands Between is? Luck is a prerequisite for survival. For someone like Yelough Anix, running into a four-way melee with an Astel jumping out from underground, they could only blame their own bad luck; no one else was to blame.
The bewildered Crucible Knights, the Tree Sentinel who thought he had discovered a great secret, and the Bloody Finger who was confusedly carrying a huge scapegoat—besides Throne, no one could see the full picture of this farce.
"Torrent, there's a tree hollow over there; let's take shelter from the snow."
Throne suddenly pointed to the side, and the Spirit Steed, which had been trudging along with its head down, immediately perked up and ran happily in that direction. She wasn't afraid of hardship or cold, but those cold snowflakes always got into her mouth, which was really unpleasant.
There were no towns in the central part of the Consecrated Snowfield, only some giant trees frozen into icicles scattered everywhere. Throne crawled into the tree hollow and looked around. He discovered that it had also been hollowed out by someone, about a dozen square meters, like a small room.
There was nothing inside the tree hollow, and the temperature was extremely cold, but at least it could shelter them from the wind and snow. He pulled Torrent into the tree hollow as well, dug a hole in the ground, and stuck a lit torch in it, using it as a campfire. The flame was small, but it dispelled some of the cold.
Throne took off his frozen gloves and looked outside while warming himself by the fire. Outside it was pitch black, and in the distance was a large frozen river. Flipping through the map stored in his mind, he quickly found the answer.
"Cross this river, and in two days we will reach Ordina. The timing is just right."
"You want them to fight each other first?"
Ranni materialized beside him, scanning the area. Finding no perch of sufficient height, she settled onto Torrent's back. The Spirit Steed, sprawled on the ground, rolled its eyes and snorted—a clear jab at the Lunar Princess's dignity.
"Disrupting the Haligtree's neutrality works in our favor."
Throne lingered by the fire, stealing warmth.
"Why aren't you busy these days? You've got time to chat with me?"
"Who's chatting? This is strategy. I'm extremely busy."
"If you were busy, you'd be at Raya Lucaria Academy. Could it be because Melina's not here—"
Ranni's glare cut him off. Throne tapped his mouth lightly, as if sealing it shut. Better.
She tilted her chin up, projecting pride.
"Don't overthink it. Multitasking isn't hard for me."
"Ah, yes, yes, yes."
"I'm reviewing puppet blueprints."
"Ah, yes, yes, yes."
Ranni inhaled sharply. In the past, she'd have stormed off with a flick of her sleeves. Now she forced herself to stay, turning her head away. How infuriating. I'm here with you, and you don't appreciate it. Must I admit I only showed up because that insufferable Melina isn't around?
Throne glanced at her simmering anger and mentally kicked himself. Why stir the pot? The torch crackled. He licked his lips.
"My attitude was poor. Don't take it to heart."
"Hmph. Trying to sweet-talk me?"
She turned back, the torchlight catching her cheeks.
"Of course. The tree hollow's cramped. Even Torrent's lost its appetite."
Ranni glanced down. The "heartless" pony was happily munching away. She snorted.
"You're using me to track Melina and Millicent, aren't you?"
Throne flushed. He hadn't expected her to see through him so quickly. He scratched his face.
"Maybe… a little."
Ranni sighed. The Crucible Knights, betrayed and furious, were undoubtedly scouring the lands like rabid dogs. If those two idiots crossed paths with them, it wouldn't end well. Still, she couldn't shake her indignation.
"Show some sincerity."
Sincerity? Throne blinked, then stood to untie his cloak.
Ranni froze.
"What are you doing?"
"Taking off my clothes. You can do whatever you want."
"Who wants to play with you!"
Her face burned. Was he actually this clueless, or just pretending? She spread her hands.
"A gift. Let's be clear—I don't covet it. But why shouldn't I have what others do? It's proof of your sincerity."
"What gift?"
You're still playing dumb! Ranni barely restrained herself from lunging at him. She took a deep breath.
