Each elf's quiver has a total of half a hundred steel bolts with them. In normal circumstances, it is impossible to carry that much especially considering the weight of the steel melee weapons on top of that.
It is too heavy.
But this heaviness isn't much of a problem now with the assistance of the Berserker Potion.
Trudviar observes his kin and sees barely a few elves still carrying their short bows. The others abandoning their empty quivers and useless bows is worthy of a compliment.
The short bows that are the core of the crossbow technology are quite amazing in their own right. It uses tough nara wood as the base, and its strings are hardened weaved bamboo strips.
Its pull is at least a hundred pounds, and it can easily make a kill on 40 to 20 yards, but with the elves' natural affinity to hunting, their marksmanship works wonders on crossbows. Just for the materials alone, it is quite an expenditure on par with half a year's ration of a small Baron's army.
It is expensive, but their worth can only show when it is useable, so it is logical to abandon them lest they are just useless baggage then.
"Those who still have ammunition on them, assemble on the rear. Don't waste your ammunition on the scrubs. Target their leaders with scrutiny. And... Melee fighters, go and get yourselves a shield and form a line."
Trudviar commands his soldiers and grabs a shield of a dead soldier of his choosing. Many soldiers did they kill, and the commonality among the human units is that they wield a shield and a spear. Though this tendency is not definite, it helps Trudviar on adjusting his strategies.
Temptation calls to him that they should also swap their steel weapons with the crude iron spear he finds lying around, but he resists making the dumb choice.
They are elite fighters.
It will do them no good to discard their more superior steel weapon in exchange for a crude iron.
Human soldiers start gathering on the wide road in front of them. Their numbers are certainly scary.
Lacking the experience to judge numbers by sight alone, Trudviar cannot pinpoint just how many are the soldiers marching in front of him.
"Gather your resolve! We are invincible! We are immortal!"
Trudviar rouses his troop's morale in a single breath. Echoing his words are the elven women who stereotypically shouldn't be a promoter of war.
Yet, that is what exactly Lafira and her band of elves are. "We are invincible!" Lafira shouts in excitement, her veins showing in her skin.
"WE ARE IMMORTAL!" The elves shout back.
Momentum.
Morale.
Mastery.
Majesty.
It is the freaking making of Myth— and for his majesty who should be unconscious— this will be the elves' great beginning to metamorphose into true warriors.
"CHAAAARGE!" A commanding human soldier braves the way as his horse gallops forward. He stretches his lance and reduces his surface area by leaning low.
His bravery stokes the little courage of the foot soldiers behind him. Be it Urden or Beyronald, they manically join the charge binding them with all sorts of 'reasons' in their heads.
For glory and wealth. For personal reasons. And maybe even just for the kicks of it. Some may have no reason at all but simply just 'because', like some bandwagon pushing a person's psychological limits, they join the stampede.
Yes, a 'stampede' unbecoming of a disciplined army.
It only takes a couple of arrows to take down the commanding soldier. After that, it is total chaos. It is already chaotic before this, and now, it is descending into total pandemonium.
With the spearhead collapsing, the momentum the human soldiers carry starts faltering causing damage to their ranks.
Other human foot soldiers dare brave their way and lead the charge, but they quickly are taken down with an arrow to their eyesocket.
It is terrible, but the human soldiers persist.
Trudviar didn't expect them to be so fearless, but that works for him too. "Raise your shields! Defend!" He cries.
The human soldiers crash at them like waves from a tsunami, however, every elf is like a small mountain.
Like small mountains, the elves receive the humans' momentum, similarly negating them in a domineering manner.
Though the humans manage to push back the elves a little due to their advantage in weight class as the elves are generally slim in physique, the humans still lose in terms of raw power. And again, this is thanks to the Berserker Potion.
The vanguard of the human soldiers who carry a shield of their own finds themselves in trouble as the elves in front of them shred their shields like paper. Their crude iron spears are similarly useless like sticks as they broke in half so easily.
In this time and age, steel weapons are somewhat semi-divine weapons. The empire has been monopolizing this technology for the past millennium and its distribution is so extensive, it is starting to reach other continents.
That may be the case, but not everyone is so rich, and have so few soldiers to ably equip their military with a hundred percent steel weaponry.
Trudviar who is at the center of the formation discards his shield, and as if baiting the humans in front of him, he takes the brunt of the humans' charge.
"DIE!" He swings his sword madly decapitating another soldier. "MAINTAIN FORMATION! MAINTAIN YOUR SHIELDS! MAINTAIN YOUR LIFE!" He reminds his kin of their essence.
The elves protect the one beside them so that they can live a second longer, so that the more they live, the more chances they will be able to kill their enemies.
A fearless army that drives themselves with hate yet possesses a hungry desire to live so that they can feed their hatred more— this is just paradoxically contradictory.
Opina, an elf subordinate to Lameya continues to shoot her arrows persisting in killing just one more. Her palms, and fingers are bleeding, but her concentration not even once subsides.
Among the sharpshooters among them, Opina is just second to Mima. Because Mima is not here, the other elves are relying on her skills. Because she was with the 'Rescue Group' and didn't engage in combat as much as the 'Flag Bearer' group, she still have plenty of arrows to spare.
Giving her all to contribute, she fires one arrow after another carefully scrutinizing the 'officers' mixing in the enemy charge. Confident in her eyesight, and instincts, she increases her fire rate.
"Hmmm..." She hums to herself slowly realizing that finding 'important-looking-people' is not so hard.
Opina shoots a soldier not wearing a helmet, who happens to be handsome. "Definitely an important person..."
Opina shoots another soldier who has a stupidly well-groomed mustache. "Must be an important person..."
Opina shoots another soldier who is comfortably sitting on a horse from a far distance. "Eh? Could be an important person too..."
After emptying her quiver, her elf sisters give up their ammo to her aware that she can put more good use on them.
Trudviar and the shield-bearers resist the humans clashing with them. Iron and steel collide only for humans to fall to their deaths.
The elves are not completely indomitable as in time, wounds start accumulating in their bodies not just from the slight cuts and damage the humans are inflicting, but also from the abuse of their own bodies due to the influence of the Berserker Potion.
"No more arrows!" Opina shouts, and Trudviar quickly catches to this.
They are like loose arrows that are ought to meet their final flight. But Trudviar thinks that there is more to a loose arrow, especially if it fires from an elf's fingertips.
As much as arrows are consumable, it is also reusable. Using the Berserker Potion, they did spend ten to hundred years of their lifespan, but they still have more 'years' to live.
Trudviar has no plans to die today.
"CHAAAARGE!" Screaming at the top of his lungs, Trudviar leads the charge forward. The elves abandon their shields and join the mad charge.
A leaderless rabble of soldiers is no soldier at all.
Opina who is subconsciously counting on her mind, and making a humble estimation comes to Trudviar eager to contribute information.
"General, there are at least a thousand more beyond this wave that is barely a hundred soldiers!"
Lafira who always sticks beside Trudviar scoffs at her words. "This is necessary if we wish to save his majesty. Surely, the enemy commander isn't an idiot. Sightings of his majesty's escape should reach his ears by now. When it comes to fighting, you always have to assume the worst. By driving to the enemies' horde, we can pressure them forcing them to send fewer soldiers to chase his majesty."
Trudviar compliments Lafira wordlessly on her insight with a nod of approval. "We are going to escape via the west gate. First, we have to make a detour to Urden's storage facility."
Cleaving on the horde of human soldiers, the elves use their guerilla tactics to dispatch small groups of human soldiers. And using their same parkouring acrobatic abilities, they return to the buildings' roofs hurrying to their next destination.