Some even began to wonder whether this war could still be called a war between humans.
One side had been numbed by pain, the other driven mad by death. Neither remained within the bounds of ordinary humanity. Both had become terrifying monsters.
Ranni, seated on Nolan's broad shoulders, suddenly lifted her head. After meeting his eyes, she asked in puzzlement,
"You've made such a huge show of force. Aren't you worried that Mohg might run?"
At Ranni's question, Nolan's lips curved slightly, a confident smile appearing on his face as he replied softly,
"Why would he run? This is his stronghold. Is he supposed to throw away everything he's spent so much time and effort building without even fighting once?"
"If he's so afraid of me today that he flees before the battle even starts, then tomorrow should he also be afraid of Malenia, Radahn, and his twin brother?"
"If that's the case, then he can forget about calling himself the Lord of Blood!"
Ranni and Melina exchanged a glance, then fell silent in tacit agreement, offering no objection to Nolan's words.
A Lord ought to have at least that much pride. At the very least, fleeing without a fight would be humiliating.
Nolan leisurely spread his hands, as though the entire battlefield were already under his control, and shouted,
"Enough talk. Let's give our enemy the wounds and suffering he's always dreamed of!"
At his command, the hordes of Those Who Live in Death behind him surged forward like a great tide, pouring toward the Royal Shrine.
After "upholding justice and eliminating evil" all the way from the Lake of Blood to the Royal Shrine, the captives from earlier had already been fired up beyond measure. Only now did they finally understand why so many people were willing to follow this Lord.
Fighting for a noble ideal truly did make people more driven. Wiping out these festering blights that plagued the Lands Between was a noble cause.
"There's no time to waste. Eleonora, keep leading the Tarnished and the others. Melina, keep your eyes on the upper ranks of the Dynasty of Blood. The moment they show themselves, we move. We need to break this place as fast as possible." Nolan spoke quickly.
Compared to the vast territories held by the other lords, the land occupied by the Mohgwyn Palace was pitifully small.
Beyond the Blood Lake, not far ahead, lay its core. The Palace's Sacred Temple, their main stronghold.
So Nolan intended to force the decisive battle immediately. He had no interest in wasting time.
Closer to the stronghold, the Blood Dynasty Subjects were obviously even more deranged than those on the outskirts.
Their obsession with wounds had reached the point where not a single patch of healthy skin could be found on their bodies. Their crimson flesh was laid bare outright.
And mixed in among these barely human "subjects" were giant crows and hunting hounds covered in tumors, along with those red Albinauric Sons. Just like that, a monstrous army had taken shape.
A deafening roar of battle suddenly erupted as the two massive armies crashed into each other like raging floods!
For a moment, dust billowed up and blotted out the sky.
And amid that chaotic battlefield, one figure stood out above all others. Nolan, charging at the very front atop Torrent.
Along the path of his advance, the ground was carpeted in a thick layer of blood-red dust, as though it had been soaked in blood. The sight was shocking.
On both sides of the road, the once vivid red flowers now seemed listless and withered.
They swayed weakly in the wind, and from time to time, a few fallen petals drifted down like crimson fluff, floating toward the rippling lake that reflected a brilliant "starry sky."
How could those blood-crazed wretches, so obsessed with tormenting themselves to death, possibly stand against the Undead Legion?
The instant the two armies met head-on, the Mohgwyn Palace formation collapsed like a fragile sandcastle and broke apart in every direction.
Nolan swung the Dark Moon Greatsword, unleashing overwhelming Magical Power and bringing down large swaths of buildings.
Watching from above, Ansbach could not help but draw his brows together tightly.
He stared at the unstoppable figure on the battlefield and murmured to himself, "So it really is Sir Golden Needle Knight. No, I should be calling him the White Lord now."
"Who is that? That kind of presence already rivals a Demigod." Having finished gathering the priests and nobles, Esgar rose on tiptoe to look out at the fierce battle in the distance.
Even from that far away, he could still clearly feel the pressure pouring off Nolan, enough to make one's heart tremble.
And Esgar sharply noticed that Ansbach sounded far more emotionally shaken than usual.
But he had no time to think about why, because the war before them demanded all his attention.
Ansbach answered at once, "That man is Lord Nolan! The king chosen by His Highness Miquella, and also the enemy of my lord's ascension. Esgar, has Lord Mohg awakened yet?"
Esgar shook his head, his face grave. "Not yet. But I've already sent more people to speed up the blood infusion. He should wake soon."
As he spoke, deep wariness and resentment showed in his eyes.
After that brief exchange, Esgar finally understood the situation.
That silver-haired knight below was the very man who had grievously wounded Lord Mohg.
That brutal battle had left Lord Mohg still recuperating even now.
Esgar cast aside the last trace of contempt he had still held for Nolan.
In that clash at the Haligtree, Lord Mohg had endured the corrosion of Scarlet Rot, the impact of freezing Magical Power, the bewitchment of an Empyrean, and the Saintess's Eternal Sleep.
In the end, his heart had been torn apart, and he had even lost an arm. Only under Ansbach's escort had he managed to return to the Dynasty.
If Lord Mohg's Aspects of the Crucible body had not been strong enough, he would have died in that battle!
Even though every possible effort had been made in recent years to treat him, those injuries still had not fully healed.
Now Mohg still needed slumber to help him recover, and meeting that need had already consumed a vast quantity of blood stored in the Blood Lake.
And that blood had originally been prepared for the Lord's consort. The god who was meant to share the Lord's bed.
Such enormous expenditure only made the already poor Dynasty worse off, so they had begun desperately recruiting outsiders in large numbers.
To put it simply, they took anyone. No matter who, no matter what species, as long as it was alive, they accepted it.
That was exactly why the Dynasty's number of followers had exploded over the past few years, swelling at an astonishing rate like a rolling snowball.
Throughout the Lands Between, suffering and misery were everywhere. No one could remain untouched by it, and no one could truly stand apart. In such an environment, the Dynasty's preaching naturally found extremely fertile ground.
After all, when people are trapped in endless hardship, they are often far more easily drawn in by words that seem to promise deliverance and comfort.