"Why? Of course, it's that source of all evil. Come to think of it, he still hasn't told me the information he promised."
Melina wanted to go back and settle scores with Throne, but just as she turned around, she saw that man coming down the mountain path. Seeing his face, her fierce momentum instantly leaked away, and she couldn't help but look away. Seeing him reminded her of those troubles.
What was she supposed to do? Throne, however, looked as calm as usual. He was currently preoccupied with how to break the deadlock and couldn't be bothered with distress, so he walked over to Melina and looked at the sky.
"It's going to rain again."
"Mm."
Throne tilted his head and asked, puzzled, "Why are you acting a bit strange today?" It's all because you said those inexplicable things!
"It's nothing."
Melina simply turned her head away, ignoring him. Unfortunately, Throne had already seen through everything and remarked casually, "It's because you've become a bit inseparable from me, haven't you?"
Melina looked shocked. She wanted to ask where he got such confidence—wasn't that a joke?—but the words wouldn't come out.
She had picked up some haughty mannerisms, but she wasn't truly like that.
"Affection grows with time; it's quite normal and no big deal." Throne shrugged and continued gazing into the distance.
"Back when I was in Limgrave, I asked myself, if someone were to make a move on you, what would I do?"
"And what would you do?"
"Naturally, I would do whatever it takes to kill them, no matter who they are. Do you think I'm someone who forgets old ties?" Throne answered earnestly, without a hint of hesitation.
"Who asked you to remember old ties?"
Melina huffed, but the corners of her mouth curled up naturally.
"Tsk, where did you pick up such bad habits?"
Throne curled his lip and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Anyway, you're ready, right?"
"What are your orders this time?"
Given their tacit understanding, she already had a premonition that Throne was about to stir up trouble again.
"The battle is imminent. Do you see that Tarnished down there?"
Melina stretched her neck to look and saw a man standing in the trench, leaning on a great hammer. His broad back was as heavy and imposing as a mountain.
"He's an expert. Do you want me to assassinate him?"
Smack.
Throne knocked her on the head, instantly dissipating the awkward atmosphere. Looking at the pouting Melina, the man stood with his hands behind his back.
"I want you to take Millicent and follow him after the battle starts. The strength of this Tarnished is enough to cover you both."
"Do you not trust the sorcerers of Sellia?"
"I do, but they are too weak; they have fallen behind this era."
Throne looked back. The sorcerers were busy running around, sharpening their daggers until they gleamed. Once this battle to destroy the city began, it would be good enough if they could just hold their ground; they would surely be riddled with holes by then. The Kindred of Rot were after Millicent and would certainly be able to sense her location.
Weaklings who couldn't stick together would struggle even to move. Melina nodded solemnly. In every major battle, soldiers had their uses, and the strong had their places. Just like the Battle of Aeonia ten years ago, where the battle between the Valkyrie and General Radahn determined the outcome. But without the armies, they wouldn't even have the chance for a duel.
"Do you intend to become the next Radahn? But there is more than just Malenia as a powerful enemy."
Melina clenched her fists.
"Taking on three enemies at once? I'm not that stupid."
Throne walked to the side of the mountain range. It was like a natural city wall, but there were too few defenders to occupy the entire area, only a few outposts.
The Tarnished watched Throne with dumbfounded expressions. If he wanted to escape, he was going the wrong way; wasn't this just throwing his life away?
"Hey, remember to come back early." Melina called out. The man, fading into the twilight, did not stop. He raised his hand above his head and slowly clenched it into a fist. I will.
The drizzling autumn rain fell once again, making the light emitted by the Erdtree hazy and casting this region, far from the center of The Lands Between, into gloom. Silence reigned between heaven and earth. A mere two days was not enough for the Redmane Army to assemble, and Sellia had been caught completely off guard. The forest at the foot of the mountain was in chaos.
The air was filled with the stench of rot drifting from the swamp. From sorcerers to Tarnished, everyone held their weapons with wide eyes; those experienced in battle had already smelled the scent of death. The enemy would not keep them surrounded without attacking forever, and this moonless night was the best time to strike.
Even the militiamen with no combat experience were infected by this despair. It came too fast, and too suddenly. Everyone was completely unprepared. They had just been resting or passing through, and inexplicably, they were surrounded by a group of terrifying monsters. Boom—rumble—
Lightning flashed and vanished, illuminating the dragons in the air and the forest below.
