"How'd you get so sharp all of a sudden? Leave you alone and you're dull as a log. Guess I need to mess with you to keep you human."
Throne's tone hardened, his voice cutting through the air like ice.
"What's the point of teasing you? There's a horde of Tarnished on our tail. Now's not the time for leisurely explanations."
Melina froze, her emotions swinging wildly. Fury had gripped her moments ago, but now she'd settled back into her usual blank mask.
"No point at all. Idle chatter can wait."
"Pfft. You're too easy."
"What did you say?"
"Nothing. Just that the Tarnished walked right into the trap."
Throne yanked her onto Torrent's back, letting the horse press forward.
"Enough. Give it to me."
"That's how you ask for a favor?"
"Miss Melina," he growled through clenched teeth, "please hand over the letter."
"Only this polite when you need something, huh?"
Melina hummed, her tone laced with irritation, before pulling the letter from her chest.
She leaned into Throne's back, peeking over his shoulder. Before she could glimpse the contents, her nose twitched.
"Why do you smell like a woman?"
Throne's muscles locked. That Deathbed Companion's "hug of love" still lingered on him. Were her senses this sharp? Sharing a horse with her was a mistake.
"Not the time for irrelevant questions. And your nose isn't that good."
Melina wasn't falling for it again. She nodded, calm and deliberate.
"Fine. I'll discuss it with the Lunar Princess later."
Throne spun his head around, hand raised. Melina leaned forward, daring him. 'Do it. Hit me if you dare.'
His knife-hand softened into a fist, retreating slowly. Regret gnawed at him. Sometimes her wooden stupidity was preferable. When had she gotten so cunning?
"Keep it quiet, and I'll owe you."
"Deal."
Melina hadn't thought much of it. She'd just been teased too much and wanted payback.
She tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Why did this feel so satisfying? The trick worked well — she'd have to remember it. Leaning forward again, she tried to read the letter.
"What's written here? I can't make sense of it."
"Idiot. If you could, it wouldn't be a secret letter."
Throne seized the chance to strike back. Melina gritted her teeth but didn't rise to the bait. It was a stupid question.
The horse's hooves clopped lightly, the rhythm steady, her body warm against his back. Throne unfolded the blood-stained letter, reading by moonlight. The so-called secret was simpler than expected.
Inside the letter he'd given Alexander was a small booklet — a Pinyin comparison table for common words in The Lands Between. Even the most learned scholars would struggle to decode it.
"Doesn't look like something a brute would write."
Throne scanned the page.
The handwriting of those letters was elegant and graceful, not the scrawl of a thug. But expecting a Living Jar to write was asking too much. Words could be swapped using Pinyin, but the grammar was different, making it a challenge to read.
As the hoofbeats carried them forward, Throne's expression deepened, his thoughts unreadable. He'd frown one moment, chuckle the next, leaving Melina utterly bewildered. When he finally looked up, she couldn't hold back.
"So, what does it actually say?"
"Just the ramblings of an old friend. Alexander's proven reliable — he's done everything I assigned him."
Throne tucked the secret letter away, his confidence now unshakable.
Over the years, aside from a brief trip to Limgrave, Alexander had remained in Caelid. First, he trained with the Great Jar, then, as Throne requested, returned to the Great Swamp. The Scarlet Flower hadn't fully bloomed yet, so the area tainted by Scarlet Rot remained contained.
He'd tracked down scattered Kindred of Rot and reduced them to mincemeat with his iron fists.
"Finally, he confirmed several of my theories."
"What theories?"
"He found someone — a young girl."
"A young girl??" Melina frowned, baffled. What kind of girl required such elaborate arrangements and a secret letter to report?
Throne saw no reason to hide it.
He gestured for her to lean closer and whispered, "Malenia's Persona Avatar. Her name is Millicent."
Melina's pupils constricted. An avatar of the Valkyrie's persona? The news was staggering. Everyone knew the Valkyrie had fallen into a coma after the Battle of Aeonia, her body hauled back to her stronghold by the Haligtree Army at great cost.
For ten years, there'd been no word of her.
"You planned for this… No, how did you know the Valkyrie would leave an avatar in the swamp??"
"I didn't know, damn it. I was just trying my luck. After all, I pushed that flower back just as it was about to bloom."
"Perhaps the moment Malenia decided to bloom the Scarlet Flower, she lost her dignity."
