Falling Moon!! Boom—Rumble—
The dull sound of an explosion combined with the backflow of mud and water; the Kindred of Rot landing a few meters away was instantly shattered into pieces, and the rest were sent flying. However, Throne remained expressionless as he watched the dust being pierced by countless red threads.
He had seen clearly just now; each of these mycelia was a syringe, injecting rot into the enemy's body. It might not be overwhelming, but it was enough to end a life. With full-range coverage, Throne dropped his Greatsword and gripped the Flowing Curved Sword at his waist, concentrating intensely as he lashed out with the long whip. Secret Sword: Flowing Cloud Crossing!
This was a variation of Vortex Cloud Crossing—equally dense and equally swift, but because of the Flowing Curved Sword, it appeared more winding and fluid, with an even greater range of coverage. Swish swish swish... The air was sliced open as brilliant sword light enveloped his body.
Every mycelium it touched was severed, and they retracted as if struck by an electric shock. 'This attack is part of their body; it's a bit like mutual destruction.' Throne gathered intelligence as he fought. Suddenly, the sword light stopped. He narrowed his eyes at the insects rushing forward with spears or casting incantations. 'Is their cooperation the most terrifying part? Trap the target first, then inject them with toxin—they really are a bunch of bugs!'
Rise! The Moonlight Greatsword stuck in the ground flew up. It was also a 'flying sword,' but this thing was much larger than Moonveil and much harder to control. Go! As if wielded by an invisible hand, the greatsword swept across, immediately slaying several insects using incantations.
Meanwhile, dozens of spears had reached him, equivalent to being besieged by dozens of knights. Clang—
Throne decisively drew Moonveil. With a pull of his left hand, he made the Moonlight Greatsword fly back, severing several Kindred of Rot from behind. Then, with a blade in one hand and a sword in the other, he transformed into a human meat grinder.
Entangle him!
The Mushroom Man couldn't fathom how this human could multitask so effectively; a hundred-man squad would likely have collapsed on the spot, but the noble Servants of God never retreated. Everything within three meters was crushed. Yet, the Kindred of Rot didn't flee or even block; they actually cast incantations right in his face. They truly were suicidal.
Some silk threads had escaped the sword light and wrapped around Throne's hands and feet. This stuff had excellent tenacity; even with the power of a dragon, it wasn't easy to tear off. 'The killing move is coming.' Throne suddenly paused, ignoring the pursuing mycelia. Feeling his hands and feet becoming clumsy, he simply held the wide blade across his chest. Ding—
A crisp sound rang out.
He clearly saw a slender red sword nailed into the center of the blade, evidently having learned from the lesson of being severed last time. The force was quite strong, causing Throne to slide back several meters. Then, his nerves tightened instantly. It's not over yet! Time seemed to freeze as a delicate red flower bud bloomed in a spiral before his eyes.
Its 'petals' continuously split, forming fine red threads that extended in all directions due to the spiral's surge. Everything was completed in an instant. No matter how fast Throne was, he should have been riddled with dozens of holes, yet the man smiled. The rapidly blooming flower bud froze. The Kings of Rot stiffened in place and slowly turned their heads back.
A woman wearing a thin veil had appeared beside them at some unknown moment, stabbing a strange short sword into their back. A wound of this magnitude could be ignored, but the Kings of Rot felt an unfamiliar sensation. Pain—a pain originating from the soul! It hissed silently, seeing only the man holding the sword smiling at it.
"I predicted your prediction."
Throne curled his lips.
At his current level, death for reconnaissance had become unnecessary. Almost.
"Melina, fall back!"
The wooden doll had one redeeming quality—absolute obedience in combat. Her blade hung mid-swing when she dissolved into golden motes. The mushroom man's body convulsed.
It ballooned from human height to ten meters in a heartbeat. Then it burst. Literally. A crimson web of filaments exploded outward, hungry for every centimeter of air. Red filled Throne's vision.
He moved before thinking—sidestepping, backpedaling, vaulting onto a palanquin of rotting stumps. His fingers closed around a meter-wide box. No time to open it. Starlight Leap carried him thirty meters clear. The crash came half a second late.
Where he'd stood, a tidal wave of mycelium surged. Then the dragon's roar split the night.
