The Lord of Cinder, wielding sovereign-level power, finally cast off the shackles that had bound him for so long. His immense strength descended upon the Sacred Tower like a volcanic eruption.
This man-made catastrophe ended quickly. The battle had been decided the moment the three Divine Beasts Warriors were routed, though its speed was almost impossible to believe.
Nolan picked up a Twinblade from a severed hand, his face expressionless. The blade flashed with a cold gleam, as if it still held the lingering heat of the bloody slaughter that had just ended.
The air was thick with the stench of blood and death. The aftermath of the carnage was enough to make anyone's skin crawl.
Yet Nolan found calm in the killing. He slowly turned his head and looked beside him. The ground was covered with the traces left behind by the Hornsent.
Warm blood flowed everywhere, forming dark red streams. Mangled scraps of flesh were scattered across the ground, giving off a nauseating reek. Severed limbs were piled high like a small hill built from death itself.
After only a brief glance, Nolan no longer wanted to look.
He turned away and walked toward the distant gate, then raised one hand and lightly pressed it against the cold metal panel. White light flared, instantly shattering the seemingly indestructible metal gate into countless tiny fragments.
Once that was done, Nolan withdrew his hand and stepped out of the tower in utter silence. In the darkness, his long silver hair burned like fire.
His steps were neither fast nor slow, keeping a distinct rhythm. Wherever he passed, flames rose from beside his feet and spread swiftly outward.
The expected "desperate resistance" or "head-on confrontation" never came. The fire advanced across the ground without obstruction and climbed into the branches.
The thorn-covered boughs were swallowed easily by the raging flames. The Impenetrable Thorns crackled in the firelight and turned to ash in the blink of an eye.
As time passed, the fire grew fiercer and fiercer. The weak sparks soon became a vast, boundless sea of flame.
The blaze rolled and surged like waves upon the sea, each one higher than the last. Thick smoke mixed with fine ash danced wildly through the air, drifting toward the distant horizon on the night wind.
The whole world seemed to be swallowed by that sea of fire, leaving only endless heat and unrestrained fury.
The Lord of Cinder walked toward the gate. He strolled through the flames, and the wavering firelight seemed to bow before its Lord.
"Yes, this is the feeling. Let this fire burn me to ash!" The Formless Mother's voice echoed through the boundless space.
Time seemed to blur, making it impossible to tell whether it was day or night.
The dim sky looked as if it had been shrouded in a layer of gray-white mist, oppressive and suffocating. The staircase connecting the tower and the town was deathly silent, without the slightest trace of life.
Nolan, who had just stepped out of the sea of fire, slowly raised his head and looked not far ahead.
On a gray-white warhorse kneeling on the ground sat a towering, skeletal figure.
The figure was impossible to ignore. Its entire body was pierced through with countless blades and swords, yet even so, it remained seated there steadily, without moving an inch.
Farther down, cold corpses lay scattered across the long staircase, enough to send a chill down one's spine.
This skeletal little giant was like the most loyal knight in the world, silently guarding the garden high above behind it, never taking a single step away.
Nolan had heard Trina mention it before. In this dangerous land, this was the force they relied on to ensure their safety, the Putrescent Knight.
So-called putrescence was the final form taken by filthy, rotting flesh, yet these things had never fully died. They could only cling to existence in endless agony.
When the Putrescent Knight saw the unfamiliar figure, it did not attack, because the man approaching from behind carried the scent of the Saintess.
Nolan walked on, scanning his surroundings. The staircase was littered with these black clumps of mud, but he did not see a single living enemy.
It seemed the Hornsent could do nothing about the Empyrean and Saintess who had been "sneaking around," or perhaps they had complete confidence in the Warriors inside the tower and had therefore retreated.
Nolan stopped before the Putrescent Knight. The peaceful sleep bestowed by Trina allowed these tormented beings to briefly escape the abyss of pain where living was worse than death.
Perhaps they sought the happiness and peace they had not felt for so long. Or perhaps they wished to repay Trina for the unprecedented gentleness she had shown them.
They willingly became loyal guards, silently protecting the seemingly frail and fragile Empyrean and Saintess.
The silent Putrescent Knight had already done enough. The Promised Consort, on behalf of the gentle goddess, gave him the reward he deserved, the death he had longed for.
This was not only recognition of his deeds, but also mercy and release.
While Trina offered tenderness and compassion to the loyal knight who had guarded her, Miquella's thoughts went in an entirely different direction. He was more concerned about the people who had appeared around Nolan.
Miquella had learned that Nolan had retrieved Torrent from Melina. But Torrent's Spectral Steed Whistle had been left by him at the Haligtree, only for it to suddenly be stolen under the strict protection of the Golden Needle Knights.
To the Knights of the Haligtree, that was a relic of the Empyrean's beloved. It would not be an exaggeration to call it the most important treasure in all the Haligtree.
To steal the Spectral Steed Whistle while it was under the close watch of heroes showed just how exceptional the thief's stealth skills were.
There were not many people in the Lands Between with that kind of ability. Aside from the mysterious Dynasty of Blood, the only ones that came to mind were top-tier assassins such as the Black Knife Assassins or Church Confessors.
Taking this as a starting point, Miquella quietly considered how to draw some valuable information out of Melina.
But thinking of Nolan's attitude, he decided to ask in a more roundabout and tactful way, so as not to cause unnecessary trouble or misunderstanding.
Unfortunately, the innocent, naive girl before him, Melina, had not even figured out the answer to "Who am I?" yet. How could she possibly answer Miquella's circuitous, carefully veiled questions?
After several fruitless attempts, Miquella had no choice but to set Melina aside for the time being. He turned his gaze to Nolan and asked,
"How does Torrent feel about her?"
Hearing Miquella's question, Nolan, who had been focused on the ground, nodded.
"Torrent likes her a great deal. Before she found me, the two of them had already been companions through wind and rain."
"Torrent acknowledges her too? That is a relief."
After hearing Nolan's answer, Miquella let out a small breath of relief. It seemed he still trusted Torrent's eye and judgment quite a bit.
Even so, expecting him to fully put his mind at ease was clearly unrealistic.
After all, a spirit horse and a beautiful young woman had appeared before them together without the slightest warning. Such a bizarre situation was far too strange. It was undoubtedly a premeditated plot.