Therefore, she was very important to the insects. With Malenia now under the protection of the Haligtree, she was the only substitute. 'Anyway, we have to protect her. We can't let them succeed. We'll figure out the rest later.' Throne stroked his chin. The blooming of the Scarlet Aeonia would bring no benefit to him or Ranni.
But there is some resemblance, and the scent of rot is also quite strong. Where can I find a Golden Needle to suppress it for her now? Huh, why is her arm not severed? Seeing that Millicent was not as maimed as Malenia, Throne instinctively crouched down. At that moment, he saw the girl's eyelashes flutter, and a pair of golden eyes snapped open.
Swish—
The girl formed her fingers into a blade, making the air shriek. Throne tilted his head, feeling the airflow brush past his cheek, then instantly grabbed that slender hand and pulled her out of the crate. Thud! A perfect shoulder throw slammed the girl onto the ground.
Her back bounced lightly upon contact, she pushed off with her palm, executed a backflip to land, then tapped her toes and charged straight at him. Fast speed, solid foundation, and this opening stance—
Throne frowned slightly, decisively sidestepping. He saw the girl from three paces away suddenly launch herself, delivering a straight kick right at his face.
Swift, fierce, and straightforward—nothing like her youthful appearance. Throne casually reached out, caught her ankle, and lifted her into the air. Seeing her other foot instinctively kick out, he simply pressed her down onto the ground, holding her immobile no matter how she struggled. 'Enough! Your Senpou Leaping Kicks are far from mastered!' Millicent, the manifestation of the Valkyrie's dignified persona, was also an extremely popular figure. Exactly how popular, Throne didn't know. In any case, she was more popular than Melina, who, after all, was a slacker who couldn't even beat a jellyfish. Yet, this dignified avatar of the Valkyrie was being held aloft by Throne with one hand, looking utterly undignified.
The girl didn't struggle. It wasn't that she forgot to resist, but Throne's words just now had frozen her leg in mid-air. 'Senpou Leaping Kicks? How do you know about them?' she asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar words—something impossible to fabricate. 'Because I taught him,' Throne snorted impatiently, though a hint of appreciation flickered in his eyes.
He liked people who acted decisively and never admitted defeat. 'Next time you act, use your brain a little. At least figure out if the other party is hostile or not.' 'You... are Big Brother?' 'If possible, you should call me uncle, not mess up the seniority,' Throne said, setting the girl down and finally taking a good look at her.
Tall and slender, wearing a somewhat tattered long dress, her high leather boots caked with mud. Her red hair was tied in a ponytail, her eyebrows long and elegant. She looked valiant and spirited, like a female general from an opera. Millicent was also sizing him up, feeling something was off, yet his swordsman attire gave her a sense of familiarity. 'Alexander mentioned you. You are his master, and my master as well.' She used honorifics now. She had heard the Living Jar bragging about him every day. Seeing him now, his reputation was indeed well-deserved. She felt as powerless as a child. 'I only taught him some basics. I wouldn't take on such a clumsy disciple. Did he tell you why he was looking for you?' 'Yes. On your orders. He also mentioned something about Aeonia, but I don't remember anything,' the girl said, troubled, clearly having been bothered by this for a long time. That's good. Saves me from having to explain a whole bunch of things. Throne nodded. There was still one thing he hadn't figured out: 'Why didn't you stay hidden quietly? Why run around everywhere?' 'Because staying in one place changes nothing. He went for his trial. I need to find my past. No time to waste in a daze.' Millicent's voice cut through the air, resolute and solemn. A woman of principle, thin-skinned, unwilling to settle. Throne watched her and found himself impressed. Self-reliant people were never a bad thing. He hadn't planned to just rescue her and leave it at that.
Wait—
He stepped closer, took her hand, and pushed up her sleeve. Pale skin, marred by rot. Festering sores, hideous and unrelenting. Right. Millicent had been plagued by rot since birth. Left unchecked, it would consume her. 'Does it hurt?' 'Yes. Constantly.' Her face betrayed nothing. Throne hesitated, unsure what to say.
After a long pause, he managed, 'You're strong. Stay with me for now.' 'Alright.' Her response was simple. She'd spent years with Alexander, the only person she trusted.
And this man was Alexander's brother. Nothing more needed to be said. 'Where did that fool run off to?' 'While we were fleeing, he got stuck in a crevice. I lured the pursuers away. That's how the insects caught me.' Concise. Direct.
Throne pictured it—Alexander stuck, waving frantically for Millicent to run. Her pride wouldn't let her leave him. So she turned, charged head-on without looking back, leaving him there, waving and shouting. What has that fool been learning from the Great-Jar all these years? Throne sighed. Melina nudged him.
He turned, expecting something monumental. 'Now's not the time for chatter,' Melina said, unusually reliable this time. 'Right. We should move. Alexander will find a way out.' Throne pulled out a straight sword and tossed it to Millicent. 'Can you use this?' She caught it, fingers running along the blade, feeling its texture. Then she shook her head. 'No.' Throne nearly groaned. Millicent, a manifestation of Malenia, couldn't use a sword? What could be more absurd? 'But I can learn. Alexander said you're the best swordsman in The Lands Between. May I call you teacher?' Her golden eyes met his, earnest, like a starved student craving knowledge.
'Good. I'll teach you.' Throne agreed without hesitation. Teaching Millicent meant teaching Malenia. The thought thrilled him.
A flick of his thumb, and the blade slid partially from its sheath. 'First lesson: perception.' Clang—
Silver light flashed in her eyes, wind lifting her red hair. A sharp 'ding' rang by her ear. Her pupils narrowed as she saw the arrow deflected mid-air. An ambush? How did he know? Her hand moved to the hilt, but Throne grabbed her collar and yanked her back. 'Second lesson: courage alone won't save you.' Throne squinted. These weren't Kindred of Rot.
