Inside Stormveil Castle, cheers and praises rang to the heavens, as though the entire city were boiling over because of the man who had suddenly appeared.
Yet amid the clamor, an Ancient Dragon had nearly failed to restrain the impulse in her heart and almost charged out without regard for anything else.
Beside that Ancient Dragon, four knights in white armor stood with her, all staring at Radahn.
Their faces had been filled with resolve to die, but in an instant, that resolve was replaced by wild joy.
The soldiers of Stormveil Castle all turned in the same direction, gazing at the silver-haired monarch on horseback like sleepless men who had endured a long night finally welcoming the dawn.
Nolan slowly raised a finger. From his fingertip, a long trail of flame stretched out, dancing through the air like a fire dragon.
When the flame fell upon the city wall, it instantly ignited a churning sea of fire. Raging flames swallowed the wall and dyed it blazing red.
All Radahn could hear was the sound of fire burning. It was so scorching that it seemed ready to burn even his soul to ash.
"What... are you doing?" Radahn narrowed his eyes and stared at Nolan as he asked.
He had personally watched this man drown his own army in raging fire. What was the meaning of it? Was he planning to strengthen himself again before the battle began?
But slaughtering one's own men was clearly not the act of a Lord, nor did it match Radahn's image of the great champion who had saved millions of lives on the Altus Plateau.
Besides, the Finger Maids and Firebearers were not by Nolan's side right now. There was no one there who could strengthen him, which made Radahn even more confused by his actions.
Just then, he suddenly heard someone answer his question. The answer did not come from Nolan, but from the soldiers who had been standing on the city wall all along.
Those soldiers surrounded by endless flames had not been burned to ash.
As the sea of fire gradually faded, they were still standing where they had been, completely unharmed, cheering and shouting with thunderous voices.
"The Lord of Cinder, the Lord who brings the fire of hope. So that's what it means?"
He looked down at the wall beneath him, surprise in his eyes, and saw that the wounds of the soldiers injured in battle had completely healed.
Even Radahn's expression changed at the miraculous sight. He could not help murmuring, "That is a fire that heals pain and brings hope."
He was filled with curiosity about the strange power of those flames. Given the chance, he truly wanted to feel their warmth and strength for himself.
Unfortunately, when Nolan released the flames just now, he had deliberately avoided him and the Redmane Army, clearly unwilling to let them experience that miraculous power as well.
This Lord of Cinder, praised by countless people as merciful, was clearly not some fool who handed out kindness at random.
He drew a clear line between enemies and his own people, and he would never confuse the two.
Just like that, the war returned to where it had begun in an instant.
Aside from losing one Golem guard puppet, the Fire-Bearer Army had suffered almost no other losses.
By contrast, the Redmane Army's vanguard had taken heavy losses during the long siege. They were battered and bloodied, and their numbers had already been reduced by more than half.
"What an unfair power," Radahn sighed. With a man like that as commander, an army's combat strength could rise by several levels.
The situation was no longer a simple matter of numbers. Against an army that could not be wounded, no matter how powerful the opposing force was, it would eventually be worn down.
Unless they could wipe out everyone on the other side in one swift blow, this battle would become extraordinarily difficult.
To defeat this army completely, the most effective method was naturally to capture the Lord first, to take control of the commander who brought hope to his soldiers.
And that difficult task, as a matter of course, fell to Radahn, who was both commander and the strongest warrior in his army.
He had to bear the responsibility again. If he had not been so fixated on the throne, many people would not have had to leave their homes behind and die here.
Radahn took a deep, deep breath, yet there was not the slightest trace of regret in his heart. He believed that even if he asked those warriors who had fought through blood and fire, none of them would regret it either.
In this long and brutal struggle for the throne, people stepped onto the battlefield for all kinds of reasons. He had merely given those warriors a hero's beautiful dream. That was all.
Of course, the loss of life was still something to mourn.
This time, hundreds, even thousands, of brave Warriors had lost their precious lives. But he was different from the monarch before him. No one had ever called him a merciful Lord.
In truth, deep in his heart, he was filled with genuine excitement. Like a young male lion who had just come of age and was building his own pride on the vast grasslands, he would inevitably challenge other lions.
That excitement and madness seemed impossible to suppress. Even the cool moonlight shining upon him could not cool the impulse in his heart.
The hot blood that had been restrained for so many years now seemed to surge again, just like the roaring fire from a moment ago.
Suddenly, the greatswords in his hands felt unbelievably light, and his body seemed to lose all weight. He was already floating in the air, rising higher and higher.
In the blink of an eye, he arrived before Nolan. The Demigod's roar rang out like the horn of war, shaking the heavens.
Immediately after, the greatsword in his right hand came down, carving a pitch-black arc through the air with power and force worthy of the name of the strongest.
Nolan raised his hands, and the Promised Claymore and the Dark Moon Greatsword appeared in them at the same time. The Dark Moon Greatsword in his left hand collided directly with Radahn's greatsword.
Radahn wielded a matching pair of black iron greatswords, decorated with lion-mane designs. On his back, he also carried a Greatbow adorned with the same lion motifs.
The two greatswords slammed together in midair like colliding meteors.
Sparks from the impact flared brilliantly for an instant, and the two sides swiftly separated amid the violent gale from the clash.
Nolan did not move an inch. Radahn retreated several steps.
In the distance, the Flying Dragons seemed to sense the tension of this fierce battle and roared together.
The sound was like a wolf pack sensing danger, half to bolster their own courage, half to warn their companions to be careful.
Seeing this, Messmer, who was closest to Nolan, raised the war spear in his hand without hesitation. Borealis let out a furious roar and carried him straight down.
Nolan could clearly feel the cold radiating from Borealis, as if all of Stormveil Castle had been shrouded in that chill.
Frigid dragon breath quickly gathered in the Flying Dragon's mouth, forming a white pillar of frost. Radahn's instincts told him that this dragon breath contained a tremendous threat.
That feeling usually only appeared when facing Demigod-level opponents. Yet now, both that man and that dragon were so dangerous.
Radahn's heart tightened. If he had not gathered so many allies before the war began, then this Human-Dragon Duo alone might have been enough to crush his army.