"Merging the three primeval glintstones might truly allow us to glimpse the truth."
"But that doesn't mean we can sacrifice a disciple as the price," Sellen said naturally, putting away the small box and yawning again.
"Master is tired, I'm going to take a nap."
Sellen had a strange biological clock, which Throne had long since experienced, so he slowly rose to his feet.
"Well, I'll go take a walk around Elphael."
He was quite interested in this town built on the tree, but just as he turned around, his hand was pulled back.
"Why go shopping? Keep me company instead."
Throne was stunned, thinking to himself that Sellen wouldn't be planning to do it herself because his efficiency was too low, and test if the cheat was hereditary, right? That wasn't impossible.
He followed her into the room and was just brewing his emotions when Sellen suddenly threw two things at him. He reached out to catch them and saw that it was a notebook and a pencil.
"Didn't you ask me to keep you company while you sleep? Let's write the thesis later."
"Who said I wanted you to keep me company while I sleep?"
Sellen raised her hand to push aside the pile of books on the bed and finally found a spot to squeeze in.
"I'm going to sleep, you go continue writing."
"Write what?"
"Ten years of hiatus, what do you think!"
After dropping that line, she turned over and fell asleep immediately, leaving Throne standing there blankly, looking down at the paper and pen in his hand, and after a while, he laughed at himself. I forgot, I'm also a eunuch author.
Accompanied by soft breathing, the pen tip rustled against the paper. Throne sat at the desk scratching his head, unable to think of any plot. It wasn't that he had forgotten that journey, but many memories had been replaced by his journey in The Lands Between.
Counting carefully, he had been here for almost ten years, and with his current abilities, he could hardly be considered an overpowered protagonist. He rested his face in his hand, feeling that he had brought shame to those predecessors who became saviors in just a few months, but upon closer reflection, he was much faster than some two-thousand-year-old pauper.
It could be considered steady and unhurried. Glancing at the slender silhouette on the bed, Throne smiled faintly again. The way of the golden mean wasn't bad either.
Without any great master passing on power, his strength was forged through blade and combat, climbing step by step; without any aura of kingship, the trump cards in his hand were gathered from scratch by his own hands; and there was no beauty throwing herself into his arms, whether it was Sellen or anyone else, everything went from strange to familiar.
It lacked a bit of wild, cool, and flashy flair, but it wasn't so powerless that he had to drift with the tide. This steady appreciation of the scenery along the way had a unique flavor.
"It's no good, I really can't write it."
Throne tossed the pen aside with some irritation and paced around the room. He couldn't achieve the absolute rationality Sellen possessed, and he felt a bit uneasy.
Without Ranni, he had also lost contact with Melina and could no longer remotely control things like before. Of course, now that he had drawn enough hatred, those bastards outside shouldn't have the mind to pay attention to her, but Melina herself had a group of nemesis. Godskin Nobles, these monsters would definitely appear. In terms of strength, they were not much weaker than a Crucible Knight.
"With Melina and Millicent's strength, dealing with two is the limit, and besides, the Mountaintops of the Giants is a fated place for Melina; it sounds ominous."
He sensed a possibility: now The Lands Between was moving from burning the tree to competing for hegemony, and with the wisdom of that old woman Marika, she should have made contingency plans.
Godfrey's early return was her doing. Would she really force them to burn the tree? Throne adjusted his collar, irritation prickling his skin. No use worrying—he couldn't split himself in two, and Elphael's walls held him tight. Until this mess got sorted, Melina would have to handle things alone.
The door clicked shut behind him. Sellen slept undisturbed as he stepped into the street. The Haligtree's importance to their plans couldn't be overstated—especially with Malenia hovering between consciousness and oblivion. If that fallen Valkyrie woke now, all hell would break loose.
Elphael's architecture rose in jagged tiers, narrow streets winding through buildings that shouldn't balance so precariously. The place reeked of pretentious artistry—some hipster's wet dream. No prizes for guessing Miquella's influence. Only here, beneath the Haligtree's boughs, had Throne encountered traces of the most enigmatic demigod.
"She looks like a girl."
