In the grand hall of Shadow Keep, the final revelry was in full swing.
The Numen wore smiles rarely seen in a thousand years, looking nothing like aliens or foreign visitors from another world.
Some wore black soft armor, while others wore heavy white armor. Wrapped head to toe in black or white metal, they were unmistakably either assassins or knights at a glance.
The Fire Knights and Black Knights, as the hosts here, were striking enough in their own right, but compared with the Numen Legion, they were practically invisible.
After all, the Numen were a people watched over by both their Lord and their King.
The purge of the Hornsent had gone smoothly from start to finish, without any further mishaps.
The Numen now stood alive and well before the King. Only a handful had suffered minor injuries, with bandages wrapped around their bodies.
But the moment they entered the city after returning, they were quickly met with the King's concern, and all their pain was burned away by the very flames that had once given them new life.
The expressions on the Numen's faces made it clear that their gratitude toward this King had only deepened.
The King's care had not merely healed their bodies; it had also brought their hearts a warmth and comfort beyond measure.
The noise from the Numen assassins and knights fell quiet as if by Sorceries.
The Impaler's Army showed extraordinary discipline, as though they were already used to this kind of sudden silence.
Even if this might be the last meal they would ever have here, they closed their mouths without hesitation and without a word of complaint.
The towering Flying Dragons seemed to sense the tension as well. They raised their heads, their gazes following a messenger as he moved through the crowd.
Only when the new King waved for everyone to continue did the banquet grow lively again.
No one could blame them for being so sensitive. Home always held a powerful pull for wanderers far from it, and the King overlooking his subjects had promised to take them back.
"I never imagined they would wear smiles like that one day. Still, leaving their homeland so soon... I wonder if they're ready," Messmer said.
The words had barely left his mouth when someone tapped the wine cup in his hand.
A silver-white figure blocked his and Rellana's view. The young Tarnished Lord sat beside his son and tipped his head back, pouring wine into his mouth.
Messmer realized his words had been somewhat presumptuous. Just as he was wondering how to apologize to his father, Nolan spoke.
"Running away may be something heroes despise, but people are different from one another. Leaving can also be a new beginning."
The Numen longed for the outside world. Curiosity was part of it, but the greatest reason was that this land had left them with far too much pain.
Even if many could not truly understand what they had endured, anyone who knew their past would not use the word "homeland" to bind them. Especially when they had come from beyond the Lands Between to begin with.
A faint smile appeared on Nolan's fair face. He raised his wine cup toward Messmer.
"They're willing to follow me, and that's why there's a place for them at my side."
Messmer and Rellana exchanged a look. It seemed the King's mercy and gentleness were not merely praise from the mouths of the Numen, who had only ever spoken well of him.
"That messenger earlier... has the Cathedral of Manus Metyr given its answer?" Messmer asked.
"The High Priest is unwilling to leave this place, but he has sent those Nox people over. As agreed, I'll take them with me."
Nolan raised his cup and fed a mouthful of fruit wine to the little doll on the table.
Ranni's mouth had not stopped moving all night. Wine, meat, desserts, whatever it was, there had to be something in it, as if she meant to digest the blow she had suffered from Ymir directly in her stomach.
"What a... gentle mother indeed. But he actually chose to stay? If he misses this chance, he may never be able to leave again."
Messmer sighed in astonishment, clearly unable to understand the High Priest's choice.
"Of course he won't leave." Nolan shook his head lightly. Trina sat in the chair beside him, stuffing a large steak into her mouth while handing him a piece as well.
The Lord of Cinder, born to a life of toil, had finally reached the point where food was being brought straight to his mouth.
"He stayed here for Metyr. His wish and his pursuit are both here. If he leaves the Land of Shadow, where else is he supposed to go?"
Messmer had wanted to remind him that Ymir's scheme was no small matter. Its importance had already surpassed those Demigods crowned with the title of Lord, and even the Empyreans who sought to steal godhood.
But after thinking it over, he decided that whoever Ymir wanted to become mother to had nothing to do with him. As long as his own mother was still Marika, that was enough, so he said nothing.
If Ymir truly replaced Metyr as mother, the Greater Will might once again cast its gaze upon the Lands Between.
Ymir might indeed possess the qualities needed to become mother, but whether the Greater Will would acknowledge this "daughter" was another matter entirely.
Whether his goal could be achieved or not, no one could say what the ending would be.
The Nox people had once been punished for blasphemy, and Ymir's actions now were no less severe. Perhaps he would bring about a second Eternal Fall.
"Let's leave him alone for now. He's not important enough to make my son lose sleep and appetite over him."
Nolan glanced at Rellana as she drank. She kept looking over from time to time, but most of her attention was fixed on him.
"A knight's love," Nolan sighed softly.
"What?" Messmer froze.
"Silly boy." Nolan shook his head helplessly.
Messmer scratched his head, even more confused than before. He had no idea how he had upset his father again and earned himself another scolding.
Rellana glanced at him without leaving a trace, then withdrew her gaze and took a large gulp of wine.
Nolan looked at the hungover doll on the table, then up at the cold, lonely moon in the sky. He had to admit, the moon always looked the same.
"I see. Father was asking about the time? This son was slow to understand." Seeing Nolan suddenly look up at the sky, Messmer understood at once.
"You're right. It's getting late. The Lands Between is now torn by warring lords, unlike the peaceful Land of Shadow. We should let the soldiers rest and prepare early."
"No need for that. Look how excited they are. Do they look like they'll be able to sleep?" Nolan sighed softly. "Begin at once. Pass down the order. Assemble the army."
"Yes." At the thought of returning to the Lands Between, even Messmer could not help growing excited. He rose in a hurry, and Rellana followed behind him.
Nolan was a decisive man and had never liked dragging things out. Once Messmer passed down the military order for him, the entire army immediately assembled.
He stood atop the city wall, looking down at the strange army where humans, Numen, and Flying Dragons mingled together, then slowly raised his hand.
Space rippled like waves rising from a pool of blood. The Formless Mother once again received the wounds and pain she had long desired.
Endless crimson enveloped the strange army, as if it meant to dye the entire world red.
The bright moon receded, the bloodlight deepened, and then the moonlight remained as it had been.
There were none of the hardships and dangers of the distant journey home that they had imagined. When the soldiers opened their eyes, all they saw were azure waves and emerald-green trees.