Throne, engrossed in inscribing the twelfth loop, paid her no attention. Veins bulged on his forehead, and the corners of his mouth, clenched around a towel, curled slightly upward. Madness seemed to fight the pain within him. He... was smiling? The young girl's expression twisted in disgust. Her scalp tingled, and she jerked her head back.
The Erdtree glowed in the distance, but that fleeting glimpse lingered in her mind like a carving knife. The more she thought about it, the more bizarre it felt. "What terrifying willpower. Even among the Golden Heroes, few could endure such a thing. And he's smiling." Just witnessing it made her hair stand on end.
In just a few days, she'd formed a stark impression of this collaborator. Extremely intelligent, formidable in combat, with willpower far beyond the ordinary. And a unique kind of madness. A ruthless man—absolutely ruthless. Melina took deep breaths to steady herself. After calm analysis, she realized this worked in her favor.
The more ruthless Throne was, the greater their chances of reaching the Erdtree. If someone had to become the Elden Lord, she'd prefer it be him. At least he commanded a certain admiration. A breeze lifted her robe, and the girl felt a growing sense of anticipation.
Footsteps broke her reverie. Her hand instinctively rested on the blade at her waist, relaxing only when she recognized the figure. Vyke approached, brows furrowed. He'd seen Melina from afar. They'd never spoken, and her icy demeanor kept strangers at bay. He steeled himself to approach.
"Miss Melina, is Isshin here?" "He is." Her face remained hidden beneath her hood, her tone calm but firm. She didn't move. "I'd like to consult him. Could you inform him of my presence?" Vyke's voice carried a hint of awkwardness.
Pushed by fate, he felt adrift. Last night's bizarre events lingered in his mind, and Throne was the first person he thought of.
"He's working. No one is allowed in."
Vyke's face fell. He turned to leave but froze. His nose twitched. He spun around.
"Why do I smell blood? Is Isshin alright?"
Melina stood silent, offering no explanation. She was merely carrying out Throne's orders. No need for elaboration. If she said he couldn't enter, he couldn't enter. Vyke's frustration grew. The heavy scent of blood reeked of violence. He turned to call for help.
A hand clamped on his shoulder. The grip was firm, halting him in place. Vyke, a seasoned warrior, found himself immobilized. He instinctively reached for his sword.
"Do not bring more people to disturb his training."
A cold voice echoed in his ear.
"Training? Is he creating a pool of blood?"
Vyke's voice rose in alarm.
What kind of training in The Lands Between required blood?
"No, he's experimenting on himself. I checked earlier. The blood loss is... significant."
Vyke stared at her, speechless. He turned abruptly, his face serious.
"What kind of training is this? As his companion, don't you care about his safety?"
Melina blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
The man's intense, almost crazed expression flashed in her mind again. Right—this was an experiment, fraught with danger. What if he bled out? Why had she dismissed the risk so easily? A breeze swept past, and the girl fell into deep thought. Behind that image, other scenes flickered—decisive slaughter, the severed head of the Bloody Finger, meticulously laid plans…
Every time she thought their arrangement was failing, that man proved her wrong. Time and again, Melina had learned from it. She didn't step aside. She stared at the conflicted young man before her and answered slowly, deliberately. "No. I believe he can do it."
The daylight faded, and the forest fell into silence. Throne had chosen a spot far from the other Tarnished, so the scent of blood hadn't drawn attention. A soft breeze lifted the tent flap, revealing the blood-soaked earth beneath. Vyke's eyelid twitched.
He stared at Melina, standing rigidly by the tent, and swallowed hard. Words failed him. Her stubbornness left him speechless. She guarded the entrance, refusing to let him leave. They locked eyes across the distance. From noon till dusk, the man's agonized groans echoed.
Enough blood had been lost to drain a bull dry, yet the girl's expression hadn't budged. "You trust him that much? Isshin's strong, but even the best make mistakes." "Yes. He's trustworthy." "What if he dies? You'll regret it." "If death's his fate, I'll accept it." Her calm logic crushed him.
Vyke covered his face, frustration boiling over. "I've lived long enough to know—I've never seen a companion like you." Companions were supposed to care for each other. Even with trust, you checked in, offered aid at the first sign of trouble. Companion? Melina tilted her head slightly.
She'd walked The Lands Between alone for years. The word felt unfamiliar. After a moment's thought, she didn't argue. Her bond with Throne wasn't just transactional anymore. If it were, she'd only appear at key moments to guide him—not stand here like a statue for hours. "Vyke, what's a companion?"
The young man glanced up from kicking pebbles, suspicion in his eyes. This woman baffled him. Call her cold, and she'd stand guard unmoving all day. Yet she wasn't warm or caring.
A high-EQ description? Her emotions were minimal, as calm as still water. A low-EQ one? She was as dull as a block of wood. "Companions share a goal. They support each other, face life and death together." Melina's gaze shifted strangely.
According to Vyke's explanation, she and Throne were companions. Goals aligned, mutual assistance—even if forced, they'd fought side by side. "So that's it. He and I… we're companions." "Right, so you should care more. Losing a companion is hell."
Vyke looked hollow, the memory clearly etched in him. Hell? Melina considered it. Quantitatively, if Throne died, regret would outweigh disappointment. A small shift, but a shift nonetheless. "If he dies, it'll be inconvenient." Then why not check on him now?"
That groaning sound has disappeared for several minutes!" "No, I believe he can do it."... Vyke sat down dejectedly against the tree trunk. Communicating with this Melina was simply too difficult; he was defeated. But thinking about it carefully, the importance of this trust seemed to be no less than care. Actually, he didn't notice the change in Melina's expression.
