The weapon Tarnes currently gripped was the Godslayer's Greatsword, but even he couldn't suppress a frown when confronted by so many enemies arrayed against him.
With Comet Azur blocked by Sauron's own power, Tarnes found himself uncertain whether his other sorceries would prove equally ineffective. Having engaged in limited magical combat before, this tactical unknown troubled him greatly.
The pressing issue was his dwindling magical reserves. He couldn't afford to waste precious energy testing spells against an opponent of unknown capabilities. Every drop of remaining magic power needed conservation for the Ashes of War he'd mastered through countless battles.
Moreover, the intelligence gathered from Bernahl, Millicent, and Igon had painted a disturbing picture of just how dangerous the Nazgûl standing behind Sauron could be in prolonged combat. These weren't ordinary foes to be dismissed lightly.
Don't mistake these wraiths for weaklings simply because Bernahl had once escaped their encirclement relatively unscathed. Bernahl ranked among the most elite quasi-lord-level Tarnished in all the Lands Between, a warrior whose skills bordered on legendary.
Anyone else attempting such a feat would have perished under the coordinated assault of multiple Nazgûl fighting without support.
While Tarnes's mind raced through potential combat strategies, he remained unaware that Sauron, standing mere meters away, was equally surprised by this newcomer from beyond Middle-earth's borders.
Though the Dark Lord maintained an outwardly relaxed demeanor, conjuring that wall of fire to halt Comet Azur's deadly advance had indeed required considerable effort and concentration.
But it was merely troublesome, not impossible.
Sauron had faced opponents wielding greater destructive power in ages past. During the First Age, warriors capable of matching Tarnes's raw magical output had been numerous rather than exceptional. What concerned the Dark Lord more was determining how many other unknown sorceries this enemy possessed.
Lack of intelligence meant imperfect defenses, and imperfect defenses could prove fatal against a sufficiently skilled opponent.
Especially troubling was the strangely designed silver greatsword clutched in his opponent's hands. Sauron doubted this human from beyond Middle-earth had chosen a random weapon for their confrontation. This blade had been selected specifically because its wielder believed it capable of inflicting genuine harm.
At this critical juncture, Tarnes's greatest threat to Sauron lay in all the unknown variables, the countless secrets of the Lands Between that remained beyond the Dark Lord's vast knowledge.
Both combatants found themselves locked in a tactical stalemate, and the corpse-strewn battlefield suddenly fell into ominous silence.
Whether the normally undisciplined Orcs or the Nazgûl's monstrous winged mounts, all prostrated themselves against the scorched earth in displays of absolute submission.
Only the seven black-armored Nazgûl possessed sufficient status to remain standing behind their master.
Tarnes tightened his grip on the Godslayer's Greatsword while Sauron's gauntleted fingers closed more firmly around his war hammer's handle. Their eyes met across the field of battle like predators sizing up equally dangerous prey.
Sauron broke the silence first, planting his massive hammer against the ground in a gesture of temporary peace while extending his free hand toward Tarnes in apparent invitation. "Friend from beyond Middle-earth, why not join forces with me?"
Hmm?
The offer caught Tarnes completely off guard. He'd expected threats, demands, or immediate violence, not diplomatic overtures.
Though Tarnes's features remained hidden behind the White Wolf War Ghost helmet's protective mask, Sauron detected his opponent's bewilderment from the momentary pause in his combat stance.
The menacing, towering steel giant became wreathed in dancing flames that flickered and swirled around his armored form. When the fire quickly dissipated and Sauron reappeared unchanged, Tarnes discovered his opponent had transformed into something entirely unexpected.
Where the intimidating warlord had stood moments before, now a gentle, scholarly, and remarkably handsome male Elf regarded him with warm eyes.
Silver-white hair fell in lustrous waves past broad shoulders, bound by exquisite ornamental clasps that caught the ambient light. A golden circlet graced his noble brow, and magnificent black robes of obvious quality draped his tall, elegant frame.
His voice carried cultured warmth as he continued, "You seemed surprised by my words because you believe some irreconcilable hatred exists between us, correct?"
