"Retreat!" Thranduil shouted, furious as he saw his people getting slaughtered by the orcs.
A massive surge of wood-element battle qi gathered around him, and a glowing blue crescent moon rose behind his back…
Whoosh! The crescent moon sliced through the air as Thranduil swung his hand. That moon seemed almost alive, swirling across the battlefield, cutting every orc within a 50-meter radius around him clean in half.
"Holy crap! An Elven Hunter? Top-tier ranger?" Even Roland and his crew watching from the hill couldn't help but notice that stunning crescent moon.
"It's the Moon of the Hunt! A unique skill of the Tracker class—the crescent automatically attacks enemies marked within a 50-meter radius of the caster," Kaslow explained after a quick glance.
"Not bad for the Woodland Kingdom. Way better than I expected," Roland admitted, surprised.
Thanks to the elves' long lifespan, nearly all of them could go pro—professional adventurers. They had plenty of time and experience to sharpen their magic and combat skills. Thranduil leading nearly 5,000 elven pros was kinda impressive, though the elves' pitiful population and fertility rates…
Roar! A giant ogre troll emerged from the cave, carrying a crude small catapult. It slammed its massive arms on the ground, steadying the siege engine while orcs on its shoulders loaded a giant boulder.
Boom! Several boulders flew through the sky and crashed heavily into Rivervale.
"Ah!" Several elven archers on a stone mound got blasted far away by a huge rock.
Ugh! Flying debris smashed into the head of a running human soldier below, who wailed in pain before collapsing like a sack of potatoes.
"Kill! For the Forest Goddess!" An elven ranger grit his teeth and charged back into the fray to save the archers surrounded by ugly orcs, even though he'd just retreated moments ago…
"Hold the line!" Some human spearmen jabbed viciously at the orcs climbing over the crumbling battlements.
Roar! A giant ogre, wielding a stone war hammer on its head, charged and smashed violently into the outer wall of Rivervale.
Crash! The old, worn-down wall couldn't hold, collapsing in a thunderous roar and leaving a gap over ten meters wide.
"Abandon the walls! Prepare for street fighting!" Bard shouted to his troops, grim-faced as the wall fell.
"Barn! Take the women and kids to the church!" Bard grabbed his panicked son and dragged him away.
…
Whoosh! Thranduil rode his moon stag, charging through the clogged stone bridge at the city gate, hacking and knocking down all the orcs blocking the way.
Ow! The moon stag screamed in pain, then went down on one knee, flinging Thranduil off. That's when he saw several crude iron swords stuck in the stag's chest—this place was already lost to the orcs! Thranduil was the last elf retreating from the battlefield… The others either fled into the city or died outside…
He looked around. About a dozen ordinary orcs surrounded him.
"Heh." He sneered. Since when did lowly orcs dare get this close to him? Thranduil's anger flared.
Slash! Sharp elven twin blades carved bright arcs through the air, slicing open those orcs.
"Damn…" He darted through the ruined city, enraged as he passed corpses of fallen elves, venting his fury on every orc he encountered.
Finally, he found a group of elves still fighting fiercely. He roared, swinging his weapons fast, precise, and merciless, cutting orcs' necks cleanly.
"Regroup our troops!" Thranduil ordered.
"Let's get the hell outta this cursed place!" he growled. He'd planned to snatch the elves' favorite treasure—the sacred white gem—but who knew the fight with the dwarves wouldn't even be settled before orcs smashed them hard? Nearly a thousand elves were dead here in no time.
"You can't just leave!" Tauriel suddenly appeared in front of him.
"My people have shed enough blood for this land!" Thranduil said coldly, unwilling to sacrifice any more elves for dwarves and humans.
"The dwarves and humans need us!" Tauriel pleaded desperately.
…
"Forget it, retreat…" Roland sighed and shook his head. It was chaos. Humans, elves, dwarves, orcs—this mess was driving everyone nuts. He pulled back, unwilling to risk his troops getting wiped out for a pile of loot. Most likely, they'd all get left behind.
"Why? Sir? Didn't we stay here to find a chance to strike?" Reno looked up, shocked.
"Why retreat? They need us…" Reno pushed.
True to form, Reno was stirring things up again, just like history said. Roland held his head wearily. Known as the Dawn of the North, Reno's knightly spirit was respected—drawing sword for the weak, striking down the strong, fighting for unarmed civilians and allies.
"We have almost no chance. Even with dragon riders, it's not enough! Orc reinforcements from Gundabad are on the way. We can't turn the tide!" Roland patiently explained.
No one answered. Hundreds fell silent. Everyone understood, but walking away like this wasn't easy.
Roland looked at the quiet crowd, frowned. Maybe knowing the harsh truth made him lose empathy. He might never get why knights of the Lagrand Empire chased honor so fiercely…
"Sorry, my king! Maybe this is the first and last time I disobey your orders! But a knight's honor won't let us abandon our allies!" Reno suddenly stood and gave a perfect knight's salute to Roland.
"Don't forget—you're a noble paladin too!" Reno bowed slightly.
"Soldiers of Lagrand! The glory of our ancestors still flows in our blood! The waters of the Swift River still nourish our homeland! We might fail today! We might die! But the Empire's will will never fade! We—fight!" Reno mounted his horse, raising his lance with a roar.
"For the Empire's honor!"
"Long live Lagrand!"
"May the Swift River protect us!"
"With my longbow, I'll point the way forward!"
Suddenly everyone's spirits surged. The mark of Lagrand's glory was etched deep in their souls. For home and honor, they were ready to face the whole world!
"Maybe you're right. I'm a knight too," Roland said softly, looking at every face before him, then smiled slightly and rested his hand on the Dragon-Slaying Sword's hilt.
After a long moment, he looked toward the distant battlefield at Lonely Mountain.
"Then, we join the fight! For knightly honor! For Lagrand's glory!" Roland drew the sword and leapt onto his horse.
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