The Rotten Stray appeared. Before it could even figure out what was happening, Throne grabbed its tail, swung his arm in a full circle, and threw it. It was a dog-shaped projectile, but it moved with incredible speed. Furthermore, since it was spirit ashes, it felt no fear; it was not intimidated by the demigod's aura. Instead, upon seeing a person in front of it, it opened its mouth and bit down.
"Ahhh!!" Godrick let out a shrill scream. The dog had bitten him squarely on the right cheek. The pain was secondary; the real issue was the Scarlet Rot spreading from the wound. Damn it—
In an instant, Godrick tore the spirit ashes into dust, covered his face with one hand, and threw his golden battle axe with the other. The battle axe came spinning toward him, moving just as fast.
Throne only had time to tighten his core and pull back, feeling a chill on his stomach as a massive gash was torn open. But this time, he did not drink a flask of crimson tears. Now or never! Gravity Sword Array. He clenched his left hand, and the rapier that had just been deflected flew back. With a few dull thuds—'pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft'—they all plunged into Godrick's body.
Sleep, corrosion, paralysis, deadly poison. Multiple debuffs were applied to the demigod in succession. If Godrick had been at full strength, he could have easily fought through it, but now, he was at his limit. Like the final straw that broke the camel's back, Godrick faltered noticeably. Throne seized the opportunity, his eyes turning gold once again. Dragon Heart.
His heart pounded violently, causing his wound to spray a large amount of blood. Throne had forgotten the pain, using Gravity Magic with all his might. Gravity Reduction. His body became incredibly light and agile. He leaped up gently and roared in a low voice:
"Torrent!!"
As if they shared a single mind, the Spirit Steed turned around, kicked out its hind hooves with all its might, and collided perfectly with the soles of the leaping Throne's feet. Bang!! A distinct white ring of air brought the downpour to a standstill. The force was so immense that even Torrent rolled a few times in the mud.
The combined power propelled Throne's agile body forward at a speed many times faster than a crossbow bolt. Secret Sword—
A hole was pierced through the curtain of rain. In a breath's time, Throne saw Godrick, who had barely managed to regain a shred of sanity. The latter was raising two halberds, his wet hair standing on end from the gale. Nothing was done, and nothing could be done in time.
A white line streaked across the dark forest, passing through Godrick's body like a phantom. Pitter-patter... The downpour resumed. Godrick slowly lowered his head to look at the massive blood hole in his chest. Through this hole, one could see the earth as if it had been slashed open by a sword, and at the end of this massive sword mark was a swordsman crouching on the ground.
He slowly stood up, the blood dripping from him spreading across the ground. After a moment of silence, he suddenly shook his long blade. A rainbow piercing the sun; the demigod has fallen!
Apart from the pitter-patter of the downpour and the occasional rumble of thunder, the forest was terrifyingly quiet, as if the earth-shaking duel from before had been nothing but an illusion. The swordsman and the demigod were separated by dozens of meters, standing back-to-back like two frozen statues.
At the edge of the battlefield, Melina, unsure whether she should intervene, stood there in a daze. She was drenched, yet she felt not a hint of cold. Her right eye was wide open, her amber pupil trembling slightly. He won? He actually won? He faced a demigod alone and actually won?? A sense of disbelief lingered in her mind until a dull 'thud' reached her ears.
Godrick knelt in the mud, his final shred of dignity propping him up like a crumbling statue. Melina's eyes steadied, her trembling pupil stilling as she took a deliberate step forward. "I won." Throne drained the last flask of crimson tears, the liquid burning down his throat.
The effects were faint—almost useless. His wound refused to close, and the dizziness from blood loss clung to him like a shroud. He'd pushed himself to the brink, even resorting to that bizarre "combo technique." Yet he raised a hand to stop Melina as she moved to help. "Not yet. I need to find him."
He stumbled forward into the downpour, his body swaying like a drunkard's. But Melina noticed his blade—steady as stone. "Sorry." Her voice barely carried over the rain. "If you're apologizing for not helping, don't. This was my fight. You'd have been in the way."
Throne paused, his lips curling into a faint smile. "But if you're apologizing for underestimating me, I'll accept that." His tone was sharp, cutting through the storm. Ignoring Melina's distant gaze, he raised his sword and approached Godrick. The demigod knelt in the mud, his blood staining the stream scarlet.
