The explanation lay bare before them. Melina fell silent at once. Ranni's smile sharpened like a blade.
"Throne."
Her voice carried the weight of secrets.
"Do you wish to know why Marika murdered Godwyn?"
"To collapse the Golden Order instantly," Throne ventured, "rather than let it wither like poison in the veins?"
"Half correct."
Ranni extended both hands, fingers curling in invitation.
"Come closer. The truth awaits."
She leaned in until her lips brushed his ear. Warm breath prickled his skin as the words took shape. His eyes widened by degrees.
"She—" The revelation stuck in his throat.
"This depth of planning... Was her aim always to shatter her chains? To ascend beyond godhood?"
Melina rose onto her toes, straining to catch the whisper. When nothing reached her, she bit her lip. The deliberate exclusion stung.
Ranni withdrew, observing Throne's shock and Melina's frustration with quiet satisfaction. Her fingers curled into a tiny, triumphant fist.
Marika's designs stretched back centuries—perhaps from the moment she first grasped the hollow truth behind Grace. The exile of the Tarnished. The Night of Black Knives. The Elden Ring's final fracture. Each step revealed the Eternal Queen as no mere puppet.
Throne exhaled slowly. Of course. No ruler of will would kneel forever, feeding their own people to unseen masters. Ranni's gambit had derailed Marika's scheme—this much aligned with his suspicions.
He offered no reproach. Paths diverged; ideals clashed. When reconciliation proved impossible, one took what one needed and moved on.
"No wonder she despises you," he said. "Her original design should have reached completion."
"Naivety." Ranni's laugh held the chill of celestial bodies colliding. "She failed to learn from the Eternal City's fate. The Greater Will tolerates no challengers."
Not a shred of remorse colored her words.
"Nor will I bleed for her ambitions."
"Naturally." Throne cracked his neck. The sound split the air like kindling. "Those who walk separate roads cannot share maps."
His gaze sharpened. "As for the Black Knives' alliance with the Baleful Shadow... Alecto alone could answer. But I suspect rogue elements acted independently."
Ranni's brow arched. "Even vanished, Marika could have passed orders through—"
"No." Throne's voice dropped to a blade's edge. "In her current state, she cannot."
A flicker of surprise dilated Ranni's pupils. She bit back the questions crowding her tongue—where he'd learned this, how he could be certain. This man continually shattered the boundaries of her expectations.
A smile bloomed on her lips, radiant and dangerous.
"Then I need not fear a hidden hand moving pieces against me."
"More than that." Throne gestured to the horizon. "The Two Fingers and their assassins lie weakened. The path beyond this region opens before you."
The implication struck Ranni like lightning. The Black Knives—the Fingers' deadliest instrument—lay broken. Marika's influence had crumbled. Without offensive capabilities, the Two Fingers could no longer leash her.
For the first time in eternity, the Lands Between offered not a cage, but a threshold.
Ranni leaned against the window frame. The dawn wind tangled through her hair. The long detour had cost her nothing—she could still execute the original plan. Even after finding that blade and slaying the Two Fingers, the stars could wait.
"You've gutted most of her contingencies. Marika will want your head for this."
Throne's fingers tightened around his sword hilt. "Let her try."
His voice dripped contempt. The arc held Marika suspended—she wasn't leaping down to crack his skull open. Outside, the rising sun burned away the last shadows. The path ahead lay clear.
Ranni's most immediate threat had halved. The Tarnished wouldn't find her so easy to assassinate now, not before they grew stronger. And Throne would ensure they never got the chance.
"I'll raise Caria's banner over Raya Lucaria."
Ranni's palm pressed against the sun-warmed stone. The princess vanished from her posture—shoulders squaring like a queen taking inventory of her domain.
"Secret alliances with the Nox. A power bloc in the Lands Between. And in the dark?"
Her fingers curled. "We break the shackles. That blade must be found."
"Suggestions?"
Throne exhaled through his nose. "Walls high. Granaries full. Let the throne gather dust until we're ready to take it."
Ranni went still. Then her eyes kindled.
"Weakness as armor. Let them think us contained. When we're strong enough—"
"—we rip them out by the roots."
"Exactly. Push now and they unite against us. We cede the East Coast. Give Morgott an exit that saves face. Build strength quietly—mutual destruction only serves vultures."
