Minerva revealed a cruel smile and nodded slowly. He was full of interest.
Throne traveled north through the forest, not heading west to find Godricks Army as Melina had expected. Along the way, he even encountered Tarnished heading south from Summonwater Village, each one hurrying along, yet their faces bore uncontrollable excitement. Capturing Fort Haight was of great significance; having this fortress meant the Tarnished finally had a place to settle.
Even if the city fell, at worst they could jump into the sea to take a chance, which was still better than being caught and beheaded by Godricks Army. Behind the Tarnished were the furious soldiers of House Haight. They had not expected that while they were working hard to guard Summonwater Village and cut off the retreat, their own home had been stolen.
They left a small force to continue the blockade and gathered the private soldiers of surrounding nobles under the leadership of Kenneth Haight to return and put out the fire. "Big Brother's tactics are twenty years ahead of the world." Throne, who had used Night Sorcery to conceal his form, hid in a tree and watched the iron Torrent of a thousand men roll past on the road not far away.
These people were too anxious to bother searching the sides, and the Tarnished were like beasts biting into fat meat, focused entirely on settling into the fortress, surprisingly not splitting up to ambush. 'Fortunately, my suggestion was correct.
These Tarnished are like loose sand; only by placing them in a desperate situation can they erupt with power.'
After the army rumbled past, Throne jumped down from the tree. What would happen next was already obvious. The Tarnished trapped in Fort Haight had no choice. Aside from waiting for reinforcements from the Roundtable Hold, they had to fight to the death against Godricks Army.
In this kind of chaotic melee, the Tarnished, who were overall stronger, undoubtedly held the advantage. "It is difficult for Godricks Army to capture Fort Haight." Melina appeared out of thin air again; this ability made Throne incredibly jealous. "A siege can always be won, but he doesn't have the time to chip away at it slowly.
Don't forget that the forces directly under Godrick are less than three thousand." Throne paused and added, "And as the banner of resistance is raised at Fort Haight, more Tarnished will gather." Melina nodded. That would be a long standoff. Once Stormveil was threatened, Godrick would have to return to rescue it, and that would be the opportunity to kill him. "Then what are you waiting for?"
"It will take some time for Godricks Army to arrive. As an excellent time management master, I cannot waste a single second. I want to use this time to strengthen my power, even if it's just a tiny bit." Finally, are you going to use me? For some reason, Melina breathed a sigh of relief.
During this time, besides being forced to act twice, she was more like an accessory to Torrent, having played no real role. "Bring the Runes; I will convert them into power." "What does that have to do with you?" Throne was a bit confused and pursed his lips toward the Minor Erdtree in front. "I'm referring to that."
... Melina's mouth twitched slightly. So, she had been overthinking it.
She had to take a deep breath to suppress that bit of annoyance. "Why won't you use me?" This sounded a bit strange. Throne didn't take it to heart and said indifferently, "I have no money." He walked straight into the thin mist of dawn, leaving Melina disheveled in the wind. He wasn't deliberately persecuting this piece of wood; it was really because his own situation was a bit different.
Throne didn't know if he counted as a Tarnished, and even if he could pay to level up, he wouldn't dare to try. Converting the power of Runes was essentially a blessing, bestowing power through the Erdtree system. If he, as an outsider, were noticed by 'the Greater Will', things would be a big deal.
The blessing wasn't something to trifle with. Better to rely on the cheat he'd brought himself. Throne tilted his head, gaze fixed on the Minor Erdtree looming in the forest's depths. This was an experiment. I've scouted it out. An Erdtree Avatar guards the place. It's still early—the thing should be juvenile, not yet at full strength.
Using Dragon Heritage to siphon the Erdtree's power—that's the way.
The idea had struck him the moment he woke, but he'd never had the chance to act. This wasn't the time in The Lands Between when the Tarnished stirred to find even the dogs gone. The Minor Erdtree was under tight watch. Touching a single leaf would be a capital offense.
Nobles, the church—they'd turn rabid. Even the Tarnished would turn on him. Sever their grace, and it'd be a fight to the death. "But now's the perfect chance." Throne's laugh was low, predatory. A thief never left empty-handed. Reputation? Worthless. Tangible gains? Essential.
Even if it drew attention, so what? Limgrave was chaos incarnate. Who'd know who did it? Every region had its Minor Erdtree. If he could convert them all into power, his mastery of Erdtree Faith would leap forward. The thought made him glance at Melina again. She shifted uncomfortably. "W-what?"