"That witch has a novel, and that block of wood has a portrait. You owe me something special. Again, I don't covet it."
You clearly do. But my skills are limited. Throne rubbed his temples. He hadn't much to offer to begin with. The novel was a personal memoir. The real gift to Sellen was her infamous "dark cuisine." He doubted Ranni could stomach it.
"My most powerful intelligence analysis has already been given to you. And I'm shamelessly honest with you—does that count as a gift?"
"Asking for a beating!"
"Fine, fine, fine. Let me think."
Throne pinched his chin, then grabbed a piece of wood and pulled out his dagger. He began carving slowly.
Ranni watched, baffled. What is he doing?
Ranni leaned in, her breath catching as she watched Throne's intense focus. The rhythmic scrape of blade against wood filled the air. A form took shape—wide-brimmed wizard hat, flowing dress, delicate features emerging from the grain. Is that me? Throne's head remained bowed, his hands moving with precision, never once glancing up at the girl before him.
The doll sat poised on a high-backed chair, hands resting on her thighs, fingers interlaced in perfect composure. Throne reached for the dyes he'd prepared earlier. Moon-white dress, azure skin, a hat as pale as frost. His movements quickened, blurring into a frenzy of creation, palms leaving afterimages in their wake.
"Done."
He set the carving down with a gentle finality.
Ranni's eyes widened. The likeness was uncanny—not just her features, but her essence captured in wood. Had she not witnessed its creation, she might have mistaken it for another of those intricate puppets crafted from rare magical materials. Yet Throne had used nothing more than a single piece of timber.
"You possess this skill too?"
She turned to him, astonishment etched across her face.
"Heh, I'm a craftsman in every sense."
Throne spread his hands, then caught himself.
"Though, to be honest, this is my first attempt at a figure. Well, a wood carving."
Long ago, he'd been a model enthusiast, dabbling in woodcraft. His current control, far surpassing human limits, likely accounted for the result.
"You achieved this on your first try?"
"Mm. When you pour your heart into something, it shows. I simply expressed the image of you I hold within. Nothing extraordinary."
Throne tidied his tools, then glanced at Ranni, who still seemed dazed.
"Well? Does the gift meet your approval?"
"Mm! I'm very pleased!"
She nodded without hesitation, cradling the carving, turning it this way and that, reluctant to let it go. The wood itself mattered little; it was Throne's words that resonated—the image he held of her. So this is how deeply I've impressed him. And dignified, too...
A surge of excitement swept through her, banishing any lingering discontent. She caught herself, schooling her features back into cool detachment, and thrust the carving back into Throne's hands.
"Bring it to me next time you return to Caria. And if you find the time, make a few more. To deepen the impression."
Ah, I see how it is. Next time, I'll carve a swimsuit figure and see if you can keep that composure. Throne executed a flawless knight's salute.
"As you command, my lady."
"One more thing—this gift is not to be given to anyone else. Not even Sellen."
"Understood."
Throne had no intention of sharing. He was an executioner, not a figure artisan. If word got out, how many skills would he have to squander?
Ranni, visibly satisfied, opened her mouth to speak but was cut off.
"My lady, aren't you going to reciprocate?"
"Didn't I give you a gift last time? Why demand another?"
"One thing is one thing. When you bestowed the Dark Moon Armor, you didn't ask for compensation."
Throne spoke with gravity. With a tsundere, timing was everything.
"Then... thank you?"
"Zero sincerity. 'Thank you' between us feels hollow."
"Then what do you want?"
"I don't know. But effort deserves effort."
Throne rubbed his hands together, a sly grin playing on his lips.
Ranni saw through bullshit like glass. No bluff would land—hard to get was the only play. She'd never see it coming.
When the moment ripened, I'd twist the knife. Draft some terms. Get it in writing. Anything to stop this endless fucking melodrama between her and Melina.
Ranni was too smart, and ordinary bluffing wouldn't work; ripping the bandage off slow would leave scars. Better to tear it clean.