Throne didn't have time to address Melina's questions. The letter hadn't mentioned Millicent's sisters. Had the Kindred of Rot taken them? Or was the blooming period too brief, leaving only Millicent? If it was the latter, that might be for the best.
As long as the majority of her persona remained, she wouldn't become a breeding ground for rot and could still resist it. Throne and Malenia were barely acquaintances, but since this brother-obsessed woman hadn't blocked his path, he didn't want her to ascend as the Goddess of Rot and fight him to the death.
After all, death served The Lands Between, while rot offered nothing. If it came to that, he'd have no choice but to kill her.
Melina watched Throne fall silent, lost in thought. She didn't want to interrupt him, especially on matters involving deities, but she had to finish what she needed to say before he drifted off entirely.
"Oh, there's one more thing. On my way back, I saw another group of Tarnished. They looked like Round Table Assassins."
"Round Table Assassins??" Throne snapped out of his thoughts, urgency sharpening his voice. "How close were they to me?"
"About a thousand meters. They didn't seem interested in interfering. I eavesdropped in spirit-form — they're planning to deal with 'The Dauntless' Vyke."
Throne stiffened, his head whipping around.
"Why didn't you tell me something this important earlier?"
"You didn't ask. Besides, their words made no sense. I was trying to piece it together."
The Round Table Assassins couldn't possibly betray them, and Vyke didn't strike her as a traitor. Why would the two sides be fighting?
"Just repeat what you heard. Leave the thinking to me."
Throne waved a hand, exasperated. Melina narrowed her eyes. That sounded an awful lot like he was calling her an idiot.
Melina didn't know how to respond, but she really couldn't figure it out, so she repeated the words she had heard exactly as they were. Words like importance, righteousness, goals, and gratitude — the more Throne heard, the tighter his brow furrowed. By the end, he covered his head and let out a somewhat frantic laugh.
The laughter was full of mockery and disdain, even carrying a hint of killing intent.
Melina was bewildered: "What... what are you laughing at?"
"Justice! How many people use your name to do filthy things? Aren't these bastards afraid of playing with fire?"
At first, he didn't understand either, but connecting it to Vyke's tragic life, he finally understood.
Throne used to be very puzzled; Vyke was a steadfast guy, but he was also an honest man who valued the big picture. How could he have gone frenzied in a fit of madness? Now he understood. When everything a person treasures is lost, the hollow heart is left with only despair to fill it, and Vyke was being pushed into a corner step by step.
Eina died, and he would turn grief into strength.
But then the Finger Maiden he had deep feelings for also had to die, and all the accumulated resentment would explode.
Come to think of it, I'm the same. Throne looked back at the still-dazed Melina. Why did ambitious leaders have to be loners? Wasn't it to make themselves invulnerable? If Sellen, Ranni, and Melina all died —
I'd go frenzied too, completely frenzied.
Throne understood this emotion, so he loathed such methods. If some deity jumped out and told him: 'Women only affect the speed of your blade. Come, I'll help you get rid of her.' Throne would simply smile and say to Him: "Fuck you."
"Alright, plan change. We have work to do."
Throne immediately pulled the reins, bringing the Spirit Steed to a halt.
"You're going back? The Tarnished are all seeing red and want to catch you, and Vyke is unaware of the situation."
"This kind of scheme is clever, but in my eyes, it's worth nothing. Besides, I was just having a headache over how to make this kid work for me."
Throne grinned. "Sir Gideon Ofnir would never expect to run into his old rival here, let alone be exposed by a King of Eavesdropping."
King of Eavesdropping? He couldn't be talking about me, could he? And it sounds like something a bad person would be called. Before Melina could figure out how to complain, something was slapped onto her face. She felt around blindly and saw Throne looking at her meaningfully.
The Illusory Mask indeed worked on her too; the slender girl instantly transformed into a battle-hardened burly man.
But seeing such a burly man hugging his waist made him gag again. He thought to himself that the gift from Ranni was indeed realistic. He simply jumped off the horse and stowed the greatsword on his back.
"Keep riding forward. I'll deal with those dregs."
Melina understood what he wanted to do and hesitated, "How will you get in touch with Vyke? And how will you convince him?"
"No need for such trouble. Once certain seeds are planted, one just needs to wait for them to take root and sprout."
