Nolan flung the two severed heads aside and plunged into the enemy ranks once more, cutting down lives without pause. Blades and sorcery struck in tandem as the cavalry followed close behind, iron hooves carving a path through flesh and blood.
This time, Caria paid a heavy price. The battlefield was choked with the thick stench of blood and smoke. Corpses lay piled like hills, and streams of blood ran across the ground.
If they failed to press their advantage now, once the Cuckoos regained their footing, it would not be long before they surged back again.
The fighting continued at a brutal pace, both sides already pushed to the edge of exhaustion.
Yet as the Carian soldiers watched those knights advance without hesitation, an unfamiliar strength welled up inside them.
They did not know where such power came from, but one after another they followed, as if driven forward by an unseen conviction.
Under the blazing firelight, a torrent of steel burst forth from within the fortress, scattering the Cuckoos like startled birds.
This battle was destined to become a sweeping chapter of history. No matter the final outcome, it would be burned deeply into the memories of all who witnessed it.
"Commander, what should we do?"
"What should we do!?"
Beneath the city gate, in the cramped space below, the burly Kercius stood surrounded by a knot of Cuckoo soldiers.
His eyes burned with rage and unwillingness, like twin flames blazing fiercely in the darkness.
Corpses lay everywhere. Raziel and Bols were barely holding on by themselves, and Caria was down to its last thousand troops. If this dragged on, the Cuckoos were bound to win.
Kercius was riddled with confusion.
He could not understand how Ingram, with his strength and several hundred men under his command, could have met such an end.
And Igor. Was he not praised as the strongest battlefield sorcerer, second only to the Professor of Sorcery?
If they had appeared with their forces at the rear of the Carian army, the battle would have ended on the spot. He would have seized the chance to lead his men straight into the stronghold.
Even if they failed to break in, they could have held the fortress. By then, the Carian army would have been drained of strength and posed no further threat, their connection to the outside world completely severed.
That would have freed them to deal with the White Village still putting up resistance, and then seize control of the entire western shore of Liurnia of the Lakes.
Even without Caria's wealth, they could have carved out a domain of their own on this land.
But now, all those plans had come to nothing. He had even lost a vice commander and several officers.
For the Cuckoos, this was a devastating blow. Who knew how many villages they would need to plunder to make up for such losses?
"My lord! Raziel and Bols are charging this way with their men! We can't hold them!"
A dazzling light erupted nearby, blazing upward as if the brightest star in the night sky had suddenly exploded.
Raziel formed a Carian Greatsword several meters long and swept it across the field, sending all the shield-bearing Cuckoo knights flying.
The soldiers surged forward at once, giving the fallen knights no chance to retaliate as spears plunged into their bodies.
Blood sprayed everywhere. Miserable screams echoed through the air, raising goosebumps on the skin.
"Ugh!"
"It's the Carian Knights!"
Amid the Cuckoos' wails, Raziel and Bols said nothing, their cold gazes alone enough to chill the heart.
Kercius glared at them with even greater ferocity. His grand ambitions had been within arm's reach, only to collapse like this. All because of those cursed knights.
Rage and hatred boiled inside him, so intense he wanted nothing more than to tear Raziel and the others to pieces.
"Withdraw! Pull back to camp."
At last, Kercius gave the order.
He seized a warhorse and vaulted onto its back, turning it around as he let out a thunderous roar.
The main camp still had reserve forces. The situation was dire, but the foundation remained.
As long as they could retreat and reorganize, there was still a chance to turn things around.
Seeing their commander ride off, the knights followed suit, spurring their horses into a frantic retreat.
The Cuckoos' discipline might have been lacking, but they could at least ride. With survival instinct taking over, no one wanted to throw their life away here for nothing.
The thunder of hooves rolled across the battlefield, leaving chaos in its wake.
"Withdraw! Back to camp!"
The Cuckoos were clearly well-practiced at running. The order had barely gone out before their knights were already fleeing at an astonishing pace. With Carian forces on foot, there was no way to catch them.
"Stay away from the main camp! Don't rush in!!"
Raziel rode after them, shouting at the top of his lungs. Bols followed right behind, his heavy steps pounding the earth with a steady boom-boom.
They hadn't been blinded by their brief victory. They knew that place was still a death trap.
Sure enough, the moment they drew close to the Cuckoos' camp, the dimly brightening sky suddenly filled with a long, unbroken wail.
Catapults and ballistae fired in unison. Massive stones and bolts smashed dozens of Carian soldiers into pulp, and the grisly sight forced everyone to cool their heads.
Nolan's cavalry was the first to rein in. The soldiers who had surged out after them also fell back.
He had been the fastest to charge, fighting together with his master. On this battlefield, there was no one who could stand against them even for a single exchange.
Seeing him stop, the Carian Knights finally let out a breath they didn't realize they'd been holding.
The tide could turn in an instant. If the Carian army pushed any closer, the scales might swing back the other way, and their hard-won victory would slip through their fingers.
He tightened his grip on the reins and guided his warhorse forward at a slow walk, his chest still rising and falling hard.
Only after a long, long while, as though centuries had passed, did the frantic pounding in his heart finally settle. He drew up steadily beside that knight.
Both of them were drenched in blood, looking utterly battered and yet impossibly imposing. Raziel even forgot that just a few days ago, this same man had been cursing him out for being stingy.
If he'd once respected him for the strength of a hero, now he acknowledged him for the deeds of one.
He slowly removed his heavy helmet, the motion solemn, like the final step of a sacred rite, and offered a proper knightly salute to the knight before him.
The knight answered with a simple nod. In that brief moment of eye contact, the heavy stench of blood seemed to jolt the people who had calmed down, snapping their minds fully awake.
A moment later, the Carian Knight raised his sword high. The blade, stained with countless lives, pointed toward the bright moon at the horizon, now gradually being swallowed by a veil of golden light.
"Glory! Caria!!"
"Glory!! Caria!!!"
The cries surged outward to the distant skyline, weaving together with the frantic drum of hooves and the deep clang of armor, rolling away like a massive wave of sound.
It was as if the ancient Erdtree had been stirred by the roar. Brilliant light spilled down in countless golden strands, drifting gently over the land, illuminating knight after knight, soldier after soldier.
With all eyes on him, Nolan sat tall in the saddle and accepted it without flinching. Then he looked back toward the broken city walls behind them.
"All troops, back into the city!"
Where his gaze fell, the army turned at once. The royal stronghold seemed unyielding: the massive gate was battered and broken, yet wounded soldiers still dragged themselves to stand along the road.
Beneath that dazzling golden light, the blood-soaked warriors took in everything around them.
They saw collapsed, ruined homes. They saw an unending river of iron flowing past. They saw prisoners of war who still didn't dare lift their heads. At last, their eyes settled on the knight at the front.
Silver hair whipped freely in the wind, and the sword in his hand threw back a fierce glare of light. Carian or not, in this moment he was worthy of the name hero.
The twin moons were veiled by the tree's radiance, but they were still there.
The soldiers lifted their heads and squared their shoulders. They had witnessed an epic legend.
And more than that, they themselves were part of it.