The flock of Flying Dragons, which had still managed to muster a weak resistance, had now fallen into utter chaos.
Their enormous bodies twisted and struggled wildly in the air. Their formation had long since collapsed, and they drifted across the skies of Jagged Peak Summit like fallen leaves swept up in a storm.
Before this, they had still clung to a trace of luck and hope, believing that with the strength of their numbers and the Lord atop the mountain, they could still greet final victory.
But after witnessing Nolan's magnificent display in the skies above Jagged Peak Summit, that last shred of hope burst like a fragile bubble and vanished in an instant.
Bayle had never become their lifeline. The Lord who ruled over all dragons had already died before them.
Jagged Peak Summit, and the dragons within it who had once lived under the Lord's protection, now trembled in endless Darkness and fear like children who had lost their pillar.
Their only chance of survival now depended on the will of the new Lord.
Nolan raised his head and swept his gaze across heaven and earth. Ancient Dragon blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, six great wings unfurled in pairs, and his rock-like Scale Armor carried a majesty that made the dragons yearn for him.
Just then, one Flying Dragon seemed to abandon resistance entirely.
It slowly folded its wings, like a warrior who had lost every last bit of strength, and fell straight from the high sky to the ground.
Its body smashed heavily into the earth, kicking up a cloud of dust.
But it paid no mind to the pain. Instead, it used all its strength to cry out, "Lord!"
Its voice was somewhat hoarse, but it was filled with awe and submission.
Once one dragon called out, more and more dragons were swept up by it and followed.
One Flying Dragon after another fell from the sky like meteors, their massive bodies drawing graceful arcs through the air.
Countless pairs of dragon wings folded in midair with a dull, heavy sound.
The dragons in the rear refused to be outdone. They stretched their necks as far as they could and roared even louder, trying to make sure the new Lord heard their voices, heard their surrender and their longing.
The roars of the dragons merged into one, and every face was marked by fear and a desperate hunger to live.
On the vast battlefield, still filled with smoke and the lingering heat of war, Florissax stood quietly beside Nolan.
She stood tall, though a trace of exhaustion clung to her, and the marks of battle still remained on her body.
Warm flames danced and burned gently over her, as if alive, continuously passing heat into her body and letting her feel a thread of warmth in the slightly cold air.
Florissax lifted her head a little and looked toward the mountain before her. The flock of Flying Dragons showed every manner of expression, like a sea mixed with confusion, grief, and fear.
Where had the dragons' pride gone, that lofty arrogance they once held above all else?
"Will you follow your master in death?" Nolan asked coldly, looking up at the remaining Flying Dragons in the sky while he tended to Florissax's wounds.
When the Flying Dragons chanting the Lord's name heard Nolan, they all lowered their heads to the ground.
Their eyes were full of terror, and their bodies trembled slightly.
They still felt a deep fear. Bayle's death had completely crushed their courage, and they could no longer summon the nerve to face this new Lord before them.
Yet they still breathed an unconscious sigh of relief. Why? Because they had heard the possibility of life in the new Lord's voice, and they could not help feeling grateful.
As for the Flying Dragons still hovering in the sky, unsure of what to do, they looked at one another.
Their eyes were filled with confusion and helplessness. The Dread Lord was no longer behind them.
No one could protect them. At any moment, they might be burned into scraps by the new Lord's wrath.
They were panic-stricken, yet they still beat their wings and refused to land, as if that furious Lord still showed them favor.
Only a few minutes earlier, Florissax would have felt nothing at all toward this scene.
Her heart had not changed for hundreds and thousands of years. It was like a stone buried deep underground, wrapped in thick dust, slowly cut off from the world and hidden from the light of day.
What did the life and death, honor and disgrace of others have to do with her?
She only needed to faithfully carry out the Lord's orders, to keep living unchanged like this and complete the single purpose of her life.
Now, although she had not died, she could no longer see the road ahead. She could not go back, but she did not know how to move forward either.
She had grown used to staying in place, so much so that the scenery around her no longer entered her eyes.
She had never possessed freedom or desire like a normal person. What she had was a "mission," not a "wish."
Killing Bayle was only something she had to do. The only thing she had held fast to all these years was the Lord's command.
But her Lord had been buried in the godless rift of time and space within Farum Azula, unable to see that her mission had been fulfilled, and even less able to grant her a new direction.
She was someone forgotten in a corner of the world. She had nowhere to go, so she did not know what she should do.
But when Senessax was about to bite off her head, when she was wrapped in those warm flames, that stone-like heart, long dead and silent, seemed to beat again.
Death shrouded her like night. Her heart thundered. Life still remained.
The colors of the world seemed to return to her eyes. She once again saw all the countless colors of the world. The pleas for mercy from the ground filled her with contempt, while the silence in the sky made her feel as if she understood it.
She stood there blankly, wanting to look up at the sky, yet also wanting to lower her head and look at herself.
She had once believed she was a stone that only needed to be placed somewhere, but her heart was still beating in this world. She was still alive.
Florissax suddenly understood why Senessax had followed Bayle. She, too, grew angry, angry that she was not some stone to whom nothing mattered, angry that she had been abandoned.
And so that fellow kin had abandoned her Lord and gods, and followed a Lord who was just as angry.
Florissax could not help feeling a strange sadness, but a brilliant firework pulled her back from the grief that seemed ready to drown her.
Florissax swore it was the most beautiful dragonfire she had ever seen in her life.
The flock of dragons in the sky gave no answer, but they did not descend either. So the Silver Flying Dragon opened its mouth.
This was a decisive Lord. Faced with a group of loyal warriors, he showed not the slightest hesitation.
Nolan opened his mouth. Along with extreme heat, the fire of his dragon breath grew like a towering tree, connecting one Flying Dragon after another into the flames until they became winding branches.
At last, the flames dispersed, and the enormous flock of dragons became fine dust, scattering with the wind.
"Lady Florissax, your mission is complete. What do you plan to do next?" Nolan asked, looking at the dazed Priestess.
No one could believe that a flock of Flying Dragons would humble themselves and bow before the most "sinful" dragon-slaying warrior, though this dragon-slaying warrior looked more like a dragon than the dragons did.
"Before we leave the Land of Shadow, please allow me to remain by your side," Florissax said, bowing slightly with profound respect.
"Do as you like. We'll be leaving soon anyway," Nolan said with a nod. "Let's go. I want to see how my foolish son is doing with whatever he wanted to do for me."