Matthews stared, his feeble hero's strength useless against the sight before him. A single stomp had reduced the fortification to rubble.
Before he could process it, an unseen force yanked him forward. Throne stood in the settling dust, both hands gripping his blade, already mid-swing.
The Dragon Slash tore through the air.
Clang!
The shockwave of impact scattered the dust like smoke.
The Cuckoo Knight leader braced his greatsword overhead, knees buckling under the weight. Moonveil's magic blade had already bitten a third of the way into his weapon.
"Strength like this… a blade this sharp…"
The pressure felt like a mountain crushing him. He ignored the searing pain between his thumb and index finger—the swordsman was already lifting his leg.
Throne's boot connected with a sickening bang.
Matthews launched backward like a ragdoll. He bounced and rolled across the ground, crashed through a wooden wall, and landed in the stable.
The Cuckoo Knights who'd just regained their footing froze, watching Throne crouch low, ready to charge again. Those golden slit pupils locked onto them, and for a moment, the world stopped.
Then instinct took over. The knights scrambled to the sides, desperate to avoid the oncoming storm.
"This monster—he's unstoppable!"
Shields shattered, arrows missed their mark. Dozens of Cuckoo Knights lay dead by one man's hand. Their once-bloodthirsty bravado had dissolved into pure terror.
As they sprawled on the ground, the sonic boom reached their ears.
Matthews struggled to his feet, his body screaming in protest. He saw the Cuckoo Knights, who were supposed to cover him, scattering like frightened animals.
"Useless bastards!"
No time to think—he hurled his scythe at Throne.
It couldn't end like this.
Ding!
Sparks erupted as the blade deflected into the sky.
Matthews calculated the timing, raised his greatsword, and the blade flared with azure glintstone magic.
"Cuckoo Piercer!"
A magical blade extended several meters, cleaving the whimpering warhorse before him in two. But then he saw it—a massive blade of light surging toward him.
Magic against magic, the two blades collided and annihilated each other in a burst of blinding light.
Matthews tensed to retreat, but Throne paused for the briefest moment before launching into a devastating assault.
"What—"
The transition from stillness to blinding speed took less than a heartbeat. Before Matthews could react, a hand clamped over his face, fingers digging into his skin.
Through the gaps, he saw Throne's smile—cold, mocking.
Throne's grip tightened, and with the force of a runaway train, he slammed Matthews into the wooden wall.
The structure splintered and collapsed.
The Cuckoo Knight leader gasped, blood bubbling from his lips, his head ringing like a gong. He struggled to lift his greatsword, magic blade flickering weakly as he tried to summon it again.
A blue flash sliced through the air—and vanished.
Matthews's right hand, still clutching the greatsword, spun away.
He tried to raise his knee, but the agony ripped a scream from his throat. "How dare you!"
"Commander Matthews," Throne said calmly, "you talk too much."
He yanked the long sword from Matthews's knee, grabbed his head, and dragged him across the ground like a carcass.
Matthews kicked wildly, his blood painting a gruesome trail. His shrill cry drew the attention of every soldier nearby. They raised their crossbows, hesitated, and lowered them again, fear gripping their hearts.
No one wanted to risk Throne using their commander as a shield.
A few Kaiden Mercenaries rushed up regardless, but before they could get close, a Comet Barrage obliterated them into a spray of minced meat. Blood and flesh erupted like a fountain.
Silence fell.
No one dared move.
"Don't mind me—kill him!" Matthews roared, but the order went unheeded.
"Don't get it wrong. They aren't holding back because you've been captured, and I don't intend to use you as a hostage either." Throne said coldly, dragging the screaming Cuckoo Knight leader up the wooden wall on the other side.
Looking down from above, he saw that except for the Cuckoo fighting the Fingercreepers, everyone else was staring at him blankly.
"What do you want to do?" Matthews saw the noose on the wooden wall, along with several dried corpses of deserters, and he was already delirious.
"Just finding a suitable way for you to die." Throne smiled silently.
There was no righteous speech, just gently crushing his shoulder, hanging the noose around his neck, and whispering in his ear:
"When you get to the other side, say hello to the Liurnians for me."
Matthews's muscles trembled involuntarily, his mouth wide open: "Wait, I can surrender all power, anything is negotiable..."
Bang.
Before he could finish speaking, Throne kicked him out. Gravity pulled at his body, causing the noose to tighten instantly. In extreme oxygen deprivation, his eyes bulged, his legs kicked wildly, and his body swayed back and forth.
No one rescued him. Or rather, those who wanted to rush up were pinned to the ground by Melina.
That short blade was stabbed into the gaps of their armor one by one, then the girl stood up and stood under the dangling Cuckoo Knight leader.
A group of Cuckoo watched Matthews swinging like a swing, and Matthews's bulging eyes also looked at his numb subordinates, making the world present a strange silence.
