"Unspoken rules exist to be shattered, but I won't stand by and watch Raya Lucaria reduced to ruins. When we reclaim the Academy, the sorcerers within will be our own people," Throne said. His voice carried a weight that brooked no argument.
"Only punish the ringleaders? They're no fools—they'll rally the sorcerers to fight to the death."
Ranni shook her head, then froze, realization dawning. "Wait. You're planning to use Caria as a distraction while you handle this alone?"
"Exactly. The key lies with those sorcerer professors. Remove them, and the rest will have no reason to raise a hand against 'their own.'" Throne's gaze was steady, unwavering.
Ranni opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat.
The plan would serve their cause, but the risks were staggering. Walking into the lion's den rarely ended well.
"You're not worried about my safety, are you?" Throne asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Who—who would worry? It's just… if you die, who'll help me shoulder the burdens ahead?" Ranni turned her face away, her voice clipped.
"Don't get too reckless. My mother's unconscious now, but she could easily become your enemy. And that seal I placed there? It's no trifle."
Throne felt a fleeting urge to knock Ranni on the head, a silent tribute to all the Tarnished who'd suffered at his mother-in-law's hands. He dismissed the thought.
Ranni had set the seal to protect her mother. How could she have foreseen her "son-in-law" would one day come knocking?
"No matter. I've been tempered in blood and fire. Those sorcerer professors will make fine nourishment." Throne shrugged. If he feared risk, he'd never have left ten years ago.
Ranni turned back, her silence heavy.
She remembered a similar conversation a decade ago, when he'd walked away without looking back, forging his legend. She murmured softly, "But this time, I don't want to wait ten years for you."
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
The witch lifted her chin, her expression solemn. "In the name of the Witch Ranni, your enemies are my enemies, and your friends are my friends. I'll support you with all my strength."
Throne thought the declaration felt backward, but he didn't argue. He nodded gently. "I believe you."
He reached out, brushing a fallen leaf from Ranni's shoulder. She didn't flinch, allowing him to step closer. Her voice was soft, almost intimate. "Then, for the first task, undo the seal on Godrick's ring for me."
......
The sky was clear, the air crisp. Melina sat on the steps, her head propped on her hand, gazing into the distance. She'd slept well, and the world felt… peaceful.
The Erdtree blazed as brightly as ever, its golden light spilling over the wheat fields that rippled like waves. Shouts from the outer city drifted faintly on the breeze.
This tranquility felt like a memory, distant yet familiar. No one spoke of thrones or missions. They simply lived, waiting for the Erdtree's call.
Is this what a normal world feels like?
The young girl wasn't sure, but the warmth in her chest these past few days told her it was… nice. There was more to life than missions. Her usual detachment softened, her gaze losing its edge.
This journey hadn't been as dull as she'd expected. And those meddlesome proposals—she couldn't help but smile faintly.
Hmph. Meddling in others' affairs. It was just a transaction, after all.
"Are you contemplating life?" A lazy voice drifted over, breaking her reverie.
Melina was startled and slowly turned her head to see the man in black robes standing beside her.
"Finished talking?"
"Yes, I've reached a consensus with Ranni."
"What did you say specifically?" Melina was curious, but seeing Throne remain silent, her gaze dimmed a bit: "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked."
"It's not that I don't trust you." Throne glanced at the girl and slowly grinned: "It's just that you're too dim-witted; explaining it would be too much trouble."
"You!" Melina jumped up in exasperation. Without thinking, she raised her foot and kicked at him. She was nearly dying of anger; she was being victimized by this man every few days.
Throne dodged nimbly, using several Bloodhounds Steps to jump into the distance. He said to the pursuing Melina, "I'm very happy."
What, you still dare to be happy? Melina grew even angrier. She had just rushed halfway when she heard the second half of the sentence.
"Melina, you're different than before. You're gradually becoming a living, breathing person."
The girl stopped, somewhat lost and bewildered.
She suddenly remembered that she hadn't been like this before; even in the face of the most vicious curses, not a single ripple of emotion would appear.
So, why was this? Because intelligent beings are always easily influenced by others and instinctively yearn for beauty and light.
Throne spoke the answer in his heart and asked playfully, "So, do you want to know what consensus Ranni and I reached?"
