Having been inexplicably scolded, Throne blinked, failing to react at first, but soon realized that Melina had been peeking out and had happened to hear his 'sermon.' The explosive content of it had already exceeded the maiden's limits of acceptance.
"I'm going to tell the Lunar Princess and that Sellen that you actually know so many perverted things."
Melina's tone was filled with wariness. She had forced herself to endure the nausea while listening, never expecting there to be so many bizarre methods, as if a door to a new world had been opened. Pfft, who would want to open such a foul-smelling door!
"What are you talking about? I was just catering to these perverts."
Throne was left between laughter and tears; his acting was so exquisite that even Melina was deceived.
"Regardless, you do know them."
Ah, this... there was truly no way to argue against that; sometimes my tastes are quite heavy. Throne considered this for a moment, then simply straightened his face.
"Alright, we are in the middle of a battle. In Mohg's lair, where would we find the time for idle chatter?"
Having said that, he didn't wait for Melina's response and walked straight to the lakeside, where a large group of Albinaurics were gathered, sunning themselves under a 'sun' that would never appear. The blood lake was like a mirror, without the slightest ripple. Throne stopped at the lake's edge.
In his current identity, watching the scenery by the lake was fine, but entering under the gaze of everyone was impossible. Besides, this wicked lake water didn't look like something one could just step on casually. Retreat? I don't have much time. If the Mohgwyn Dynasty discovers the traces in the snowy mountains, they will search with full force.
If I fight my way in and find nothing, wouldn't I just be surrounded and killed by a group of people on this lake? Throne gazed 'fanatically' at the lake, his mind already active.
He had no problem dealing with Mohg, and with Melina and Sellen, they had enough to execute a decapitation strike, but he couldn't waste energy on these miscellaneous soldiers who had 'cannon fodder' written on their foreheads. Besides, looking at this Mohgwyn Dynasty, which was vastly different from the Tarnished era, what if Mohg had some trump card?
Just as he was hesitating, he suddenly saw a small boat sailing out from the blood-red fog, drifting straight towards him. Was I discovered? His heart skipped a beat, and he pressed his hand against his ring, ready to draw his sword at any moment. At this time, he noticed that the priest on the boat held no hostility; instead, after docking, he cast a look of gratification.
"Broder, you have finally comprehended the truth."
So this alias is named Broder, huh? And what is this priest's name? The illusory mask did not have the function of reading memories, but Throne did not panic at all. He nodded silently.
"Truth exists in every corner; the only difference is whether one has the heart to observe it."
He reckoned that there couldn't be normal interpersonal relationships in this godforsaken place, nor any personal friendships, and he bet that this priest was not familiar with Broder. Sure enough, the blood priest just nodded and stepped back half a pace.
"Get on the boat; Lord Esgar wants to see you."
Throne was stunned, then immediately ecstatic. This was truly a pillow delivered when one was sleepy; he immediately understood that Esgar had heard his sermon just now. 'To think that spouting nonsense has such a use. It seems I need to practice my silver-tongued skills more in the future.' This ecstasy was only natural and would hardly invite suspicion. Throne jumped onto the small boat and said urgently, "Please lead the way!"
"Such a thirst for power; you are indeed a talent worth molding, just as Lord Esgar said."
The priest was even more satisfied and waved his hand. Only then did Throne notice that the boat didn't need oars. The mirror-like lake surface stirred with a few ripples, pushing the boat forward, and he felt fortunate that he hadn't attacked directly just now.
This blood water was not simple; it clearly possessed consciousness. If he had stepped in rashly, he would definitely have been discovered. He looked around and wound the blood mist around his fingers. Although it was mist, it gave one a viscous, liquid-like sensation, and there was even a faint, indistinct will within it. The Formless Mother, is it?
The deity had already poked its head out, just waiting for the torn wound to widen, to find a suitable vessel for its return, and then to create a new order together with Mohg. Throne gazed at the blood-red gate on the distant island; the answer was already screaming to be spoken. This vessel was named—Miquella.
The blood-colored ripples touched the embankment and gently bounced back. Beneath the majestic scarlet gate, the small boat docked softly. Throne stepped onto the soil softened by blood and carefully examined the gate. The patterns engraved on it were very exquisite, but unfortunately, he was not Rogier and had no research in archaeology, so he couldn't see any clues.