Throne looked at these people who had lost their will to fight, slowly picked up another noose, and waved his hand at the remaining dozens of Cuckoo.
"Who's next?"
......
The summer wind swept by, and dozens of corpses were hanging on the wall, swaying with the wind, their bulging eyes staring at everything happening in front of them.
Large numbers of Carian Army had already flooded into the camp. The captured weapons were piled up like a hill, and the Cuckoo were huddled in the corners trembling, their faces full of fear.
That demon did not spare anyone.
He ignored the pleas, did not care about trades, and only chased down the fleeing Cuckoo Knights one by one, cut off their legs, and then dragged them to the gallows on the city wall.
His indifferent appearance was like a machine, repeating the actions.
In Throne's dictionary, there was no concept of forgiveness. He had said the chief culprits must die, so they had to die.
On the contrary, the soldiers who made up the absolute majority found that only the chief culprits were being executed, and they threw down their weapons and knelt on the ground one after another.
Dozens of corpses were lined up, mixed with the broken wooden wall and the tomato sauce-like flesh and blood, like some kind of abstract art.
Throne stood silently to the side, and wherever his gaze passed, no one dared to meet his eyes.
A few Carian Knights were dealing with the Fingercreepers, and apart from these monsters, there were no traces of any battle left.
A single blade killed the Cuckoo, one battle settled the outcome.
"From now on, there will be no more Cuckoo." He smiled and looked at the girl approaching nearby.
Melina's cloak was covered in blood, and there were also some traces of arrows grazing it. The strong were not invulnerable; just like Throne's heavy armor, it was full of scars.
"Are you hurt?"
"Just some scratches, it doesn't matter." Melina didn't care, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Throne: "I rarely find you harboring such strong resentment when killing people."
She had seen Throne kill many people, some with mutual appreciation, some insanely crazy, but none were as contemptuous as killing the Cuckoo, like slaughtering pigs and dogs.
"It's just things from the past. It is said that one should repay kindness with kindness, and repay grievances with justice. Letting them live for these years is already a gain for them." Throne shrugged.
Seluvis was the only reason the Cuckoo Knights still stood. Without him, Throne would've torn them apart a decade ago.
Melina nodded. She knew the Cuckoo's reputation well—no saints among them, only wolves.
"What now?" she asked. "Taking down the Cuckoo in a single day? The Academy must be trembling."
Throne's smile sharpened as he gestured to the ruined battlefield. "If I'm not mistaken, they're already sealing the gates, scrambling to buy time with their barrier."
A thousand Cuckoo soldiers hadn't lasted a day. What hope did a few hundred mages have? They'd huddle behind their walls, clinging to the illusion of safety.
"Is the barrier difficult to break?" Melina asked.
"Difficult," Throne admitted. "Without the key, even with the Thopss Barrier, it'll take days. But they can't stop me."
He stepped down from the wooden wall, leaving the words hanging.
......
Three Carian Knights stood nearby, deep in conversation. They straightened as Throne approached, offering synchronized greetings.
Allen launched into praise, layering Throne with every superlative—invincible, unstoppable, a legend in the making. Even the reserved Bolls and Moongrum bowed their heads.
Knights cared only for results, and Throne's opening move—cutting down the general and seizing the banner—was a feat that spoke louder than words. Taking down the Cuckoo in a day? That was the stuff of epics.
Throne dismissed it with a shrug. His bond with Ranni rendered rewards meaningless. The Cuckoo were insects beneath his boot. If he needed recognition for crushing them, what would Ranni offer when he felled the Elden Beast?
"Save the pleasantries," he said. "Stick to the plan. Round up the captives for labor, consolidate the army, and march east. Set camp at the academy's base."
He waved a hand, the next steps already mapped out.
"Yes."
"Understood."
The knights nodded, one by one. For the first time, they regarded Throne not as a peer but as a superior. Ranni didn't need to explain; Throne's blade did the talking.
"See you at Raya Lucaria," he said, shaking their hands before turning away.
Melina offered a slight bow and hurried after him.
No one questioned her sudden appearance. They returned her gesture in silence.
Nearby, a small boat waited—nimble, unpredictable, capable of navigating Liurnia's lakes with ease. Even Moongrum didn't know their destination, though he sighed softly.
"What a pity," he murmured.
"Pity?" Allen asked, raising an eyebrow.
The serious knight shook his head, speaking with the gravitas of an elder. "Her Highness the Princess has found her stride. She'll go far. And by her side? She deserves a partner worthy of her. A hero like Throne."
Allen's expression turned quizzical. "You fancy him? Since when do knights meddle in their monarch's love life?"
