It was supposed to be a sure thing. Then the Red Wolf appeared, and everything changed.
Hoarah snapped back to his senses. No choice now. If this one escaped, it'd mean more trouble than he could handle. Throne knew magic. A Red Wolf loose below, fire raining from above—no way to fight.
Clang! His long sword met cyan gauntlets.
What the hell were these things made of? Even Moonveil's magic blade couldn't pierce them. Throne took half a step back, his head tilting as the fist wind hissed past his helmet. He reached out, pressed down on Hoarah's shoulder, stopping him from retreating.
Crack—
Their struggle sent their feet sinking into the bluestone floor. Spiderweb fissures spread outward. Both heads snapped up at the same instant.
Bang!! Helmets collided.
Hoarah staggered back, blood streaming down his face. The Carian Knight helmet was dented.
"Damn it, how's his head so hard?"
"I knew you'd try a headbutt."
Throne yanked off his ruined helmet. Glintstone light burst from his forehead—he'd layered himself with defenses. Hoarah seized the moment, pushing off with his toes, lunging forward with his long sword raised high.
"Dragon Slash!"
A pale sword aura streaked across the ground, meters long.
Throne rolled to dodge, then raised his hand.
Crystal Burst. Swish, swish, swish—point-blank shotgun fire. Hoarah crossed his arms over his chest, but his body was still shredded, blood splattering everywhere.
The rain had just stopped, and now the wind roared. Throne's blade stabbed straight for his brow.
Hoarah raised his hand, scalp tearing. No time to think. He grabbed the blade, yanked it toward him, and drove his knee upward.
Bang! Knee met knee. Throne's thigh went numb. His eyes widened, a grin spreading.
"This barbarian's got strength. And willpower."
Hoarah gripped the sword tight. Throne raised his left hand, but this time, no pale light blade.
"Gravity Binding!"
The same move he'd used against Yug, designed for melee fighters. This Tarnished was different—muscles bulging, straining against the binding.
Throne let go of the sword, grabbed Hoarah under the armpits, twisted, and bent his waist. A throwing technique.
"Sorry, I'm not just a swordsman."
Every part of the body can be a weapon. He hurled Hoarah through the air, his eyes locked on the Tarnished as he released a barrage of black comets.
Boom, boom, boom…
Explosions erupted in the air—Leon's Haima Cannon intercepting the comets. Hoarah couldn't die. They needed him for cover.
But when Hoarah looked up, his pupils shrank. Throne appeared in the sky, a massive golden battle axe in his hands.
"Starlight movement. Why does that axe look familiar?"
Before he could think further, Throne swung the axe down with everything he had.
"Starlight Drop Slash!!"
Thud—
The rising storm forced everyone to shield their faces. The central fountain shattered into pieces.
A massive axe slammed into the center of the gauntlets. The fine weapon, forged by unknown hands, cracked under the impact. The force caved Hoarah's chest in. Throne leaned over, grabbed his head, and lifted the two-meter-tall warrior off the ground.
"Don't underestimate me, Tarnished."
It took guts to fight him up close.
Even if this person had greater strength and decent technique, they could not withstand the fact that he had many skills. Ashina Style could combine all tactics and techniques, using any unexpected means to reap lives; in this regard, it far surpassed any other school.
The strongest Tarnished was held in his palm.
Not to mention the two professors who were struggling to dodge the Red Wolf. 'Stray Sorcerer' Vilhelm took one look, slowly backed away three steps, and turned to flee without looking back.
If he did not leave now, he would die too.
Hoarah could not see his companion's heartless escape. He did not scream or beg for mercy; he simply concentrated his last strength, lifting his foot to kick at Throne's chest.
Throne, who also disliked nonsense, bent his waist and slammed him hard back into the ground. Then, he stood up, looked at Oritis, who was gathering magic, and turned his palm toward his back.
Bang! A comet blast directly blew the person into fragments of meat filling the sky.
Then, pulling out the great axe, Throne reached out, pulled back the long sword stuck in the ground, and gave it a light flick.