Godrick lifted his head, rain streaming down his face. His eyes, once filled with madness, now held only cold indifference. The swordsman loomed above him, tall and unyielding, while the demigod knelt—broken, but not yet defeated.
Pride meant nothing to a dying man. Godrick's cracked lips parted. "You… are strong." Throne shook his head. "No. Just calmer. Better at using the situation." He wasn't here for small talk. Godrick might have been scum, but his obsession was undeniable.
A moment passed before Throne spoke again. "I want to ask you one thing." Godrick's lips twisted into a grotesque smile. "That witch? She escaped. Jumped into the sea. Does that make you want to kill me more?" Jumped into the sea. Throne's chest tightened. I hope she remembers the diving stance I taught her.
Relief washed over him. Sellen was skilled—if she wasn't surrounded by demigods, she'd make it out alive. She'd hear about Godrick's death. She'd know who did it. "Not at all. You couldn't stop her. Neither could the sea."
Throne raised his sword, his voice a whisper. "Please accept this thank-you gift." As the blade lifted, Godrick surged to his feet, his hand clawing for Throne's head. But the sword was faster. It pierced his neck, driving him back until his body slammed against a tree trunk with a deafening crack.
Throne stared into the demigod's fading eyes, silent. He twisted the blade, slicing sideways. Blood erupted skyward, mingling with the rain as it cascaded down, soaking Throne completely. He stepped back, watching Godrick's limp hand fall lifelessly to his side.
He watched as Godrick's massive body slumped against the tree, his head dropped, and he breathed no more. Godrick was dead. The demigod's end was no grand spectacle—just a man dying. His colossal frame shrank rapidly, collapsing in on itself like a deflated balloon, shrinking from three meters tall to the size of an ordinary man.
Throne lifted his head, feeling a massive surge of power entering his body. Unlike usual, it was as if a venomous snake had suddenly swallowed prey; it felt like a solid object had dropped into his'stomach,' choking him uncomfortably. So divine, so powerful, and there was only one answer—
"Is this the power of a great rune?"
This was a shard of the supreme elden ring, a great rune possessed only by demigod lords, and it was Throne's first truly great trophy. Yet he was not crazed with excitement; instead, he breathed a sigh of relief. This power had been plundered by him.
Although it was choking him, there was no sign of indigestion, nor did it threaten to burst him apart during the instant of consumption; instead, it seemed to be slowly digesting. The best possible outcome. Throne had never expected to become a giant in one bite; as long as it was 'digesting,' one day, it would completely become his own power.
Then the question arose: since it was plundered, was it possible to reforge the elden ring with these shards? If someone killed him, would the great rune drop out? Throne didn't know, nor had he thought about what would happen if he died. His mutated Dragon Heritage was a system independent of The Lands Between, because in essence—
"I am not a Tarnished."
He had no time to worry about the specifics, as he heard Melina approaching rapidly. "Godrick just died like this?" A demigod's mangled corpse lay beneath the tree trunk, emaciated, with half his head hanging loose, looking twisted and pathetic. "Otherwise what, would he come back as a zombie?"
Throne glanced lightly at the young girl, took the ring from the corpse's hand, picked up the golden battle axe from the mud, and muttered: "Although he cannot be considered a hero, he had his own stubbornness. Dying at my hands is also a fortunate thing." Melina took a breath. This was reality, whether she believed it or not.
An esteemed demigod had died in this dirty valley, without the eyes of the world upon him, but looking back at Throne's entire plan, was it not an epic in its own right? This was an extremely shrewd hunter, calculating Godrick to his death step by step. "What about his great rune??"
Melina realized and said urgently: "You still have to find a way to go to the Divine Tower; only there can you activate the power of the great rune." The Divine Tower had the Two Fingers corresponding to the demigod, but They had no mercy or desire for vengeance. In The Lands Between, the loser was merely a sacrifice.
They would bestow the power to the Tarnished without reservation, and the epic would sweep across The Lands Between like a storm. "No need for such trouble; that great rune—" Throne pointed to his stomach and smiled at the girl: "Is here." What do you mean? Melina was stunned for a long while, then her eyes widened inch by inch.
She recalled the conversation between Throne and Godrick just now; it was clear that these two had known each other for a long time, which was impossible for a Tarnished.
