Bloodhound's Step!
Nolan had already slipped backward as if he'd teleported. That was the true strength of this Ash of War. It made avoiding damage almost effortless.
Earth burst outward like blossoming flowers. The little giant, over two meters tall, finally lost his balance and slammed heavily into the ground, dust billowing up around him.
The moment Nolan steadied himself, he surged forward again like a starving beast, launching a fresh assault.
His figure flickered once and vanished like a phantom.
The next instant, a blinding arc of sword light flashed through the air.
Clang!
The diagonal slash crashed head-on into the Claymore in Ingram's hands, steel grinding against steel as brilliant sparks sprayed outward.
The Cuckoo Vice Commander tightened his grip on the greatsword with both hands. Tilting his head slightly, he glanced at the knight before him, a feral grin creeping across his face.
"I've crossed blades with Bloodhound Knights more times than I can count…"
The words died in his throat, as if seized by an invisible shackle. Shock and disbelief froze him in place.
The knight before him vanished without warning. The greatsword he had raised came crashing down under its own momentum, smashing into the ground with a heavy, jarring impact.
In the very next moment, the knight reappeared some distance away. He raised his staff as though it were a sword hilt and brought it down with all his strength. A blade of magic formed instantly.
Carian Greatsword!
Pfft.
A vivid bloom of blood burst into the air, followed immediately by the Vice Commander's agonized cry.
The sharp blade of light tore cleanly into his neck, only fading away after it had fully passed through.
In the deathly silence that followed, Nolan crouched down without expression. He slowly picked up the blood-soaked head and turned to look at the proud sorcerer lying on the ground.
The dark clouds overhead gradually scattered, and the full moon once again poured its pale glow over the blood-drenched land.
Cool moonlight slipped through the tiny gaps in Nolan's armor, reflecting in his eyes.
With one leg broken, Igor had no strength left to resist. He crawled frantically across the ground, hurling several magic shells in panic. Every one of them was deflected, only allowing Nolan to claim even more lives.
His magic was powerful, but he had run into Nolan.
After mastering Thops's Barrier, sorcerers of the same tier posed far less of a threat to him.
Several magic shells later, Nolan remained completely unharmed, while the Cuckoo soldiers were blasted apart, screaming in misery.
Drip… drip…
Heavy drops of blood fell steadily from the cold armor as Nolan, drenched head to toe, slowly lowered his head.
With a sharp flick of his blade, he severed the magic Associate Preceptor's head. The shocking pool of blood began spreading rapidly at his feet.
Swish—
The greatsword shuddered violently, carving a long streak of crimson. Nolan picked up Igor's head and hung it beside Ingram's at his waist.
He lifted his gaze and surveyed the battlefield. The roaring flames that had once split the field apart were completely extinguished. Only wisps of white steam drifted slowly up from the surface of the lake.
Both the Carian army and the Cuckoos stood frozen, staring at him in silence. The world itself seemed to have stopped, as though time no longer flowed.
His face was hidden behind a heavy visor, yet everyone present felt as if they could still see through the darkness, straight into those cold, merciless eyes.
Nolan held his sword and walked forward at an unhurried pace. Ingram's and Igor's heads still dripped blood steadily at his waist.
Before he even made another move, the Cuckoos were already gripped by fear and began to fall back. His steps, however, never quickened.
"The two lords… are dead!?"
The shrill cry burst from a soldier's mouth like a thunderclap shattering the silence, and panic spread at once.
Soldiers cast aside armor and helmets. The crowd instantly turned into a surging tide, wave after wave crashing toward the lake.
Seeing this, the Caria army felt as though victory was within reach. Their spirits soared. Cheers erupted as they raised their weapons and surged forward in pursuit, cutting down the fleeing enemy.
The battlefield plunged into chaos. Blood and screams intertwined, forming a scene of brutal carnage.
Those who ran too slowly still managed to turn back and struggle a little. Those who ran faster fought desperately to squeeze onto the boats, not sparing a glance for the screams behind them.
"No… Lord Nolan."
A low voice called out nearby. Nolan turned toward the sound, pulled off his helmet, and hurried over.
"I'm here."
Someone lay on the lakeshore. The young man stared up at the bright moon overhead, confusion and unease flickering in his eyes.
"Was I… a proper knight?"
Nolan hadn't wanted to say much at a moment like this, but when the flask filled with Sacred Tears was brought to his lips, he paused.
"Yes. Knight William. Knight Nolan Bethel stands here as witness to your honor."
At some point, the young knight had fallen silent. His hollow gaze remained fixed on the eternal full moon.
Nolan slowly bent down and gently closed his eyes.
The stubborn, idealistic man was gone. The lower half of his body lay not far away, fallen together with his beloved warhorse.
"Lord Nolan, the Cuckoos have been driven back. What should we do now?"
Hank came running over with the others, panting. His eyes drifted involuntarily to the young knight's body on the ground, his expression complicated.
Deafening shouts of battle still roared like boiling water, but the Cuckoos' small boats had already pulled far from the shore. Corpses floated across the surface of the lake.
In truth, the killing hadn't lasted very long. Many had been shoved into the water by panicked comrades and ultimately drowned in the freezing lake.
Nolan slowly turned his head and looked toward the massive, enigmatic Caria stronghold behind him, its silhouette swallowed by the night.
The faint second moon hanging in the sky seemed to quietly hint that things were far from as peaceful as they appeared.
There was no one else to rely on.
He sighed inwardly, then spoke softly.
"Let's go. They won't be coming back. We should return to the fortress and support the commander."
After a brief pause, Nolan blew the Spectral Steed Whistle, summoning Torrent.
No further words were needed. Everyone understood that the greatest pressure of this war was bearing down on the main front.
This chaotic clash of fewer than a thousand men in the rear was nothing more than a brief interlude.
Nolan kicked Torrent's flank, and the steed immediately charged off from the lakeshore, galloping hard toward the royal domain's fortress.
The other knights followed close behind, racing after him toward the unknown battlefield.
Dust rose like rolling waves. When they looked up, all they could see was blazing firelight.
Stones hurled from afar flew wildly overhead, and flashes of brilliant magic flickered in the distance.
From the encampment ahead came the dull, heavy sounds of repeated impacts.