"I don't." Melina answered firmly and turned her head away, yet she used her peripheral vision to steal a glance at the man standing in the wind, forgetting all about her revenge.
She knew this man wouldn't listen to her and would definitely give her the answer.
As she expected, Throne looked toward the distant Erdtree, his gaze gradually shifting upward until it stopped above the clouds. Slowly, he spoke a riddle.
"Even an ant can shake a great tree."
......
The situation in Liurnia suddenly became tense. The Carian Army, originally scattered in various places, began to assemble, and a large number of naval forces began to appear on the lake.
Raya Lucaria Academy was no fool either and responded immediately. Like the Cuckoo Knights, they had nowhere to retreat and began to assemble their forces near the Village of the Albinaurics.
Spies from various factions were constantly coming and going. Everyone knew that after the upheaval in Limgrave, Liurnia was also about to undergo a great change.
The common people were left to sigh; the world was truly becoming more and more difficult. Even without the Scarlet Rot, The Lands Between had been sliding toward the abyss.
The madness spread, Tarnished committed atrocities, and lords fought continuously. Just as Throne had said in his toast, 'being alive' was a blessing in itself.
From Leyndell to Caelid, all eyes were gathered here. Now only two questions remained. When to start the fight, and under what pretext.
The 'bullet' had already left the chamber. A returned knight was waiting for things to ferment.
Ranni was already exceptionally clever; there was absolutely no need for Throne to personally intervene, as it would be somewhat disrespectful to her. As long as the general direction was set, he just had to wait for the results.
This was also why Ranni was particularly important to him; it was no longer like in Limgrave, where he had to calculate everything himself.
Thinking too much leads to baldness. For the sake of his hair, Throne had been 'resting and recuperating' in the manor during this time. Occasionally, he would visit Arno's home, handle cases of madness with the guard, study the spellbooks left by Miriam in the courtyard when the weather was good, and fight a match with Melina when the mood struck him.
The forge rang with metallic clarity—hammer strikes shaping steel as sparks arced through the air. War Counselor Iji worked in silent rhythm, his massive frame bending over the anvil where Moonveil's edge caught the light with each tempering blow.
Throne observed from his cross-legged perch, fingers steepled beneath his chin like a man contemplating chess moves rather than blades.
Melina shifted her weight between feet near the doorway. The distinction between master and knight had blurred to irrelevance here.
"If you're so idle," Iji grunted between hammerfalls, "Her Highness could use another strategist."
Throne didn't raise his eyes from the glowing steel. "Suggesting I comprehend her designs? That insults us both." His tone carried finality, silencing Melina's half-formed protest.
The Troll blacksmith exhaled through his nose—no rebuttal possible. The bastard had a point.
In all Caria, only Ranni's intellect surpassed Throne's labyrinthine mind. Even Iji's centuries of wisdom faltered against his tactical permutations.
"You misunderstand fundamentally." Throne caught their exchanged glances and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Overthinking dulls the edge." He gestured to the half-forged katana. "A commander? No. My schemes exist solely to deliver corpses more efficiently."
Absolute rationality left no room for the necessary madness.
"Empty your mind until only the enemy's neck remains. That's execution perfected." This wasn't sophistry—capability and desire occupied separate realms.
Once strategy set the course, he preferred simplicity: cut, grow stronger, cut greater foes. A blade honed past reason. Against overwhelming might, plots shattered where berserk resolve endured.
Iji's hammer hesitated mid-swing. "Blaidd would challenge you for such words."
"Why?" Throne accepted the finished Moonveil, testing its balance. Cyan grease-crystal patterns rippled along the steel as glintstone in the pommel caught firelight.
"Because you spurn what he covets." The blacksmith's voice rumbled like tectonic plates. "Ranni's shadow wishes to be more than her blade. You? You aspire to become less."
Throne's grin showed teeth. "Needs must. Against what comes, he lacks sufficient sharpness." He traced a thumb along the reinforced tsuba. "Though I'd appreciate you not repeating that."
"Arrogant." Iji flicked the katana toward him. "But your growth rate excuses much."
Steel whispered through air. Throne snatched the hilt mid-spin. His pulse thrummed against the enhanced magic conduits.
"Materials constrained me." Iji massaged his lower back with a massive hand. "Doubled arcane throughput. The tsuba withstands greater parries now. Functions as a staff, like Starfrost."
