Ranni snorted softly but stayed silent. She'd forgotten Sellen was a Primeval Sorcerer. Caring about someone was already the outer limit of their emotional capacity, a feat for those lunatics. Anger wouldn't come—the woman was willing to risk everything for Throne. What more could she say? Danger? Obstacles?
Since when had Throne ever cared about such things? When he went mad, he'd punch a hole straight through the heavens.
"She can't handle those Golden Guards. Move fast, or you'll only be collecting her corpse."
Ranni thought long before offering her most sincere advice. Throne gave a slight nod.
Through the slit in his helmet, he saw figures standing at the mountain's base—Crucible Knights, waiting. This wasn't hard to predict. The Mountaintops of the Giants were shrouded in mystery and power, but there were only so many paths worth taking. Elphael had nothing to do with the Forge to the southeast.
Throne's gaze settled on the Crucible Knights, their armor battered yet their silence unbroken. A cruel smile tugged at his lips.
"Seems your brains haven't rotted with time. Lucky for you. And unlucky."
He tilted his head slightly.
"If I hand over the shards, will you let me pass?"
Clang—
Almost instantly, led by Ordovis, every Crucible Knight drew their greatswords in unison. They stepped forward like a moving mountain range, their synchronized motion unleashing a wave of killing intent. Their answer was clear.
They didn't just want the shards—they wanted his life.
"Guess you're not stepping aside."
Throne shook his head and reached behind him. The grinding of metal filled the air as he slowly drew the Dark Moon Greatsword. He planted the heavy blade in the ground and closed his eyes. The icy wind clawed through the gaps in his armor. Nearby, the Crucible Knights stood silent; in the distance, shouts and explosions echoed.
Amid the quiet chaos, his eyes snapped open. He stepped forward without hesitation. Gravity pulled him down as his iron boots sank into the snow, sliding down the slope. His greatsword carved three deep gouges into the earth, aiming straight for the wall of Crucible Knights. A thousand armies before him—he'd go anyway.
Snowflakes assaulted his face, making it hard to keep his eyes open. The wind howled in his ears. Throne focused intently on the mountain's base. Five Crucible Knights split into two rows, shields raised and swords ready, charging toward him. Fear wasn't in their nature—never had been.
Even in the ancient era, when demons danced, few could withstand an entire squad of Crucible Knights. At the front, Ordovis watched Throne's charge and raised his greatsword without expression. Whoosh—
The blade began to spin, releasing a brilliant golden light, slicing through the snow like a chainsaw of radiant energy. Throne's eyes stayed fixed forward.
He couldn't take on five Crucible Knights at once—their coordination turned one plus one into something far greater. Most Tarnished faced a duo; he had five. How was he supposed to deal with that? Throne didn't plan to waste time on them.
Instead, he quickened his pace and swung the Dark Moon Greatsword, dragging through the snow, upward with all his might. Clang!! The collision forced him back half a step, while the golden greatsword spiraled into the sky. Throne watched the snow spray, and then his body vanished.
The white snow exploded as two figures burst through, wings spread like blades slicing the air where he'd stood moments before. Their boots carved trenches in the earth as they pivoted, jaws unhinging—twin torrents of fire erupted toward Throne.
Sharp eyes. He'd already crossed twenty paces with Starlight Leap, but now he turned back. Steel whispered against leather as he drew the Sword of Night and Flame. A wall of fire erupted from its edge—two infernos collided midair, spiraling into a roaring pillar that licked the clouds. No time to breathe. Throne's gaze snapped left, right, up—three fire-wreathed shapes closed in from all sides.
Ordovis dropped from above, greatsword plunging like a guillotine blade. The other two Crucible Knights came shield-first from the flanks, forming a killing triangle. The wind screamed between them.
Twin swords flashed in Throne's grip. A dragon's roar split the air—ROAR—the sheer force staggered the shield-bearers mid-charge.
He rolled clear of Ordovis' overhead strike, the impact cratering the ground behind him. Up he sprang.
"Glintstone Crystal Armor!"