"Did you think fighting was just about who is more berserk?"
He said this, but with a great axe in one hand and a long sword in the other, he looked more berserk than anyone else.
"Charge!"
Without any hesitation, Throne pounced toward the next target like a bloodthirsty beast.
In his eyes, the Comet Azur released by Oritis snaked toward him. He made a sharp stop to dodge, only to see the magic chasing behind him like it was equipped with a tracking missile.
"Precise magic control?"
Every magic professor had their own research direction, just like Seluvis's puppets, Ayla's barriers, and Leon's battlefield magic. Watching the 'missile' behind him, he whispered, "Melina!"
A few azure particles covered him. Oritis, who was slowly moving his staff, was stunned and quickly rolled to the side.
Clang—
A Red Wolf smashed through the ground.
It shook its head and looked fiercely at him, its body still burning with cyan magic flames. Oritis's head was buzzing. The Red Wolf was actually ignoring its own injuries, forcing its way through Leon's blockade to attack him. This appearance was just like a fierce dog protecting its master.
"He can control the Red Wolf? How is that possible!"
Throne certainly had no resemblance to Radagon, but in the heat of battle, the Red Wolf could not distinguish carefully. It only saw the mage attacking Throne, who possessed a familiar aura, and directly pounced over, fighting to the death!
The uncontrolled Comet Azur flew into the night sky. Throne pressed his hand to the ground, forcing his body to stop. Before him was Oritis, who was dodging the Red Wolf's pounces in a panic, and another magic professor was rushing back to support in a fluster.
He raised his hand and threw the door-sized great axe out directly.
Leon hurriedly stopped, thrusting his staff hard into the ground.
"Magic Blast!"
A cyan cannonball exploded in front of him, but this high-level Haima magic had all its impact and energy blooming forward, forming a kind of defensive barrier. The golden battle axe spun into the sky.
However, Throne did not intend to pounce in directly. He sprinted forward until he was in front of the Red Wolf and raised his leg high.
"Idiot, go hit that one!"
Just like a soccer kick, the Red Wolf, not yet understanding what was happening, whimpered and rolled several times. It broke through the dust and immediately saw the cyan light. Professor Haima had already used his full strength; the cyan light on his staff had already formed a triangular pyramid.
When he saw clearly that what rushed in was not a Carian Knight, it was already too late.
"Advanced Magic: Haima Cannon!"
Boom—Rumble—
Throne felt the scorching wind hit him from behind—chunks of flesh and red fur slapped against him, the air itself boiling. This was a magic professor's ultimate technique, raw and devastating. Even with the Thopss Barrier, he wasn't sure he could withstand it.
He turned. The Red Wolf's chest cavity gaped open, torn apart.
"Gathering magic for an armor-piercing effect? Useless against a beast this size!"
The Red Wolf was massive, its vitality relentless. It bit down on Leon before he could retreat, shaking its head violently.
Blood—wolf and human—mixed. The screams were sharp enough to peel skin. The famed magic professor had missed his mark. He felt his body tear, saw a long sword growing in his vision, then pain split his brow.
Darkness took him. Inertia ripped his body apart.
The upper half fell from the wolf's mouth, thudding to the ground. The sword trembled faintly before flying back. A flying blade had ended the professor's suffering.
Throne caught the returning sword and smiled at the bewildered Oritis.
"Professor, do you remember me?"
The Red Wolf's heavy panting echoed in the distance. Before him stood the sword-wielding knight; the remaining Tarnished had fled.
Oritis narrowed his eyes, studying him, then his expression twisted.
"You! How?"
This was the traveling mage Sellen had taken away.
Rumors said he'd tangled with powerful figures, but the academy's focus had been on Sellen. They'd dismissed him as insignificant. Now he'd returned, turning Raya Lucaria Academy into chaos.
"Yes, I've come back to visit my alma mater," Throne said softly, his words dripping with irony against the ruined square.
