Desperation hung thick in the air as the Alanorian forces struggled to maintain their defense. Just as the mages neared the boundary of the anti-magic veil, a small unit of Galdorian knights appeared from behind, galloping with deadly precision. They closed the gap, effectively sealing off the boundary and trapping the mages and their protectors within the veil.
The Alanorian soldiers nearest to them were caught off guard, their eyes widening in alarm as they saw the Galdorian knights bearing down on them. "To arms!" one of the commanders shouted, but the warning came too late. The knights crashed into the rear ranks with brutal efficiency, cutting down soldiers left and right. The few Alanorian soldiers who tried to stand against them were either trampled underfoot or swiftly cut down by the knights' swords.
The mages, who had been so close to breaking free of the anti-magic veil, now found themselves trapped. Panic set in as they realized the full extent of their predicament. With the knights blocking the boundary, there was no way out. Fear flashed in their eyes as they huddled closer together, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.
The Galdor forces closed in, their faces twisted with grim determination. The morale of the Alanor troops plummeted as they realized the mages were completely surrounded, with only a few Royal Knights, including the Knights of House Arlyn and Kellan, still standing to protect them.
They had fought valiantly to protect the spellcasters, but now they were surrounded. The tension was palpable, every second dragging out as they waited for the inevitable assault. The knights rushed in to claim their trophy by slaying the mages gathered there. The defenders fought valiantly but were heavily outnumbered, resulting in some enemy troops slipping past them.
But just as all seemed lost, a sudden and powerful explosion shattered the grim stillness. From the northeast and southeast corners of the battlefield, there was a deafening boom, followed by a powerful gust of wind that tore through the ranks of the Galdorian troops. The force of the wind was so intense that it sent knights and horses sprawling, their formations thrown into disarray.
The oppressive weight of the anti-magic veil, which had rendered the mages helpless, had lifted. In that instant, the mages felt their powers returning, the familiar flow of mana rushing back into their bodies like a floodgate had been opened. As if anticipating it, King Thorian immediately channeled his magic with fierce determination, unleashing a wind spell that bought his allies precious time.
The mages, reinvigorated by the return of their magic, wasted no time. Fury burned in their eyes as they raised their hands and unleashed a barrage of spells. Fireballs, lightning bolts, and ice shards erupted from their fingertips, slamming into the disoriented Galdorian troops, who were thrown into disarray by the sudden onslaught. Confusion and panic spread through their ranks as they struggled to regroup.
With their mages back in the fight, the remaining Alanorian soldiers found renewed strength. A fierce roar erupted from their ranks as they charged into battle, cutting down the Galdorian soldiers with a vengeance. The tide had turned, and now it was the Galdor troops who were on the defensive, their momentum shattered by the ferocity of the Alanorian counterattack.
The battlefield became a bloodbath, with bodies piling up as the Alanorian soldiers fought with a savage determination. The Galdorian forces, once confident in their overwhelming numbers, now found themselves being hunted by the very prey they had sought to destroy.
Amidst the chaos, an old man appeared beside King Thorian, seemingly out of nowhere. His presence was commanding, his aura radiating power. In one hand, he held three severed heads, their lifeless eyes staring blankly into the void. This was Alaric Everlight, the Grand Mage, and King Thorian's grandfather. He had received the signal from Thorian's Dual Stone and had moved swiftly to decapitate the three mages who had been maintaining the anti-magic veil. The fourth mage had escaped before he could be caught, but the damage was done.
"Thank you," Thorian turned to his grandfather, his eyes filled with gratitude. Alaric's timely intervention had changed the dynamics of the battle in one swift move. The Alanorian forces, now under Thorian's command once more, began to organize themselves with renewed purpose. Order returned to their ranks, and the Galdorian troops, thrown into confusion by the sudden turn of events, faltered.
With the mages unleashing their full power and the Alanorian soldiers fighting with new-found vigor, the battlefield was transformed. The once-dire situation had been reversed, and the Galdor forces found themselves outmatched and outmaneuvered.
Thorian, with his grandfather by his side, led his troops with unyielding determination. The tide had turned, and the battle was almost over.