"Just a question. You know Erdtree combat incantations, right?" He wanted to test her honesty. He already knew the answer: Melina was an incantation warrior, and a formidable one. "Some. I've forgotten many." "Forgotten?" Throne studied her blank expression.
She didn't seem to be lying. He vaguely recalled that Melina's memories would only fully return once she reached the Erdtree's base, where she'd act independently and understand her mission. "But I can teach you what I remember. Provided you have the talent."
Throne was still mulling it over when Melina spoke up, catching him off guard. "Why the sudden change? What's your angle?" "Our interests align. The stronger you are, the better for me." Her tone was calm, almost soothing. Throne relaxed. Probation period passed, then?
It was still early. Melina had options. His lips curved into a smile. "Don't worry about aptitude. Incantations and sorceries share principles. Hunt enough faith, and I'll manage." Faith can be hunted?? Melina's confusion was cut short as a hand settled on her shoulder. Throne leaned in, his smile disarmingly gentle.
"Soon, I'll be casting incantations."
On Limgrave's southeast edge stood a Minor Erdtree. In The Lands Between, time wasn't a factor. The Erdtree wasn't just any plant. If Leyndell's main trunk paid the price, a sapling from a decade ago could grow into a towering giant.
Throne reached the forest's edge, dismissed his Spirit Steed, and craned his neck to study the Erdtree. It rose a hundred meters, a beacon glowing with innate magic, calling the newly awakened Tarnished to gather. This was, in fact, their first rallying point.
Crowds of Tarnished once flocked here, drawn by the promise of the Erdtree's grace. They knelt, prayed, sought guidance—until they realized the tree offered nothing more than dew drops. Ambitions withered. One by one, they left. Fine, free dew drops were fine, but Stormveil? That was suicide. Yet here they were again, gathered beneath the golden boughs.
From a distance, Throne saw them—a hundred Tarnished packed around the Erdtree's base. Clever ones, these. They knew the risk of facing Godrick's army and sought the tree's protection. Surely Godrick wouldn't dare defile this holy ground. Throne approached the Erdtree.
Some Tarnished glanced up, then looked away. Their faces were blank, resigned. They'd staked their lives on Godrick's mercy. No time for bragging or idle chatter.
Throne ignored them. He circled the Minor Erdtree, scanning the area. Where was the Avatar? He remembered it—a towering wooden monstrosity. He'd even prepared Fire Pots for the fight. Yet after one full circuit, he found nothing. He stepped closer, placed his hand on the golden bark.
The moment his palm touched the tree, he jerked it back. His azure eyes flickered. In that brief contact, he'd glimpsed an ocean—golden, boundless, rooted deep within the Erdtree's core. The vision stunned him. Could he swallow that ocean? Could he wrestle the Greater Will itself?
Greed whispered in his ear—take it, claim the Erdtree's hoarded power. But reason shouted louder. He'd be crushed. An ant couldn't swallow an elephant. Even attempting it would trigger the Erdtree's defenses. Dogs would come for his head. At most, he could kill the Avatar. Tarnished had done it before. The tree wouldn't retaliate for that.
Throne sighed, the tension draining from his shoulders. He was about to leave when a voice called out. "Lord Isshin, what brings you here?" He turned. A young man stood there, handsome in ornate armor, a maid at his side. "Diallos Hoslow?"
He recognized him. They'd met at the Mistwood Teahouse, shared drinks and stories. Diallos was a noble, polite, but ultimately unremarkable. A footnote in history. Throne hadn't bothered to cultivate the relationship. "Didn't expect to see you," Throne said.
Diallos gave a practiced noble's salute and strode over. "Where's Miss Melina? I don't see her."
She's studying how to teach me incantations faster, Throne thought. Aloud, he said, "We got separated."
Diallos frowned, concern etching his features. "That's no good. Should I help search for her?"
"No need. Take care of Miss Lelia." Throne nodded to the maid.
He didn't dislike the pair—good-hearted, harmless. But such people rarely survived long in this world. Diallos licked his lips, restless. "Lord Isshin, I've set up a tent here. Bought some fine tea. Come rest with me."
Throne raised an eyebrow. "Even here, beneath the Erdtree, you still feel unsafe?"
Diallos shifted uncomfortably. "It's... precautionary. One can't be too careful."
Throne didn't reply. He didn't have any ill feelings toward this salted-fish duo, but it was very difficult for such good people to survive.
