Shield. Twin halberds. Twin staves. That damn lobster-headed puppet—Grafting's true purpose revealed itself in a storm of steel and fury, unleashing maximum destruction in minimum time. Blades flashed around Throne like a whirlwind of death.
Twin Crystal Bursts detonated before him, filling every inch of air with shrapnel. His left hand snapped up. Thopss Barrier flared. The magical barrage shattered against violet light. "So it is you!" Godrick recognized the signature spell even as Throne bulled through the blade storm. The demigod's lips twisted. Storm Explosion.
Air currents spiraling around the halberds detonated with a thousand shrieking voices, birthing hundreds of invisible blades. Blood mist sprayed from Throne's body. His sword still found purchase—three inches deep between Godrick's ribs. A heartbeat's clash. Both men recoiled.
Throne ran. Head down. Left palm facing backward. Gravity Wall.
BANG.
The water jet smashed against purple force, sending him stumbling forward. He rode the momentum, covering ten meters before whirling around. Godrick turned simultaneously. They faced each other across the mud—one dripping water, the other leaking blood from countless slashes.
Pain like being flayed alive erupted across Throne's nerves. His face stayed stone. He ripped away the tattered robe, revealing a body painted red. Muscles corded as he yanked out a flask of crimson tears. Tipped it back. Drained it dry. The empty bottle shattered against wet stone. "Getting interesting now."
Godrick's eye twitched watching the wounds crust over. His fingers probed the gash in his ribs. This wasn't going according to plan. "Again!" No time to strategize—Throne was already charging.
Blade between teeth. Left hand forward. Right hand clutching a sacred seal. He moved laterally, bombarding the mud-caked demigod with everything he had. Carian Phalanx. Comet Azur. Golden Land. Swift Glintstone Shard. Meteorite.
Four schools of magic. One incantation. He spent mana like water. Godrick's bulk made dodging impossible—he returned fire instead. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. Spells collided midair, shredding the rain, boiling the stream dry.
The demigod's magical reserves ran deeper. But Throne cast faster. And he fought dirty. Godrick shattered flying swords with his own Comet Azur. Annihilated meteorites. Then the Swift Glintstone Shard came from behind. Staggered him. Rage burned hotter.
"A demigod—outmatched in sorcery by some Tarnished filth?!" The doubt lasted one second before he crushed it. Not weakness. This bastard fought like a cornered rat. That cyan barrier nullified years of Grafting research. But raw power? That remained his birthright.
He rolled through Golden Land's eruption, not caring about the mud caking his armor. Staves clapped together. COMET AZUR.
The thicker beam vaporized rainfall. Obliterated incoming spells. Throne barely got Thopss Barrier up in time. Light refracted violently, lancing upward into stormclouds. The impact drove him back, boots skidding through mud as he strained to maintain the shield.
Then the water jet came.
No time to dodge. No space to evade. Throne stomped down hard. STORM STOMP. The shockwave met the pressurized stream head-on. Water exploded outward in a starburst of droplets.
Lightning split the sky as Throne looked up—a massive figure plummeted toward him, golden battle axe flashing. He took the second step. Wrath of Gold. A brilliant ring of light erupted upward, meeting Godrick's descending slash. The circle shattered instantly, but the impact bought Throne just enough time to roll clear.
"Don't think about escaping."
Two halberds whistled through the air, landing precisely where Throne would've been. Godrick lunged forward—then staggered as his body suddenly weighed twice as much. Gravity Overlay.
Normally, the spell wouldn't slow him. But the rain had turned the ground to soup, and even The Lands Between obeyed some laws. His legs sank knee-deep into the muck. Damn it. He could only watch as Throne leaped back, already summoning a Comet Azur. The blast hit like a hammer.
Godrick raised his tower shield, wrist twisting to deflect the magic—but when he looked again, Throne had vanished. Instinct screamed danger behind him. A flicker of starlight. No time to block.
Throne materialized at Godrick's back. Mouth open, hands spread, fingers closing around the hilt of his falling blade. He slashed sideways just as Godrick's joints twisted to counter. The sword carved through flesh. Two arcs of blood sprayed into the rain.
