The battle had just left Nolan's armor ruined, and blood was smeared all over his body, though every wound was superficial.
He gave a slight shake of his head.
"No need."
The moment he spoke, Dolores and Melina beside him both went wide-eyed with shock.
They could clearly see the blood-soaked wounds on Nolan's body healing at a speed visible to the naked eye.
And yet he had used neither Incantation nor medicine.
"Let's go. Nepheli and Vyke must be getting impatient."
Nolan bent down and picked up one of Godrick's severed arms from the ground.
On one of its thick fingers was a ring giving off a dim, eerie glow.
He had noticed long ago that this ring had the same effect as his own Spirit Ring, so throughout the battle he had stayed on guard against Godrick drinking a potion.
After all, as a direct descendant of the Golden Lineage, Godrick had escaped the Royal Capital with no small number of treasures. Carrying a Spirit Ring was nothing unusual.
Nolan blew the Spectral Steed Whistle, swung himself onto his warhorse, then raised his sword high and pointed it straight at the Erdtree on the horizon as he roared:
"The battle is not over yet. All soldiers, heed my command. Regroup the army!"
Torrent broke into a run once more, and the cavalry followed close behind him, racing toward the sea of people in the distance.
Not far away, within the battle line, a knight spoke in panic:
"My lord, the relief force has been crushed, and the front line has collapsed as well. Those Tarnished have led their men out of the fortress and are cutting their way through!"
At this dreadful news, the knight commander's face turned instantly grim, and he slowly closed his eyes.
In truth, from the moment he learned that someone had dared launch a surprise attack on their main camp, he had already felt a faint sense of foreboding and immediately sent troops back to support it.
But he had never imagined that Godrick would truly lose.
If even Godrick had been defeated, then they stood even less of a chance.
The silence lasted only a moment. Then the knight commander's expression gradually settled, and he spoke in a calm voice.
"If the soldiers want to run, let them run. Pass down my order. Have the knights prepare for battle."
The knight beside him stared in shock.
"We're breaking through and returning to Stormveil?"
"No. Prepare to meet the Tarnished in battle!" the knight said in a low voice.
Before his words had fully fallen, the other knight answered loudly, "As you command!"
There had never been any thought of retreat, because someone had once made them all a promise.
One day, we will return home.
Together, we will return to our homeland at the Foot of the Erdtree.
They say the orthodox line is the main branch, and all others beneath it are side branches. As for the main branch beneath the Erdtree, its claim is rightful and proper.
The nameless Lord of Omen is beyond compare. The malformed, immature siblings can only look on in despair.
Oh, we are the People of Gold, the people of the rightful Lord.
Even if the land is barren and dark clouds fill the sky, when we raise our heads, the great tree is still as verdant as ever.
One day, we will return home. Together, we will return to our homeland at the Foot of the Erdtree.
Grace will rise to guide us and lead us back to our homeland at the Foot of the Erdtree.
...
But now, the one who made that promise was dead.
Godrick's knights were fearless to the end, but before Nolan's impossibly sharp blade, there was nothing they could do to change the outcome.
After this battle, all the heroes who had followed Godrick from Leyndell were left dead upon the battlefield.
The nobles under his banner suffered even worse losses, nearly wiped out to the last man. Only a very few escaped by sheer luck and made it back to their own lands.
Nolan led his cavalry and joined Nepheli, Vyke, and the others at Saintsbridge.
The garrison of Miro Fortress came out in full force and followed the heroes as they swept toward Stormveil Castle.
They did not slow for an instant, galloping all the way as they hunted down the enemy remnants.
Along the road, the thunder of hooves rang into the heavens, deafening in its force.
That rolling tide of steel surged across the broad bridge, throwing up clouds of dust.
Banners snapped in the wind like a blaze of many-colored clouds.
Countless swords, spears, and halberds flashed with cold light, packed together so densely that the sight alone was enough to chill the heart.
Yet when this mighty host reached the foot of Stormveil Castle, what greeted them was utter silence.
The walls, which should have been bristling with defenders, stood empty. The gates were wide open, and the soldiers and knights inside had already laid down their arms and chosen surrender.
This city, which had endured a thousand years of storm and hardship and still remained grand and imposing, now seemed strangely forlorn.
It still towered into the clouds, still looked unbreakable, but without its master's protection, it had also lost the courage and strength to keep resisting.
Vyke and the others formed ranks at the front and shouted with all their strength:
"Enter the city!"
"Welcome our Lord, His Highness Nolan Bethel! Long live His Highness!"
Under the gaze of the entire army, the surrendered men all raised their arms and shouted in unison.
Nolan's face remained calm as still water. He accepted their reverence without hesitation and lightly raised his Claymore.
He had slain the Golden Heir and claimed the Great Rune. In the eyes of the people, he had naturally become a Shardbearer Lord.
The army followed behind him, while the soldiers of Stormveil Castle hardly dared breathe, more and more of them laying down their weapons.
Morning light spilled over the land, draping the earth in a soft golden veil.
Bathed in the dawn, the soldiers and knights watched their surroundings with wary eyes.
They looked at the legendary city that had surrendered without a fight, at the endless tide of steel pouring through its gates, and at Godrick's corpse lying peacefully inside his coffin.
At last, everyone's gaze came together on the silver-haired knight leading them.
No, he was no longer a knight. He was a true Lord.
The breeze stirred, and his long silver hair streamed in the wind.
His back was straight as a towering pine, carrying a majesty beyond compare.
The Longsword in his hand shone with brilliant golden light, as though the radiance of the sun itself had gathered there.
Whether he would one day fall or not no longer mattered. His legend had already begun to spread from one tongue to another.
The winds coiling around the mighty city howled without end, as harsh and chaotic as ten thousand galloping horses.
Soldiers in heavy armor, knights astride towering warhorses, heroes bearing glorious deeds and honor, Tarnished radiating an unyielding spirit.
Everyone drew a deep breath, as though they wanted to pull all the tension and exhilaration of this moment into their lungs.
They were witnessing the birth of a new legend, and they themselves were part of it.
Woo.
A bleak horn call sounded, and the inner gates of Stormveil opened to welcome its new master.
The defending soldiers inside the city cast down their weapons and lined up neatly on both sides of the road.
The line stretched from the gate all the way to the grand palace, like a winding giant dragon.
And the new Lord, mounted on his spirit steed, rode at the very front of the army.
There might still be die-hard loyalists to Godrick hidden in this city, but with Nolan's current strength, no one could assassinate him unless they were a top-tier killer on the level of the Black Knifes.
The iron host followed behind its new monarch, their ragged yet thunderous footsteps shaking the ground as if the earth itself were about to tremble apart.