Throne's other hand summoned Godrick's Golden Greataxe. The impact cratered the workshop floor. Iji's ocular helm flared at the audacity.
"You expect me to reforge a demigod's weapon into this?" The Troll gestured at Moonveil. "The foundation can't support such hubris."
A shame. Throne dismissed the greataxe—awkward thing, despite its power.
"Seek Ranni's own blade if you hunger for legends."
The Sword of Night and Flame's name hung between them like unsheathed steel.
"Soon," Throne promised the glintstone in his palm. The crystal's glow pulsed in time with his heartbeat.
"This blade is enough for now." Throne stepped up the stone stairs and walked toward the east of the Three Sisters towers.
"Hey, what are you going over there for?"
The swordsman turned back and smiled slightly: "Testing the blade."
The Three Sisters area was quite vast, and its eastern side was quite dangerous. Throne had noticed it ten years ago but hadn't dared to enter. But now his strength was sufficient. After greeting Ranni, she hadn't objected.
It looked even more dilapidated here. Weeds grew from between the rubble, and some buildings were in ruins, looking as though they hadn't been tended to for a long time.
Ranni was quite patient with solitude and didn't mind having a garbage dump right next to her.
"If I hadn't given her a push, she'd probably just be procrastinating and waiting for the Tarnished to arrive." Truly the Dark Moon; even time seemed frozen. A short nap could probably last many years.
Throne entered this area. This was the graveyard of the Carian Royal Family.
Tombstones could be seen everywhere, but the royal family was down to its last member, and Ranni's personality didn't seem like one that enjoyed dwelling on the past. Actually, Throne was too lazy to do any cleaning, but since he had nothing better to do, he might as well resolve a hidden threat.
Awoo... A low growl sounded.
He glanced to the side and saw a massive Red Wolf crouching on a large rock, baring its teeth and staring at him.
So it's you. The stupid dog that dares to bite even Carian Knights, everyone except Ranni. This Red Wolf was the guardian hound brought by Radagon back then.
Now that Radagon had long since left, it had become a masterless wild wolf, merely following orders to stay here until someone entered.
"Wait for me a moment. It's time to help Ranni clear out the things of the past." Throne didn't know why Ranni kept these things around, so he would lend a small hand.
As he approached with his blade, more and more wolves emerged from the forest. They bared their teeth and whimpered lowly, as if warning the intruder, making Throne feel speechless. Did Ranni have some kind of special hobby, liking to keep a zoo next to her bedroom?
"Melina, come, give me a hand."
"Okay." The girl, who had been waiting quietly, drew her dagger. She slowly accelerated, soon overtaking Throne, and then leapt into the wolf pack in an instant.
Pfft.
The dagger pierced through a wild wolf's skull. She turned her head to dodge the snapping teeth and used her left palm to boost herself; the two-meter-long wild wolf was instantly sent flying into the air. When it fell, its lower back had already been pierced.
Kidney strike, side step, neck snap. Melina was expressionless as she used a limp wolf carcass as a shield. Amidst the sounds of tearing, five or six wild wolves bit directly into it. Before they could let go, brilliant golden light had already pierced the carcass, severing their heads along with it.
The slaughter was full of aesthetic beauty.
Bullying a few animals was of course nothing, but the Red Wolf didn't move; it was staring at the girl in shock.
This scent...
An animal's intuition is quite sharp. The girl gave it a feeling even more familiar than the princess—no, it was almost the same as its master.
Its hostility vanished rapidly. However, a strong surge of killing intent made its fur stand on end. A man wearing Carian Knight armor charged forward, throwing a throwing knife at Melina from a distance.
Clang.
The Red Wolf pounced like a lightning bolt, instantly catching the knife in its teeth. Before Melina could react, it had already charged at Throne like a mad dog protecting its master.
As expected, her connection to Marika is even deeper than I imagined. Throne's face darkened. Previously, he only had suspicions about Melina's identity; now, it was confirmed.
The scent of blood clung to the wolf's fur as it lunged. Those fangs—pale as moonlit bone—filled his vision. Why else would a Red Wolf defend its pack's butcher?
Marika is Radagon. Radagon's kin stands before me.
Too slow. For the Elden Throne's heir, those jaws closed on empty air. The wolf's speed meant nothing against destiny's weight.