He stopped before a white jade statue barely reaching his chest. Beauty radiated from the carved features—simple slip dress, cascading curls with one delicate braid framing the left side. The figure tilted its head, eyes closed as if listening to the Haligtree's whispering leaves or praying to some forgotten god. Throne rose on his toes, peering at the flat plane beneath the statue's billowing skirt. He scratched his head.
Calling Miquella a crossdresser felt wrong. Legends spoke of a being beyond gender, shifting forms—why else qualify for godhood in these lands that demanded male-female pairs? This sculpture depicted a saintly young girl, though "saintly" seemed generous given Mohg's kidnapping. Throne's curiosity itched. Two possibilities: either Miquella transformed like Marika, or carried both traits simultaneously—innocent maiden exterior hiding something far less demure below.
He bent lower, squinting at the skirt's shadowed interior.
"Lord Throne?"
The voice froze him mid-inspection. Slowly, like a rusted gear turning, he raised his head. Finlay stood ten paces away, armor swapped for a dark red robe cinched with a white belt that accentuated her narrow waist.
"The wounded are settled?"
Throne straightened without shame, as if caught admiring art rather than investigating a statue's nethers.
"All arrangements made."
Her gaze flicked to the sculpture.
"What are you doing?"
"Paying respects to the legendary Lord Miquella. Hearing tales never did justice to her presence."
Finlay's brow creased. How could this brute appreciate her gentle lord's likeness? Yet praise from a monarch warmed her chest. She dipped her head.
"The honor is mine, Lord Throne."
Heh. These knights swallowed lies like sacramental wine. Throne's mouth twitched, infected by her solemnity.
"Where's Ivan buried?"
"The archipelago cemetery. Wavesong for his rest. He'd have liked that."
Each word fell precise as a swordsmith's hammer blows.
"No grief in you?"
"We knights dance between life and death. War plays the same sad tune again and again."
Her spine straightened.
"Death comes when it will. Duty and honor endure."
Throne studied her before shaking his head with a tired smile.
"My apologies. Sentiment got the better of me."
How could a hero like Finlay, who became famous during the prime of the Erdtree, dwell on the death of a friend? Even if faced with death, she would only raise her sword and spear. That heart had long been forged like rock.
"There is nothing to be sorry about, but before I am a woman, I am a knight and a hero."
As expected of the Valkyrie's personal guard, she gave me a glimpse of Millicent.
Throne liked dealing with this kind of steel-straight woman; crying and whimpering only annoyed him, so he withdrew his gaze from the statue and walked forward along the path formed by the branches. Below was a bottomless cliff. In fact, being able to survive in Elphael was a skill in itself; otherwise, a slip of the foot and the person would be gone.
And looking at the surrounding residents—Misbegotten, Demi-humans, Oracle Envoys—it was simply the second biological exhibition after Volcano Manor. It was just that all kinds of creatures here were very gentle, far from the irritability of the volcano. No wonder Finlay tried her best to protect this peace.
"You didn't run into me by chance, did you?"
"Yes, I have some things I would like to ask you and Miss Sellen for help with."
The female knight didn't mince words. Although he had expected it, this was too fast. Throne appreciated this decisive character. He was in a hurry anyway, so he went straight to the point, "Is it about Lady Malenia?"
"That's right. I just finished settling the wounded and went to see the Lady. Her condition is very strange. Please listen to me carefully."
Finlay used concise language to mention what she had seen and heard. It turned out that she and Loretta and others went directly to the deepest part of the Haligtree and saw Malenia sleeping under the tree. The Valkyrie was carried back by Finlay from thousands of miles away and placed there.
Originally, she wouldn't have any movement like a vegetable, but they clearly saw Malenia's fingers move. Before the ecstasy could emerge, an extremely sharp killing intent directly forced them to retreat. They discussed it uneasily for a long time and still decided to find Sellen. Throne leaned against the tree and asked seriously, "That killing intent, are you sure?"
"Certain. We are not so weak that we can't even distinguish killing intent."
"And then? Did Malenia wake up?"
"After we retreated, the killing intent disappeared. The Lady remained motionless."