There was no door frame; it was just stuck in the ground like a monument, appearing extremely strange. A look of confusion appeared in Throne's eyes as he walked forward slowly, as if firmly attracted. However, before he could see what was behind the door, he heard a voice from the side.
"Do not be impatient. After obtaining power, you will have plenty of opportunities to work for the Dynasty."
Throne turned his head and saw Esgar at a glance, with several priests following behind him, and not far away, there was a strange bird. The priests were nothing special, but that strange bird attracted his attention.
It looked somewhat like a giant crow eroded by the Scarlet Rot, covered with blood-red tumors, its feathers sparse and its appearance hideous, just like a corpse that had been soaked in water for too long and had bloated. Caw—caw—
Seeing Throne, the strange bird let out an extremely unpleasant cry, as if in astonishment or perhaps in joy. Esgar was stunned, his eyes filled with surprise.
"Huh, the blood bird is very close to you. Why didn't I discover you, a talent worth molding, before?"
Throne, who thought he was about to be exposed, also blinked. This strange bird had clearly been soaked in the blood lake for too long and no longer relied on its eyes, but what was this closeness about?
Could it be that because I swallowed Mohg's avatar, I also have a portion of the Formless Mother's bloodline, which is why the blood bird is close to me? Throne thought for a moment; this was the only explanation. He had swallowed too many strange things and had already become some kind of hybrid. Looking past the skin to the essence, he didn't know what kind of monster he had become long ago.
"Perhaps, inadvertently, the truth has already acknowledged me."
Throne forced out a sentence, but his hand pressed on the ring did not loosen. Following the routine, the next step should be to accidentally discover a genius, and then the ecstatic Esgar would immediately take him to see Mohg, but in reality, there are no fools. The High Priest's suspicious gaze grew heavier.
The power of blood came from bestowal; a low-level priest could not possibly have such a bloodline, and he didn't look like the Lord's illegitimate child, yet this bloodline didn't seem fake either.
"You, have you come into contact with the Lord?"
"Yes, I have had the honor of being in close contact with the Lord."
"How close?"
"Close to a negative distance."
The priests looked at each other, not knowing what this person was talking about. Even Esgar was full of question marks. It didn't sound like he was lying; could this be some kind of chess piece arranged by the Lord? He leaned forward and asked, "What does that mean?"
"An absolute secret; you must know that if it gets out, it will damage the Lord's dignity."
Throne also leaned forward, his tone grave.
"Within the blood mist, not a single word will get out; you can rest assured."
Esgar actually wanted to hear what this person had to say. It didn't look like he intended to keep a secret, and that heavy blessing only aroused his suspicion; it wasn't the aura of the Erdtree that could be directly classified as an enemy.
Does the blood mist also have a shielding effect? Throne nodded. He was reassured. He stepped forward half a pace and wiped his ring—
"I once beat him up terribly!"
The long sword was drawn, but it was not like a normal draw; there was a process of the blade condensing from virtual to real. Esgar instinctively jumped back, feeling a slight chill on his face, and his vision turned red.
His hood was slashed off, revealing a face covered in scars. Pain had long been ignored by him; in the midst of astonishment, only confusion lingered in his mind. Why would someone with such a deep blood blessing attack me? Doubt was doubt, but the murderous intent was real. Esgar could not just wait for death, so he gripped his twisted short sword. Blood Slice!
Blood surged from his body, like a flower bud blocking Throne's second strike, and then suddenly bloomed. Swish, swish, swish—like thousands of petals sweeping in all directions, dense and impossible to track, yet Throne disappeared from the spot.
Disappearing and reappearing, he instantly appeared above the heads of the remaining priests, looking down at the people below who were still somewhat bewildered. In the split second of lightning and flint, it was impossible for them to figure out why there was infighting, and the blade was above, reflecting an enchanting red light. Fear appeared in their minds, then instantly froze.
Swish, swish, swish... The muffled sound of flesh and bone being severed was continuous. As Throne landed, he carved a 'C' shape through the crowd; blood sprayed, limbs flew, and only then did Esgar turn his head.
"It's you..."
Confusion passed in the midst of the flying severed limbs. He saw that katana, the katana that had left him with profound pain in the rainy night, the very blade that had wiped out the Inaba Clan, including the Old Man, and had beheaded Lord Mohg's avatar. And the person wielding the blade—unstoppable! Run! Get out and call for help! There was no need to think; his entire body decomposed on the spot, turning into blood and splashing in all directions.