"You think Morgott will retreat?"
"He has to. Leyndell's nobles are dragging anchors around his neck. I saw it in Limgrave."
The Lands Between hadn't yet hit rock bottom. That cut both ways. The noble incompetents would hamstring Morgott, yes. Severing north-south routes would panic them beautifully. But the Two Fingers still had teeth in this era—who knew what they held in reserve? Assassination might be off the table, but open war?
The Church of the Two Fingers remained. Its bishops were anything but feeble. Yet launching armies required pretexts.
Throne's sword rasped as he lifted it.
"This stays buried. The secrets would scorch the earth. Caria reclaiming Raya Lucaria? Perfectly legitimate. What rallying cry do they have to turn the entire Lands Between against you?"
"Declare me an enemy of the Golden Order?" Ranni's smile showed teeth. "Ten years too late for that."
Throne's finger stabbed the map. The motion carried the weight of a general surveying his legions.
"The Haligtree and Redmane have mauled each other. Gelmir are also rebels, Godrick has already been killed by me, and the old order's carcass is picked clean by Tarnished vultures. Whatever cards the Two Fingers hold, they can't play them now."
Throne did not mean to underestimate the Two Fingers; just as there was an Astel, Naturalborn of the Void beneath Liurnia, but aside from the Baleful Shadow, nothing could be used immediately.
"That tree looks indestructible, but in reality, its roots have already been shaken. There are simply too many people who want to fell it!"
Throne raised his hand, pointing at the Erdtree outside the window, and enunciated each word: "The Erdtree arose from conquest, yet it failed to eradicate everyone. When a spark appears, it will sooner or later become a prairie fire, and what we need to do is accumulate power, ignite this wildfire, and divert their attention."
"Who do you want to bear the wrath of the Two Fingers? The Nox aren't qualified, and they aren't that stupid."
Ranni was very calm; she knew that Caria's biggest flaw this time was sticking its neck out. No matter how much they planned, the possibility of the Two Fingers flipping the table still existed.
"There will be someone, but until we find them, we need to let the Two Fingers fight against the air."
"Setting up decoys to make them fall into chaos? They aren't stupid, you know."
"I've long prepared for that." Throne laughed loudly and pointed at his own face: "What do you think I am?"
A Carian Knight, or perhaps my husband?? Ranni was dazed for a moment, but knowing Throne wouldn't joke about important matters, she thought slowly, and soon, her eyes lit up.
"Death Eater!?"
Exactly.
He had buried a huge trap ten years ago. Over the years, Morgott and the Two Fingers had dug three feet into the ground looking for Sellen, clearly viewing him as a top-tier threat.
"No, you alone aren't enough. They've had no leads for years, so they should be starting to get suspicious."
"Don't worry about that. When it comes to acting, no one in The Lands Between is better than me."
Looking at the composed man, Ranni smiled. Everything was as he said; the roles of attacker and defender had reversed, and the initiative was on her side.
"Tell me, when exactly did you start planning for this moment?"
"You saw right through me." Throne couldn't help but laugh, and said casually: "The first time I had a deep conversation with you, when I determined our paths were the same."
The seed had long been sown, and the purpose was very simple. Ranni should not be a lone traitor, but a banner—a banner that could turn the world upside down. No one was more suitable than Caria; after all, it was the only power that had survived the golden conquest.
The dragon race had lost its king, the Storm King was left only with the Banished Knight, the Eternal City was buried deep underground, not to mention the extinct giants. Back then, Caria had forced Radagon to marry into their family.
Even if the two sides hadn't completely fallen out, Ranni was still a regional lord under the Erdtree, but those with discerning eyes would always notice Caria's rebellious heart. The power of one person is completely different from that of an interest group, and to become the leader of this interest group, one needs power and prestige.
And there is no greater prestige than making the Two Fingers helpless.
The princess took a deep breath and turned around, giving off a feeling of unparalleled majesty, like an ambitious queen.
"From this day forth, I am Caria!"
......
This long night changed too many things and could even be seen as a turning point.
The physical shackles the Two Fingers had placed on Ranni were shattered, and no one knew how they would respond. The losers, on the contrary, had to actively hide it, otherwise, it would only reveal their own powerlessness. But one thing was certain: if it previously took eight parts of effort to kill Ranni, now it would take twelve.
