The brief encounter passed without incident, and the second-generation Albinaurics swayed off into the distance.
Their minds were not especially sharp to begin with, and they were not suited for anything that demanded too much thought.
Nolan had concealed himself with Hidden Body and Spook. No matter how carefully they looked, of course they were not going to find anything.
Watching the Albinaurics recede, Nolan shifted his gaze toward the blood-red lake not far away.
The blood in the lake did not seem especially deep. Along the shore, a group of mysterious believers had gathered, apparently carrying out some strange ritual.
The devotees repeatedly prostrated themselves toward the distant temple, chanting "Mother" under their breath as though pleading for affection from some unseen being.
Not only that, they were using blades to cut their own bodies open, letting crimson blood drip from their wounds into the lake.
There was no pain, no wailing. Every face was filled with a fervor bordering on madness, as though the suffering they endured at that moment brought them incomparable bliss.
And along the blood-shimmering shore stood a group of Blood Priests dressed in magnificent robes.
Their lips moved as they chanted, but the scriptures they recited were obscure and incomprehensible. The people around them all knelt in devout worship.
But the spectacle was not over.
A burst of clamor suddenly rose, pleas for mercy tangled with angry curses. Though late, the sound still reached everyone's ears in the end.
Looking toward the noise, Nolan saw another group being dragged over from farther away. They were clearly captives.
The believers shoved them to the ground with brutal force and forced them onto their knees facing the priests ahead.
The priests grew even more frenzied, raising their arms high and crying out words on the verge of madness.
"You lost lambs, drunken on the false splendor of this world. Have you finally come to understand?"
"Happiness as fleeting as a dream is meaningless. Only true pain clings to us like a shadow and never leaves."
"Learn to accept it. Be grateful. Pain is happiness. Look. How beautiful the wounds are!"
"Accept our lord's gift, and join us in reveling in this incomparable delight!"
As the priests shouted with mounting fervor, the believers had already brought over a tall porcelain jar.
It was black from top to bottom, trimmed with gold, elegant in decoration and finely made. Yet the red liquid spilling from its mouth was striking to the eye.
Mohg really does have a lot of blood.
Seeing this, Nolan more or less understood what these blood believers were trying to do.
It seemed Mohg did not like waste. When faced with stubborn fools who refused to believe in the truth, simple physical discipline no longer worked.
In that case, a different kind of encouragement was needed. Something spiritual.
Accursed Blood was undoubtedly the best choice. It could not only drive a person mad, but also grant them the power of blood.
Of course, this so-called "encouragement" was not without risk. If someone failed to endure the sacred "baptism," then the price would be their life.
Under the seemingly gentle, but in truth blood-soaked, orders of the Priests of Blood, the believers immediately moved into action.
Some pinned down the shoulders of those who had shown disrespect to the deity, leaving them unable to move.
Others held bowls and ladles, carefully scooping up crimson blood from the exquisite porcelain jar.
The whole scene looked solemn and bizarre at once.
Watching coldly from the side, Nolan suddenly frowned. He had noticed a problem.
The Pureblood Knights' Medal was a one-person portal. It could not bring others through with it. The petite Ranni and Melina had been able to come along only because their existence was special, effectively making them part of what he carried with him.
But what about these stubborn people who were about to receive the gift?
Clearly, they had not willingly entered this place by using the Pureblood Knights' Medal.
If that was the case, then there had to be other portals here leading to the outside world, and the connected location absolutely could not be the Consecrated Snowfield.
That damned place was an isolated wasteland, barren and rarely visited, while also being tightly sealed off by both the Royal Capital and the Haligtree.
Mohg would have to be insane to choose the Consecrated Snowfield as his foothold on the surface.
Leaving everything else aside, even if he captured people, he would have no way to transport them over. Would that not make the whole thing pointless? Unless Mohg gave up being the Lord of Blood and changed professions to become a transporter.
Mohgwyn Dynasty was a dynasty. Mohg was a lord. The Formless Mother was the deity he worshipped.
He needed territory, subjects, and faith, and these believers, nobles, and knights who had never originally belonged to him were his subjects.
Nolan thought back to the "Bloody Fingers" he had encountered at Morton Manor and Miro Fortress. That was how the Pureblood Knights referred to themselves when operating outside.
Judging from the range of their activities, Nolan guessed the portal was probably located in Limgrave or Caelid.
But there was no time to think about that now. His first objective in coming here was to kill Mohg, not destroy Mohgwyn Dynasty.
The urgent matter was still to find Trina. Once he got out, there would be plenty of time to slowly clean up the rest of these people.
He had not the slightest interest in a faith built on wounds and pain.
Just as Nolan was considering his next move, his attention was suddenly drawn to something not far away. Another group of people was being roughly dragged out of a prison cart.
"Hm, there are Tarnished too?"
Ranni frowned slightly as she looked at the newly arrived prisoners. She had sharply noticed that there was no light of grace flickering in their eyes.
"After all, Tarnished are descendants of heroes. The chances of 'natural warriors' appearing among them are quite high," Nolan said calmly.
Natural warriors. In other words, geniuses. After all, not just anyone could withstand Accursed Blood, and geniuses were naturally the preferred targets.
As he spoke, Nolan reached out and drew the Dark Moon Greatsword.
In the real world, there was no need to worry about game balance. This legendary weapon was simply stronger than ordinary weapons, and it felt better in hand as well.
"What... are you planning to save them?" Ranni turned to look at Nolan, a trace of inquiry in her eyes, but she made no move to stop him.
She knew very well that Nolan was probably stronger now than she had been even at her peak. There was no need for her to worry.
Ranni was not being arrogant, but Demigods truly were beings who had transcended the ordinary. Even someone like Godrick was a born "hero."
As for the priests and believers in front of them, they were far too weak in her eyes to pose any threat to Nolan.
"This is war. A lord's war. The Lord of Blood is up there. Let heroes sing, and let warriors follow behind."
Nolan looked up toward the heights.
Ranni lightly pressed her soft lips together, looked toward the crowd in the distance, and said softly,
"I thought you'd taken a liking to that Tarnished."