Moonrithyll's heart jolted. She suddenly raised her head, her anxious gaze sweeping over her surroundings.
All she saw was the man who had been beside her a moment ago rushing into the lake district like a gust of wind, vanishing without a trace in the blink of an eye.
"Hey!" This time, it was Moonrithyll's turn to shout at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing across the empty lake district.
The only answer she received was the wind howling past, the faint sound of lake water lapping against the distant shore, and, somewhere in the background, what seemed to be the low growl of a Flying Dragon.
Her eyes widened. She almost wondered whether everything just now had been an illusion. Confusion and shock covered her face, and she could not make sense of what had happened at all.
Did that young man not know Flying Dragons were not friendly creatures? As a Numen, was he not supposed to stay obediently behind her and seek protection?
Just as Moonrithyll was about to sit up and rush after him, a powerful hand suddenly landed on her shoulder.
That unquestionable strength pressed down like a mountain, forcing her to remain where she was, unable to move.
Moonrithyll felt her blood run cold. A chill shot up her spine, and she instinctively turned her head. Beside her stood a petite girl with a cold, stern face.
The girl's lips were pressed tightly shut. Her right hand gripped a cold, gleaming Dagger, and the one eye she had open was like the water of a deep pool, silently fixed on Moonrithyll.
"Who... exactly are you people?" It took Moonrithyll a long while to snap back to herself, as if waking from a dream. She spoke in a daze, her mind completely blank.
Even though her heart had been filled with the agitation of battle, under this mysterious girl's gaze, her thoughts felt as if they had been drenched in ice water.
Moonrithyll quickly calmed down and gradually began to understand what was happening.
"It will be over soon. There is no need to rush."
Melina spoke slowly, yet her gaze remained fixed on the Numen behind her.
She said coolly, "It seems you are not an enemy. I do not want to fight you."
Miquella stepped forward and stood in front of Moonrithyll. Seeing this, the Numen also gathered toward them one after another, and the already narrow crater instantly became cramped.
"It seems a few lions have accidentally slipped into a flock of docile lambs." Moonrithyll lowered her head slightly, met Miquella's gaze, and spoke softly.
"Since it has come to this, why not rest for a while? After all, does it matter who kills that dragon?" Miquella said calmly.
Faced with Miquella's seemingly reasonable words, Moonrithyll found herself unable to refute him for a moment.
It was true. As he said, that Flying Dragon was doomed to die anyway.
Even so, a deep, lingering confusion still remained on her resolute face. "That person just now, who exactly was he...?"
"Our Lord." Miquella glanced at Moonrithyll, then shifted his gaze toward Nolan and nodded gently. The female knight fell silent.
"Melina, in martial skill, you are stronger than I am, and Nolan is stronger than you. But do you not think this is taking a little too long?" Miquella withdrew his gaze and turned to ask.
Standing nearby, Moonrithyll could not help freezing when she heard the question.
She blinked, muttering inwardly, completely unable to understand what was wrong with this so-called length of time.
Just then, Melina frowned slightly. After thinking for a moment, she replied:
"Perhaps it is because the novelty has not worn off yet. Whenever Nolan encounters something he has never seen before, he is always full of curiosity and the desire to understand it."
"But that should not last very long. Once his 'curiosity' fades, the battle will end quickly."
"Mm, you are right. He has always been like that." Miquella nodded gently, a faint smile at the corner of his mouth.
He raised his hand, as if trying to grasp something invisible in the air, and continued, "He is always like this, as though he could look at this world forever and never grow tired of it."
"Still, judging from your tone just now, Flying Dragons sound like they are not even worth a speck of dust in your eyes."
"That is simply how it is. Dust that will not wipe away cleanly can be troublesome, but slaying a dragon is much simpler by comparison." Melina shrugged without the slightest concern.
Hearing this, Moonrithyll, who had been dazed the whole time, finally understood what these two were talking about.
Put simply, the man who had rushed out was extremely strong.
What was this supposed to be? A threat?
Moonrithyll thought to herself that if they were talking about threats, then the girl currently holding her firmly in place was already enough to put enormous pressure on her.
In the next instant, the earth suddenly erupted with a deafening crash, as though the whole world had been shaken.
Along with the roar of massive objects colliding, muddy droplets came raining down.
A black shadow slammed down at tremendous speed in front of the three of them. The impact sounded like thunder exploding, and the ground trembled violently beneath it.
A spray of thick, foul-smelling blood shot toward the Carian Knight like a Rain of Arrows.
Moonrithyll reacted quickly, raising the Longsword in her hand without hesitation to block the blood droplets rushing toward her.
Yet despite how swift she was, one drop of blood still grazed her cheek.
Moonrithyll froze slightly, then raised her hand and gently wiped away the warm smear on her face.
Her eyes grew somewhat grave, as though she were thinking about something.
Following her gaze, one could see a fresh crater not far ahead.
Inside that crater, a massive Flying Dragon lay deeply embedded, lifeless and still.
The Flying Dragon's Scale Armor had long since withered away, exposing the nauseating rotten flesh beneath.
Its twisted, hideous face was like a demon from hell, terrifying to behold.
Even more shocking was the enormous hole that had been torn open from its spine all the way to its chest.
Blood gushed from it without end, quickly pooling into a spreading puddle.
A small increase in power, along with a trace of death. That was the entirety of Nolan's gains.
As expected, the Ghostflame Dragon was not valuable enough. Choosing not to go out of his way to find it back then had been the right decision.
The scattered rocks rolling around them kept making tiny clattering sounds, standing in sharp contrast to the silence of the empty lakeshore.
Because they had just witnessed the bloody sight of the dragon's head being severed, many of those present could not help but remember the ancient legend that had been passed down for ages...
It was said that on the summit of the towering, jagged Jagged Peak far to the east, there dwelled a dangerous and ancient dragon.