Throne retreated, gaze dropping to the gaping wound in his abdomen. Another inch deeper, and he'd have been gutted like a fish. He drained a flask of crimson tears in one swallow, watching Godrick turn.
Rain dripped from their hair. Blue eyes locked onto gray. Both faces split into identical, feral grins. Throne's stomach bled freely. Godrick's shield-arm lay severed in the mud. The demigod stared at his own missing limb and hissed, "You've grown stronger."
"Ten years ago, Malenia's interference saved you. Now? You last ten minutes on your own." Throne adjusted his grip on the sword. "No. I'm stronger than I was ten days ago. And your stolen power? I counter it perfectly."
He grinned at the demigod. It wasn't just Oleg's strength or the Roundtable's training. One truth cut deeper than any blade:
Godrick's Grafting made him versatile. Fast. But he lacked a killer's instinct. No finishing blow. "Jack of all trades," Throne spat. "Master of none. You're already dead."
Godrick's eyes bulged. How dare this Tarnished— But the pain hit like a tide. Scarlet Rot gnawed his nerves. Drowsiness dragged at his limbs. The words rang true, and that fury burned hotter than any flame. "I'll grind your bones to paste!"
Energy detonated from Godrick's body, whipping the rain into a cyclone. He gripped his axe two-handed, veins throbbing at his temples. His remaining limbs splayed like broken wings. The air itself trembled as he charged, a landslide given flesh.
Melina, who was watching the battle from not far away, had already taken a step forward, fingers twitching toward her blade. But then she saw it—Throne wasn't bracing. Wasn't afraid.
He was smiling.
The downpour blurred her vision, but the answer was simple. Had she asked, Throne would've told her outright:
Everyone knows Godrick's second phase is easier.
With a swipe on his spirit-calling ring, twelve rapiers fell into the mud, and looking at Godrick in his berserk state, he slightly bent his knees, lightning flashed, and a shadow covered him. In an instant, just a single instant, Godrick arrived before him like a storm, then swung his great axe and halberd to slash. Bang, bang, bang... The ground was instantly churned into pieces.
He emerged from the ground like a wild bull and saw a few glimmers of starlight gathering. Want to run? Boom—
It was also in an instant; he appeared directly in front of Throne, not much slower than Starlight movement, and then danced with blades and swords. Clang, clang, clang... It was impossible to count how many strikes were made within a second.
Throne's eyes just turned golden, his long blade guarding the center line, dancing gracefully in the storm, while the brief burst of Bloodhounds Step made him flicker in and out of existence. Enhanced by dragon power, with a touch of hardness amidst the agility, he parried the great axe, dodged the halberd, avoided the magic fired at his forehead, and jumped back again, repeating the cycle.
Advancing and retreating, all that remained was a path of devastation: severed tree stumps, shattered rocks, and huge footprints. Godrick's attacks were seemingly denser than the torrential rain falling from the sky. He had no time to worry about his stamina; there was only one thought in his mind: Die, die, die, die, die...
Under the furious storm of attacks, Throne felt his flesh flying, yet he couldn't feel any pain. When he clashed swords with Godrick, he was knocked sliding more than ten meters, leaving his defenses wide open. Looking at Godrick, who was crouching with bent knees, he twisted his long blade. Secret Sword: Vortex Cloud Crossing. Storm Dance! Melina held her breath.
She only saw dozens of blade flashes erupting in the rain in an instant, sparks flickering incessantly like firecrackers. She wanted to go up, but she felt there was no way to intervene. These two were already caught up in the killing, and a third party rashly intervening would only be torn to shreds.
With fast swords against the storm, with madness and killing intent, Throne flew in the air and saw Godrick briefly catching his breath. Gravity Nullification! Storm Assault! He landed on the ground. Because the Gravity Magic made his body too light, he didn't even leave a footprint, and the stacking of gale upon gale directly blew him away. Godrick fell into impotent rage.
