"His Highness is still waiting for me to report back. You'll have to hurry. I can wait for you for five days at most. If there's still no news, I'll have to find someone else to collect the items."
"Five days it is, then. Go on."
Throne gave a small nod of respect, slowly backing away while keeping a close eye on Rykard's expression.
The look of impatience on that face became increasingly obvious, but in the end, it didn't seem like he would erupt. This wasn't a prank, of course; he was assessing how long Rykard's patience and conscious awareness could last. Reaching the edge of the cliff, he gave another nod, then stepped into the air, letting gravity pull him down. The Recusants and Gelmir Knights were already waiting below.
This was why Throne hadn't turned back to strike; after all, he was in someone else's nest, and it would be troublesome to be besieged if he went too far.
"Thank you for resolving a serious concern for the Manor," Tanith said with a bow. There was no hint of flattery in her words.
With the distance so close and the terrain so treacherous, dealing with that Fallingstar Beast had indeed been a major headache.
"It's nothing. I've already spoken with Prince Rykard; he'll give me an answer within five days."
Throne waved it off, not taking it to heart.
"Five days? That's a bit tight. There are some things we still need to consider carefully."
"My time is also very tight."
Throne couldn't be bothered to argue with her. As he brushed past, a smile quietly appeared on his arrogant face. In just half a day, the Volcano Manor's composure had been thoroughly disrupted by him. Rykard hadn't left. Clutching his head, he watched the knight at the foot of the mountain and slowly tore the envelope into pieces. Exposing such overbearing arrogance... you're seeking death.
That night, inside a low-key yet luxurious bedroom. The dim candlelight flickered, causing one's nerves to tense up unconsciously. This sensation of being neither bright nor dark was worse than total darkness; instead, it gave everything a sense of haziness, like looking through a flame where reality was blurred.
Throne sat in a chair with his feet crossed on the desk, holding an exquisite doll in his hand—it was Ranni's avatar. After so many days, the avatar's power had been fully replenished, but Throne no longer had the habit of placing it somewhere high. He simply held it in his hand like a ragdoll, occasionally poking its face.
"Hey, don't push your luck!"
"Sorry, sorry, I've just gotten used to it."
Throne said the words, but he had no intention of letting go. Anyway, as long as he didn't poke randomly now, Ranni couldn't be bothered to scold him. Hmph, he's really getting more and more out of line. I'll just give him a mask later. Ranni stood by the window, huffing twice in dissatisfaction. In the small square outside the window, blades were clashing.
This wasn't some fool coming to assassinate them, but Millicent dragging Allen into another sparring match. The Carian Knight's face was tense, and he had already cursed Throne hundreds of times in his heart. This girl was incredibly stubborn; she started every match with full intent to kill as if facing an enemy, forcing him to take it seriously too.
At first, he felt a bit bad when he accidentally scratched the girl, but Millicent was relentless, still fighting as if her life depended on it. When is this ever going to end?!
"Is this Millicent really a split-off of Malenia? She seems a bit... not very bright."
"Do you think Malenia is smart?" Throne asked back.
Ranni looked at the girl who had been kicked to the ground but forced herself up, shouting 'Again!', and shook her head with a self-deprecating smile.
"True. If she were smart, she wouldn't have marched all the way to Caelid."
The two were in agreement. This had nothing to do with slow reactions; the Valkyrie was simply too stubborn.
She clung to her chosen path with stubborn devotion, even when better options lay within reach. Their idle chatter faded as the conversation turned serious again.
"Rykard... fallen? I can't fathom his reasoning."
Ranni's voice carried the weight of loss.
"To willingly offer himself to that ancient serpent—what madness drove him?"
He was family, after all. The thought of him reduced to a monster left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Throne leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.
"Blasphemy. That's his aim. Corrupting the most sacred great rune—that's the ultimate insult to the Golden Order."
His fingers drummed against his forearm.
"You know why the Two Fingers and Morgott hunt the Death Eater like rabid dogs?"
"Returning from death defies the Golden Order's laws, yes. But there's something they fear even more."
Ranni's brow furrowed.
"What?"
Throne tapped his chest, the answer already settled in his mind.
"Godrick's great rune. I still haven't claimed it at the Divine Tower. The connection to the Death Eater is undeniable—that's what terrifies them."
"The great runes are the foundation of the Lands Between. Demigods may perish, but the runes must remain untouched. That's why the Tarnished hold such power—the Greater Will granted them the right to inherit."
A great rune wasn't some trinket to be picked up and wielded by any fool.
No matter who sought its power, the Golden Order had to bestow it. Only now, with the Two Fingers weakened and their will diminished, could exceptions be made. Try claiming a great rune while bearing the Frenzied Flame today—they'd rip you apart before you took a step.
The Two Fingers still linger atop the Divine Towers. Slay a demigod, and the power to awaken their rune rests in those withered hands. The so-called "final right of interpretation."
"You're saying Rykard's path mirrors yours?"
Ranni's voice sharpened.
"That this... defilement is his idea of blasphemy?"
"Exactly."
Throne smirked.
"More offensive than pissing on Marika's statue. Second only to burning the Erdtree itself."
"Crude."
Ranni's rebuke lacked heat. Understanding settled over her, heavy and sorrowful. This was the rebellion of the powerless. Rykard couldn't overthrow the Golden Order—so he chose to desecrate it instead.
"He acted too soon. I can't imagine the resolve it took."
"Poorly executed, though."
Throne scoffed.
"The rune's tainted, not consumed. For a Tarnished, it just means an extra step—kill the serpent, claim the prize."
He knew Rykard's defiance was little more than an irritation to the Two Fingers. His hand pressed against his chest, pride flickering in his voice.
"I'm different. I devour the runes. Slay me, and that power is lost forever."
