Messmer was confident he could burn away the thorns of Shadow because he had been born able to see the phantom of fire.
According to his mother, he himself was the Kindling, possessing the power to burn the great tree in the distance.
Wait. Kindling?
Messmer froze at first, then his brows drew tightly together.
He remembered that he was not the only Kindling. As his thoughts deepened, face after face flashed rapidly through his mind.
At last, when that face, so familiar he could never mistake it, surfaced in his thoughts, his eyes widened in disbelief.
"My sister... have you come as well? Bearing that mission called the Kindling..."
Messmer murmured in a low voice, unable to hide the worry and anxiety within it.
She was his only true kin, the sister closest to him by blood among all his many siblings, the sister who could also see the phantom of fire.
"What?" Rellana, standing beside him, suddenly raised her head, her eyes full of shock and confusion.
She abruptly realized that she did not understand this lord of hers at all. At the very least, she had never heard of this so-called Kindling sister.
"There would be no meaning in her doing something like this alone. Someone must be with her."
Messmer shook his head lightly.
"Still, we cannot yet be certain whether the one who burned the tree was truly her..."
"If the one who burned the tree has some design in this isolated land..."
Messmer spoke softly, his voice growing lower and lower until it disappeared completely.
He truly could not guess what this mysterious person wanted. This dead land did not seem to hold anything worth plotting over.
...
Nolan had just stepped out of the dungeon.
His face was relaxed as if brushed by a spring breeze, and a clear, bright smile hung at the corners of his mouth, like warm winter sunlight piercing the clouds, gentle and soft.
That smile was pure and flawless, carrying a transcendent clarity that made anyone who saw it feel joy rise in their heart. Even his steps seemed lighter for it.
Around Nolan stood the various Demigods.
They all turned their heads, looking back at the group of worn, haggard girls behind them, their eyes filled with deep sympathy and pity.
Some of the girls sighed softly, lamenting the terrifying power of fire. Others were filled with emotion, their hearts aching for their suffering kin.
During that long, dull stretch of time, these Numen of all ages and sizes had been found by Nolan one after another, like treasures buried deep underground, hidden inside jars and vessels.
The moment they saw Nolan, they rushed toward him recklessly like moths to a flame. The sight was so fervent it was almost as if they had not seen a man in hundreds of years.
Only after undergoing the baptism of fire, gaining new life and recovering their senses, did they put on Nolan's clothes and remain beside him, never leaving him for even a moment.
Witnessing such a prolonged miracle left the Demigods almost numb, while at the same time raising the importance of the silver Lord ahead of them by several levels in their hearts.
That silver Lord, Nolan, slowly walked out from the dark, damp dungeon gate thick with the stench of rot.
He tilted his head slightly upward, took a deep breath of fresh air, then took out the Flask of Cerulean Tears and sipped the dew from the cup, feeling a wave of comfort pass through him.
Nolan stretched his arms with force, as if releasing all the fatigue that had built up inside the dungeon, and let out a long, satisfied sigh.
He drew many complicated gazes.
Those gazes came from the Numen behind him. He had spent most of the day finally completing that enormous task.
"There were even more than I expected," Nolan said with his eyes closed, chewing the steak Melina had made.
Zero risk, with a reward that might or might not come. That combination always made people excited and eager to keep going.
If they had not happened to live in the same era as the powerful Hornsent, the Numen might truly have been seen by the world as a race blessed by heaven.
Not only were the Numen all beautiful and naturally gifted in appearance, their talent for combat was also quite impressive.
Nolan completely understood why the Black Knife, despite being made up entirely of the Numen, a race nearly driven to extinction, could still surpass the Church Confessors and become the finest assassin organization.
This race truly was outstanding. Unfortunately, most Numen were not fond of fighting.
On top of that, the Hornsent had effectively cheated through the Crucible of Life, causing the Numen to often fall into a disadvantage when facing powerful enemies and become targets of bullying and oppression.
"Weakness is the root of suffering, and strength is the authority that denies pain." This was the principle Nolan taught them after they escaped from the great jars.
If the Numen had possessed enough strength, leaving aside for now whether they would have turned around and persecuted the Hornsent, they could at least have ensured their own safety.
Of course, Nolan absolutely was not blaming them for being too weak or useless.
He also disliked that kind of victim-blaming talk. It was just that, after being tempered by long years, he had already seen one simple truth clearly.
This world had never been merciful to anyone, nor would it show anyone pity.
Because it simply did not care.
"Finally out. I really didn't want to stay in that place a moment longer."
Just as Nolan was lost in thought, Melina suddenly poked her head out from beside him like a lively little rabbit.
"You don't like that place either, do you?"
"Do you even need to ask?" Nolan's lips curved slightly into a warm smile.
"I only like flowers and maidens, and all beautiful things. Blood flowers and a maiden's torn flesh are the exceptions."
As he spoke, he naturally reached out and gently placed his hand on Melina's smooth hair, stroking it tenderly a few times.
Then, as if remembering something important, Nolan pondered briefly before saying,
"Speaking of which, when you have time in the future, why not teach them some self-defense martial skills?"
Melina's eyes widened in surprise, and she asked in confusion, "Why me? You're obviously much stronger than I am!"
She had never imagined there would come a day when she became someone else's teacher.
"I really can't spare the time. Besides, as far as I know, the Black Knife Assassins are all Numen."
"These Numen are Rare Ones too. Wouldn't passing your martial skills on to them be perfect?"
After confirmation from Miquella, Ranni, and others from multiple angles, there was no longer any way to hide which school of martial arts Melina's skills belonged to.
So even though Nolan protected the girl's privacy and did not reveal much himself, everyone could roughly guess that she had countless ties to the Black Knife.
"The Black Knife? You want me to turn them into those assassins who kill without blinking?" Melina asked.