"Insignificant specks of light!" Throne roared, his blade descending in a single, devastating strike. The dull clang of metal reverberated through the air as overwhelming force surged from his staff, driving the man to his knees. Yet, even as the impact forced him down, the assassin gritted his teeth and thrust his short sword toward Throne's chest.
Too slow. A shockwave tore through the air faster than the blade could move. A Black Key shot forth, its trajectory a blur.
By the time Throne heard the whistle of the projectile, it struck his chest like a heavy mallet. Did it work? Crepus twisted his body, dropping to one knee. Without even looking, he had fired his strongest arrow purely on instinct—a testament to his skill.
The arrowhead carried his specially formulated toxins: a lethal cocktail of sleep, corrosion, and paralysis. Even a Rune Bear would fall to such a concoction. Time seemed to slow. Throne's body leaned backward, and the assassins seized the moment, converging from all directions with short blades coated in poison.
A split second later, Crepus's pupils contracted violently. Thump! Throne's right foot slammed into the ground, steadying him like a colossus. Frost erupted outward, crawling up Ensha's calves and freezing the Round Table Assassins mid-charge. Hoarfrost Stomp. The ice spread rapidly, encasing everything in its path.
As the assassins solidified, countless silver-white blade lights exploded outward. Secret Sword: Vortex Cloud Crossing. The brilliance of the technique rose like a work of art, its splendor mesmerizing. The blade light flashed, and the sky filled with falling flesh—indistinguishable pieces raining down in a bloody cascade.
A figure emerged from the carnage, his black robes now crimson, his white mask speckled with blood. He held his blade in a reverse grip, pinning a crawling assassin whose legs had been severed.
"You like shooting for the chest?"
Crepus remained silent. A deathly stillness settled over the pond. The ground was littered with shredded remains, the only movement coming from the lifeless Tarnished.
Throne gripped his trembling right hand and pulled out several small vials, smashing them against the ground. Black mist erupted, spreading outward in an instant, engulfing over a hundred square meters. All presence and sound vanished.
"Oh, a powerful assassin. Truly professional."
Throne nodded in approval.
He swung Moonveil, frowning slightly as the gust it stirred failed to disperse the heavy mist. Interesting. A clever assassin didn't rely on brute strength but on obscuring their form before delivering the killing blow—
Repulsion Wall! Throne deployed a barrier just as a Black Key struck it, deflecting the projectile into the water a meter from Tina. The Maiden, holding the unconscious Eina in the pond, stared in shock. She knew the arrow had been meant for her.
"And shameless to boot."
Throne understood the assassin's intent—nothing more than taking a hostage.
Without hesitation, he stepped into the black mist, though the opponent's arrows were too fast to perceive.
"This petty black mist of yours won't stop me."
He took a deep breath. If this Round Table Assassin wanted his life, he was far from capable. Storm, heed me!
The same skill in different hands yielded vastly different results. Throne poured all his focus into his sword, generating a rotating airflow. Pale and crackling like a thousand birds, it expanded rapidly, churning the eerie black mist. Throne raised his blade, stirring the wind and clouds. Storm Tornado. Wooooo—
His clothes whipped wildly as he seemed to hold a tornado in his hand, dozens of meters high.
The black mist was rapidly cleared, and visibility returned. Throne turned his head to see someone already lunging from behind. Advancing instead of retreating! Crepus knew he was no match for this man in terms of speed; once the black mist dissipated, he would have no room for resistance. Thus, he lunged silently.
Looking down upon the powerful expert with destructive force, he raised his black crossbow and fired the proudest arrow of his life. Black Key Piercing! This arrow was fast to the extreme and fired from extreme proximity. Without a sound, it enlarged in Throne's eyes. Impossible to dodge, impossible to parry with a sword.
He didn't necessarily have to shoot the opponent dead, as long as he had a chance to escape.
"Naive."
Throne swung his left hand, his rising sleeve revealing a brilliant crystal. With a 'ding', the arrow actually stuck into his forearm, which was harder than steel. The momentum even caused him to slide back several meters. What on earth is that? Crepus's pupils contracted.
This wasn't armor at all—or rather, no known armor could block a full-power strike from his Black Key. It was more like a shield growing from the body, a crystal shield several inches thick! Glintstone Crystal Armor could cover a larger area, and by reducing that area, it could become even thicker. Its defensive power far exceeded that of a tower shield.
Throne lowered his gaze, having no intention of explaining his skills. He simply swung his right hand, bringing down the roaring tornado! Storm, devour everything!! Like a mountain collapsing, the storm, over ten meters thick, fell directly overhead. Throne was quite 'gentle,' for Crepus didn't even have time for fear to well up before he was instantly turned into shredded meat. Rumble!!
The storm continued to tilt into the distance, turning trees into the smallest sawdust and carving deep gullies into the earth. It swept past a man who had rushed over in a panic, thundering toward the end of the horizon. Leaves fell, and powder-like sawdust landed on Vyke's shoulder.
He stood frozen like a statue, only stiffly turning his head to look at the twisted tree stump beside him and the endless gully on the ground. The fallen trees made dull thumping sounds, and the storm still emitted a long whistle, much like the drums and horns of a battlefield. This strike shook the soul. Even if Godrick himself came, he might not be able to unleash such a storm.
Clang—
The soft ring of a long blade being sheathed made Vyke turn his head like lightning, looking toward that familiar figure. With a press of his thumb, the last trace of blade light vanished. Throne listened to the echoes that sounded like the roars of dragons and tigers, then gently tilted his head up.
As the saying goes—
The iron drums atop the city walls still vibrate; the golden blade within the scabbard's blood is not yet dry!