She wasn't just a lonely witch anymore. She was a monarch now, with cities, people, legions, and heroes at her command. The difficulty had skyrocketed—not just a little, but exponentially. Twelve parts of effort? Easy to say, but actually exerting it would strip away their last shreds of dignity.
And what about Rykard? Who would keep those restless monsters and demons in check?
As Throne had said, the seal of the golden order had begun to loosen during The Shattering. What Throne did was cut a fuse. Those Baleful Shadows could kill Ranni—and they could kill anyone who disrupted The Lands Between. That's why Caria wouldn't talk about it, and the Two Fingers wouldn't expose it either.
If Alecto were pushed out, the other monsters and demons would suddenly realize: Oh, the dignified leader of the Black Knives was captured alive? The Erdtree has fallen this low?
......
Time passed.
Beyond the chaos sparked by the fall of Raya Lucaria Academy, life went on. Songs were sung, dances performed. The Lands Between seemed unchanged, except for a few great nobles in Leyndell who sensed something was off. No matter how they probed, they found nothing. So they tucked it away, buried it in the back of their minds.
Outside Raya Lucaria, the lake rippled with gentle waves. In the distance, the Carian Army's majestic singing echoed. On a blood-stained island, a slender figure stood motionless, wrapped in a gray cloak. Only a few strands of light pink hair peeked out—a woman, perhaps. This had once been the nest of the Glintstone Dragon, Smarag.
She knelt, grabbed a handful of soil, and rubbed it between her fingers.
"A lower being. Degenerate trash," she muttered, her voice sharp as a blade. What a waste of time. She stood, tossed the soil aside, and gazed at Raya Lucaria Academy in the distance.
"I came here for some fun. Didn't expect it to end so quickly. Humans are fragile creatures."
The newcomer didn't care about Smarag's fate. She only regretted missing the battle. As she turned to leave, she spotted a fleet of ships on the horizon. Her expression shifted, a flicker of seriousness.
"The Lunar Princess is finally crawling out of her turtle shell. The Lands Between is getting more interesting. But as a former hegemon, it's not something you bugs can insult."
Splash—A giant crab burst from the lake. The Glintstone Dragon's corpse was a feast for them, but as soon as it crawled out, it spotted the figure on the island. Without hesitation, it lunged, pincers snapping.
Might as well make it dessert.
Bang! A long, narrow object whipped out from under the cloak—a gray-brown tail, like a whip. It smashed the crab into minced meat mid-air. The force of the blow knocked the hood back, revealing a face of unparalleled beauty and pride. At first glance, tempting. Closer, aloof.
Flesh rained onto her pink hair. Golden slit pupils flicked toward the horizon. Her lips curled, and her long scarlet tongue licked the blood from her cheek. Lansseax's expression twisted with dark amusement.
"Hmm. More fun to watch."
......
The bow of the ship cut through the waves. A dozen small vessels glided silently across the lake. These were Caria's later models—double-decked, luxurious compared to the humble boats of the past.
Throne stood on the deck, lost in thought, pondering the path ahead.
The air smelled of burnt sage and iron—the aftermath of too many battles fought too close together. Throne's fingers drummed against his sword hilt. The Two Fingers hadn't moved against them. Not yet.
Either they weren't willing to pay the butcher's bill for open war, or they were playing some longer game. Ranni wasn't the only one who wanted the Erdtree gone. Marika's grand gesture had just dug them all a deeper grave.
No king. No god. Only the hollow shell of a golden tree, and the vultures circling.
Throne exhaled through his nose. A temporary reprieve, but he'd take it.
His head snapped up. The hairs on his neck stood.
Melina approached, balancing a chipped porcelain plate. Black pepper and seared lamb fat perfumed the air.
"What's wrong?"
"Felt something." He stabbed a piece of meat with his dagger. The juices ran pink. "Powerful."
The first bite melted on his tongue—garlic, rosemary, perfect char.
"You've outdone yourself."
Melina's sandals scuffed the dirt as she craned her neck. "See anything?"
Throne licked grease from his thumb. "Melina's master-chef skills, or my own exclusive, secret recipe?"