Godrick's great rune pulsed within him, nearly absorbed. By every measure, he stood as a demigod now.
"Don't say such things."
Ranni cut him off, urgency threading her words.
"Your thoroughness makes you the greatest threat of all." She hesitated, then asked softly, "Will you press on? Rykard may be twisted, but he's no fool. If I know him, he'll have contingencies."
"Of course."
Throne's fingers traced his chin, mind already weaving schemes. He couldn't admit his true aim—diverting Leyndell's gaze long enough to slip north and find Sellen. So he chose his words carefully.
"I didn't come to scout. If I can kill him, good. If not, I've a list of crimes to pin on him. The Recusants and Gelmir Knights still have uses—they shouldn't go to waste as serpent fodder."
"Not many factions remain that can shoulder Caria's burden. If Rykard were sane, we could forge an unbreakable alliance. But he's not. War is inevitable. Might as well make use of the waste."
Rationally, Ranni saw the logic in Throne's plan. Yet the sheer difficulty and risk made her want to reject it outright. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded.
"You'll do as you please regardless of what I say. Fine. You'll have my full cooperation."
Throne didn't know whether to feel pride or pity. He issued a few more instructions—one advantage of having a vast organization at his back. Caria had channels to spread rumors, even secret lines that reached Morgott directly. With business concluded, it was time for the Princess's daily dose of humiliation.
Before he could begin, the door swung open. Melina strode in, arms laden with food.
"Melina's here. Let's call it a day," Throne said casually, though it felt off.
"Don't mention that woman to me!"
Ranni's mood darkened instantly.
She was about to sever the mental link when Throne called out, "Wait."
Hmph. At least he has some decency. But no apology followed. Instead, he asked, "I've been meaning to ask—where is your great rune?"
The Princess's temper flared. Frost crept across the windowsill.
"Shattered," she hissed. "What do you mean, shattered? Hey! Hey!" Throne called out twice, but there was no response. He stashed the doll with a wry smile. He'd been about to apologize. Why were the Ra- family so volatile?
"Lunar Princess?" Melina asked, tray in hand.
"Isn't it obvious?"
Clang—Melina slammed the tray onto the table.
"Eat. Now."
Damn it. Everyone's targeting me. Throne glared at Melina, anger simmering. After a moment, he looked away. Staring at a block of wood was pointless. But the food was exquisite—golden-brown fried ribs adorned with fruits and vegetables, accompanied by a dark red sauce of mysterious origin. It was enough to whet anyone's appetite.
"How did you make this sauce? Sweet, sour, and... mm, a unique freshness."
"You wouldn't understand even if I told you."
"What's with you? Did someone offend you?"
Melina stared at him, her voice cold.
"Lunar Princess. Ranni."
Subtlety, please. A little tact. Throne confirmed the mental link was severed—otherwise, the two would be at each other's throats. He sipped his juice, speaking with the gravitas of a seasoned veteran.
"We're in the middle of an operation. Don't let petty emotions interfere. It's counterproductive."
"Emotions won't cloud my judgment. Am I not allowed to feel?"
This Melina was becoming more lifelike by the day. Not just a dry tree flowering—a full bloom of begonias. Throne recalled their first meeting and barely recognized her now. He smiled.
"You once said emotions were useless for your mission. You were quite resistant back then."
Melina didn't argue. Instead, a flicker of seriousness crossed her usually blank face.
"That was then. The current me was shaped by you. No matter what the Lunar Princess says, your influence runs too deep. I have reasons I can't abandon."
Throne froze, a rib halfway to his mouth.
He remembered—this wasn't the prideful Ranni. This was Melina. His own creation, carved by his hands, growing more vivid by the day. No point hiding now.
"What about your mission?"
He spoke bluntly.
"Truth is, it's designed to keep you from walking beside me. Physically."
Anticipation coiled in his chest. Beneath her blank expression, he saw the conflict—the quiet rebellion against the unfairness of it.
"I don't know," Melina said. Pain flickered across her face. She shook her head.
"But Millicent said to leave the future for later. Focus on now. She's right."
Her voice tightened.
"You made me. These emotions, these doubts—they're yours too. So you're responsible. Until that day comes."
You two really are a perfect match. Millicent would charge through a mountain of blades if she set her mind to it.
The realization hit him like a slap. All this time, he'd been helping Ranni, scrambling to bring Sellen back—while ignoring his promise to Melina. His gaze softened. She wasn't that rigid, mission-obsessed puppet anymore. The change had been gradual, inevitable as water wearing through stone.
A girl who walked the world alone, her warmth reserved for the moment she burned.
He didn't speak. Just pulled her into his arms before she could react, fingers threading through her chestnut hair.
"Don't think about it. That day won't come."
A pause.
"I promise."
That day will never come? Melina didn't understand. Didn't know if she should hope for it. But the words sounded sweet.
"Is that a promise?"
"It is. And I keep my word."
Throne meant it. His plans had shifted.
Melina didn't know what was right anymore. The Godskin Nobles kept dragging the plan back on track. Interference meant blood. But why should she dance to their tune? Throne owed her more than that. Just because he was the father-in-law?
She'd been leaning into his touch, eyes half-lidded, until the embrace registered as strange. She shoved him back.
"Eat. No touching."
Ah. Got carried away. Throne laughed awkwardly, guilt flashing in his eyes. Melina huffed.
"Relax. I won't tell the Lunar Princess."
"She wouldn't do anything even if you did—"
Melina's hand shot out.
"Give me the doll. I'll tell her now."
"Let's not. You two fighting gives me a worse headache than fighting a demigod."
"Hmph. Serves you right for running your mouth."
She rolled her eyes, then reset to blankness. She understood why Ranni clashed with her—but not why she kept resisting, making herself the villain. Was it stubbornness? The need to win?