Moongrum gestured to the shivering defeated soldiers sprawled across the camp. "Her Highness is a demigod. She should stand beside someone wise, brave, and legendary. I have a feeling Throne will carve his name into history."
"True," Allen conceded, his tone turning serious. "But Her Highness… she's not the type to settle. That Melina—she's sharp in her own way, and her appearance? Impeccable."
He clapped Moongrum's shoulder. "Keep an eye on this, old friend."
......
The black boat cut through the water, gliding north under the Erdtree's fading light.
Throne's speed had caught them all off guard—the Cuckoo destroyed in a day, no grand gestures, no pauses for breath. The Academy likely hadn't even processed their defeat yet.
Throne stood at the bow, watching Melina row. The scene felt familiar, and after a moment's thought, he smirked.
No one could have expected Throne to be so fast, taking a day to finish off the Cuckoo, not panting, not posturing, and continuing the next step without stopping. Perhaps the Academy had just received the news of the Cuckoo's defeat at this time.
Throne stood at the bow of the boat, watching Melina rowing. He always felt this scene was familiar, thought about it for a moment, and then sneered.
Unexpectedly, both times boating on the lake were related to the Cuckoo; this had to be said to be a kind of fate.
It was impossible for mages to come out to patrol, as long as they bypassed those puppet soldiers hanging in mid-air on the lake.
He lay on the deck napping, stuffing bread made by Melina into his mouth to replenish his consumed physical strength.
By the afternoon, he finally straightened his waist. A powerful magic fluctuation came from the north. Throne looked up and saw that a blue 'sky curtain' had risen from the huge building in the center of the lake.
"Heh, Raya Lucaria has closed its gates." Throne's eyes were meaningful. This was expected. Sure enough, it was very hasty.
Those mages stationed outside were abandoned and were probably cursing right now.
By the way, this huge magic barrier was also extremely spectacular. In reality, there were no fools who only closed the door without sealing the top, or in such a large area, what if the enemy chiseled through the wall or simply air-dropped from above?
Melina didn't say anything, still rowing silently, which made Throne a bit curious.
"Why aren't you asking this time?"
"No need. Since you didn't ask me to take you in, there must be a way." The girl didn't even look up. She didn't know if she could pass through this level of magic barrier either.
"So boring. Are you trusting me this much now?"
Throne sat down sullenly, hugging his knees and watching Melina. Sweat oozed from her forehead, she waved her arms back and forth, and her chest filled out her clothes.
"What are you looking at me for? If you have the time, you might as well come and help."
"Nothing, I'm just looking at you. I didn't realize you, this piece of wood, were so robust." Throne coughed lightly and shifted his gaze to the lake: "Trusting me so much, aren't you afraid that I'll sell you out one day?"
"Then before you sell me, give Torrent back to me first."
Melina's words immediately made Throne roll his eyes, thinking that this woman was really not cute, just a little better than before. It was normal, right?
After Melina was slapped in the face several times, she had forgotten how to question, and her personality couldn't be associated with being lively and jumping. If even curiosity was gone, it was slightly dull to get along with.
Just as Throne was yawning, Melina suddenly said: "Actually, I'm quite curious why you don't hide in the back. With your current status, controlling the Carian Army shouldn't be a problem."
Hmph, as expected, she still couldn't hold back. Throne, who deliberately kept creating mysteries, grinned and asked sideways: "You want to ask me why I don't act as a commander?"
"You have the ability and the status. Isn't it good to control the life and death of thousands of people? Why do you have to walk at the very front yourself?"
Not only her, but even the Carian Knights thought it was strange. Some things, Throne just needed to open his mouth. The so-called king does not stand under a dangerous wall; there was no need to be a vanguard.
"Perhaps I'm like King Godfrey, liking the feeling of shuttling through life and death. In a sense, I'm more like a Tarnished than a Tarnished." Throne rested his hands behind him, looking at the girl who couldn't understand, and made another joke:
"Or maybe I had a nightmare once, which gave me some psychological trauma. I always feel that things won by the blade are secure. That way, even if I lose everything, at least I have the power to protect myself."
"A nightmare?"
Throne kept it a mystery and didn't say it out loud. Seeing Melina's expression become unhappy, he simply changed the subject.
"Where have we reached?"
Melina took out the map and identified it by the buildings on the lake: "Probably southwest of Raya Lucaria. Further ahead, there will be puppet soldiers."
Throne looked around and suddenly showed a smile: "Just about here."
"Here?" Melina opened her mouth to point out how far they still were from Raya Lucaria Academy when Throne lunged across the deck.
His body pinned hers—chest to chest, his breath hot against her cheeks. The wooden planks beneath them groaned but held steady.
She twisted beneath him. "What are you doing?"
Throne, of course, was not sexually aroused; he wasn't low enough to mess around with a piece of wood. He pressed a finger to his lips.
Silence.