The village chief hurried over and saw a brown-haired young man on the stretcher, his bronze-colored face covered in sweat, looking to be in great pain. "Did he get bitten by a swamp wolf, or poked by a giant crow?" "We don't know. Yanan said he saw some strange prey and chased after it. By the time we ran to support him, he was already like this," a hunter replied. "Idiots!
I've told you so many times—do not underestimate the prey in the swamp. Take him back to the village first; I'm going to Sellia to fetch a physician." Throne, who had been watching from the side, took a closer interest upon seeing that this was the young man he had chatted with yesterday.
He didn't know medicine and didn't want to cause trouble, but at that moment, he noticed some white threads above the hunter's head. They looked somewhat like spiderwebs, but were quite tough. "Wait a moment." Throne suddenly spoke up. Those walking toward the village stopped simultaneously, staring at him in confusion. "Little brother Roland, do you know medicine?" "Let me see the wound."
Throne didn't explain further; he lifted the blanket covering the hunter and saw a penetrating wound on his abdomen. It looked like he had been stabbed by a sharp weapon, and there was a radial ring of scarlet blood streaks around it. He lowered his head to sniff the wound and could still smell a unique stench. No mistake, this was Scarlet Rot.
Normally, a wound this small would be unrecognizable, but he had bought a bottle of Scarlet Grease from a wandering merchant, so he was all too familiar with the smell. But why would it be here? Malenia hadn't bloomed yet. Throne looked toward the swamp across the main road in confusion, unable to grasp the situation. The Valkyrie was still resting at Stormveil; how could Scarlet Rot have appeared?
Wait, Scarlet Rot didn't necessarily have to originate from Malenia. Combining this with those silk threads, Throne seemed to associate it with something else. But looking at the village chief, whose face remained calm, he pulled a packet of medicine from a Perfumer out of his pocket and handed it to him. "Medicine from Leyndell. See if it can save him." "Thanks!"
The veteran couldn't be bothered with pleasantries and turned to leave. This was a minor interlude; hunters slipping up was common, but Throne waved his hand at Alexander, who had followed him. "You two stay behind." "Big brother, is there a problem?" The Pot Person wasn't stupid. Throne said nothing, only looking toward the swamp with intense curiosity. "I'm going to go see what's going on."
The swamp was densely overgrown with trees, blocking out the light. The air was filled with a distinct, putrid stench. Boots trudged through the mud, the ripples causing fallen leaves to sway. 'Good thing I didn't rush on my way and stayed a night in the village.'
Throne frowned in thought. If he hurried straight to Sellia, he might miss something.
Besides, this place wasn't too far from the magic town; traveling north through the swamp and crossing that mountain range would get him there. To think that the Kindred of Rot had appeared right under Sellia's nose? This was the source of the strangeness. Simple Scarlet Rot couldn't explain it, but those white spiderwebs might fool others, though they definitely couldn't fool him.
It was a strange creature, resembling a mantis shrimp in appearance. As the name implied, they were the true devotees of the Goddess of Rot. The Kindred of Rot didn't care about any decisive battle; they only wanted the scarlet flower to bloom and for the goddess they worshipped to return. "Malenia would never send these monsters. No, that's not right—they are inherently hostile to each other."
The Valkyrie had never bowed to the Scarlet Rot, while the Kindred of Rot only thought of blooming. This also placed them in opposition to Throne; they could be called mortal enemies. "Has the rot penetrated deep into Caelid?" A cold, clear voice came from his chest. As a highly professional knight, Throne immediately rectified the situation after Ranni's reprimand.
He used leather straps to tie the petite Ranni to his chest, forming an unconventional twin armor. Who said a tough guy couldn't carry a doll? Throne refused to believe in such nonsense. Leaping onto a large tree, he looked around and replied, "Your Highness, why have you been watching me the whole time?" "Watching? I just think you're quite unlucky, always running into strange things."
Throne's mouth twitched. That was a critical hit from Ranni. His luck was indeed terrible. For example, when he was at Caria Manor, he hadn't even had a few days of peace before encountering the Black Knife assassins. He had been bored in the Haligtree Army and went out for a night patrol, only to happen upon Godrick's breakout.
As for Limgrave, don't even mention it; if his intuition hadn't been sharp, he would have surely died at Summonwater Village. "Perhaps this is fate." Throne sighed and looked toward a spot in the swamp, seeing the footprints left by the hunters. He moved forward, jumping down while seeking guidance. "What do you think of this matter?" "Miquella has gone missing, and Malenia has left the Haligtree.
