Finlay's reputation as a legendary champion was indeed well deserved. Although her performance in the game left a bit to be desired, in this world she was every bit the top-tier hero the story made her out to be.
Of course, Ansbach was formidable as well. As a first-rate champion, he was no weaker than most knight commanders serving under the Demigods. If anything, that was only natural.
A legendary champion could stand against an ordinary Demigod. Since they themselves possessed power comparable to a Demigod's, anyone capable of subduing them had to be even stronger.
"It hasn't been that long, has it? It's only been four years since we parted at the Haligtree," Nolan replied calmly, without the slightest trace of resentment over how that "ending" had turned out.
"So you still remember." A gentle smile appeared on Ansbach's face as he said slowly, "Things were urgent last time, so I had no chance to properly introduce myself. I am Ansbach, Lord Mohg's Pureblood Knight Commander."
"Why do you follow Mohg?" Nolan suddenly asked, staring at him.
At the question, Ansbach fell silent for half a second. Then the smile slowly faded from his face, and his expression turned solemn and earnest as he answered with full seriousness.
"The suffering of this world is like an endless flood, stretching on without cease. Only Lord Mohg's love, deep as the sea and profound as the abyss, can one day soothe every wound and bring true peace and tranquility."
"Is that so?" Nolan merely lifted a brow, offering no clear response.
Did he really think he could poach someone from Mohg's side with just a few words? That was never going to be easy. Especially not with a knight famed for loyalty and honor.
Nolan's gaze sharpened at once. Every muscle in his body tensed, and power erupted from within him like a volcano.
Gripping his greatsword in one hand, he thrust it forward in a single fierce motion, instantly turning defense into offense.
When that force burst out, its might was no less imposing than that of the famed Golden Lords.
Two startled cries rang out. Caught off guard, Ansbach and Varré were thrown clean off their horses like kites with snapped strings.
While still in midair, they hurriedly drove their weapons into the ground.
Esgar, who had been circling nearby for an opening, leaped from his own horse, landed behind them, and braced them from the rear. Only then did they barely manage to halt their retreat.
A monarch. A true monarch.
Even the maddened Varré felt his scalp go numb. The power of the Blood Lord had long since been carved into his soul, impossible to forget. But why had the man before him grown so strong so quickly?
Before Varré could think any further, a cold streak of moonlight cut across the sky like a silver serpent and passed over their heads.
Everyone looked up to see that a Pureblood Knight in front of Nolan had only just leaped into the air before being cut clean in half at the waist.
A crimson spray blossomed brilliantly in midair, like a flower of death in full bloom, beautiful and terrifying all at once.
"Very good. Loyalty is not stupidity. Your courage is worthy of praise." Nolan raised his blade, dark moonlight gleaming along its edge.
Before the words had even fully fallen, a cold murderous intent flashed through Nolan's eyes. And the reward for their steadfast loyalty was to die in service to their lord.
As the dazzling sword light slowly faded, the followers suddenly went mad before anyone else could move.
Their faces twisted with savagery, their eyes bloodshot, and beastlike roars tore from their throats as they rushed forward without a care for their lives.
Every one of them carried a bloodthirsty frenzy, as though they had already lost all reason and humanity.
Nolan was not affected by that madness in the least. If anything, he became even calmer. The spirit steed beneath him vanished, and in the next instant, he bent his knees and shot forward like an afterimage.
Wherever Nolan passed, a storm of blood followed. Severed limbs flew through the air, and blood burst forth like fountains, staining the road beneath his feet red.
Chunks of the followers' bodies crashed to the ground one after another, while blood streamed down the winding mountain path and gathered into a river of red.
In the blink of an eye, Nolan was already standing before the three men of the Dynasty of Blood.
"Damn it!" The instant Varré saw the scene before him, the killing intent and madness in his heart flared to their peak.
A large portion of those followers were people he had painstakingly tricked and lured over himself.
In an instant, Varré flashed forward with astonishing agility. Raising his hammer-spear high, he smashed it down at Nolan.
Ansbach followed close behind, sweeping his war scythe sideways in a dazzling blood-red arc, like Death itself reaping lives with its blade.
For a moment, the sound of clanging metal rang out without end.
Sparks flew as the three weapons crashed together again and again, weaving a blinding tangle of flashing steel too fast for any bystander to follow.
And yet Nolan, at the center of the storm, remained utterly unruffled. His wrists moved with the fluid quickness of a fish, effortlessly parrying their relentless barrage.
Soon, he tapped lightly off the ground and flipped backward with easy grace.
Hum.
Blood Incantation. Swarm of Flies!
Esgar chanted in a low voice. The sacred seal in his hand glowed with an eerie red light, and a swarm of blood-red flies roared forth like a dark crimson whirlwind, sweeping beneath Nolan as he leaped.
Ansbach and Varré immediately lowered themselves and stepped forward, as if they had anticipated Nolan's next move all along. Their wrists twisted sharply, and immense force burst out at once.
Blood Strike!
Sweep!
Their weapons were infused with Blood Incantation, as though soaked in blood itself. The heavy hammer came crashing down for Nolan's head, while the war scythe slashed for his body.
When Nolan landed, there was not the slightest sign of panic on his face. Faced with the incoming hammer and the scythe's swift edge, he merely tightened his grip on the hilt.
In the next instant, the muscles in his arm bulged, and tremendous force surged through the blade as he swung it in one simple, brutal diagonal slash upward.
With a sharp clang, Ansbach's war scythe collided with Nolan's sword, the ringing echo lingering in the air.
The moment Varré's hammer-spear touched the sword light, it was knocked aside, and the force drove him stumbling backward several steps.
Nolan pressed on. A deep blue arc of magical power formed in the air.
The semicircular blade aura seemed almost solid, radiating an icy chill. Ansbach and Varré had no time to react before it struck them both and sent them flying.
Bang, bang, bang!!
Varré was hurled back in a miserable tumble, only stopping when he slammed into a rock wall.
He felt piercing pain surge through his entire body, as though every bone in him were on the verge of breaking.
At that moment, Varré was filled with shock and dread. The strength of this young Lord before him was far beyond anything the intelligence reports had suggested.