The wild wind whipped his robes. Vyke stood at the edge of the forest, dazed. He slowly raised his hand to touch his cheek, feeling warm blood still flowing down. Actually, he had rushed back the moment the light spear exploded, because such a disturbance couldn't possibly be caused by an ordinary Tarnished, and the direction was exactly where Eina had gone.
But at that time, they had just happened to catch up to the Death Eater. The young man hesitated for a moment, handed command over to Tragoth, and actively broke away from the pursuit. His heart raced. A bad premonition made him stop caring about anything else.
His beloved was in danger. He mocked himself—no heartless hero, no grand ideals mattered now. Right, wrong, the lines blurred as he charged back through the carnage. Another familiar figure stood amidst the slaughter. Mutilated corpses littered the ground. Round Table Assassins lay broken among them.
Relief hit him first. He'd been wrong. This wasn't what he feared—just a clash between Isshin and the assassins. The Knight had hunted the man for ages. This battle was inevitable. The young man lowered his hand, meeting Throne's gaze. His throat tightened. What did you even say in this moment?
Protocol demanded his sword. Honor bound him to stillness. The man before him had saved his life.
"Lord Isshin, please leave. I... I didn't see any—"
Dawnlight pierced the trees. The pond's surface glittered, illuminating the truth. Vyke's breath caught. Not just assassins. Tarnished corpses everywhere—his people. His scouts. His fighters. If they were dead, then Eina... His vision swam red.
His benefactor had killed his love. The thought split his skull. His fingers locked around the war spear's shaft. Love over loyalty, every time. Throne didn't move. Didn't even reach for his blade. Just watched.
"Vyke. Do you want to kill me?"
"You killed Eina."
The words tore out of him.
"That's unforgivable."
Still using honorifics. Still that ragged pain in his voice.
"After I kill you, I'll fall on my own spear. That settles my debt."
Stubborn fool. Throne almost smiled. Clear hatred was refreshing. He shifted back half a step.
"Who said I killed those Tarnished?"
Vyke barked a laugh. "The assassins, then?"
"Who's to say?"
Water rippled. A small figure burst from the pond—Tina, gasping, her face flushed from holding her breath. She'd dove the moment Crepus marked her.
Vyke staggered. His mind short-circuited. What? How? Sentiment? But Throne didn't even know her. Then he saw the girl cradled in the Maiden's arms. He lunged past Throne without a second glance.
"Eina! Wake up!"
Her skin was cold wax under his fingers. Still breathing. He fumbled for the crimson tears, tipping the flask between her lips. Tarnished resilience—almost cheating death. If you could call this living.
"Arrow magnet, this one."
Throne's voice cut through the panic.
"Every time."
Vyke froze. The black crossbow bolt stood out against Eina's back like a brand. A Black Key. Round Table work. His head snapped up.
"Tina. Explain."
The Maiden's chest heaved. Her eyes kept darting to the shadow beside them.
"The assassins ambushed us. That gentleman saved us. Otherwise..."
Her voice turned to ice.
"You'd be identifying corpses."
"The Round Table attacked you?"
Vyke's gaze swept the clearing. Black bolts jutted from every fallen Tarnished.
It was that gentleman who saved us, otherwise you would only...
The battlefield sprawled before him—too many bodies, too much carnage. Who would go to such lengths? Who had the time? The young man's voice cracked as he muttered, "Why? Why would they attack you? This makes no sense."
His thoughts echoed the dead Tarnished's. Allies, all of them, united under the same banner. Round Table Assassins didn't strike without reason—only traitors faced their blades.
Slacking off shouldn't be a death sentence. It was absurd, like being executed for dozing at your desk. Throne stepped forward, his movements deliberate, his voice icy.
"Simple. They just wanted those two dead."
Vyke's face twisted in disbelief.
"But we're companions! Why kill them? And Tina—she's a supreme Finger Maiden!"
Throne's expression didn't waver.
"Betrayal always has a price. If the profit outweighs the cost, rational people will act."
He left it at that, his words hanging like a blade. Vyke didn't understand his own worth, so Throne gave his shoulder a light pat.
"This is reality. Now isn't the time for explanations."
Vyke's mind raced. Loyalty, hard work, sacrifice—what had he done wrong? The betrayal gnawed at him, a fire in his chest threatening to consume everything. But Eina was alive. Throne's hand on his shoulder grounded him.
"You're right. Tragoth will send investigators soon. We need to move."
Throne pointed westward, then moved methodically through the fallen, igniting each corpse with Fire Pots. Vyke frowned.
"What are you doing?" Silence answered him. Throne's next move was already set in stone—a calculated gambit.
Throne's sudden appearance was suspicious. Perfect timing—too perfect. The Roundtable Hold had searched everywhere for him, yet here he was, just as the Death Eater struck. But suspicions paled against the backdrop of a larger conspiracy.
Vyke muttered to himself, shaken to the core. It was inevitable. He'd been a model Tarnished—dedicated, selfless. Yet while he worked tirelessly, his lover and the Finger Maiden had been attacked. The Round Table Assassins dared to kill Vyke's family—a line even the Bloody Fingers and Recusants wouldn't cross.
The group reached the Minor Erdtree. Once a site of bloodshed, now only the dim glow of the tree remained. Throne gazed upward.
"Would slaying the Avatar of the Erdtree affect the main body?" His intuition whispered of hidden dangers from his past actions. But he didn't care. If it was dead, it was dead. What could the Erdtree do to him?
This guy is truly unlucky, though. Throne glanced at the young man bandaging his lover. Not losing his mind on the spot spoke volumes about his character. As for the Finger Maiden stealing glances at him, Throne kept his distance.