After the previous conversation, it seemed to make the young girl realize something. She tilted her head slightly and truly discovered that the groaning sound had disappeared, replaced by a weak heartbeat. Did something really go wrong? She raised an eyebrow.
According to Throne's commission, she was supposed to guard the entrance without moving a muscle until the full moon rose and the commission ended. But Vyke's words lingered in her mind. Known: Throne. and I are companions, and companions should care for each other. If he dies, the feeling will be very terrible. 'So I should still take a look?
If he really fails and is on the verge of death, I should find a way to save him?'
The young girl, who had just learned a new vocabulary word, hesitated for a moment and reached out to touch the tent flap. But before she could touch it, her eyes widened slightly. The tent flap moved without wind, as if it had been sucked away by something, and a person appeared silently in front of her.
"Are you curious?" Throne was wrapped in a headscarf, bare-chested, his skin covered in sweat, the veins on his forehead not yet fully faded. A strong smell of blood and sweat entered her nostrils. Melina instinctively took a half-step back and carefully examined Throne. His muscles were still symmetrical, and there was no feeling of a reborn transformation.
There were still lines of blood on his arms, but they were in the process of healing and would likely be invisible before long. On the outer side of his left forearm, there was a protrusion, and through the skin, a faint purple light could be seen. "You succeeded?" Melina's expression was a bit strange. After going to such great lengths, she couldn't see much difference.
"Yes, it can be considered the completion of the first step." Throne raised his forearm, a slight smile appearing on his face. In order not to affect flexibility, he had made some modifications. For example, drilling a hole in the forearm bone and embedding the large glintstone into it. After the experiment just now, he finally understood why masochists existed in the world.
After the pain came the ultimate satisfaction and pleasure. But recalling just now, he grimaced again. All the flasks of crimson tears searched from the Bloody Finger had been drunk. It was conceivable how much blood had been shed and how much magic power had been consumed. Without this miracle drug, the experiment would be equivalent to suicide.
It was not just the experiment; he even felt that his precise control of magic power had improved again. After all, not everyone had the opportunity, under extreme pain and on the verge of fainting, to still guide the flow of magic power inch by inch. Melina knew very well the price Throne had paid; such risks were not something an ordinary person could bear.
She was stunned for a long while before answering calmly:
"You truly are a madman." "Can I take that as a compliment?" Throne's smile widened. "As you wish." Throne did not emphasize how awesome he was just now, and Melina didn't have any feelings of worship or the like. Everything was as calm as water, as if asking what to eat for dinner tonight.
"By the way, Vyke wants to ask you about some things. If you want to rest, I can help dismiss him." Throne turned his head and saw the somewhat uneasy young man not far away. After thinking about it, he shook his head: "No need, he is very important in the upcoming plan." "Alright, then you go ahead." Melina stepped aside. However, Throne didn't rush over.
"One more thing," he said, his voice tinged with desperation. "Can you grab dinner from town on your way back? And pick up another flask of crimson tears. I'm... not feeling myself right now." "I'll be back soon."
Before he could finish, Melina adjusted her hood and left without a word. Her slender figure disappeared into the distance, leaving Throne momentarily stunned. Had she actually listened? He watched her go, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. Was this the same Melina? The same woman who'd barely spared him a glance before?
He shook his head, dismissing the thought. Maybe she'd finally started to see him as more than just a nuisance. Or maybe she was just in a good mood. Either way, he wasn't about to question it.
Throne chuckled to himself. Charisma wasn't his strong suit, but he could command respect when he needed to. He strode toward Vyke, shirtless, his skin smooth and unmarked thanks to the crimson tears. The sight left Vyke visibly unsettled.
"Isshin, what... what were you doing just now?" Vyke stammered, his eyes darting over Throne's body. "Secret training from the Land of Reeds," Throne replied, a grin tugging at his lips. "Want to give it a try?"
Vyke shook his head violently. He'd been waiting here for six hours, listening to Throne's agonized groans echo through the woods. Whatever this training entailed, it wasn't for the faint of heart.
"You're sure?" Throne pressed, reaching out as if to drag him into the fray. "The pain's worth it in the end."
"No, no," Vyke said, backing away half a step. "I'm not into that kind of thing."
He hesitated, licking his lips, then gathered his courage. "Actually, there's something important I need to ask you."
Throne leaned against a tree, exhaustion evident in his posture despite the crimson tears. "You want to know if I'm the one pulling the strings behind the scenes?"
"Uh, I did think about asking that," Vyke admitted, "but it's not important anymore."
He straightened, his voice firm. "Even if the process was shameful, even if it was bizarre, I've become 'The Dauntless.' I've heard the cheers of the Tarnished. This responsibility is mine to bear, even if it costs me my life."
Throne smiled faintly. Good. The kid had spine.
Maybe, in another world, Vyke had stumbled into greatness through sheer luck. But here, he was choosing it. That was the difference between a hero and the rest—a will to seize opportunity, no matter the cost.
"Go on," Throne said. "What do you want to ask?"
With the words on the tip of his tongue, Vyke hesitated. Istvan had said it was confidential, but if anyone knew what to do, it was Throne. He clenched his fists. "Word's come from Stormveil. Godrick's preparing to declare war on the Tarnished in Limgrave. What should we do?"
The air tasted of iron and impending violence. Throne's scarf muffled his smirk, but his voice cut clean through the chill: "Ask the Roundtable Hold. Not me."
Vyke's palms slicked with sweat. "Istvan's gone dark. No contact. That's why I'm—" His throat clicked. "—why I'm asking."
Limgrave's rabble shifted behind him. Fools. They'd break before landing a single blow.