That scent—he knew it too well. 'They've aligned with the Mohgwyn Dynasty. News travels fast.' He hadn't expected them to intercept so quickly. Pulling Millicent with him, he leaped behind a rock, pressing his ear to the ground. Vibrations mapped the battlefield. 'Five on the left, eight on the right.' They're flanking us." "Should I break through one side?"
Melina's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and urgent.
"Bloody Fingers aren't amateurs. They'll pin you down in close combat."
Throne ripped off his mask and flung it to her. He pointed at Millicent.
"Take her form. Ride Torrent north. Meet us outside Sellia."
"Got it."
Arrows hissed through the air, eliminating any time for chatter.
The plan crystallized in seconds. Millicent observed from the sidelines, two words echoing in her mind: Professional. Every word, every movement—crisp, decisive. She'd never seen anything like it. A whistle pierced the air, and Torrent materialized in a flash. The other her leapt onto the spirit steed and vanished northward.
Torrent wove through the hail of arrows like a dancer, leaving the archers cursing as their shots struck empty air. The moment they shifted focus, Throne seized Millicent's arm and bolted. Bloody Fingers weren't to be underestimated. Among them, a master lurked. Every second wasted risked the Kindred of Rot closing in. If they surrounded them, escape would be impossible. Throne knew how to run. He'd had enough practice.
He slid down a steep slope into a dry riverbed, sprinting while glancing back at Millicent. She was Malenia's shadow incarnate. Even with her memories fragmented, her physical prowess was extraordinary. She kept pace at eighty percent of his speed, teeth gritted, refusing to falter.
"Need me to carry you?" he asked.
"No need!"
Millicent shook her head sharply. Her eyes caught movement above.
"Teacher—there's a dragon."
The word teacher sent a jolt of satisfaction through Throne. For so long, he'd been the one calling Sellen "teacher."
Even Ranni had twisted that to her advantage. Never had someone addressed him that way.
"Don't worry. It's headed for Melina. She's the bait."
Millicent's eyes narrowed.
"Will Miss Melina be okay?"
"I trust her. No one's better at this than she is."
If she couldn't outrun them, she'd turn invisible. If invisibility failed, she'd phase into spirit form. Finding her was like trying to grasp smoke. This teacher knew how to use people. Would he sell me out too? Millicent's wariness deepened. Yet, she couldn't deny Throne had much to teach her—not just swordsmanship. His methods were ruthless, though. His ends-justify-the-means approach grated on her pride. Still, he seemed pleased with himself.
They hadn't spent much time together. Throne hadn't yet realized Millicent's rigid nature. After another hundred meters, he raised his hand abruptly.
"Know why I chose this riverbed? Or why I sent Melina north?"
"No," Millicent admitted, shaking her head.
"Swordsmanship is the art of killing. Every move must serve one purpose: to cut down the enemy swiftly and efficiently."
Throne spun his blade, knees bending slightly.
"First, divide a stronger force. Second, use terrain to close the distance. That's the difference between technique and strategy."
He delivered the lesson on the spot, whether Millicent grasped it or not.
"Watch closely. This is where sword skills truly matter."
He stepped forward. Millicent's eyes widened as he scaled the slope like a gecko.
At the top, several figures with bows and blades peered over the edge, scanning the riverbed for their quarry. As their heads crested the slope, Throne's blade was already at their throats. Thud. A blade pierced flesh. Throne stared into the bulging eyes, recognizing the armor, the odachi. A grin spread across his face.
"It's you all. Long time no see."
The tin cans of The Lands Between were nothing compared to this. For the first time, Throne faced warriors from his so-called homeland. There was a saying about that. When countrymen meet, stab them in the back. The hilt twisted, tearing through half a neck. From the side, an ear-splitting roar erupted. Three figures with crimson odachi raised their blades overhead and charged. Odachi Jodan? How quaint.
Throne sheathed his blade. Three blood-red slashes came from left, center, right. He rolled forward first. Roll, draw—
Clang! The blade swept low, severing a pair of calves. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other two closing in, their blades descending in consecutive vertical slashes. Ichimonji Ren Zan?
It reminded him of techniques he'd learned. Throne rolled several meters away, then halted abruptly, rebounding like a spring. Moonveil rose overhead.
"Consecutive slashes are used like this!"
Clang! Clang! Clang! Three vertical slashes in an instant, each heavier than the last, driving the blocking odachi downward. The blade split the helmet, cleaving through the skull. The long blade buried itself in the chest. Throne twisted it, carving through the body and sweeping sideways. The last warrior jerked his abdomen back, feeling the chill of his armor being sliced open. Desperate, he thrust his blade forward.
Throne twirled his weapon, switching to a reverse grip. He crouched low, almost pressing against his opponent, then surged upward. His palm struck under the chin. Smack! The warrior, over a hundred pounds, flew into the air. Stunned by the impact, his eyes dazzled by the blade's glare—they closed, never to open again. One slash severed the head.
Throne didn't look back. He stabbed the warrior crawling on the ground, legless, from behind. His gaze lifted to the bright moon. Familiar. He drew the sword, shook off the blood, turned. Under the moonlight, Throne spotted a small head peeking from the slope. He smiled faintly.
"Did you learn?"
Three corpses lay scattered, crimson blood pooling beneath them. Half a minute—that's all it had taken. The most hardcore kind of teaching. Throne waited. Millicent stared blankly before finally nodding.
"All tactics are for better, faster killing. But in the end, it comes down to strength."
"Smart." Throne snapped his fingers.
Truly a manifestation of the Valkyrie; her comprehension was high. He flipped an odachi up with his toe and tossed it over.