"Comet Stream!"
Magic detonated from his blade, hammering a knight's shield. The warrior skidded back—but not before his greatsword found Throne's back.
DING—
Moonlight armor split under the weight. Crystalline plates beneath sparked white-hot as they caught the blade's edge. Throne rode the impact forward, suddenly dropping into a slide—under the shield's lower rim.
The knight staggered but didn't panic. Planting his stance, he drove his sword earthward.
"Bloodhound's Step."
Throne accelerated instead of blocking, sliding between the man's legs. Back-to-back now, he flicked his straight sword upward without looking.
"Fire Dance."
Flames coiled like serpents up the knight's armor. An opening—but no time to press it. Throne leapt as Ordovis' afterimage sliced through the space his ankles had occupied. The missed strike buried the greatsword in dirt—Ordovis wrenched it sideways, pivoting hard. A gilded tail whipped through the smoke.
"Aspects of the Crucible: Tail."
Tails collided. The bone-shaking BANG hurled both men apart.
"You know the Crucible arts?!"
Ordovis' stone face cracked with disbelief.
Before the words finished, Throne—still spinning midair—hurled his greatsword backward. It flew like a ballista bolt, CLANGING into another knight's shield.
Starlight flickered. Throne vanished from Ordovis' front—
—reappeared standing on the impaled shield. His body flickered once, twice.
"Thousand-Pound Drop!"
Tenfold weight crashed down. The shield-bearer collapsed like a felled tree. Before he could push up, Throne's gauntlet clamped his helmet. Energy pooled in the palm, glinting in wild eyes.
"Comet Azur."
BOOM—
Point-blank detonation. Dirt. Shrapnel. Meat.
Ordovis' eyes twitched as he charged through the smog. Is he a suicidal lunatic?
"Flank him! You—with me!"
His lunge carried him through settling dust—only to find his subordinate's mangled remains.
Above him, the silver knight hung in the air, armor dripping red. Releasing high-level magic at such ultra-close range had blown open Throne's gauntlet, and his left hand was dripping with blood, but he drew his sword and began to spin. Secret Sword: Moonfire! Activating two legendary weapons simultaneously, the moonlight blade of the Dark Moon Greatsword and the flames of the Sword of Night and Flame intermingled, looking like a azure and crimson windmill.
Scorching the earth and evaporating the snow, one round after another! Ordovis raised his shield, feeling the sharpness and heat. His ears were filled with the clanging sound of energy cutting, and his body was burning with residual fire. A moment later, the two Crucible Knights who had circled around to intercept him charged back, spreading golden wings.
Man and sword as one, they flew into the spinning Moonfire, aiming straight for Throne's chest.
"These two idiots, have they gone stupid from staying underground?"
Ordovis didn't appreciate the help; instead, he cursed loudly. The opponent was strong, but he couldn't kill Ordovis like this—this was clearly a move to create an opportunity to escape.
He swung his shield, the passing flames scorching his armor, and used his greatsword to parry the moonlight sword qi. Sure enough, he saw that the enemy in the air had vanished, with only residual heat energy remaining in the air. 'He wants to go to Ordina and use the Golden Army to separate us!' The thought flashed by. Ordovis hadn't been washed into idiocy by the years.
The Leyndell Army and the Crucible Knights had no connection; seeing a squad of Crucible Knights charging would trigger an instinctive counterattack. Having just fought a battle with Astel, he didn't want to fall twice. However—
There was no one to the north! He predicted my prediction, which means...
Ordovis turned his head and saw Throne actually appearing at his side, leaning forward like a hunting tiger. Oh no. Before he could turn and raise his shield, a greatsword had already flown over. Ordovis flicked it upward, only to see Throne charging head-on, stomping hard in front of him. Frost spread rapidly.
Even though it was crushed by Ordovis's foot in an instant, his retreat was still a step too slow. He watched the knight enlarge in his vision as he quickly stabbed his greatsword into the ground. Secret Sword: Fireflow Vortex Cloud Crossing! The simple golden light collided with the brilliant flaming quick-sword.
