"Well done, Nolan! Now, kill them!!"
Raziel shouted, launching himself forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.
In a blink, he closed the distance to the knight, then surged ahead in a sudden burst, charging straight toward him. Each stride carried him several meters, as though the wind itself were driving him onward, his speed nothing short of terrifying.
His eyes were locked onto the knight soothing his warhorse, killing intent blazing within them, as he swiftly drew the Carian Knight's Sword from his waist.
With a sharp hiss—
The Glintstones set into the straight blade flared brilliantly, blue light coiling tightly around the steel.
He sprang into the air, his body tracing a clean arc before landing squarely in front of the startled horse.
The blue radiance surging from the Carian Knight's Sword extended at once, condensing into a massive blade of sorcery that swept down mercilessly toward the warhorse beneath the Cuckoo Knight.
Carian Greatsword!
A deafening crash rang out. The warhorse was cleaved cleanly in two, its heavy armor ripped apart as blood sprayed outward, soaking the surrounding ground red.
"Carian Knight!?"
By the dim firelight, soldiers finally made out the armor worn by the attacker, and terrified cries broke out at once.
They recognized the armor on Raziel. Faced with such an enemy, ordinary soldiers were seized by despair. Some were so frightened their legs gave out, turning and trying to flee on the spot.
On the battlefield, the gap between heroes and common soldiers was simply too great. Against someone like him, resistance barely existed at all.
And this time, the opponents were Cuckoo soldiers whose discipline was notoriously poor. Before the fight had even truly begun, they were already scared out of their wits, wishing only that they had been born with two extra legs.
The nearby Cuckoo Knights finally snapped back to their senses. Shouting angrily at the scattered troops, they hurriedly raised their massive shields while thrusting their long spears forward.
Whoosh!!
Raziel twisted his body to the side, neatly avoiding a spear that skimmed past his helmet.
This hero of Caria was overwhelmingly powerful. Even seasoned knights could not last more than a few exchanges against him.
With a light turn of his wrist, his straight sword slammed down onto a shield. The sheer force sent both knight and horse flying to the ground.
Raziel glanced back and saw Nolan charging in like a raging gale.
He drove his greatsword into the earth, then, without the slightest hesitation, dragged the blade across the throat of the wounded knight.
The young knight seemed a bit overly cautious.
That earlier strike had already hit a vital point. The knight had no chance of surviving. Yet the youth still made sure to finish him off.
Still, such caution wasn't necessarily a bad habit. Raziel said nothing, simply turning and swinging his sword again.
Boom!
A Cuckoo Glintstone was hurled with force by one of the knights.
The straight sword in the Carian Knight's hand erupted with dazzling blue light, expanding at astonishing speed into a radiant field of sorcery.
The Glintstone fragment suddenly changed, transforming in an instant into a dense sphere of magic that detonated violently.
But in the blink of an eye, the magic sphere was absorbed into the light field, reshaped into a volley of shining blades that streaked relentlessly back toward their original source.
Carian Retaliation!
The Cuckoo Knight braced behind his massive shield, yet was still driven back step by step by the barrage of light swords, completely unaware that a figure had already slipped silently into range.
"Die."
The cold, merciless words rang in his ears as Nolan swung the Promised Claymore with terrifying speed, leaving the surrounding soldiers frozen in shock.
These soldiers had originally been assigned to guard the rear convoy. Seeing the knights fall into a disadvantage, they should have rushed forward to provide support at once.
They did see the knights losing ground, but the attackers moved far too quickly. By the time they realized what was happening, it was already too late to react.
The night wind howled past Nolan's ears. He had no time to dwell on the fragility of life. He was too busy taking more of it.
He steadied the Claymore at his left side and flashed past the knight who had been sent flying, moving with blinding speed.
In the space of a heartbeat, the knight's body was cleanly severed at the waist.
Tap tap tap...
Rapid footsteps hammered against the ground like a dense roll of drums.
Nolan lifted his gaze and saw a group of soldiers in red-and-blue armor charging toward him with ferocious momentum.
They brandished sharp weapons, eyes glinting with savage intent, as if eager to tear him apart.
Most of the soldiers were surrounding two heavily armored knights wielding lance and shield, the pair working in tight coordination to form a solid defensive line.
A handful of others had been drawn away by archers harassing them from afar, raising shields to block incoming arrows while pushing forward to counterattack.
At that moment, the soldiers noticed a man in knightly armor bursting out from the crowd.
A silver Claymore gleamed in his raised hands. Like a feral beast, he lunged straight at them with vicious intent.
The soldiers' hearts clenched. Almost instinctively, they lifted their spears and braced themselves.
Just before impact, the knight suddenly halted. His Claymore swept out in a wide horizontal arc toward the soldiers ahead.
A flash of golden light cut through the darkness.
Sacred Blade!
Golden blades streaked forth like crescent moons, instantly cleaving several soldiers in half at the waist. Blood sprayed everywhere, soaking the surrounding ground.
And it wasn't over.
Wisps of pale purple mist drifted out, spreading through the air.
Before the soldiers could react, the knight raised his Claymore again, and another golden flash burst forth.
Sacred Blade!
More golden blades shot outward, cutting down the nearby soldiers one after another.
Blood splattered, pale purple mist billowed, and a thick, choking stench of blood filled the air.
The surrounding soldiers were jolted awake by the sight. They hurriedly covered their mouths and noses, trying to keep the strange purple mist from entering their bodies.
But they were already too late.
Traces of the mist had slipped in through their nostrils.
Before long, dizziness set in. Their vision blurred, the world before them growing indistinct.
Mists of Slumber!
Both abilities were innate Ashes of War bound to the Claymore. If the former drew its power from Miquella, then the latter clearly originated from Trina's Strength.
Nolan pressed forward like a steel beast, his armor clattering sharply in the night wind, sounding like a rousing war song.
The wind roared through the gaps in his armor, bringing a faint chill.
It did nothing to slow him down.
Each step sent dust flying as he tore through the battlefield like a storm.
He cut straight through the dense formation, swinging his Claymore with casual force.
The sheer power behind each blow sent shield-bearing soldiers flying, as helpless as leaves caught in a raging gale.
After so long in the Lands Between, he finally looked like a true champion.