Throne, being a layman, naturally felt nothing. As a believer in brute force, he had never been interested in such metaphysics. Taking advantage of the brief pause during Sellen's meditation, he took another look at his surroundings. When he saw the jellyfish floating among the ruins, he could not help but recall something.
"Jellyfish Clara... tsk, I had almost forgotten her since I rarely use ashes."
Throne took out the box containing the ashes. After ringing the bell, the ethereal jellyfish appeared.
"Hmm? A Spirit Jellyfish. Such an interesting thing, how did you acquire it?"
Sellen opened her eyes, not annoyed, but rather intrigued.
"How could you tell?"
"Do you think those jellyfish are living creatures? And why would one add the word 'Spirit'?"
Sellen pointed towards the drifting jellyfish. Without waiting for Throne to ask, she answered, "They are manifestations of souls, though most of their memories have been erased. Of course, there are exceptions; like this one, its obsession is very deep."
Throne nodded, indicating he had learned something. He then saw another jellyfish drifting over. It floated very slowly, as if it had sensed their presence but was afraid that the formidable Throne might mistake it for a monster and cut it down.
"Oh? Another Spirit Jellyfish. Has such a long passage of time not faded its memory?"
Sellen was amazed.
"It is her sister, likely waiting for her to watch the stars together."
Throne reached out and touched the jellyfish in front of him, saying in a low voice, "Go on. My promise has been fulfilled."
The jellyfish spun around, as if a lively young girl were dancing in gratitude, and then drifted off toward the other one.
"If you leave them be, once their obsession is fulfilled, their souls will vanish into nothingness," Sellen reminded him.
"Isn't that a good thing? Their long wait has finally come to an end."
"But their consciousness will also end as a result. They are not Primeval Sorcerers. To us, life and death are meaningless, but consciousness is everything."
Throne paused, then slowly turned his head.
"Do you have a way to prevent that?"
"Do not underestimate your teacher's puppetry; it has advanced even further beyond the foundations laid by Seluvis."
Throne was somewhat skeptical. He wasn't sure if Sellen had simply been moved by a desire for research upon seeing new, novel material, so he thought about it carefully. He was an existentialist. If the end result of fulfilling a wish was still death, it seemed to have little meaning beyond adding a touch of poignancy. Only existence was happiness, and only being alive held infinite possibilities.
However, he was not arrogant enough to play the savior and forcibly alter the fate of others. He simply said to Sellen, "Before they disappear, go and ask them. If they are willing, then do them a favor."
"Leave it to me."
Sellen immediately rode off. Seeing her so eager, Throne immediately concluded that Sellen was indeed just intrigued and wanted to conduct an experiment.
But this was not a bad thing; it was just a small effort, and regardless of how the sisters chose, it would have no impact on him. This was the composure of the strong; at the very least, such trivial matters would not occupy Throne's mind. He fed Torrent some rowa fruit and watched Sellen converse with the jellyfish while mounted.
He watched as the two jellyfish, which had already begun to turn into particles, gradually stopped, and he could even sense astonishment and joy from them. It made sense. After finally reuniting, they had countless words to share; why choose to die? Once consciousness is annihilated and returns to silence, one can feel nothing at all. Annihilation strips even the deepest feelings bare, leaving only sadness and boredom in its wake.
He watched the two jellyfish bow to him. Watched Sellen gather them in. Watched her turn the horse toward the ruins without a backward glance. She returned sooner than expected. Before Throne could speak, Sellen flung an object at him. The dagger in his palm gleamed—strange, beautiful, undeniably ancient.
"Jellyfish Clara's gift for you. Stab it into flesh, and the effect takes hold."
Sellen's voice was matter-of-fact.
Throne turned the blade over.
"Reduces magic consumption. A rare talisman."
He'd already guessed its purpose. Removing the threshold for legendary magic demanded staggering reserves. This would help.
"Talisman?"
Sellen snorted.
"This is a primeval glintstone blade. Astrologers use it to pierce their own hearts after condensing glintstone—to ascend. Guard it well. I'll need it later."
"How?"
"Open your chest. Implant the glintstone. Fuse it with your soul."
Her lips curled.
"You didn't think some common dagger could manage that, did you?"
He had, actually. Throne was no stranger to self-dissection. No wonder he'd only reached the most basic version. Magic runes, Lusat's glintstone—to him, they were just armor. External power sources. Amplifiers.
That explained the crushing backlash each time he removed the threshold. The near-total magic exhaustion that followed. True magic required touching the soul, and he'd never taken the time to let knowledge settle over years of study. A shortcut. He didn't care about the process.