When the initial batch of Tarnished were driven out of The Lands Between, Godrick hadn't even been born yet, and when Godrick stepped onto the stage, the Tarnished had not yet returned, unless they had committed a crime midway and been stripped of their grace. No, whoever it was, to obtain the power of the great rune, one had to go to the Divine Tower. Could it be—
"What on earth are you?"
Why does that sound like an insult? "What I am is none of your concern, but I am certainly not a follower of the Frenzied Flame who wants to return The Lands Between to chaos." "You even know about the Frenzied Flame?" Melina's mind was a mess; she felt like a clown.
Throne wasn't just some demigod. He'd bypassed the Divine Tower and swallowed the great rune—proof enough his status soared above even the demigods. Maybe he was an ancient being, something older, something hungrier. The Lands Between teemed with entities on par with the Erdtree, but they were all relics, failures. Throne didn't need to explain. His actions screamed louder than words ever could.
"I know many things," Throne said, his voice low, deliberate. "Like the memories you're missing." He watched the girl's eyes widen, her breath catching. Then he shifted, his tone lighter. "Melina, do you feel compelled to protect the Golden Order?"
She hesitated, her voice faltering. "I… I don't even know my own mission yet. I'm just heading to the Erdtree."
"Doesn't seem like it."
"Even if you did," Throne chuckled, a rough, confident sound, "it wouldn't matter. I'll give you three moves when the time comes." He could laugh because he knew it didn't matter. He could reach Leyndell now. Even if he let her have thirty moves, he'd still pin her down and teach her a lesson. Torrent trotted over, unbothered by Throne's devouring of the great rune. The horse nudged Throne's hand, its head seeking praise.
"Thanks to you," Throne murmured, stroking Torrent's mane. He fought the dizziness clawing at him, swung onto the horse, and extended a hand to Melina, who stood frozen below. "There's a lot you don't know about me. Whether our deal continues depends on you. If you're afraid of what happens when you get your memories back, walk away now."
Melina's gaze flickered. She opened her mouth, maybe to ask for Torrent back if their deal ended, but the words died on her lips. Instead, Throne's voice echoed in her head—I know what memories you're missing. A beat later, she took his hand.
"Smart choice," Throne laughed, pulling her onto Torrent's back. He scanned the battlefield. The ground was a mess of mud and blood. A corpse sprawled beneath a tree, Godrick's gray hair fluttering in the morning breeze. The rain had stopped, sunlight breaking through the clouds. Throne hadn't noticed when the storm had passed.
He glanced back at Godrick's body. Half a month of planning, a night of slaughter—it left a man feeling invincible. "Let's go, Torrent!" The horse whinnied, eager hooves pounding the earth as they rode away, leaving Godrick and his ruined army far behind.
Throne smirked. When the snipe and the clam fight, the fisherman wins. From the Tarnished to the Two Fingers, all their schemes and struggles amounted to nothing. Sir Gideon Ofnir? Some Tarnished hero? They were all pawns in his hand. In the distance, birds startled into flight, shadows darting wildly through the trees.
Throne turned, cupped his hands, and saluted the rising sun. "Goodbye. Don't bother seeing me out."
The Tarnished stumbled through the forest, drenched in sweat and frustration. They'd overthrown Godrick's army, but the man himself had vanished. Just as their anger peaked, a blinding flash lit the horizon, the thunderous sound shaking the earth. They thought it was Gideon's backup plan, relief bubbling up—until they heard his panicked roar.
"Move! Someone's outplaying us!" Gideon's voice was sharp, desperate.
The Roundtable Hold envoys didn't pause. They didn't greet Vyke and the others. They tore through the forest, Gideon leading the charge, his usually composed face twisted with fury. The Limgrave Tarnished watched, bewildered, as their supposed allies vanished into the trees.
Gideon sprinted ahead, his expression dark enough to wring water from the air. The people from Roundtable Hold had no time to rest, no time to strategize—only the relentless pursuit of a man who'd outmaneuvered them all.
His sharp mind pieced it together—these weren't coincidences. Someone's hand moved in the shadows, pulling strings. Who dared scheme against both Roundtable Hold and Godrick? How did they know we'd be here?
Sir Gideon Ofnir, the Tarnished hero, halted mid-stride. His boots skidded in the dirt as he turned toward the forest. Something wasn't right.
Vargram sprinted to his side, sweat dripping down his temples. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "Someone's watching us." His voice dropped to a growl.