"Elenthor charged forward, roaring, 'Hyah!' as he swung his twin blades with lethal precision.
The terrifying battle aura of the sixth-tier ranger burst forth from his razor-sharp curved swords, inspiring the elven army under their king's lead to fight with ever-growing ferocity.
Together, they pushed the enemy back into the city.
The street battle had begun.
Bang! Roar!
A hidden troll burst through a stone wall, swinging its massive wooden club to crush two advancing swordsmen instantly.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
In the blink of an eye, dozens of arrows rained down, piercing the monstrous troll. It collapsed into a heap of gore, black blood pouring from its body like a macabre fountain.
"Kill!" A spinning crescent blade sliced through the air, severing a row of orc heads in a gruesome instant.
"Stay alert!
The enemy could be anywhere!" Elenthor shouted, his voice commanding amidst the chaos.
The maze-like elven city provided countless shadows for the orcs to spring ambushes on the Star Elves, leaping out like frenzied predators.
"The orcs fight hard, but this is our city! Citizens, drive out these invaders with your weapons! Reclaim our home!"
Elenthor's rallying cry sent the elven warriors surging into the city with renewed bloodlust.
The orcs were forced to retreat step by step. Their crude weapons were no match for the finely crafted arms of the Star Elves.
"Press forward!"
Elenthor's excitement was unrestrained. Tonight, this ancient city would return to elven hands, and the dark forces' foothold in the North would be torn down by his own hand.
Dol Guldur roared with chaos that night. Shouts of rage, cries of pain, and the clash of weapons filled the air, while black and red blood flowed together through the city's dry canals.
"Your Highness, our casualties are mounting!" Elandor said with a furrowed brow, his voice heavy. Even the loss of just a hundred elves was a blow to the proud Star Elf commander.
"Hm?" The thrill of victory brought Elenthor back to his senses. He scanned the battlefield, watching his soldiers locked in brutal melee with the orcs, and his excitement cooled.
"Don't engage them in close combat! Use your bows at close range!" he commanded. While the orcs' thick hides made melee dangerous, the elves' longbows were deadly even up close.
The Star Elves obeyed immediately, pulling back to create distance from the orcs.
Aside from the rangers clearing the way, the other elves nocked their arrows and drew their longbows into crescent shapes, firing from mere meters away.
Though their bows weren't fully drawn, the short range made up for any lack of power. Orcs charged with bloodcurdling howls, but the elves nailed them to the ground one by one.
Those orcs lucky enough to block the arrows with shields were met by rangers wielding curved blades.
The rangers danced like deadly whirlwinds, slicing through shields, armor, and flesh. Shredded remains littered the ground, a grim testament to the elves' lethality.
"Don't scatter! We'll clear them out one section at a time!"
Elenthor leapt from his unicorn, which remained in the square at Dol Guldur's entrance, radiating its beneficial auras over the battlefield.
"Find the route to the royal hall!" he ordered. In most elven cities, the royal hall lay at the city's core.
Capturing it would cut off the enemy's movements and allow the elves to retake the city piece by piece.
Soon, someone discovered the path marked on a weathered stone pillar.
Elenthor quickly led his troops onward, leaving squads of soldiers to hold sections of the battlefield as they advanced.
"There it is!" a soldier exclaimed with joy. Ahead stood the royal hall of Amon Lanc. Though long occupied by orcs, the grand architecture still bore the unmistakable elegance of elven design.
"We're home!" Elenthor's eyes burned with determination as he focused on the orc troops gathered on the steps of the hall.
"Attack!" A blade of silver battle aura shot forth silently, a deadly arc slicing through the orcs like a scythe through grass.
"Spatial Blade!" a higher-tier orc screeched in terror. Space magic—the most destructive of all elements!
Swish! The silver blade tore through the orcs' bodies, leaving wounds as smooth as if carved by a void.
Elenthor dashed forward, his feet light as air. His father's heirloom, the longbow Lodrenan, appeared in his hands.
"Haah!" He poured his life force into the bow, an insignificant cost for the near-immortal elven king. With a cry, he loosed the string.
Thrum! In a flash of brilliant light, the orcs fell lifelessly to the ground. No visible injuries marred their bodies, but their life force and souls had been consumed by the single shot.
"Starlight Flash!" Elenthor twisted his body midair, disappearing into the shimmering starlight as a massive crossbow bolt streaked through the space he had just occupied.
"Damn it! A spatial ranger!" an orc commander cursed.
Rangers were already a menace with their versatility and agility. Spatial rangers, with their teleportation and devastating attacks, were nightmares made real.
Yes, Elenthor, Lord of the Stars, was a spatial ranger. The essence of the stars was space itself—wherever starlight shone, a ranger could appear.
"Does it matter?" Elenthor sneered, his curved blade shimmering.
As the weapon clashed with a fourth-tier orc's blade, Elenthor's form turned ghostly, his weapon phasing through the orc's defense and slicing its throat.
"Pathetic!" He vanished again, leaving behind a lifeless body and a severed head.
"Advance! Destroy them!" he commanded from the front lines.
Boom! The massive stone gates groaned and collapsed with a thunderous crash. Elven warriors surged through the breach, pouring into the royal hall.
"Kill!" Elenthor led the charge, cutting down the last orc defenders. Victory was at hand.
"Elandor! Take some men and clean up the remaining resistance!" he ordered, striding into the hall without looking back.
"As you command, Your Highness!" Elandor bowed, stepping over corpses as he led a group of rangers away.
"We've returned… though this isn't truly our home," Elenthor murmured as he approached the throne.
"What a masterpiece… what a pity," he whispered, running his hand over the broken throne, sadness welling in his heart.
The once-flourishing elven race now hid in seclusion, clinging to what little they had left.
Sigh.
Elenthor turned to leave.
"Huh?" His eyes widened in shock.
Guh! Blood spurted from his mouth as a silver-black greatsword plunged into his abdomen from behind.
Behind her, the figure of Khamûl, the Black Easterling, emerged from the shadows.
"Begone!" Elenthor growled, wrenching herself free of the blade. He spun, slashing at Khamûl with his curved sword. He blocked, but by the time his weapon connected, Elenthor had vanished, leaving only a spray of blood.
"Sixth-tier Black Knight!"
"Black Knight!"
"His Majesty has been attacked!"
Elven soldiers rushed out of the royal hall. Khamûl stood there, dragging his flail and sword, blood dripping from the blade—the king's blood.
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