This is a bit troublesome... Throne took a breath. The current situation had no reference point. After all, from the Battle of Aeonia, Malenia's fate had changed.
The rot had not eroded so deeply, Millicent was still alive and well, and even her waking up was Sellen's credit, so what the Tarnished had seen and heard had no reference value. Her state must be related to the rot. Could it be that in the original timeline, Radahn's tragedy happened to her? Throne made a guess.
Divided by severity, the worst should be directly incarnating as the Goddess of Rot, and the madness like Radahn's was already considered good, and the madness wasn't fully crazy, after all, he was quick-witted at the time, and Malenia also had the needle to suppress it. Thinking of this, he felt a strong sense of irony, and he didn't know if this could be counted as retribution.
"No need to find the teacher. She is not good at this. Take me to see her, but let's be clear first, my treatment method is a bit violent."
"Ah, this..."
Finlay didn't dare to agree. If Throne made the Valkyrie go berserk, wouldn't the Haligtree be soaked in blood?
"So you guys go discuss it first. Staying in this stalemate is not a solution."
Throne had already met Sellen, the main goal was completed, and he would take as many of the remaining secondary goals as possible. If he could win over the Haligtree to Caria's side, this trip would be perfect. Finlay hesitated for a moment. As a smart, straightforward person, she certainly knew that this couldn't go on. No one knew when the Lady would go on a killing spree.
Only one man could unravel this mess.
"My Lord, it's dangerous. There might not even be a reward."
"I know."
Throne kept his eyes on the horizon.
"Malenia and I are friends. This favor needs repaying. The reward doesn't matter."
Whether Finlay believed him or not, he didn't care.
Above the ten-thousand-foot cliff, Leyndell's golden tree banner already flew over Ordina. They'd regrouped fast, seizing the town before turning their gaze across the strait. His reasoning was simple—if Malenia didn't draw her blade, how else would the Leyndell Army retreat?
And if they didn't, how long would he be stuck in Elphael?
Risk? Throne's fingers brushed his sword hilt. The sea breeze tasted of salt and iron. Ten years ago, he could only look up. Now? He'd see for himself how sharp Miquella's blade really was.
The wind carried the stench of fish and rustled the Haligtree's dense leaves, sweeping ashore to whip at the cloaks of Tree Sentinels and Crucible Knights alike. Blood from dozens of headless corpses seeped between the cracks of the ruined town's stones.
Their armor was too ornate for common soldiers. Nobles, then. Dead nobles. Slaughtered by their own.
Moras's boots crunched on gravel as he approached the Crucible Knight's back.
"Lord Ordovis. The vermin in our ranks have been… cleansed."
Just as Throne predicted—the Crucible Knights had joined Leyndell's forces. But this speed? No scheming, no power plays. Just two Tree Sentinels leading the army, then raising their blades against the cowards who'd panicked after defeat.
Retreat after one setback? Bury the Golden Order alive? The Sentinels refused to accept it—not with their forces still intact. The Crucible Knights gave them an excuse. Let those rats keep scurrying, and they'd all drown together.
"Good."
Ordovis gave a slight nod.
"Morale was collapsing. Now, with their claws clipped, the rot won't reach the lower ranks."
He'd stormed the camp unchallenged. Those who might've opposed him were already corpses. Without Miles to rein him in, and with these Sentinels as his old war companions, their loyalty wasn't in question.
"Blockading the Haligtree is a waste," Caerlus snapped. "We should march back to Leyndell now. Supplies won't last ten days."
"They'll be replenished."
"By who? The nobles won't obey. Even if we force concessions, they'll sabotage us. You've been gone too long, Ordovis. Since Radagon took the throne, it's nothing like Godfrey's era."
"I said they'll come. They'll come."
Ordovis's smile was unreadable.
"Storming the capital to seize power? I'm not that reckless."
The Sentinels exchanged glances before whispering, "You reached out to Morgott?"
"Wrong."
Ordovis's voice dropped.
"Morgott doesn't command Crucible Knights."
Not Morgott. Then—
Caerlus and Moras locked eyes. Pupils dilated. Only one impossible name remained.
King Godfrey.