The young Nightmare had never personally experienced mountains of corpses and seas of blood, but his bloodline had granted him an innate understanding of how to command fear.
Command...
Fear?
Only when he came back to his senses did Tola realize he had forgotten to breathe.
Why was he afraid?
The Nightmare looked at the enemy before him. The other man had not brought down his sword, but stood silently where he was with his eyes closed, as though sensing the effects brought by the Originium Arts.
Tola's body instinctively wanted to retreat, but he forcibly suppressed the urge.
He knew that showing even the slightest hint of retreat would be a betrayal of his Nightmare bloodline... and of his own Heavenly Path.
So he suddenly clenched his polearm. Blood surged through his veins, and fear exploded in the depths of his consciousness like a raging tide, sweeping toward his opponent.
Moonlight cast his figure upon the ground, outlining a pitch-black shadow.
The memories lingering within his bloodline were summoned forth, becoming Nightmares, becoming an army, becoming countless afterimages surging behind him and whispering across the wilderness.
"So that's how it is."
"That Nightmare Khan's Arts and fear... so that was how they worked."
"...What a pity."
That was what Gerald said.
By the time Tola realized his opponent was speaking, his consciousness had already begun to blur. He could only bite through his lips and keep drinking his own blood to stay awake.
He pulled his spear from the ground, aimed it at the Pegasus before him, and roared, "Our battle isn't over yet—! We haven't decided the victor yet—!"
"Pegasus—!!!"
The instant his words fell, Tola's spear shadows poured down like a torrential rain. The army behind him advanced with him, turning the blades and spears in their