Lansseax's warning. He snapped his head up—a black speck fleeing east, two winged behemoths banking in pursuit.
"What now?"
Melina's voice crackled with urgency. Not just the roar—the swamp itself shuddered awake. A thousand hooves pounded the muck toward them.
"We kicked the hornet's nest."
Throne clutched the box and spun on his heel.
"We run."
Moonlight painted the marsh alive. Tumor-ridden trees swayed. Mud geysered under unseen feet. He'd been right—this was worse than hornets. His hesitation at the swamp's edge had cost him.
Steal the queen, expect the swarm. Only an idiot waited for the stings. Even slaughter required strategy. Against Rotkin, a hundred kills meant nothing if one scratch got through. Stack enough toxins and iron would corrode.
He ran. The mycelium couldn't follow. Like a Miranda Sprout after blooming, it stood rooted, filaments retracting helplessly as the thief vanished. Clumps of rot sloughed off during the contraction.
When the threads finally recoalesced, the creature stood knee-high—a malformed rag doll dripping ichor. The stinking bog swirled around it. The mushroom man remained motionless, struggling to comprehend. That intruder bore no resemblance to Radahn's forces.
The girl who'd impaled him wielded Destined Death. Her movements echoed the Black Knives. This went deeper than it dared dig.
A new sound erupted behind it—not splashes this time, but the wet crunch of trees yielding. Shadows poured from the undergrowth.
Giant crows. Wild dogs. Goats and oxen shedding putrid flesh—Rot took whatever hosts it found. Then came the hundreds of Rotkin, the handful of mushroom brethren. Throne's theory held: Raya Lucaria's Ainsel River expedition had lit the fuse.
But the Academy acted under his pressure. The circle closed, blame settling squarely on his shoulders.
Their princess—gone. Communications—dead. The near-identical Rot Kings needed no petty distinctions like names.
Yes. It hadn't anticipated such a pursuer. Division had failed.
Tentacles vibrated—this was also an efficient way of communication. In silence, all the causes and consequences were conveyed. He came for the Princess, yet there was a Black Knife ambush. Could the Erdtree have noticed us? Very likely. From Liurnia to Caelid, no matter how hidden, news will eventually leak. Then what? This swamp is not the Lake of Rot after all.
As long as they are willing to pay the price, they can clear us out. But wouldn't leaving here be even more dangerous? It's all because of those dragons. If they hadn't turned and fled, this person would have been stopped. Even in silence, the frantically waving tentacles showed that everyone was very agitated. Melina's stab hadn't just pierced a back; it had pierced a psychological scar.
The various monsters of The Lands Between were, in the end, defeated foes of the Erdtree. Back in the Erdtree's prime, who would have dared to show their face? It was only after seeing the Golden Order gradually collapse that they dared to sneak out and cause trouble. Bang! A long whip composed of mycelia slammed heavily onto the ground, causing those tentacles to freeze.
They turned their heads to see a dark red mushroom person walking out of the shadows. It was taller, covered in red mushrooms, and held a short sword in its 'hand.' The blade was crimson and slender, with a bend in the middle like a Scorpion's Stinger. Since we have left Ainsel, we have no reason to retreat. Bringing back the Great God is our only mission.
Its words seemed to carry some authority, and the frantically vibrating tentacles immediately stopped. Indeed, as outsiders, they were not as selfish as humans. The core of all their actions was for a single mission; there was no such thing as 'taking the long view.' Since the Princess is lost, then go find her.
Find her at all costs, even if it provokes the suppression of General Radahn or an Erdtree crusade—
Even if we are annihilated, rot never disappears. This wasn't just motivational talk; it was the meaning of their existence. Even if they turned to dust, that scarlet flower had to bloom. Still silent, only large patches of shadows dispersed like hyenas, frantically pursuing toward the northwest.
This level of execution and initiative was enough to make any lord envious. The scarlet mushroom person did not join the pursuit. It looked toward the eastern mountains, deep in thought. You said those two flying dragons went east? Yes, as if they were chasing something. What could a flying dragon be chasing that was so attractive they wouldn't even keep their alliance? Go find Greyoll.
