One by one, the Aging Untouchables knelt to the ground, rising and falling like a yellow tide, allowing those withered feet to step across their heads.
Legend said they were messengers who welcomed the Lord. Now, their wish had truly been fulfilled, and they knelt beneath the feet of their own Lord.
The Aging Untouchables were like certain insects that had completed their mission, laying their eggs before reaching the end of their lives.
As those feet stepped over them, their bodies shattered.
Only, the "eggs" they left behind did not bring new life. Instead, strands of yellow light flowed toward that Lord and merged into his body.
All things return to the One. What a fine "all things return to the One." These things had been born as part of that "One."
"What a hateful Lord," Trina said softly.
The world she wanted to create certainly did not include crushing everyone together and kneading them into a single mass.
"I don't like it either," Nolan said, calmly watching the other Lord.
That feeling made him deeply uncomfortable. It was rejection from the very root, but he knew there was a pitiful soul buried beneath that shell.
The small, thin Lord treading over the heads of his countless subjects gradually grew larger in Nolan's eyes, though he still could not be called tall.
He was about the same size as Nolan, an ordinary height of a little over two meters, close to three.
In the Lands Between, that size was not common, but it was still normal. At the very least, it was nothing worth making a fuss over.
Now everyone could see clearly. This was a power that should only have been seen in the deepest dark, a Lord carrying the Frenzied Flame.
Midra, the weakest and strongest Lord of the Abyssal Woods, breathed amid the churning tide, the yellow currents flowing like drifting loneliness and frenzy.
The great deity had made him come here, yet the one who had come was not truly him.
Nolan looked down at the Greatsword in his hand. The cold blade was smooth and pristine, and the murky blood had failed to leave even the faintest trace on it, because the Lord disliked it.
Trina looked at Nolan's hands. Once, his whirling dance with twin swords had made Her Highness the Goddess want to keep watching forever. Now his hands looked so lonely, and the feeling in her heart was hard to describe.
"Speaking of which, why are you only using Ranni's sword?" Trina asked. "Where's the sword I gave you?"
"I couldn't find it when I woke up," Nolan said with a frown.
"Then it should still be at the Haligtree," Trina said gloomily.
Miquella heard it too. It really was not proper for his Lord to use someone else's weapon.
As history lovers and children of the former Lord Consort of Caria, they knew the Caria family had ancient traditions with a long history, things like gifting swords and rings...
There was no mistake. The Lunar Princess sitting on the other shoulder had wicked intentions. The problem was that they could not say it outright.
Fortunately, the petite Goddess had already taken action herself and was far ahead.
"Isn't this much better than giving him a sword?" Miquella and Trina nodded at the same time.
Trina glanced at the girl beside her, who had one eye open and one eye closed, then lowered her head and looked down at herself.
The only problem was that the Goddess was growing far too slowly, while her opponent was so powerful that Trina could practically be ignored.
"Nolan, I'll grow up, so you have to wait for me!"
Trina nodded. Her soft yet firm voice sounded at an utterly inappropriate time as she stared at the silent figure drawing closer through the yellow tide.
Nolan and Trina exchanged a glance. "What are you thinking about at a time like this... But I'll wait for you properly, so don't worry."
Nolan glanced at Florissax in the distance. The dragon flock was hiding in the sky behind her, and it seemed the rock-like Ancient Dragon truly held a special place in their hearts.
She was the enemy their species should hate most, yet she also stirred envy and dependence deep in their hearts.
In the past, with Florissax's strength, she should have been able to fight that Lord for a while. After all, Midra's weakness was a truth written into the game text.
But that twisted body was now clearly being controlled by something hiding in a dark corner, fighting in its place.
Nolan let out a soft sigh. He felt a little displeased, and he understood that this was not the Priestess's war.
He knew he wanted to kill the other side, but his target was not that frail old man. It was the even more twisted and frenzied thing hidden inside that shell.
The gaunt figure among the corpses drew closer and closer. Nolan could not tell how much of the Sage's consciousness remained. Perhaps he could see him, or perhaps he could do nothing at all.
As for the feeling of turning oneself into part of something else, Nolan did not really know either. Strictly speaking, the fire inside his body was himself.
The difference, if there was one, was probably the difference between a shell and a soul. Even this body of his had been born from that soul.
Fortunately, he was already used to it, and he could face the threat posed by a power like Frenzied Flame with a level head.
He could eat it.
A target that could not coexist had to be met with blade and steel. This was the only way chaos and order could get along, just like the destruction and reshaping of the world.
The blood tide surged to everyone's feet. Thousands upon thousands of dark yellow flames rushed into the sky, and the thin figure came before them, twisting his body as he slowly stopped.
Everyone could understand Midra's pain now. Flickering flames burst from beneath his skin, scorching him from the inside out.
A barbed Greatsword pierced through his brain and chest. He walked step by step, his withered muscles like a skeleton, his eyes hollow.
His arm rose with difficulty. In the slowly flowing moment, Nolan watched it place its hand on the hilt of the sword lodged in the top of its head.
Though only bone and a thin layer of skin remained, it was still so pure, pure in its boundless complexity.
Its hand suddenly clenched, pierced by the spikes until blood seeped out. The Greatsword that had impaled its body was pulled free, and its comparatively fragile head shattered outright.
The forked barbs of the golden Greatsword wound around the straight blade like vines curling around a trunk, forming a tight spiral whole.
Tattered strips of cloth served as royal robes. Upon the headless neck, a huge eye of flame slowly opened. It was the divine Incarnation hidden within, and the sound of its burning was like a whisper from the abyss.
Strands of yellow flame unfurled like a sunflower in bloom. A chaotic, twisted will descended from that sun, drawing everything in like a black hole in the sky.
Nolan spun and swung the Dark Moon Greatsword. The deep blue arc of the blade flared with firelight and sealed off every space, waiting for Midra's flames to crash into the sword edge on their own.
When the two flames collided, they produced completely different effects. The Frenzied Flame roared with the fury of a savage beast, while the Primordial Fire was almost silent, giving off only the faintest sound.
Only Nolan could feel the vibration coming from the depths of his soul. His soul seemed to be excited, and his blade struck Midra's golden sword, twisted like a long spear, without the slightest drag.
Nolan felt a surge of pure pleasure. With every collision, the firelight on the Greatsword in his hand grew brighter.
Because that fire desired to make the world distinct. That was the essence of its existence.
The greedy flame burned brighter and brighter, while the chaotic flame remained dark and undying.
Nolan let out a deafening growl. With every slash, he took another step forward. This so-called Struggle of the Great Way was simply a magnificent feast of mutual devouring.