For the Kindred of Rot, this is the best opportunity to let the scarlet flower bloom," Ranni answered readily. Unlike Sellen, she didn't dislike contemplating such questions. Throne pondered for a moment and nodded slightly. "Hmm, different positions desire different results. The Erdtree wants to determine the Elden Lord, which doesn't stop other monsters and demons from hitching a ride."
He thought about it from the perspective of the Kindred of Rot, and everything became understandable. Having lurked for countless years and finally waiting for an opportunity, they would surely use all their strength. In their eyes, how could Malenia pulling out the Unalloyed Gold Needle to corrode Caelid be enough?
It would be best to pull out the Miquella's needle as well and rot the entire The Lands Between along with it. "Or perhaps they are planning to snatch someone? Malenia loses consciousness directly after blooming. If she were to fall into the hands of the Kindred of Rot, that would be a huge problem."
Throne imagined a scene: the scarlet flower blooming completely in the center of the Lake of Rot, two forces overlapping, surging up from the underground. He didn't know if the Erdtree could withstand it, but he certainly didn't want to turn into a mantis shrimp or a mushroom person.
He shook his head, casting aside this terrible fantasy, and followed the footprints forward, gradually deepening into the swamp. The overly lush leaves had completely blocked out the light, making the surroundings like night. After Throne called out for Her Highness twice and received no response, he simply put the doll back into the spirit-calling ring.
Ranni wasn't a 'grandfather' companion; she was hit-or-miss. If he got her dirty while rolling, it wasn't like he could change the doll's clothes. If he were discovered, it wouldn't be as simple as just shaming the witch. Deep in the swamp, the hunter's footprints came to an end.
This place was rarely visited, filled with soft mud that could swallow a person whole; even the most skilled hunter wouldn't dare to venture this deep. He couldn't see any animals, nor could he see any 'mantis shrimp'. Throne tiptoed, carefully moving forward in the darkness. Croak, croak, croak... The cry of a giant crow was irritating. When it took flight, Throne's feet stopped abruptly.
Something moved ahead. Throne held his breath. The giant crows hadn't scattered—whatever approached came deliberately. He plunged into the swamp, submerged himself in the reeking mud until only his eyes remained above the surface. A white glow pierced the gloom.
His pupils contracted. Starlight sorcery. His favorite. Though he preferred weaponizing it—blinding flashes in dark places. Two figures emerged from the mist.
Gray cloak. Red robe. Mud-caked boots. Glintstone staffs and shortswords at their hips. Night Sorcerers of Sellia. Scholars turned warriors, assassins in all but name. My kind, he thought. Then the realization hit like a kick to the ribs.
I came hunting Kindred of Rot. Why are Sellia's killers here?
The swamp wasn't small. Two apex predators shouldn't share this territory. Unless... His breath steadied. Sellia lay close. Their presence made sense if they'd come investigating rumors. Then his blood turned to ice.
A mantis shrimp crawled from the muck directly before the sorcerers. Neither side reacted. They passed like ships in fog.
Wrong. This was all wrong. At this range, even the blind would sense that abomination. Only one explanation fit—they knew each other. Allies. But Sellia served Radahn. The Kindred worshipped decay. No sane man invites plague into his home.
Yet their magic proved genuine. No disguises. Either the Rot had infiltrated Sellia, or... His gut twisted. Are they collaborating? But why?
The sorcerers drew nearer. Throne inhaled swamp filth, sank deeper. Their voices carried through the bog.
"Your Excellency knows the risks." "Better than most. But if Radahn takes the throne, our kind won't survive the purge." "True. Since the Starscourge conflict, our ideals became heresy." The gray-cloaked one hesitated. "You heard about Raya Lucaria?"
"Rumors. They've tripled the guard on something. Could be connected." "Hope remains then. Our brothers haven't forgotten." A pause. "How did you first contact the Rot?" "Chance encounter during my wanderings."
The words hung like corpse-gas. Throne's fingers dug into submerged roots. This went beyond heresy—this was madness with purpose. But what purpose? His mind raced through possibilities, each darker than the last. The swamp's stench seemed to thicken, pressing against his skin like a second layer of filth.
Above him, the false starlight cast elongated shadows across the mire, turning the sorcerers into stretched caricatures of men. Their boots squelched through mud, moving toward some unseen rendezvous. Throne counted their steps, measuring the distance. Too close now. One stray glance would expose him.
The mantis shrimp scuttled ahead, its chitinous limbs clicking like a deathwatch beetle. It moved with purpose, leading its unlikely allies deeper into the festering heart of the wetlands. Toward what? Some nest? A ritual site? His teeth ground together. Every instinct screamed to strike now, ambush them in the muck.
But questions outnumbered answers. Who else was involved? How deep did this rot run? He forced himself still, let the brackish water fill his ears until their voices blurred into the swamp's endless whispers. Patience. Watch. Learn.