I have a thought to convey to her. Yes. Will you return to guard the swamp? Defense is meaningless now. Those people are to the west. The scarlet mushroom person split off a small mushroom, which shot toward the west like an arrow. Either find the Princess and leave this place, or let us have a final showdown... Throne ran extremely fast.
After retreating several hundred meters, he immediately summoned Torrent and then galloped for a dozen miles in one breath, once again returning to the northern mountains.
"This should be far enough. After getting hit by me, they'll have to hold a meeting to discuss it."
Throne stopped in a mountain hollow and first fed Torrent a handful of rowa fruit.
With this Spirit Steed, he had practically become a master of running away. He ran decisively, quickly, and extremely far. Ordinary people simply couldn't keep up. Thud. He hauled the box down and didn't hurry to open it, instead taking a few deep breaths. He hadn't expected so many Kindred of Rot to gather silently in the swamp. Were the Redmanes blind?
No, these guys probably came from the dragon territory; only this side didn't have the Smoldering Wall. He suddenly felt that he couldn't blame the Redmanes. Even if they knew there were scarlet kindred in the swamp, it would be futile; an army couldn't possibly go in to clear them out. As long as those vermin went in circles, the intense aura of rot would wear down an entire army.
"Why do I always feel like Radahn is playing a big game of chess?"
Throne cursed, feeling a bit like he was 'luring the snake out of its hole.' "You're not running anymore? What are you stopping for?"
Melina appeared quietly beside him, her gaze full of suspicion.
"In this kind of situation, that Ancient Dragon probably ran away too."
"Lansseax is smart. She's lived for so many years; her escape skills will only be better than mine."
Throne waved his hand. He could probably escape if he went straight west now, but as the saying goes... If you don't cut the grass by the roots, it will grow back when the spring breeze blows.
"I don't know why those Kings of Rot didn't survive to that era—perhaps someone intercepted and killed them halfway. But since I've met them this time, they might as well stay here, lest I have to go to the Lake of Rot to settle accounts with them later." Throne shrugged. Against such opponents, their defense was invincible; at worst, they'd just jump into the lake water, and even the strongest person could only stare helplessly. Risk and opportunity are always proportional.
Melina looked at him seriously and, after a long while, squeezed out a sentence: "Which era are you talking about?"
The era where you, this stupid wooden block, get burned! Dammit, the point of my words was in the second half! Throne almost fell face-first onto the ground. This woman really was a holy cure for low blood pressure; she could irritate someone to death with just a casual remark.
"Hey, what's with that look? And what's your answer?"
"Stop it, I'm already convinced. Please spare me."
Throne had no choice but to beg for mercy, and seeing that Melina still wanted to ask more, he quickly turned around.
"I don't know what's in this wooden box. Seeing how they treasured it, it should be the right thing."
"You'll know if you open it and look."
"I don't need you to remind me!"
Throne snapped back and circled the wooden box. He felt that although this thing looked simple, it must be special—not even a hint of an aura leaked out. Fortunately, there were no Mimics in The Lands Between, but it was better to be careful when dealing with these biochemical weapons.
Being a cautious person, Throne took half a step back and drew Moonveil, wedging the tip of the blade into the gap and then giving it a light pry. Crack—
The wooden box was instantly pried open. Nothing extraordinary popped out. Throne stood on his tiptoes to take a look and immediately raised an eyebrow. Inside the box was a girl—a girl with fiery red hair.
However, she still looked a bit immature, about fifteen or sixteen years old. She was curled into a ball, her hair draped over her body.
"This is Millicent? The Valkyrie's clone?"
Melina walked over directly and took an interested look.
"She doesn't seem very powerful."
"But her potential is limitless, and it's enough for the Kindred of Rot to cause trouble."
Throne put away his blade and also walked to the side of the box. He didn't know if Millicent counted as a clone, but her origin was certainly extraordinary. Isn't she just a child? Hey, that guy Alexander doesn't know a lick of swordsmanship; don't let him train her from a Sword Saint into a Boxing King.
Simply put, when the Scarlet Flower bloomed, it divided the personality of the 'Valkyrie' Malenia. Her dignity was named Millicent, and she also possessed a certain trait of the God of Rot—in other words, she too could bloom.