This damn weather, this damn mud; if his own charge required ten parts of strength, the other party didn't even need to use one. He saw Throne, who had started drinking a flask of crimson tears again, and roared: "Don't you know that if you drink too much of that stuff, the effect will be weakened?" Throne certainly knew, but so what? He had prepared ten flasks of red and ten flasks of blue.
If the effect wasn't enough, he would make up for it with quantity, and see who could outlast whom. He tossed the empty bottle aside, not knowing how many sips of the flask of crimson tears he had taken. He had prepared for so long precisely for this moment; there was no need to feel any heartache.
Godrick lunged again, still with a dazzling, fast-paced combo attack, but he found that this person was like a small boat in a storm; no matter how the waves tortured it, it simply refused to capsize. Did he not feel pain? Was he not tired? Boom! Storm Stomp launched Throne into the air, and the sweeping great axe hit him like a baseball, blasting him into the sky.
The subsequent high-pressure water cannon shattered the Gravity Wall, slamming him hard into the muddy water. But when he leaped over, like a falling meteorite, Throne, who had been flattened into a spread-eagle shape, turned into starlight and dissipated. Boom—rumble—Godrick, who landed, possessed the strength of a thousand jun, kicking up a tsunami-like wave of mud.
He stepped out of the large crater, breathing heavily while looking at Throne, who was standing in a tree. "Why, why won't you die?!"
The crazier the attacks, the greater the effect of the blood loss, Scarlet Rot, and sleep arrows, but even though he pushed the attack frequency to the limit, this person still refused to die. 'Has that already terrible personality been affected by the Scarlet Rot, and is he starting to lose his mind?' On the contrary, Throne was very calm, like a scientist calculating the opponent's remaining energy.
"With such a capacity, do you even deserve to be called king?" Throne raised his left hand and clenched his fist hard. The rapiers that had fallen into the mud earlier were pulled by gravity, breaking through the soil one after another and stabbing at Godrick from all directions. "Have you had enough? Now it's my turn!"
The true essence of the Ashina Style was not about desperate courage, nor was it some flashy sword technique; even the ability to use moves upon lifting one's hand or combining them at will was just a superficial phenomenon.
The true essence lay in the premise of 'killing the enemy,' using robotic calmness to calculate the strengths and weaknesses of both sides and planning the tactic with the highest chance of victory. That was why Throne paid so much attention to intelligence and was so patient. The strongest hunter was one who set traps step by step, luring the strong prey into the snare.
And at this very moment, he knew the opportunity had arrived. Godrick had become crazed and bloodthirsty, and his stamina had been continuously consumed since the night raid began. The heavens were very accommodating; the heavy rain and mud were extremely disadvantageous for a humanoid monster over three meters tall.
Whether he was calm, how much stamina remained, the extent of the Scarlet Rot, whether he had a one-hit-kill move—all of this was within Throne's calculations. The rapiers were extremely fast and coated with various greases, and Godrick, who had intended to pounce, lifted his foot. "Get lost!" The storm bloomed, and the rapiers were blown away one by one.
Throne was not yet Radahn; his Gravity Magic could not yet directly penetrate defenses, but a slight distraction was enough for him. The swordsman, with his mana replenished, disappeared in an instant and appeared in an instant, just crossing the storm to appear in front of Godrick, the blade hidden under his ribs flashing with dazzling light. Starlight Piercing.
Charging in an instant, relentless and unyielding; fortunately, a water cannon blasted onto the sword, twisting its direction slightly, so it only grazed Godrick's shoulder. Then, a great axe pierced through the water curtain and slashed directly down at his head. Rumble—the ground was split in two, extending far into the distance.
Throne dodged to the side, watching the twin halberds slash down simultaneously, and just whistled. The Spirit Steed suddenly appeared beside him, and without a word, it lightly jumped up, swung its two hind legs, and kicked out violently. Bang! Torrent's strength was no less than Throne's.
Slamming into Godrick's shoulder, it immediately sent him sliding sideways several meters, and the twin halberds naturally slashed through empty air. Just as he stood steady, before he could turn around to fight back, he heard a sound of bells ringing. Jingling.