Between the blue-white sky and sea, the giant dragon bowed its head, and Nolan was the King receiving its worship.
A scene like that might make the world think he was worthy of continuing the legend of Godwyn the Golden.
Though Borealis was not an Ancient Dragon, in a sense, the shock of subduing Borealis may have been even greater than subduing Fortissax.
After all, the legend this Flying Dragon carried was simply too vivid.
It had once ruled the Consecrated Snowfield and waged a hundred-year war against the Giants.
There were likely few dragons with battle records that could compare.
A white figure rode the dragon. The sea gave off a dull, compressed rumble, like a great ship traveling beneath the water.
Bang.
Borealis burst out of the sea. It held its head high as seawater poured down its body like a waterfall, washing every trace of blood clean, while its shattered Scale Armor made it look even more brutal.
But at that moment, no one feared it. A figure, small yet standing firmly on its head, had crushed all of its ferocity beneath his feet.
At the final moment, Borealis did not launch the fierce counterattack or struggle that people had imagined.
It merely stretched out its neck in silence, spread its vast wings, and allowed that man to guide it by its horns as reins.
A human had conquered a legendary dragon.
When that enormous Flying Dragon rushed into the flock, the dragons immediately lowered their heads. But their respect was not offered to Borealis. It was offered to Nolan standing atop its head.
He had slain Bayle upon his throne, beheaded Senessax, and subdued Borealis. They had never imagined that one day they would follow such a dragon.
Some Flying Dragons even dared to think that, if they continued following this Lord, perhaps one day they could return to that city in the heavens.
The Flying Dragons had once followed Bayle. They had worshiped him, feared him, and even hated him.
Had Bayle not challenged Placidusax in such a contemptible way, and then lost in the end, perhaps they might still be dancing together in that city.
They had once enjoyed the free winds of the heavens, only to suddenly be stripped of their dignity and power, then thrown into the mud like abandoned stray dogs.
That feeling drove the Flying Dragons mad.
Borealis flew up to the treetop and stopped at the highest point of the Haligtree. The Flying Dragons followed behind it, folding their wings on the lower branches.
"These Flying Dragons will be under your command from now on. I hereby appoint you as their Captain."
The dragon-scaled King crossed his arms. This natural, uncrafted royal armor was the symbol of power and status that dragons took pride in.
Nolan's figure might have been small, but to the Flying Dragons, he seemed taller than anything they had ever seen. A true dragon stood before them, looking down upon them.
"Yes," Borealis answered with its head lowered. Submitting to a dragon stronger than itself was no disgrace. Being unable to accept defeat was the true disgrace. That was why it looked down on that tyrannical Lord.
Bayle had indeed been the strongest at the pinnacle of the Flying Dragons, but a battle for kingship that began with underhanded means and ended in defeat could never allow such a Lord to conquer anyone.
"King!" Borealis suddenly raised its head and let out a high, ringing dragon cry.
The last dragon it had addressed this way was not Bayle, but Placidusax.
Unlike the mad dragon that called itself Lord of the Flying Dragons, that old one had once been the true King of all dragons.
"Go back!"
At Nolan's command, the Flying Dragon that had just risen seemed to hear a divine decree and obediently flew back into the sky.
Its gaze swept over the ground below. It clearly saw the ballistae and cannons aimed at it, but sensed no hostility.
It was glad it had not caused major destruction here. If it had breathed dragonfire into the city before crashing into the tree trunk, its head might have been hung on the trunk as an example for the other dragons.
Nolan rode the freezing Flying Dragon, but he did not return to the Empyrean's residence. Instead, he led the dragons to the Impaler's Army encampment.
"This is my army."
Looking at the army made up of dragons and men, Nolan could not help feeling a little moved.
For a King used to fighting alone, this world had given him a different kind of experience.
The Impaler's Army had always been elite. Though its strength had sharply declined after the civil war, with the Flying Dragons now added to it, it could still be called a powerful army.
"Will Lansseax behave? Is Nepheli eating properly? Does my teacher miss me?" Nolan suddenly wondered.
The master of Elphael could only ever be the Empyrean and the Saintess. Now, only Stormveil truly belonged to him, the city where he had personally built his first army.
But upon returning to Elphael, the city's fanatical followers of the Empyrean naturally lined the streets to welcome him. As Nolan walked along, he could still hear the people cheering.
His identity had probably changed from "the Goddess's chosen King" to "the powerful Goddess's chosen King who saved the Holy City."
...
In Limgrave, south of the Lands Between, a fortress stood by the sea at the edge of a fog-shrouded forest.
Count Hyde, the fortress's master, raised his Longsword, threw his battered shield aside, and drove back a knight with one strike.
He knew it was futile, because he knew very well that he still had many enemies. The moonlight reflected from their swords and Halberds was painfully bright.
Count Hyde followed the stairs up to the wall and watched the knights in front of him continue falling into pools of blood.
By now, the enemy had been blocked at the long stairway. On such a narrow path, the only way through was to kill everyone in the way.
Protected behind the knights, the commanding officer was still shouting encouragement to them, while Count Hyde leaned wearily against the wall.
The Stormveil army's assault had completely exceeded their expectations. That ancient city had changed masters, and the Demigod had fallen, but its new master was still powerful.
According to their intelligence, the one leading this campaign was a Tarnished named Vyke. The young man had risen to fame in the war, and countless nobles had died by his hand.
The smell of blood had numbed everyone, but a sudden commotion came from the darkness. Among the knights, a figure in white knight armor stood out unmistakably.
"A Firebearer Knight!" someone cried out.
There was only one kind of person in the Stormveil army who wore white knight armor: members of the knight order known as the Firebearer Knights.
They were not named after fire to blaspheme the Erdtree. It was said that the people of Stormveil saw that Tarnished King as the flame of hope, and because they wished to pass that fire to the world, the name was born.
That man's appearance was not good news for Count Hyde. No matter where the name Firebearer Knight came from, everyone in Limgrave knew they were the King's personal guard, and every member was a champion.
"Stop him! Don't let him get near the lord!" the knight commander of Fort Haight suddenly shouted.
He cursed himself for not realizing it sooner. In such an important battle, of course the enemy commander would come in person.
On the long stairway, Vyke walked upward with his war spear in hand, while the knights instinctively squeezed to both sides, trying to open as wide a path as possible for the champion.
The Firebearer Knight stepped onto the path made for him and assumed a charging stance. A low rumble of thunder came from his hand, and the air trembled faintly.
At that moment, the world seemed to be lit by the sun. Vyke's figure vanished from the crowd, leaving only golden lightning streaking through the darkness.