The gift was too heavy—thick smoke billowed from nearly half the academy, blood and corpses littered the ground. Even the Red Wolf whimpered, its vitality fading after taking a direct hit.
"So it was you pulling the strings back then. You used Sellen."
Oritis wasn't a fool. Whoever could orchestrate this was no small player. He backed away, several Comet Azurs primed like a Glintblade Phalanx.
"You're wrong. I'll always be Sellen's beloved student and teacher."
Throne's smile was warm, but he made no move to attack.
He lifted his gaze toward the distant Grand Library, as if a mountain loomed there, pressing down. His expression turned solemn.
"If you've got any trump cards, now's the time. I'm in a hurry."
Thud, thud, thud—heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed clearly.
A dark golden shadow appeared on a distant rooftop, standing silent, watching Throne from afar.
"Could this be—"
Throne's eyes widened. No matter how hard he thought, he couldn't imagine seeing this one at Raya Lucaria Academy.
Golden wings unfurled in the distance. The figure launched into the air, speeding into the square and landing heavily before Oritis.
Boom! Gravel exploded upward.
The knight stood tall, gripping a tree spear and great lance. Throne tightened his grip on his sword, speaking in unison with Melina.
"Crucible Knight!"
......
The bright moon hung vast and ethereal. Even in Liurnia's farthest corners, the light bursting from Raya Lucaria Academy's peak was visible. The distance turned the destructive flashes of magic into flickering glimpses, fleeting as lightning.
Yet since the battle began, Ranni had stood at the window, gazing out.
No words passed between them. No orders were given. The man charged straight into the enemy's lair without hesitation—just as she'd imagined he would—risking everything to buy them time.
Ranni's fingers tightened on her thigh, pressing against the half-finished mask beneath her robes. Her face remained cold as the Dark Moon, but something flickered behind her eyes.
"Lady Ranni."
She straightened, mask vanishing into her sleeves as she turned. One of Throne's magic professors stood waiting—Miriam, returned from the outer defenses.
Ranni wasn't foolish enough to refuse reinforcements when the heavens themselves trembled.
"The outer city's evacuated." Miriam's voice softened. "I beg you to take refuge. Leave this to Iji and me."
A pause. "Not to question your majesty—only to keep you safe. We swore oaths."
Ranni studied her. "You know already."
Miriam nodded. The truth lay bare between them—the strain of maintaining a physical avatar, the unnatural brilliance of that Dark Moon overhead.
"Your power expenditure is... conspicuous. Why would you—"
"Enough." Ranni cut her off. "My plans are my own."
The Night of the Black Knives had left her a demigod in spirit only, her original body slain by her own hand. These enemies required strength she no longer possessed.
"They're waiting for me beyond these walls." Ranni's gaze drifted to the distant academy spires, where torchlight wavered against the gloom. "And he still fights. If they fail to find me here, they'll hunt elsewhere."
Miriam exhaled but didn't argue. Years guarding the Divine Tower had taught her the princess's moods. This sudden shift defied reason—the same woman who'd vowed to betray all now burning precious power to shield them. The academy's barriers could withstand a daylong assault, yet Ranni chose to bleed herself dry.
"One more matter, Your Highness."
Miriam produced a scroll. "The Ainsel River Tarnished retreated. The Nox sent terms."
Raya Lucaria barely held its own. When Darriwil's bloodhounds had poured from the well, even the Bloody Finger knight fled. Yet Ranni took the letter with glacial calm.
Her lips curved at the first lines—gone was the Nox's ancient arrogance. They groveled with gratitude, offered alliance, even proposed sending their Dragonkin Soldier to aid the siege.
Nokstella's refusal meant little. Their lost technologies still lingered, much like the academy's own research—capable of churning out knights by the dozen. Hundreds of Nox and their underground riches would make fine spoils.
Then she reached the signature. Her smile died.
I, Night Maiden Annelina, give infinite thanks for the righteous deeds of Caria's prospective Prince Consort Throne...
At the very least, those hundreds of Nox and the rich underground were a great harvest.