After a chaotic battle with no suspense to it, the vast city of Nokron had nearly been razed to the ground.
The once-majestic inner and outer city walls had all been shattered, leaving only broken remnants that teetered on the verge of collapse.
The buildings that had once stood firm were now crooked and unstable, as if they might fall at any moment.
The Night Priestesses' tower and the banners of the Nox had long since fallen as well, destroyed in the chaos of battle.
The city was unrecognizable, reduced to a scene of utter devastation.
And if the city was in such a state, its Lord was not faring any better.
Upon the ruins, Nolan's Promised Claymore was buried deep in the Lord of the Night's body, pinning it directly to the dead, silent earth.
He looked down at the countless terrified Noxians below, as though standing atop a mountain and gazing over grass and trees spread across the land.
The Lord of the Night struggled to lift its head, but the greatsword felt like a mountain pressing down on it, making it impossible to rise no matter how hard it tried.
Flames burned endlessly across its body, while lightning rampaged through it. It could no longer control its body with the same agility as before.
Nolan lowered his head slightly and looked at the Lord of the Night beneath him. It was now almost unrecognizable, all traces of a Lord's dignity gone.
This "Lord" created by the Noxians did possess considerable strength. Even among the Golden Lords, it would have ranked near the very top.
Its mimicry, combined with its formidable vitality, would have been enough to trouble any Demigod.
Without Nolan, if a creature like this had reached the surface, Godrick would never have been a match for the Nox. In this era, the King of the Night would certainly have claimed a place for itself.
But its luck was difficult to describe. It had only just begun walking the path of a Lord when it ran straight into Nolan.
The combat strength of a top-tier Demigod was no longer enough to threaten Nolan, and its formidable vitality had only turned it into a durable toy.
"It's like a Tarnished who just arrived in the Lands Between, all ready to make a name for himself, only to run headfirst into a Tree Sentinel blocking the gate. And on top of that, he's expected to clear it on his first try without dying."
Nolan's lips curled into a thoroughly wicked smile.
If, in the future, some destined Tarnished truly descended upon the Lands Between, and Nolan happened to still be in Limgrave, then the first BOSS that Tarnished had to face would be him.
At the thought of playing the role of a BOSS and tormenting newcomers who carried dreams of becoming a Lord, Nolan actually felt a little excited. Perhaps this was the joy that old scoundrel Miyazaki felt.
"Still, I really don't know whether your luck is good or bad. You were born with the strength of a top-tier Demigod. Even true Demigods would envy you." Nolan sighed.
Demigods were naturally powerful, of course, but reaching the heights of Malenia and Radahn still required relentless training of their own.
What made it even more infuriating was that the Lord of the Night did not need to learn at all. Malenia had to devote herself to swordsmanship, while Radahn had to study Sorceries under a master and temper himself on the battlefield.
Yet the Lord of the Night could imitate all of those skills with ease. Effort and sweat were practically a joke before it.
"But then you ran into me. So I suppose your luck really is bad." Nolan shook his head with a hint of regret, then slowly pulled the Promised Claymore out of the Lord of the Night's body.
The moment the greatsword came free, it dragged out a splash of silver blood that scattered across the ground, forming a strange, writhing stain.
Nolan gripped the greatsword and aimed it at the Lord of the Night's head, ready to close in and finish it.
Just as he was about to swing, a soft female voice suddenly reached his ears.
"Please wait!"
Though the voice was gentle, it sounded especially abrupt in the silent surroundings.
The greatsword in Nolan's hand stopped at once. The Lord of the Night had not opened its mouth, but Nolan was certain the voice had come from inside its body.
"O great Lord of Cinder, please hear me out before you act. This will certainly benefit you, so please, I beg you, listen to me."
The voice came again, earnest and pleading.
Nolan was certain the Noxians had never taught this Mimic Tear the way of a Lord. The voice had the tone of a mature woman, yet it sounded even easier to bully than Trina.
He glanced at the trio of Night Priestesses not far away. They had been watching the battlefield all along, but their own strength kept them from interfering.
The three Priestesses' expressions had inevitably turned somewhat awkward. Their Lord's behavior really was a little embarrassing.
This was indeed their oversight. Although they had always addressed the King of the Night with reverence, deep down, they still regarded it as nothing more than a biological weapon. They had never thought to teach it the bearing of a Lord.
Nolan nodded. Under his gaze, the Lord of the Night's body gradually softened and shrank into a silver sphere.
"Do you have anything else to say before you die?" Nolan asked, looking at the Lord that had suddenly become a ball. He planted the greatsword beside it. "I can give you that chance."
"Thank you. You truly are a merciful Lord, but I don't want to die," the silver sphere said. "O great Lord of Cinder, I beg you. I can give you power. Could you please let me keep living?"
"An artificial weapon is afraid of death now?" Nolan asked, somewhat surprised.
"I am indeed only an artificial creation. My true form is nothing more than a Silver Tear," the silver sphere replied.
"But my creators gave me wisdom, allowing me to speak, to think... and because of that, I came to understand fear. I became afraid of death."
The silver sphere spoke softly while slowly edging closer to Nolan.
It was clearly nothing more than a smooth, featureless sphere, without any obvious face at all, yet Nolan somehow felt as though a pair of eyes, as clear as those of a college student, were looking at him.
Nolan had always trusted his instincts, so naturally he believed what the Mimic Tear said. But as everyone knew, the Lord of Cinder never made a losing deal.
"But you'll give me power?" Nolan considered the condition proposed by the silver sphere, the corners of his mouth rising slightly. "For a loser, you're rather full of yourself."
"No, no, no, that's absolutely not what I meant!" The silver sphere shook frantically, as if desperately shaking its head.
"I mean I can become a useful force for you! I can transform into all kinds of creatures and mimic their every move!"
Two tiny protrusions stretched out from the sphere, like a pair of little arms. Those tiny hands waved anxiously, as if trying to emphasize that it was telling the truth.
Why was it kind of cute?
"So you're willing to submit to me?" Nolan rubbed his chin. "In that case, I suppose I can consider it."
The silver sphere hurriedly replied, "That's right, O great Lord of Cinder. Please consider it. Compared to taking spoils from my corpse, gaining my strength will definitely benefit you more."
The silver liquid-metal sphere pressed closer to Nolan, wrapping its two short little arms around his leg. If it were not so inexperienced in the ways of the world, Nolan suspected this thing could be even more shameless.
Still, Nolan was honestly tempted. After all, the Mimic Tear was indeed a strong combat asset. But with how afraid of death she was, trusting her loyalty was difficult.
If they went onto a battlefield and ran into an opponent who could threaten her life, she would probably turn around and sell him out on the spot.