The Greatsword in Nolan's hand swept through the air, carving out a bold slash like sunlight pouring down.
The strike was so clean and decisive that it was almost startling, as if it could cut the world apart.
Any Aging Untouchable that dared disturb this battle between Lords would be doomed the moment it touched that slash.
However, Three Fingers clearly had no intention of obeying any so-called rules of the strong.
The headless Lord of Frenzied Flame greedily absorbed the "insect eggs" while driving the remaining Aging Untouchables to spend the last of their usefulness.
Those monsters charged forward without fear, trying to ignite the young Lord with their decaying embers.
But in Nolan's eyes, there was only the other Lord, Midra, the Lord of Frenzied Flame.
Midra was howling madly at the sky.
His body was already ruined beyond recognition. He had even lost his head, let alone a mouth capable of speech.
Yet, astonishingly, a sound came from that chaotic flame, a shriek beyond words.
Midra's body was little more than skin and bones, but his withered legs were filled with power.
He suddenly burst forward, rushing straight at Nolan like a burning meteor.
His movements were wild and crude, as if he meant to release every last bit of strength he had left.
As he lunged, scattered streams of fire lashed across the ground like dense, razor-sharp blades.
Wherever the fire passed, deep trenches were torn into the earth. Even the Aging Untouchables could not escape such a violent attack.
They broke apart one after another under the impact of the fire, their bodies burning to ash and scattering into the air.
Nolan's figure flashed, slipping through the gaps between the fire streams like a ghost and avoiding the onrushing flames.
But that was only the beginning. More fire erupted from that great yellow eye-head like a volcano.
The burning flames intertwined and churned, like waves rising from an abyss, one higher than the next, never stopping.
At the same time, the Aging Untouchables corroded by the Frenzied Flame continued to surge upward in an endless stream.
Clearly, this Lord of Frenzied Flame was an exceptionally brutal ruler, mercilessly driving his subjects to their deaths while coldly harvesting their lives.
Each wave of Aging Untouchables that reached Nolan was swallowed in an instant by those hellish streams of fire after only a few fierce exchanges.
To wear down the enemy while strengthening itself. That was Three Fingers' tactic, but this clever finger seemed to have overlooked one point.
The Frenzied Flame inside the Aging Untouchables killed by Nolan did not return before the throne of the Lord of Frenzied Flame. Instead, it broke free from the Lord's control and vanished without a trace.
Nolan shone with dazzling light from head to toe, as if he were the center of that roaring inferno.
There was no sign of fatigue on him. The Greatsword in his hand was wrapped in flame, and rather than weakening, that fire only grew more brilliant, as if cheering in delight.
Fortunately, the restlessness in his soul did not affect His Majesty the Lord of Cinder's reason. He took a deep breath, and his mind settled back into calm.
The instant he adjusted his breathing, his armor tore apart again with a crisp crack.
Broken fragments of armor flew in all directions, revealing the snow-white Scale Armor beneath, hard as stone.
Flames coiled around him like the tongues of dancing snakes, weaving together with the dragon scales and covering his sharply defined body.
"I might as well take off my armor before fighting from now on," Nolan thought.
His six enormous wings suddenly spread open like drifting clouds, both fierce and beautiful enough to make the heart tremble.
If a god witnessed this sight, even they might struggle to tell whether he was a demon or an angel.
A strange aura radiated from him. Danger and purity fused perfectly in his body, forming something uncanny and unique.
Those rock-like dragon scales trembled slightly with the rise and fall of his muscles, as if they were not merely a hard outer shell, but had become one with his body and been granted an extraordinary vitality.
Nolan bathed in the Frenzied Flame, as if immortality truly endured forever within chaos.
The battlefield was soon swept clean by the two Lords.
The Finger's tactic had half succeeded. The Lord of Frenzied Flame it had chosen had grown stronger.
But it had miscalculated one thing as well. The Primordial Fire Lord had not been weakened by its scheme. Instead, he had grown even more ferocious through the slaughter.
It was pure killing desire. If Aging Untouchables stood before him, he killed them. If the Lord of Frenzied Flame stood before him, he killed with even greater vigor.
"Strange. What exactly is that fire?"
The Lord of Frenzied Flame reached out and grabbed the head of the last Aging Untouchable.
The old one's body crackled under the scorching Frenzied Flame, like dry wood set alight, and was burned to ash in an instant.
Three Fingers controlled the Lord it had chosen and casually swung the burning golden Greatsword, clearing an open space across the battlefield.
This man named Midra had already reached his limit, but he was still far from what it had hoped for.
"If only Marika's loyal hound of a son had become Lord," Three Fingers sighed inwardly.
Even with someone as powerful as Morgott, it was confident it could have raised him to an even greater height. But Midra himself was simply too weak.
It had poured far too much effort into this Sage, yet the result was still disappointing.
"Still weak, but he should be enough..." Three Fingers judged as it gazed at the power on the battlefield.
The young man before it should not be capable of reaching the level of Godfrey or Radagon.
There were barely any trees left in the forest. After all, this was a battle between two Lords named for fire.
Streams of fire had swallowed the Abyssal Woods, and rolling heat swept across the earth, burning tall trees and low grass alike to nothing.
"You two keep an eye on the ones up there!" Nolan glanced back at Florissax and Melina.
"I still have a use for them. Don't let them get scared off."
"I remember Leda saying the only place for fleeing soldiers is the gallows."
This land had already lain in a low valley, and now it was even more precarious, as if it might fall into a bottomless abyss at any moment.
Unknown fragments drifted through the sky. Red and yellow flames ignited them, turning them to ash in an instant, and they fell like a blizzard.
Nolan raised his head. How many times had he dreamed of that world's fireless end? It must have looked something like this.
After he closed his eyes, that lonely world burned out. Known and unknown ashes scattered with the wind, and all those people and things vanished with a soft pop, until not one remained.
It truly left one with nothing to say.
The story began with one tiny cluster of flame burning, and at the story's end, there was still only that same flame, going out together with the world that belonged to it, as if nothing had ever happened.
There was no time left to think about this. He turned and raised the sword in his hand once more, just as he had every other time it was time to draw his blade.