With the charge of the knights, Rynar felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through him, as if a familiar music was playing.
"Kill!" Rynar roared, severing a cave troll's left leg with a swift swing of his sword.
The troll's massive body toppled to the ground, quickly trampled by the iron hooves of the charging cavalry.
"On the move!" shouted a Battanian Archer, activating the skill: Dash! This was an incredibly useful ability that greatly enhanced shooting accuracy while running or riding.
"Whoosh!" A steel arrow pierced the troll's eye, causing it to clutch its wounded socket and howl in agony while spinning in place.
Its suffering was soon ended when two knights lifted it high with their lances, tossing it aside where it rolled a few times before succumbing to its injuries.
"Kill!" A golden aura enveloped Reynard, radiating a holy light.
Like a statue of gold, he thrust his lance forward, crashing into the troll.
The resulting explosion of energy obliterated the creature into pieces, dark blood and flesh raining down from the sky, while Reynard stood majestic and noble, followed by a tide of Zaltarion knights brandishing their weapons as they surged onward…
…
"Damn it! These filthy creatures!" Rynar cursed as he felt something gross clinging to his foot. Ugh, that's definitely ruined! He was almost sickened by the sight.
"Allow me, my lord!" Caslow rushed over with a waterskin in hand.
"Stop! No… blegh!" Rynar cried as Caslow splashed him with a mix of foul-smelling mud and unknown substances.
"I'll kill you! I swear!" Rynar was nearly beside himself.
"Purify!" A beam of golden light flashed, washing away the filth from Rynar's body.
Wow! How extravagant! Using purification to clean oneself? Reynard must have a vast reservoir of battle energy!
"Cave Troll Chaos: Completed! Reward: Holy Battle Energy. Class change to Paladin unlocked! Reward granted."
Just as Rynar was about to speak, a surge of divine energy erupted from within him, causing him to swallow his words.
The golden energy surged within him, granting him an unprecedented sense of power, even altering his skills.
"Blessings upon Zaltarion! Congratulations, my lord, on successfully awakening as a Paladin!"
Reynard exclaimed excitedly, feeling that the revival of the Empire was now within reach.
(The system had implanted memories of the fallen Zaltarion Empire, with Rynar as the last remaining lord.)
"Paladin!" Gandalf exclaimed in astonishment.
After all, not just anyone could become a Paladin. Historically, Paladins and Dark Knights were two sides of the same coin; a Dark Knight was merely a fallen Paladin.
The birth of a Paladin could bless a region, yet it also posed a potential threat for destruction. How curious that among a hundred men, there were two Paladins—one of whom had fallen into despair.
They might as well pack their bags and run; a Paladin was not easy to kill! With divine magic and skills at their disposal, they were nearly immortal.
You couldn't even hit them faster than they could heal themselves!
Gandalf cast a deep glance at the two, quietly wiping the cold sweat from his brow.
For the first time, he felt that organizing an expedition to the Lonely Mountain might have been a mistake.
As a wizard who had gained divinity, he had witnessed countless things over his millennia of life.
The nine Ringwraiths under Sauron were, indeed, Dark Knights! Back when the first Ringwraith, the Witch-King of Angmar, ravaged the Kingdom of Arnor, it was a sight to behold!
"Cave trolls cannot appear during the day," Gandalf stated, watching the rising sun.
"That means there must be a cave nearby!" Thorin's eyes brightened.
"Everyone, search for it!" Rynar declared from his warhorse.
Soon enough, someone discovered a troll's lair nearby, and everyone quickly gathered around.
"Holy crap! The smell in here is unbearable; it's overwhelming!" Rynar covered his nose, nearly gagging.
"Oh, look what I found!" Groin emerged with a small chest in his arms.
"Wow! It's filled with gold!" Nori exclaimed, thrilled.
"Oh, there's even more scattered around! These trolls have no appreciation for treasure," Rynar remarked, smacking his lips in awe. "Quick, gather it all up!" His face beamed with joy.
"Hmm?" Gandalf uttered softly, approaching a pile of weapons covered in cobwebs and poking them gently with his staff.
"Clang!" The crisp sound of a sword being drawn echoed, a flash of silver glinting in the torchlight, dazzling to the eyes.
"Damn, the Enemy's Blade—Glamdring!" Rynar exclaimed, astonished.
He had been searching for the Three Elven Blades, and while this one might not be as grand as the Dragon-slaying sword, it would still make for a fine collector's piece. Yet, it seemed he had no luck with this sword.
"Hmm? Do you recognize it?" Gandalf asked, surprised.
"Of course! It's the paired sword of the King of Gondolin!" Rynar answered without a second thought.
"Hmm…" Gandalf shot him a deep look but remained silent as he drew another sword.
"Pfft! The Beast-Bite Sword—Orcrist" Rynar's face darkened.
Among the Three Elven Blades, these were the two he was keen on, but he felt that wielding Sting, which belonged to Bilbo, would be like holding a butter knife—far too short…
Yet Gandalf, true to form, uncovered them just as history had recorded.
Rynar scowled, waving his hand to command his men to carry away all the weapons.
While it may seem a bit shameless, having a short knife for self-defense wasn't too bad. As for his pride? That could wait.
"Dwarven brothers, would you like to upgrade your gear? These weapons are forged by the Noldor and are quite exceptional," Rynar kindly suggested.
"No! We must leave this filthy place!" Thorin shouted, flaring up at the mention of Elven weapons and turning to leave with his followers.
Gandalf shrugged, helplessly calling out, "Thorin, this is the Beast-Bite Sword. It's the best weapon we can acquire right now!" He gazed intently at Thorin.
Thorin pondered for a moment, glancing at the mithril hammers on the knights and the exquisite weapons and armor of Rynar and the others.
He swallowed hard and ultimately fell victim to the "true fragrance" principle, obediently accepting the weapons.
The remaining dwarves eagerly rushed to the pile of weapons, resembling market-goers picking out vegetables.
"Bilbo! This one's for you!" Gandalf said, emerging from the cave and handing Bilbo a short sword.
Rynar glanced over and nearly choked. I've ordered everyone to clear out the cave, yet I can't stop you from snagging the Three Elven Blades!
What is my fate with these three weapons? Can't I, a Ringbearer, collect a few famous swords? Rynar grumbled, his mind full of frustration.
"No, I can't take it. In fact, I've never used a sword before," Bilbo stammered, waving his hands in refusal.
"Baggins, this is a magical weapon forged by Elves. When a half-orc approaches, the blade will emit a dark blue glow…" Gandalf explained.
"I hope you never have to use it… but when the time comes, remember that true courage lies not in taking lives, but in forgiving them."