A red mushroom slowly walked out. Amidst the flickering lightning, it stood upon a large rock. There was no negotiation, no communication. Red Wave raised his right hand, mycelium decomposing and bonding to form a giant blade over ten meters long. Then, as the next lightning bolt flashed, he swung it downward.
Kill.
The silent stillness lasted for another instant, then was completely shattered by a thousand drums. Leaves fell, branches snapped, and dense swarms of rot creatures poured out of the forest. In the light of the lightning, a hellish scene slowly unfolded.
Rotten Stray covered in rotting flesh, giant crows with heads disproportionate to their bodies, land-dwelling sea squirts wriggling with dense tentacles, and of course, the giant rot rats. Heaven knows how many rot creatures had gathered in the Great Swamp over the past ten years, but surely not a single one was a normal animal. These were the best cannon fodder.
They ignored fear and surged forward crazily. Even if their fangs and claws were fragile compared to armor, don't forget, just one bite of Scarlet Rot could make a grown man suffer in agony and lose the ability to fight.
"It's finally here."
Edred felt a sense of relief. If it had dragged on for two more days, he really feared Sellia would collapse without a fight.
He roared to those around him, "Prepare illumination magic! These beasts are no match for us!"
These words of encouragement were somewhat pale. Any fool knew that this cannon fodder was meant to charge the formation; the real killing blow was still to come. No, it had already arrived. The dragons in the rain curtain began to lower their altitude, ready to swoop down and hunt at any moment.
The reptilian Kindred of Rot followed behind the cannon fodder, clearly intending to take the opportunity to charge in. Meanwhile, some figures were circling toward the town gate—no need to ask, they were the powerful Bloody Fingers. Gulp. The Great Sage swallowed his saliva. In any case, with his intelligence, he didn't know what to do.
Let alone a joint attack by three parties, even just one of them could strip a layer of skin off Sellia. But could they retreat at this time? Did they dare to retreat?
"Warriors of Caelid, reinforcements led by the General himself are already on the way! Use your blades and spears to win a glimmer of hope for yourselves!"
"Redmane—"
"Fight to the death, no retreat!"
As expected of the land of warriors, battle cries came from all directions. But they were not facing an army composed of humans; the rot continued to spread in silence.
"What a grand scene."
Throne stepped on the earthen slope with his right foot. The soldiers stationed here had long since been pulled back.
There was no help for it; the Great Sage didn't even have enough troops for the front line now, let alone the ability to worry about every defensive position and reserve unit. Looking down at the entire battlefield from his vantage point, he could only see a black tide surging. The number was roughly one or two thousand, but that madness exuded the momentum of a massive army.
Forget formations, forget stamina; a bunch of mindless monsters just needed to keep charging forward. Sellia couldn't hold it; no matter what, they couldn't hold it. As long as this group of monsters charged up, the dragons and Kindred of Rot following behind would tear the entire front line apart. The magic town could change hands in a single night.
Ten years ago, it was in a similar place, only that time Throne could only act as a battlefield observer.
"But this time, it's different."
He took out a two-foot-long staff and simultaneously raised his left hand, as if embracing the battlefield. Violent magic power caused his clothes to flutter and made his whole body emit a cyan glow. Magic Threshold, open.
Using Rennala's theory, Throne unlocked the limitations of magic itself, focusing only on frantically extracting the magic power from the primeval glintstone like a water pump. A strong light appeared on the northern section of the mountain range, like a lighthouse illuminating the pitch-black battlefield.
Both sides of the battlefield turned their heads in astonishment, seeing only those floating magic particles. They were merging, gathering, forming rings of light over ten meters wide, overlapping each other, and rising toward the night sky. Several Kings of Rot reacted instantly, rushing madly toward this side, but it was already too late.
Throne looked at them indifferently and raised his staff, letting the brilliance of the magic reach its peak. Legendary Sorcery—Stars of Ruin!!
The intense light pierced through the rainy night. This was perhaps the attack with the longest charging time since Throne came to The Lands Between. If it were a one-on-one duel, it would have been enough for the enemy to kill him ten times over. However, the immense magic power gathered into twelve shooting stars.
