"Pathetic insect! You can still stand?" Onavir looked at the weakened Vanervi in shock. That last strike should have been impossible for him to endure.
"Haha, you're right! We are wandering elves... We have no homeland! But we still have something we wish to protect!" Vanervi rasped in a low, hoarse voice.
It's important to note that the Prairie Elves are descended from the Gondolin Elves.
After the fall of Gondolin, many elves escaped, and the Prairie Elves are one of those groups.
Scattered across various wastelands, they struggled to survive in tribal family units, becoming a people without a homeland or protection.
"Hahaha..." Vanervi suddenly burst into wild laughter. His wood-element battle aura was gradually turning red under the influence of Manikati.
"You've lost your mind! You're changing your own elemental nature!" Onavir was horrified. Normally, changing opposing elemental natures results in... self-destruction!
"If... the powers of nature... can't protect... then let fire... ignite nature instead! Hahaha!" Manikati had already engulfed Vanervi's entire body in flames.
His original wood-element battle aura was consumed, transforming into fire-element battle energy.
"Burn eternally in the flames..." Vanervi dragged Manikati forward step by step.
"Stay back! You madman!" Onavir watched in terror as Vanervi, wreathed in flames, strode towards him.
Flames licked up to nearly three meters high above Vanervi's head as Onavir retreated, step by step.
"Yes! I'm nothing but a pitiful wretch... someone who couldn't even protect his own kin. So, would you kindly die for me?"
Vanervi spoke softly, but his words sent an icy chill through Onavir.
"Boom!"
The unstable fire elements in Vanervi erupted, sending a primordial force sweeping over the field, hurling the nearest Orcs aside. The blood of the Elf King had awakened!
"Die!" The slender Manikati came crashing down, and the power of a sixth-tier Hunter burst forth!
"Impossible!" Onavir was utterly shocked. Everything before him shattered his understanding. A fourth-tier advanced ranger had suddenly turned into a sixth-tier Elven King!
"King Rynar, you were right! I can indeed be called a king!"
Vanervi muttered to himself, gazing at the distant Knights, who had failed their charge and were driven out of the battle zone by the Orcs.
"Moon of the Hunt!" Vanervi raised his hand, and a crescent moon appeared behind him, a signature technique once used by Thranduil.
"Swoosh!" Vanervi took a step forward, and the crescent moon swept through the Orcs in its path.
"Perish!" Vanervi raised Manikati high, slashing down with a single strike.
"Clang!"
Onavir raised his war hammer, attempting to block, but the ear-piercing screech of metal grinding against metal followed, as Manikati easily cleaved the war hammer in two.
"Argh!" Onavir let out a miserable cry.
Though the war hammerhad momentarily slowed Manikati's attack, the scorching blade still sliced through his armor, cutting into his flesh.
The stench of burnt flesh filled the air.
"Clang!" Vanervi kicked Onavir back into the midst of the Orcs.
"Hunt!" A battle energy mark embedded itself into Onavir's body, allowing Vanervi to track his position clearly in his mind.
"Think you can run? Hunting Spiral!" Vanervi sneered as he spun Manikati and his elven blade rapidly, carving a bloody path forward.
"Kill!" A steel lance suddenly pierced out from the side.
After a brief respite, the Knights had regained the strength for another charge.
With the Orcs distracted by Vanervi, their formation had broken, and the knights successfully split the Orcs apart.
"What the... Vanervi, what happened to you?" Rynar, after spearing a few Orcs, caught sight of Vanervi, now engulfed in flames like a commander from the underworld.
"Where's Caslow? I don't see him on the dragon's back!" Reynard anxiously searched for his dragon rider.
"He's injured, being shielded in the center of the formation..." Vanervi's raspy voice answered.
"You're sixth-tier now? How many potions did you take?" Rynar was stunned. Vanervi, who had been a fourth-tier ranger just moments ago, was now a sixth-tier Hunter—an Elven King!
"Thanks to your Manikati... it's a fine sword. Its mysterious power made this possible for me," Vanervi said, bowing slightly.
"But now, there's something more pressing to attend to!" Vanervi's eyes gleamed with murderous intent.
"Looking for this?" Reynard hoisted up a battered Onavir, who had been trying to crawl away unnoticed amidst the chaos.
"Who is this? Doesn't even look like an Orc!" Rynar inspected the pitiful creature, whose tendons had been severed.
"I am the great King of the Wasteland Orcs—Onavir! You vile elf! You filthy human..." Onavir was still shouting madly.
"Swoosh!" His head flew off before he could finish. Rynar had casually beheaded him.
"What garbage." Rynar sheathed his sword disdainfully.
"Leave some men to tend to the wounded! The rest, chase down the Orcs! We can't let them roam free on this plain!"
Rynar commanded, watching the fleeing Orcs. If these Orcs managed to regroup and settle in the wilderness, it would be a huge problem to clear them out later.
...
"Holy Healing!"
Rynar pressed his hands, glowing with divine light, onto a conscript light infantryman whose chest had been ripped open.
Normally, this healing would have been very effective, but it only managed to slow the soldier's bleeding.
"Your Majesty! We didn't fail you! We fulfilled our promise... This time, we didn't run..." The soldier struggled to speak before collapsing lifelessly in Rynar's arms.
"No!" Rynar's eyes turned red with grief as he desperately channeled his holy energy and healing skills into the soldier's now lifeless body.
Looking over the battlefield filled with corpses, Rynar felt a wave of despair.
Most of the bodies were mutilated Orcs, but among them were silver-armored soldiers—the remains of the light infantry.
"You've done well!" Rynar bowed in gratitude to the infantrymen standing before him.
...
"Your Majesty..." Reynard approached Rynar hesitantly.
"Speak... how many did we lose?" Rynar took a deep, sorrowful breath.
"The professionals are alright, mostly just heavily wounded... But the light infantry... sigh... After this battle, only about two hundred of them will be fit for service.
We lost over two hundred... and dozens more are maimed..." Reynard's voice faltered.
"They gave their lives to protect us..." Vanervi said, walking over and gazing at the shrouded bodies of the fallen light infantrymen.
"Reynard, gather the light infantry. I have something to say." Rynar's eyes glowed faintly.
...
"My people! My brothers! My soldiers! You've proven your bravery and honor!
I apologize for my past prejudice against you!
You are the greatest men of the Zaltarion Empire! May River Running protect you!" Rynar bowed deeply to the assembled conscripted light infantry.
"It's over! Soldiers, let's take our brothers home!" Rynar said with sorrow, watching as the light infantrymen were cremated.
"Is it over?" Caslow, lying on a stretcher, asked Vanervi.
"Yes, it's over!" Vanervi, now a sixth-tier Hunter, gently caressed the sacred sword Manikati.
"But the real war has just begun... Congratulations, Vanervi. By elven tradition, you are now the King of the Prairie Elves," Reynard said, glancing at Rynar before nodding at Vanervi.
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