Throne cut him off mid-sentence. The noble youth's face flushed crimson, and the maid beside him seethed with anger. Before tensions could escalate, Throne shifted the subject. "Lead the way. Lelia's black tea left quite an impression." His sudden change in tone brought a flicker of joy to Diallos's face. Relief washed over him—he'd been drowning in shame.
That earlier remark had struck deep. No matter how he spun it, Diallos couldn't justify his failure to face Godrick. His older brother was a hero of the Roundtable Hold. Thanks to those connections, the Tarnished in Limgrave afforded him respect. His tent stood on the hillside, overlooking the Erdtree's open expanse.
"Thank you." Throne leaned back in the lounge chair, accepting the black tea. His eyes flicked to Lelia, her expression cold and unyielding. In his mind, he called out, "Melina."
"What is it?" Her voice whispered in his ear like a faint breeze. No one else noticed her presence—certainly not these low-level Tarnished. "I just offended Lelia. Did you see her put boogers in this tea?"
Silence stretched. Throne shrugged and took a sip. The tea was fragrant, rich. These noble-born Tarnished lived like they were on vacation, not fleeing disaster. Limgrave burned, and Throne had no patience for idle chatter.
He hadn't come here for Diallos. Godrick would have received the battle report by now. An army would soon march to Fort Haight. The Mistwood road by the Erdtree was the only passage. Throne would wait, but not idly. He had preparations to make. "Diallos, let's make a deal."
He turned to the hesitant youth, placing a list and several empty Flasks of Crimson Tears on the round table. "Get these ready for me, and I'll guarantee your safety—yours and your maid's."
Clang. Clang. Clang. The Saintsbridge shuddered under the weight of marching boots. Three thousand men advanced from the west, the midday sun glinting off their armor like a river of molten iron. Knights on horseback led the charge, infantry in chainmail followed, and at the center, Misbegotten slaves strained under their burdens. Bringing up the rear were two towering Golems.
Godrick had committed everything. This was no skirmish—it was a decisive strike. Failure wasn't an option. The dementia disease spreading through his ranks made every moment critical. The further they marched, the weaker the lords' grip became. Time was not on his side.
But morale was high. They'd left Stormveil, passed Stormhill, and crossed the Stormgate into Limgrave's heartland. No resistance had met them; the lawless Tarnished had vanished like smoke. The nobles who once paid lip service now sent their elites, offering supplies and support. It felt like the days before The Shattering—an army welcomed with open arms.
At the army's center rolled a massive carriage, flanked by four hulking figures cloaked and hunched. Their heavy footsteps betrayed their immense weight.
Yet, despite such hideous bodies, they had delicate and handsome faces, resembling elegant young nobles. These Grafted figures, however, lacked their usual dignity. From within the carriage came a roar, and they shrank back instinctively. "Trash! A bunch of trash!" Godrick's hand swept across the table, scattering documents in a frenzy.
Feeling that it wasn't satisfying enough, he used his hand to blast several large holes in the wall panels. Damn it, how could Fort Haight be lost? How could that group of brainless Tarnished think of a feint to the east and attack to the west? When intercepting the Tarnished's intelligence, Godrick was still ecstatic, thinking that this time he was sure to win.
He didn't ask House Haight to catch those few Tarnished leaders; as long as they inflicted heavy casualties, the mission would be accomplished. He had taken military strategy courses in Leyndell and knew that this kind of all-or-nothing plan was very risky. As a result, before he could be happy for long, another battle report arrived, causing Godrick to fall into impotent rage on the spot.
Owen and Darian looked at each other, seeing the helplessness in each other's eyes. Lord Godrick was very smart and very persistent, it was just that his emotional fluctuations were too great. "My Lord, please calm down. This matter is indeed unexpected, but it also has benefits for us. The Tarnished have gathered together, which saves us from searching everywhere."
"Yes, although Fort Haight is sturdy, its area is not large, and it cannot store too many military supplies. With some cost, we can bite it down." "You don't need to remind me of such things!" Godrick waved several arms, his face ferocious: "We are not strong enough. In this kind of siege warfare, those militiamen are of no use at all!"
He only Grafted, he didn't swap his brain; his IQ was still online. Among the army, those who could barely be called heroes did not exceed six, and the knights were no more than a hundred. There were no strong figures like Finlay or Ogha who could settle the outcome with one hammer blow. If they rashly attacked the city, how could they withstand the siege of hundreds of knight-level Tarnished?