"Has he finally come?!"
Radahn roared in excitement, his voice echoing across the blood-colored battlefield as if it would tear through the night.
At that moment, the world fell silent. He could not even hear his own roar.
Yet he seemed to see a boundless sea of blood blotting out the sky and moon, drawing out a wide scarlet road, like the gates to the land of death thrown open.
A long-haired man wore silver armor edged in gold, gleaming with brilliant light. His bearing was elegant and noble, like a god descended from the heavens.
The man rode a strange warhorse with long horns. Its hooves stepped onto the blood-red road, making soft clopping sounds like a graceful drumbeat.
His figure seemed so lonely amid the sea of blood, yet as he advanced, more and more figures appeared behind him, like heroic spirits rising from the blood sea to serve a god.
Radahn slowly narrowed his eyes. He saw Nolan's face, both unfamiliar and strangely familiar.
The man's features looked gentle, carrying a warmth that was hard to resist. Anyone who longed for happiness would likely find it difficult to refuse the rule of such a Lord.
Radahn wanted to use Gravity Sorcery to move closer to that opponent, but from that lean figure, he still sensed an intense threat.
That threat was like a massive beast hidden in the dark. It had not yet bared its fangs, but its presence alone made him feel like a piece of meat under the gaze of an evil dragon.
Every muscle in Radahn's body tightened at once. He raised the pair of black iron greatswords that had shattered the stars and stood his ground. Nolan, on the other hand, had to lower his head to see Radahn's face clearly.
"Who... exactly are you?"
Radahn's voice was low. His gaze fixed on the figure above him, as if trying to see through those deep eyes and find the truth he wanted.
"Have we met somewhere before?"
It was a ridiculous question. If he had ever met such a powerful opponent before, he would never have forgotten.
Nolan was clearly a formidable Warrior, and his face was impossible to mistake, yet Radahn did not know him. Still, that sense of familiarity would not fade.
"Have you already forgotten?" Nolan's light laugh drifted through the air, carrying a faint note of teasing.
His voice was not loud, yet it echoed by Radahn's ear, as if stirring memories from their sleep.
"You looked younger back then than you do now. Though I suppose I've changed quite a lot too. After all, I was just an unremarkable little brat at the time."
Radahn could not help frowning. It was hard to imagine anyone with that face calling himself unremarkable.
He forced back the haze in his mind and concentrated, searching carefully through the depths of his memory.
Memory after memory flashed through his mind like scenes from a film. He was like a diligent student buried in the library, unwilling to miss even the smallest detail.
Radahn swore he had never been this serious, not even when studying military strategy in the Royal Library.
Yes, his memory had always been excellent. One could even call it photographic. Yet one particular memory kept circling in his mind, troubling him deeply.
The starting point of that memory was the moment he first met that person. From the very first time he saw this man, he could not stop recalling that scene.
In that memory, he stood in a city built beside a great tree.
The entire city was shrouded in thick fog. Mist filled the air, giving everything a hazy, mysterious feeling.
In that fog-wrapped city, a simple and elegant mansion appeared and disappeared from view.
And by the window of that mansion stood a boy, quietly gazing at him.
"Miquella... that younger brother of mine really was possessive enough," Radahn suddenly said with a bitter smile.
As those words left him, his thoughts gradually cleared.
He remembered the scene back then. He had indeed still been young, and the holy city called Elphael had only recently been built.
He had gone to visit his younger brother, Miquella.
It was then that he saw the man before him now.
Back then, Nolan had still been a child, but he could never have been called "unremarkable." On the contrary, he was the sort of child no one could forget after a single glance.
He had long hair as white as silver snow, faintly shimmering as it stirred.
His eyes were a deep and captivating blue-green, like stars in the night sky, dazzling and bright.
Aside from his younger brother Miquella, this was the second boy he had ever met who made it so hard to look away.
But their connection had been no more than that brief encounter. They had not even exchanged a word, only a passing glance, and after that, their paths never crossed again.
From then on, that mysterious boy vanished as if he had evaporated from the world, disappearing completely from Radahn's life and never appearing before him again.
In the days that followed at the Haligtree, every day felt to Radahn as though he were living in an unreal dream. Nothing seemed real.
He often wondered whether that experience had truly happened, or whether it had all been one long hallucination.
Radahn could not help sighing.
Looking back now, he finally understood. Back then, he really had been living in a dream, a beautiful dream woven by Miquella.
That half-brother of his, in order to keep this man for himself, had actually struck at his own elder brother while he was completely off guard.
"I should thank you," Radahn said sincerely. "That person in Leyndell back then. That was you, wasn't it? The Golden Spirit of Leyndell."
"If you mean the matter with Malenia, then yes, that was probably me." Nolan nodded slightly. The blood that had filled the sky dispersed, and now he truly looked like a holy king.
The army behind him was held aloft by purple Gravity light. Some rode Flying Dragons, while Torrent beneath him stepped slowly downward across clusters of purple light.
No matter which side they belonged to, at this moment, every soldier's gaze was drawn to the silver-haired man on horseback in the sky.
Nolan rode Torrent down slowly from the clouds. Beneath the bright moon, his silver hair reflected a pure radiance, making him seem like a figure from myth.
The Golden Spirit of Leyndell. That title held extraordinary meaning for the people of the Lands Between. It belonged to the great champion who had saved the Royal Capital Leyndell from the deadly corruption of Scarlet Rot.
The Grace-Given Lord had said it was a Golden Spirit from ancient times returned from slumber, and the Lord of Stormveil just happened to be a returned Tarnished One. Did that not fit perfectly?
"Torrent? Miquella gave it to you? Your relationship with him really is unusual." Radahn grinned.
"Strictly speaking, it isn't my relationship with Miquella that's unusual. It's my relationship with Trina," Nolan corrected him.
"That's right, Brother. Nolan has absolutely nothing to do with that Miquella guy. He is my Lord," the spirit girl lying on Nolan's shoulder said.
"Trina? I remember that name as the Saintess of the Fallen Leaves Sect. I don't recall having such a sister." Radahn shook his head in confusion.
"It's too hard to explain right now. Just know that we were originally one and the same!" Trina said, somewhat annoyed.