When they traced arcs in the air, crossed hundreds of meters, and crashed to the ground, they brought the most intuitive sensation—gorgeous destruction! Boom, boom, boom... Like twelve muffled claps of thunder exploding at once, the valley fell silent for an instant, then erupted with a wave of mud like a landslide or tsunami.
Soil and flesh were thrown dozens of meters into the air, causing the rain curtain to pause, and then the shockwave mixed with magic power swept into the distance. Whatever Kings of Rot or rot creatures there were, under this destructive power, they were no different from paper. Sorcerers are born to be the masters of large-scale army duels.
That area-of-effect destructive power is incomparable to any sword technique. The cold autumn rain became scorching, and the rolling rot creatures were instantly blasted into twelve huge blank zones.
"This is... Primeval Sorcery."
As an expert, Edred felt his breath stop. He just stared blankly at the smoke columns rising in the valley.
Even with his full effort, he could only create three shooting stars, while the opponent created twelve at once!! Why would a Primeval Sorcerer stand on our side? He was a bit confused about the situation, but he had no time to think too much about it. The frenzy at his feet had been swept away by more than half with one blow, and the rest were rolling in the mud.
"Attack, quick!"
The roar brought the dumbfounded soldiers back to their senses. Arrows and magic swarmed down. They didn't care about the rest; they just felt full of strength. With such an expert helping, what the hell was there to be afraid of! Facts proved that powerful sorcerers are the masters of battle.
They can bring destruction to enemies and endless confidence to allies, so they are always the priority target. Think about it, if this level of magic could come for two more rounds, everyone could just be cheerleaders; why fight to the death?
"Truly beautiful."
Throne spread his arms, embracing the destruction he had created. The twelve smoke columns did not disperse for a long time.
His heart was surging, yet he could still feel the emptiness. Releasing the Magic Threshold did not drain the primeval glintstone, but it damaged the inscribed magic patterns. This was easy to understand; it was like a short-term overload causing a system to short-circuit. He just didn't need to take himself apart to repair it; his body would recover naturally.
Ordinary sorcerers should have retreated to the rear to rest in this situation.
"But sorry, magic is just one of my abilities."
Throne put away his staff and gripped his sword. The emptiness of magic power would not lower his martial prowess by even a fraction. His golden eyes locked directly onto the enemies at the foot of the mountain. Those people were Bloody Fingers.
Led by the Blood Rite Esgar, they had originally intended to infiltrate from the north and south. After all, the Mohgwyn Dynasty had no obligation to attack head-on.
"Why is it him?!"
The Old Aristocrat roared, staring wide-eyed at the opponent on the mountain, his mind instantly becoming chaotic.
"Who??"
"That Asura!"
Esgar was also in a mess. Didn't you say that was a sword expert?
How could he use magic of this level? Or rather, in everyone's impression, there should be an elegant old man in flowing robes wearing a monocle on this mountain. However, what is going on here?? There was no wise sorcerer, only a tough guy holding a blade in one hand, leaping down from a cliff over ten meters high, charging up with murderous intent. Divide the battlefield, defeat them one by one.
Throne had already calculated it. There was no mutual trust between these three forces. The Kindred of Rot had taken a hit of legendary sorcery and could only brace themselves to charge up, hoping to rush into the town as quickly as possible to find Millicent and bolt. They also had no obligation to come and help their allies share the pressure.
The dragons were looking for Lansseax and prioritized attacking Sellia above all else, so Throne just needed to seize this window of opportunity. Before the Bloody Fingers could think it through, the swordsman had already charged up to meet them. The katana in his hand shimmered with cold light, and his golden eyes held only one thought. Kill!! One man pounced toward nearly thirty Bloody Fingers.
That hair-raising killing intent made his whole person become berserk. There was only one Blood Rite and one Old Aristocrat here; he would start with them.
"Fight and retreat!"
Esgar wasn't stupid. They had come to ambush, so there was no need to fight a strong opponent head-on. He released a large swarm of bloodflies, and then realized he was wrong.
Throne had no intention of letting them get away at all. Oh Storm! He raised his long sword, and the storm formed a blade over ten meters long, slashing down directly in their faces.
Whoosh—
The high-speed swirling wind sounded like a ghost's wail, crushing all hundreds of bloodflies, turning several Bloody Fingers behind who couldn't dodge in time into mincemeat, and then grazed past the side of the Old Aristocrat.