Throne didn't explain much. He gave Torrent a light pat on the rump, and the Spirit Steed immediately bolted out.
Throne now held the information advantage. All he had to do was beat them at their own game.
Sir Gideon Ofnir had already dug the pit; it was hard to say who would be buried in it.
He changed into a black robe, hung up Moonveil, and put on a white mask, returning to a certain persona that had been missing for a long time.
......
Throne looked behind him and could hear the sound of a large group of people moving through the woods.
He first ran several hundred meters to the south and vanished into starlight as he reached a pool. He appeared directly in a tree, cast a Gravity Magic spell on himself, and lightly stepped back across the tree trunks. He then crouched down and poked his head out from the dense leaves.
The sound of footsteps drew near. Before long, a dozen Tarnished appeared in his field of vision.
Torrent ran too fast, and ordinary warhorses couldn't possibly traverse the forest at that speed, so the Tarnished had split into two teams, front and back. The scouts at the very front suddenly stopped.
"They split up here."
The scout used a short sword to clear away the leaves. As a highly experienced expert, he lay on the ground and observed carefully.
"That horse went northeast, but one person is heading south."
"Splitting up? He doesn't look like he's running for his life."
Tragoth walked forward cautiously, for fear of destroying the tracks.
"Judging from the tracks, the person heading south is very light. They're either an assassin or a woman," the scout explained again.
The image Throne had just given them was that of a tough guy who looked like he could crush the ground with one step. He didn't look like an assassin or a woman at all.
Vyke also strode forward and offered his own thoughts: "It seems he's not alone. Remember those Those Who Live in Death?"
"You mean he let us go just to cover for those people's escape?"
Tragoth thought for a while and nodded heavily.
"It should be so. He is very powerful, but not to the point of being able to protect his companions. Those Those Who Live in Death can't be considered strong."
This seemed to answer a certain doubt. They had tracked the Those Who Live in Death here, but they hadn't found them from beginning to end. Thinking deeper, why did that man appear?
Wasn't it because Vyke came to hunt down the Those Who Live in Death that he was forced to take action?
"No wonder he didn't kill us. It turns out that compared to our lives, covering for these people was more important."
"Let's split up. Eina, you know scouting. Take some men and chase those Those Who Live in Death."
Vyke made a prompt decision and warned, "Don't engage, just follow from a distance."
"Relax, I'm not stupid."
The girl waved her hand dismissively and pointed at a few temporarily recruited Tarnished.
"You guys come with me. Lady Maiden, do you want to come along?"
Theoretically speaking, Finger Maidens shouldn't participate in combat.
They only knew some auxiliary incantations, and their strength was not very high. Tina considered for a moment and nodded.
"Okay, I'll go too."
"Then don't you go dying on me, and remember to be obedient."
Eina snorted, thinking it would be quite nice to be able to order around this maiden of transcendent status.
Vyke scratched his head, feeling a bit uneasy, but with a great enemy ahead, he didn't say much more. He led the other team of Tarnished in pursuit to the northeast.
The whole process was brief and not at all melodramatic. Throne, hidden in the tree, watched silently and admitted that these people were not slow to react.
Those following Vyke in pursuit were all Tarnished within the system, and there was no lack of Confessors, a profession specifically designed to deal with death. The split also followed logic. That powerhouse could kill everyone head-on; there was absolutely no need for any fancy schemes.
"So, what will you do?"
He closed his eyes and could faintly feel eyes in the shadows.
The Round Table Assassins were silently gathering.
Tsk, I could fool you once, and I can fool you a second time.
A few leaves swayed, and the swordsman in the tree was gone without a trace.
......
It was late at night, and the dense forest was shrouded in white mist, with extremely low visibility. This was clearly the main battlefield for assassins, and the young man full of mission failed to notice the sharp blade coming from behind.
Everything was just one coincidence triggered by another.
Throne lingered in Liurnia — Vyke would've hunted down the 'Deathbed Companion' with relentless precision, only to lose his lover in a cruel twist of fate. That grief would've festered, coiled tight in his chest, sharp enough to drive him toward the throne. Or it might've detonated when despair struck again, shattering him completely, leaving nothing but frenzy in its wake.
Sir Gideon Ofnir played with people's hearts; his plan could be called meticulous, his motives noble. Yet something in the stars seemed to pit him against Throne, their paths forever tangled in fate's relentless weave.