But this blood was touched by purple gravity light in mid-air and suddenly solidified. Each crystal-clear blood bead reflected Throne's ferocious face. He twisted the hilt and swept backward; the resulting half-moon sword energy pierced through the blood bird's body, getting stuck in the center of its chest cavity.
Caw—
The blood bird wailed, yet it had a strong tolerance for pain, lifting its beak to peck. Throne bent down, twisted his waist, gripped the sword with both hands, his blood boiling. Swish! Bones were crushed, muscles were severed, the blade pierced through, actually splitting the several-meter-tall blood bird in two, slaying this front-desk clerk of the Mohgwyn Bank.
It was as if it had started to rain blood, dyeing Throne entirely red. When Esgar finally reassembled into a human form, fear brought extreme pain. This person had become stronger, unimaginably strong. How long had it been? How could he have become so powerful?
The swordsman lifted his gaze through the blood rain—one look froze the High Priest's veins solid. The priest drove his own blade into his left chest without hesitation. Blood Lightning! His body dissolved again, transforming into a crimson bolt streaking toward Throne like a barbed arrow.
Killing the enemy didn't matter. Dodging did. Getting the warning out did.
"You people never learn."
Throne tracked the blood-red arc. High-tier incantations packed real force—Gravity Magic couldn't even slow this one.
He raised his sword overhead, the blade sheathed in cyan light. One step forward. One vicious downward slash meeting the lightning head-on.
Secret Sword: Dragon Slash.
No flourish. No wasted motion. Just steel meeting blood.
The crimson bolt twisted midair. Esgar's liquefied form reconstituted into flesh—a statue of a man standing rigid by the lakeshore as Throne passed.
"You—" His head turned slowly. The second word never came.
Blood erupted across his body in a net of gashes. Swish. Swish. Swish.
The two-meter frame burst like a rotten fruit, splattering into the softened earth.
Sorry. I get even hungrier in godsforsaken shitholes like this.
Throne sheathed his sword, breathing deep the iron-thick wind. One part revulsion. Nine parts hunger. Disgust was the last thing he felt—if anything, he worried the bloodlust rolling off him might wake the Asura.
No point staring at a twice-escaped High Priest. He summoned Melina instead.
"Why didn't you call me?"
The girl eyed the carnage, sensing the beast in him—starved, restless.
"Didn't need to. Same result either way."
He wiped blood from his face, studying the scarlet gate. Definitely Mohgwyn Dynasty's entrance. Good. Mohg wasn't reckless enough to put a door in his own chambers.
And Blood Incantations? Perfect for runners.
Throne didn't do wounding strikes. He needed Mohg dead.
"Melina. Guard this spot. Kill anyone coming in. Kill anyone going out. No exceptions."
"No problem. But you're sure you don't want me with you?"
Melina could move freely now, yet she clung to him out of habit.
"Your post matters more. When it comes to ambushes, Teacher's skills don't hold a candle to yours."
Mentioning Sellen pricked her at first—but the second half smoothed it over. She gave a small nod.
"Leave it to me."
This one's easy to please.
Throne grinned. Mask off. Priest robes shed. Dark Moon armor on.
The boat waited. He didn't know the sailing incantation, but brute force had its own magic. One foot planted on shore like a skateboarder's push-off. Momentum carried the vessel gliding into the blood lake.
The bow split mist and waves, revealing the Dynasty's spires ahead. No one blinked at his arrival. Bloody Fingers came and went.
Ten minutes later, the kind priest was gone. In his place—a cold-eyed killer.
He cut through the crowd and spotted Sellen leaning against the wall, absorbed in a book. She snapped it shut and met his gaze.
"Done?"
"Done."
His hand rested on his sword.
"Left enough room for Mohg to spiral. Time to bleed them."
Sellen arched an eyebrow.
"No guards at the Mohgwyn gate? Intel came that easy?"
Throne turned halfway, the scabbard at his hip clicking against his thigh.
"There were. I put them down."
Her smile was a blade sliding home. When he got like this—terse, focused—he carried a gravity that made the world feel small around him. Not arrogance. Certainty.
The slaughter at the blood lake was not as simple as gathering intelligence.
"Last requests?" he said. "Before it begins."