The trio vanished into the mist, their footsteps fading. Throne waited five full minutes before surfacing. Mud dripped from his hair as he scanned the empty bog. Gone. All gone.
He exhaled through his nose. The pieces didn't fit. Sellia's sorcerers turning traitor? Consorting with the very plague they should exterminate? It stank worse than the swamp. And that mention of Raya Lucaria...
His fingers found the dagger at his belt. Time to hunt properly. Not for mindless Rotspawn now, but for answers. The kind that bled.
The marsh swallowed his silhouette as he moved, silent as a shadow between the reeds. Somewhere ahead, heresy walked on two legs. And he intended to carve the truth from its flesh.
The red-robed figure paused, lips twisting into an unsettling smile. "The details don't matter. Our interests align." Their voices dissolved into the swamp's mist. Throne emerged from cover, eyes wide with realization. To any outsider, the exchange would mean nothing—just fragments about taboos and unnamed entities, impossible to piece together.
But Throne was no outsider. Blood of the Primeval Sorcerers flowed in his veins. He'd studied Lusat's scorched manuscripts. Sellen's warning echoed in his skull: She wasn't the only one who wanted to tear open the sky. Combine that with the Master Lusat, entombed in Sellia's mines... Had he stumbled upon conspirators?
Of course they'd ally with the Kindred of Rot. Radahn's gravity shackled the stars, barring all paths to the Primeval Current. These sorcerers would burn Caelid to cinders without hesitation—hell, they'd torch the entire Lands Between if it meant glimpsing that cosmic flame. Was the red-robed man their liaison?
Throne watched the Rot's bubbling pools ahead. Silent as shadow, he retreated step by step. When the Kindred turned—
Only stray motes of starlight remained. The crow's rasping cry scraped across the bog. A dark shape blurred through the mire.
Specialized footwork left no splash, no trail. Kilometers later, he finally halted. "Far enough." Throne hauled himself into a hollowed trunk, lungs burning. He wasn't Godfrey, drunk on war. He knew better than to charge blindly into the unknown.
Numbers? Unknown. Positions? Unmapped.
Worst of all, the Kindred's thread incantations would snare him like a fly in a web. No escape once caught. Even an idiot knows I can't fight a faction bold enough to meddle in demigod wars.
The shock had faded. Clarity took its place.
A chance stop had exposed their plot, and they didn't realize it. That doomed hunter, the ignorant villagers—none could've understood the Scarlet Rot's true purpose. Their goal was obvious: bloom the scarlet flower, or slaughter Radahn. Could he join them?
The thought died as soon as it sparked. Even serving Ranni had limits. Radahn's blockade choked Caria's ambitions, but not at the cost of countless lives. Maybe Caelid's wasteland had changed him. With his primary mission near impossible, the secondary objectives weighed heavier now. "Best consult Her Highness."
He wiped sludge from his arms, retrieving the doll from his pack. After explaining the severed connection earlier, he relayed the overheard conversation. Ranni's intellect required no hand-holding—mention "Primeval Sorcerers," and she'd grasp the rest instantly.
"No wonder. Them." The Lunar Princess didn't blink. Her voice turned to ice as she delivered the warning:
"That is why I have always said that the Primeval Sorcerers are the most dangerous enemies. Vermin burrowed in filth, waiting to sink their teeth into flesh."
Do not be deceived by their disguises; as long as they are still pursuing the Primeval Current, they must never be trusted." Your metaphor is truly fascinating, and I always feel like you're speaking ill of Sellen. He couldn't argue, so he nodded repeatedly: "You are right, but I want to know more about why there are Primeval Sorcerers in Sellia."
Ranni's gaze was somewhat suspicious, not knowing if this knight had taken it to heart. After pondering for a moment, she answered: "One of the leaders of the Primeval Sorcerers, the sorcerer master Lusat, is sealed in Sellia. Why do you think that is?" "Fishing?" "Exactly. That is bait. As for the rest, we have to talk about the Starscourge conflict.
Simply put, the Primeval Sorcerers triggered a calamity, plunging Sellia and all of Caelid into crisis..." "So Radahn took action." At this point, Throne understood. Perhaps due to its geographical location, in the former Sellia, the Primeval Sorcerers had already advanced ahead of the academy.
They approached the starry sky, summoned meteors, and then everything came to an abrupt end because of Radahn. This demigod locked the stars, shattered the meteors to suppress the calamity, and protected Sellia and Caelid, but it also caused Caria to get caught in the crossfire. However, from Radahn's perspective, this was understandable.
He was a demigod of the Erdtree and the 'Lord' of Caelid; of course, he had to fulfill his primary mission.