If Lusat and Azur's consciousnesses were erased… If I fused their glintstones with my soul, combined with my full-body runes…
Throne's frown deepened. Now he understood Sellen's fervor. Like the Eternal City, this was about forging a god. A god of magic.
"Feel free to experiment, Teacher. Just don't kill me."
"I'll be careful."
Her solemnity rang hollow.
"So much research still hinges on you. I'll try not to kill or cripple you."
Try. The word lodged in his ribs like a splinter. Throne forced a smile and glanced back at the ruins. Nothing left to loot. He turned his horse.
"Move out."
Hoofprints scored the snow southward, erased almost instantly by the wind. After miles, Sellen's mount faltered. She swung up behind Throne without ceremony.
They crossed frozen rivers, scaled cliffs. Eventually, Throne let the reins go slack, trusting Torrent's instincts as he dozed. He kept his face forward. Sellen, restless with excitement, kept leaning around to prod him with her tongue whenever he drifted off.
Torrent's stamina defied reason. The sky darkened before the spirit steed finally slowed, veering into a snow-choked forest. Throne jolted awake.
Something was wrong. Torrent didn't slow without cause—hunger would've brought a whinny, not this cautious tread. He straightened, scanning the skeletal trees.
The metallic tang of blood threaded the air.
Throne and Sellen exchanged a glance. She dissolved into motes of light. He drew the Nights Cavalry's Glaive and nudged Torrent forward.
Clop. Clop. Clop.
The sound echoed as horse and rider vanished into the trees.
He slowed. Corpses. A Rune Bear's carcass lay sprawled across the path, its fur matted with blood. These beasts roamed The Lands Between—common sights, unremarkable. Further ahead, a Troll knelt, its massive frame slumped forward. A gaping hole pierced its chest, the edges scorched black from some burning flame. The wound was precise, deliberate. The aura it left behind was unmistakable.
Throne dismounted in a single motion, his boots crunching against the dirt. He strode forward, his gaze narrowing. Something glinted within the Troll's hollowed abdomen—strands of crimson hair. His dread surged. He raised his hand.
The Glaive flashed. The Troll's body split open, and a figure tumbled out. She was tall, her leather boots scuffed, her longsword still clutched in her grip. Red hair spilled from beneath her cloak.
Throne lunged, catching her before she hit the ground. His arms tightened around her.
"Disciple, the coast is clear."
Sellen emerged from the shadows, her eyes landing on the girl in Throne's arms. She froze.
"Malenia? No... Millicent?"
"My disciple," Throne confirmed, his voice steady. He gestured for Torrent to approach and kneel. Gently, he laid Millicent across the steed's back.
Only then did he notice her wounds—the black smoke curling from them, thick and acrid. But she was alive. Barely. Without hesitation, Throne retrieved a flask of crimson tears and tipped it to her lips. Golden Order Incantations bloomed from his hands, their light casting sharp shadows across his face. Silent. Focused.
Sellen stood aside, useless in healing but unable to look away. Throne's calmness unnerved her. He worked as though saving a stranger, yet his intensity betrayed his true emotions. She exhaled softly, her gaze darting away. She knew him better than most. Throne was furious.
To Sellen, Throne was a paradox. When they first met, he'd seemed measured, mature. His thirst for strength drove him to endure any hardship, even if his theoretical knowledge lagged. A promising talent, she'd thought.
But after that night in the archives, she'd glimpsed the madness beneath. A man who'd risk everything for a promise, no matter how trivial. Over time, the contradictions only deepened.
At times, he was coldly methodical, calculating every move with surgical precision. Other times, he was reckless, a gambler who ignored risk and reward entirely. Still, he remained both calm and passionate, free-spirited yet unyielding in his desires.
"Disciple, calm down. Even I'm startled."
Throne didn't look up, his hands continuing their work.
"Why? Am I not calm enough?"
"That's what terrifies me," Sellen murmured. "The calm before the storm is always the most dangerous."
Throne's hands stilled. He lifted his head slowly, his eyes now a burning gold.
"As expected of my teacher. Only calmness can suppress this killing intent."
Black flame. Millicent's wounds. Throne didn't need explanations. The worst-case scenario had unfolded. Melina had been targeted, and the Godskin had been drawn out. Millicent had escaped, delivering the message—barely.
Why the Godskin, servants of the Gloam-Eyed Queen, had entangled themselves with Marika, he didn't know. Nor did he care why Marika had lost her patience or what traps she'd laid. The Godskin's motives? Irrelevant. Logic had no place here.
Only one truth mattered.
"Since they touched my people, I will take their lives."
