No sooner had the words left his mouth than a deafening tide of furious curses surged through the tent.
Filthy, crude abuse poured out from the mouths of people who usually carried themselves like the very image of nobility.
Some shouted that the Haligtree had no business meddling, while others turned their anger on Volcano Manor and the Redmane, accusing them of chasing fame and posturing for glory.
In the midst of the uproar, Vadri kept smiling and said nothing, letting the enraged lords vent to their hearts' content.
It was a mess, no question. The Limgrave Army was the weakest force in the King's Coalition, and their leader had been captured. What right did a bunch of minor lords have to wrestle with a Demigod?
As the crowd's rage finally began to ebb, Vadri was about to offer a few soothing words to settle everyone down.
Then an inexplicable chill crawled up his back.
It hit so suddenly that before he could even understand what was happening, his body shuddered on instinct, his brows knitting tight.
A cold flash cut through the air. In the next instant, a head flew high, blood spraying in every direction.
Its owner's mind never even had time to react before body and head were separated.
"Who's there!?" A terrified scream rang out.
"I killed the dragon. Weren't you looking for me? Now I'm here."
Nolan walked forward. His sword swept again, cutting down another man, and a mist of blood burst into the air.
"Enemy attack! Enemy attack! Someone, help!!"
The nobles finally snapped out of it. They didn't care about anything else now, screaming themselves hoarse for aid as they fumbled to draw the straight swords at their waists.
Nolan's towering frame was fully revealed. He stamped down hard, the ground seeming to tremble, and then he surged straight into the crowd.
Head after head flew. Hot blood erupted like fountains, splashing everywhere and turning the air into a scarlet rain.
Ssss—!
With the harsh, shrieking sound of blood spraying, soldiers and knights poured into the tent like a flood, only to be met with a scene of staggering slaughter.
At the center of that crimson world stood a lone figure.
He gripped a blade sharp enough to cut the night itself, silver hair whipping in the wind, dark blood sliding down the length of steel in slow, heavy drops.
If not for the mangled limbs strewn across the ground, it might almost have been beautiful.
"Golden Needle Knight!?" someone cried out, voice breaking in terror.
Nolan didn't answer. He lifted his sword, then his figure flickered, appearing atop the long table.
With a light tap of his foot, he exploded forward, launching himself at the mass of enemies ahead.
Thud—
A dull, heavy impact rang out. Two cold flashes tore across the night, instantly drawing every eye.
Nolan sprinted in, leapt, and drove a flying kick into the greatshield of a knight in front.
The force was so brutal it sent the knight flying backward, shield and all.
A burst of clattering, chaotic noise filled the air as the unlucky man slammed into the soldiers behind him.
Several were knocked down in a chain, sprawled across the ground and struggling for a long moment before any of them could get back up.
In that gap, Nolan advanced a few steps, ducking low to avoid a heavy greatsword sweeping down from another knight.
Then he twisted his waist in a sharp, fluid motion. The twin blades in his hands became streaks of lightning, and then the swordlight flashed.
Pshhk!!!
In an instant, the sound of metal ripping through flesh snapped through the air.
Armor could not protect flesh. Like a hot knife through tofu, the knight was cut into three pieces, body and plate alike.
Nolan's strength turned heavy armor into paper. The soldiers couldn't even react. By the time they managed to raise their weapons, their view was swallowed by a ruthless edge of steel.
Crack...
Two greatswords smashed down on two foot soldiers' heads. Their vision went black as their skulls burst, their bodies split vertically down the middle.
Nolan straightened, letting blood splash across his expressionless face.
Their armor was decent, and the foot soldiers and knights were stronger than the Cuckoo, but what truly raised the ceiling of a regiment like this was—
Champions!
Thud!!
Two soldiers who had only just stepped forward took blades through the chest. Their chainmail offered no protection at all, leaving them skewered together like candied hawthorn berries.
As Nolan drew back his longsword, the bodies slowly slid down from the blade.
He did not stop. With a reach of his hand, the Promised Claymore flared with radiant light.
In the brief instant before the surrounding soldiers could fully close in, a brilliant golden arc of sword energy burst forth, tearing straight into the crowd.
Three soldiers armed with spears rushed to meet it, thrusting from different directions to seal off the space completely.
What they never expected was that Nolan vanished from their sight at an inconceivable speed.
The next moment, the three spears crashed into one another midair, ringing out with a clear metallic clash.
Nearby soldiers suddenly saw a figure appear out of nowhere.
Startled, they instinctively swung their straight swords, stabbing fiercely toward the silhouette.
Clang!
The light blades struck the Golden Needle Knight's armor, but it was like cutting into unbreakable steel. The swords bounced away instantly.
If a common foot soldier could break through armor, then what was the point of wearing it on the battlefield? Might as well have heroes fight unarmored.
Did they really think just anyone could tear through heavy plate?
Nolan swept a cold glance over them. Violent currents suddenly surged around the iron boots at his feet.
Storm Stomp!
A howling gale erupted, and the entire scene descended into chaos.
The storm roared with thunderous force. Within the raging winds came the sickening shriek of tearing metal and the sharp crack of breaking bones.
The massive tent that had stood there was ripped up by the gale, and the soldiers gathered around it had no power to resist, blown more than ten meters away.
Packed tightly together, many soldiers collided and crushed into one another as they were flung through the air.
Some were skewered straight through by sharp spears. Others had limbs cleanly severed by flashing blades.
In an instant, the camp turned into a brutal slaughterhouse soaked in blood.
Nolan wiped the splatter from his face, lifted the corner of his mouth, and offered a faint smile to the soldiers still frozen behind him.
The screams had barely lasted a moment when his terrifying instincts rang out in warning. A glint of steel was closing in from behind.
That speed… a hero?
After all, this was a legion under a feudal lord. How could it be without heroes?