Tarnes's gaze instinctively shifted to the seven Nazgûl still standing behind this transformed figure before responding, "Yes. After all, there should originally be nine of those creatures at your back, shouldn't there?"
Sauron's expression remained perfectly friendly, his smile carrying the ease of casual conversation between old companions. "They represent merely two rings worn by mortal kings. Hardly sufficient cause to prevent our friendship. If you desire them, consider them yours. Besides, you've already claimed those particular rings as your own, haven't you?"
The Dark Lord paused, his features brightening with apparent inspiration as he addressed Tarnes with growing enthusiasm. "If you wish for additional rings of similar power, we could forge them together. Combining your abilities from beyond Middle-earth with my own craftsmanship would surely yield wondrous results."
Despite his better judgment, Tarnes found Sauron's voice stirring something within his chest, a warmth that seemed to bypass rational thought entirely.
"What about Black Hand?" Tarnes asked, forcing himself to maintain focus. "That giant spider I drove away claimed your subordinate carried an important mission, yet you don't seem concerned that I killed him?"
Sauron's warm demeanor never wavered as he shook his head dismissively. "Black Hand? His task was simply to help me summon an Elf's soul into his physical form. This particular Elf had betrayed my trust, you see. I taught him knowledge freely given, which he used to forge a new ring. Though it couldn't match the magical rings I personally crafted in earlier ages, it still possessed considerable power. Yet at the crucial moment, he stole our collaborative work and even attempted to murder me."
Tarnes shrugged with casual indifference. "Judging from your continued existence, that Elf obviously failed. Though I assume the ring was permanently lost? Otherwise you wouldn't need to summon his soul for interrogation."
Pain and genuine regret flickered across Sauron's refined features as he sighed deeply. "Yes, I truly considered him a dear friend and shared precious knowledge willingly. His betrayal cut deeper than any blade."
But the anguish vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced once again by that compelling friendliness.
Sauron's tone grew more earnest, more persuasive, as he continued his pitch. "But if you join forces with me, the rings we create together will certainly surpass anything that treacherous Elf ever produced. My only remaining goal involves eliminating those who wronged me. Elves, humans, and Dwarves who chose sides against me. I have no interest in claiming territory or ruling lands. Help me achieve this justice, and I'll grant you dominion over all those regions. I understand your strength, your friends' capabilities, and your army's potential. United, no nation in Middle-earth could withstand our combined advance. Not the humans with their failing kingdoms, not the Dwarves in their mountain halls, and certainly not the Elves in their hidden realms! What possible reason do you have to hesitate?"
The logic seemed... reasonable. Almost compelling in its simplicity.
Just as Tarnes found himself nodding along with Sauron's persuasive words, preparing to voice his agreement, Melina's anxious but crystal-clear voice cut through the strange fog clouding his thoughts.
"Tarnes, wake up!"
The effect was immediate and jarring. Tarnes gasped as if surfacing from deep underwater, his lungs working frantically while cold sweat beaded across his forehead beneath the helmet's protective padding.
But his mind had cleared dramatically, allowing him to perceive that Sauron's Nazgûl and Orc forces had somehow repositioned themselves during his momentary distraction. They now formed a complete encirclement, cutting off all escape routes.
Combat instincts honed through countless battles drove Tarnes to immediate action. His Godslayer's Greatsword swept outward in a devastating arc, the blade wreathed in writhing flames of black and white that caught the nearest charging Nazgûl completely unprepared.
The cursed wraith, mounted on its fell beast, took the full brunt of the strike. Black and white fires coiled around its form like hungry serpents, and the Nazgûl's piercing shrieks echoed across the battlefield as its armor began to warp and its essence burned away.
Yet Sauron merely laughed with casual amusement, raising one elegant hand toward the dying wraith. A mass of dark energy flowed back to the Dark Lord's position, quickly reforming into the familiar shape of the destroyed Nazgûl.
Sauron's eyes narrowed dangerously as his gaze fixed on Melina, positioned protectively behind Tarnes. His voice carried a note of genuine curiosity mixed with threat. "You broke free from my words' influence. What are you?"