"You still haven't told me what kind of trump card you're hiding. Don't tell me you're planning to copy this Saintess and act cute."
Trina's delicate face was tight with gravity.
"How could I? I'm not like you, able to charm everyone you meet. If I tried that, I'd probably end up skewered on a spear like candied hawthorn."
"Since you have neither this Saintess's universally adored charm nor the overwhelming power to sweep away all obstacles, what exactly are you planning to do?"
Her voice was thick with curiosity.
She knew perfectly well that the man in front of her was, at heart, a complete madman.
But this time he had gone too far. If he wanted to live, there was no reason to throw himself into this vortex.
Even if that bastard managed to capture her, so what?
She was confident she could protect herself.
Faced with her persistent questioning, Nolan simply smiled faintly and lowered his voice.
"Your Highness, please be a little more patient. Just wait quietly a while longer."
"You!!"
Trina nearly exploded with anger. How dare he brush her off like that?
She shot him a fierce glare, almost tossing her hair and storming off to ignore this insufferable fool for good.
In the end, though, she couldn't bring herself to leave. Instead, she sullenly rested against his shoulder, stewing in frustration.
Nolan no longer had the energy to mind the Saintess's temper.
His gaze locked onto the left. In the distance, figures flickered atop a towering spire, while the roar of waves crashing against the rocks pounded in his ears.
Someone was approaching at high speed.
Footsteps echoed closer and closer as Pureblood Knights clad in pitch-black armor came into view.
Their arrival caused a brief stir before calm returned.
On a true battlefield, this force would hardly matter. But here, in front of Nolan, it was enough to buy a sliver of time.
"Shall I use my power?" Ranni asked without hesitation. Time was running short.
Her true body could not arrive in time. Within the doll, there remained only one power: the Demigod's legendary magic, Dark Moon.
As a Demigod, she stood among the greatest Sorcerers in the world.
Dark Moon alone was powerful enough to turn the tide of a massive war between armies. Its strength was beyond doubt.
Nolan, however, shook his head.
"No. They're not worth that. Power like that should be saved for the moment it can truly decide victory."
So what exactly are you trying to do?
Ranni felt at a loss for words.
She had expected him to at least consider her proposal carefully. Instead, he rejected it without a second thought.
As she was still thinking, Nolan, who had been striding forward, suddenly stopped.
Just as she thought he was finally taking her advice seriously, she saw him draw another greatsword from his spirit ring.
"Looks like I'll have to use both swords."
Tap, tap, tap!
Before his words had even faded, hurried footsteps rang out.
With the thud of boots striking stone, five dark figures leapt down from the surrounding shadows like wraiths. They formed a tight formation—three in front, two behind—encircling the group of five.
To avoid harming allies, Trina did not use Charm on them.
Miquella's ability was troublesome. Once activated, it affected everyone nearby without distinction.
Given the disparity in strength between the two sides, using it now would only hold them back.
"Our Lord has arrived! The dawn of victory shines before us—our destiny is already decided!"
"Golden Needle Knights, tell us—where is the esteemed Princess Miquella now?"
A group of knights wearing vivid red insignia stepped out from the depths of shadow, their faces burning with near-manic fervor.
Right. Most people didn't know that Miquella and Trina were the same person. In fact, most didn't even know whether Trina or Miquella were male or female.
Nolan rolled his eyes inwardly.
These idiots hadn't even done their homework, yet they rushed in to snatch someone. Reckless and utterly unprofessional.
"You don't need to know. You'll be dead soon enough, and knowing won't change that."
Leda spoke in place of her lord. Trina remained silent, her face cold and unreadable.
Nolan, standing to the side, looked utterly at ease. He spoke lightly.
"Sorry. I don't have time to waste on you."
Before his words had fully settled, a chilling stillness spread through the air.
Their vision blurred.
In the next instant, three figures appeared right in front of them without warning.
The Pureblood Knights froze. Their minds stalled, unable to process what had just happened. There was no time to react, not even enough to regain their bearings.
The gap between a third-rate hero and a first-rate hero was already vast—far greater than the gulf between a third-rate hero and an ordinary knight.
And the three standing before them were not merely first-rate heroes in the usual sense.
Nolan gave them no answer.
He gripped the two gleaming greatswords in his hands and raised them high overhead.
"Their lives are mine."
The words fell cold and final.
The knights had just begun to recover from their shock when a heavy sonic boom exploded in their ears.
Boom!!
The blades vanished from sight.
A violent shockwave surged outward, churning the sea behind them, and in the same instant the two greatswords drove straight into the bodies of the two Pureblood Knights wielding sword and shield.
Nolan's greatswords carved two flawless arcs through the air, then came crashing down without a hint of flourish.
Too… fast.
The Pureblood Knights instinctively tried to raise their shields.
Too late.
A searing pain tore through their shoulders, sharp and absolute, as though their bodies had been ripped open from within.
A dreadful numbness spread in an instant. Most of their bodies ceased to respond, as if they no longer belonged to them.
They wanted to retreat.
Their minds screamed at their legs to move.
But their feet were rooted to the ground. No matter how hard they struggled, they could not take a single step.
What kind of power was this?
Terror and confusion twisted across their faces. The world seemed to flip upside down.
Their once-intact bodies were wrenched apart by raw force. Their lower halves slipped away from their control without warning, severed from sensation as though they were no longer their own.