His tone was calm, final. Sellen felt no jealousy. She knew if the Leyndell Army ever took her, Throne would tear them apart just the same. A mad dog that would not stop until death—either the army would be wiped out, or the mad dog would perish.
"Then when she wakes up, we will go once we have the intelligence."
Sellen did not say anything about 'calming down,' nor was there any talk of 'careful consideration.' If the disciple wants to kill someone, the teacher just needs to go along with it.
"Thank you, Teacher."
Throne nodded slightly, not saying another word. In the snowy forest, the wind howled.
When the sky had completely darkened, under Throne's relentless incantations, Millicent finally opened her eyes on the horse's back. Her amber pupils still held a trace of confusion. It took a long time before she saw the person in front of her by the light of the torch.
"T-Teacher!"
Millicent struggled, wanting to jump up, but Throne pressed her back down.
"Even if the Godskin have lost the Destined Death, their black fire is nothing to joke about. It causes significant damage to the soul."
The girl obediently stopped moving. It wasn't that she was being obedient, but she realized her body was limp and lacked even a shred of strength. Looking at Throne's calm eyes, she looked away, feeling somewhat guilty.
"Teacher, I'm sorry. I didn't follow orders, and let Melina..."
"No need to apologize. The thing to do now is to rectify the mistake."
Throne had no intention of blaming Millicent. Seeing her disheveled state, he knew she had risked her life to break out.
"Millicent, answer my questions now, as concisely as possible."
"Yes!"
Throne immediately began his questioning, his logic clear and his words concise. Millicent was no fool, and she answered fluently. Where did you encounter the enemy? How many enemies were there? What was Melina's condition? How did you break through the encirclement? Key questions were thrown out one by one, and a few minutes later, Throne had his answers. He closed his eyes to reflect. Those two idiots hadn't listened.
They had actually tried to bypass the Leyndell Army to reach the Haligtree. It was one thing for Melina not to stop it, but she had actually been persuaded by Millicent. The two had trekked all the way and encountered five Godskin at the gorge in the southwest.
They were formidable, and among them, one apostle wielding a peculiar greatsword was especially powerful. If I'm not mistaken, that must be the Godslayers Greatsword, the weapon of the Gloam-Eyed Queen. Whoever holds it is certainly no ordinary apostle. The enemy's situation was roughly clear, and Melina's choice also put him at ease.
This blockhead was no longer just 'orgasming' at the mention of a mission; after seeing and hearing so much along the way, she had developed her own insights and new goals.
"And then this group of bastards resorted to force when soft tactics failed?"
Throne almost couldn't suppress his killing intent. The root of it all was him. Because of a misunderstanding, Melina had treated him as a target for a transaction. Yet, Throne was not Tarnished, nor could he become King as Marika had envisioned. If Throne had died, he would have just been a passerby in Melina's mission journey. But instead, he hadn't died, he had grown stronger, and even touched the Frenzied Flame, completely tearing up the scripted plot.
How could Marika, who had sacrificed everything, tolerate that? But neither Melina nor I are your tools. What does your plan have to do with me? Throne opened his golden eyes and gazed at Millicent.
"You couldn't help but release some Scarlet Rot while escaping, and you injured one of the Godskin?"
"Yes. Will you blame me?"
"Well done. At critical moments, one must have the courage to burn their boats. But the price you paid is also heavy."
Throne pointed out the reality without mercy; most of Millicent's condition stemmed from the erosion of the rot.
"There was no other way. I had to leave a clue for you; it was my duty."
Millicent met his gaze, filled with courage. Two pairs of golden eyes met.
Throne's hand settled on Millicent's head, fingers threading through her hair with deliberate gentleness. The weight of his palm carried more than warmth—it carried promise.
"I understand. Don't overthink it."
His thumb brushed her temple.
"I'll repay every drop you've spent."
He studied her—the way her body strained against the rot's corruption, the stubborn set of her jaw. Miquella's name burned brighter in his mind now. One more debt to settle.
"I believe in you."
His voice dropped to gravel.
"But if it can't be undone, put me down like a rabid dog."
Millicent's chin lifted. Not defiance—dignity. Even Sellen caught her breath, watching from the shadows. Throne didn't wait for reverence.
"I said I'll fix it. That means it gets fixed."
He jerked his head toward Sellen.
"Teacher. Slow the rot. Get her to the Snowfield."
Sellen's robes whispered as she stepped forward. "You're certain you don't want backup?"
The horse screamed as Throne wrenched its head around. Snow swallowed him whole before the echo faded. His laugh rode the wind back to them—
"Killing—I'm good at it!"