Dozens of sword marks flashed and vanished, leaving only the burning earth within ten meters. Throne watched Ordovis, who was covered in a layer of golden shield, his pupils shrinking slightly. Can't cut through? The Aspects of the Crucible—do they really have the power of a hundred aspects? He didn't pause, because he noticed this incantation seemed to make the opponent unable to move.
He raised his right hand high. Blade, come! The Dark Moon Greatsword, which had been spinning in the air, was pulled by gravity and instantly fell into his palm. Ordovis remained expressionless; he couldn't move, and he didn't want to. He might as well be a turtle to draw fire and let the remaining three subordinates surround him.
He wanted to see how long the opponent could maintain such a violent attack. But in an instant, his expression changed, and he slowly but resolutely raised his arm. The Dark Moon Greatsword was dyed with a hint of cyan—it was a certain type of dispersing force field. Throne stepped forward and thrust the sword in his hand.
That's right, even with my full strength it would take several strikes to crack this turtle shell. But unfortunately, I met a genius apprentice very early on. This was the killing blow meant for the Bishop of the Two Fingers: the Thops's Barrier combined with professor-level mana control to form a magic-breaking slash. The incantation was sliced open.
The greatsword punched through gauntlet, flesh, breastplate—straight into the heart. Throne drove both boots into the earth, shoving Ordovis forward like a battering ram. Thud. Thud. Thud. Muffled thunder beneath steel. The blocking Crucible Knights barely sidestepped the human projectile.
No panic in their retreat. Lord Ordovis didn't die easy. Their blades would find Throne's back faster than his could turn. One sword against three? Let's see whose edge bit deeper. They pivoted as one to pursue—and froze mid-stride.
Throne wasn't just sprinting through snow anymore. Golden wings flared from his back, skimming him inches above the ground at their own blistering pace. Even skewered on that blade, Ordovis's eyes went wide. That armor... the dark moon motifs... almost familiar. No traitor from their ranks could wield such power.
So how? The Aspects of the Crucible incantations burned in Throne's veins. Blood loss fuzzed Ordovis's thoughts, dredging up old Knight legends. The lost ones.
"Kaebruien?"
The name slipped out half-delirious.
Throne blinked. Nodded.
"Yeah. Me."
Ordovis twisted his wrist. Steel flashed. His own left arm tumbled free, severed at the elbow. The disembodied hand detonated against Throne's chest in a sunburst of gold—some new Aspect trick. Throne's boot met Ordovis's gut before the light faded.
"Fuck off!"
The kick launched the Crucible Knight spinning through the snow. He rolled up ignoring the arterial spray, gaze locked on his fallen limb.
The arm dissolved. Thorns erupted from the snow, punching through armor into Throne's ribs. He exhaled sharp, vaulting onto Sellen's scorched hilltop. Fingers closed around the barbed vines. Ripped them out trailing chunks of himself. No time to inspect the damage.
A squeeze of his fist. The thorns vaporized in a crackle of violent sorcery. Ahead, the airborne Crucible Knights still came. No pause to check their commander. Iron-headed fanatics.
Throne's staff carved the air. Stars of Ruin.
Meteors screamed earthward. The Knights braced behind tower shields—too late. The blast radius swallowed half the battlefield. Twelve eruptions. Twelve pillars of black smoke clawing at the sky.
Throne didn't wait to count bodies. He turned toward Ordina. What remained of it. Blood and fire. The Leyndell ranks wheeling in stunned retreat.
Backlit by the inferno, the knight stood like some wrathful god. Unstoppable.
Ordina's marble spires? Gone. Replaced by charred skeletons. Sellen had struck the match. The powder keg blew. War, now. No pretty declarations.
The Leyndell troops reeled. They'd expected peasants to kneel at the sight of their legions. Chased the "routing" Haligtree forces like it was pest control. They had thought that once their massive forces pressed forward, discipline and steel would carry the day. That these northern upstarts would break like all the rest.