"Steady formation! The elves are coming to help us!" Lance noticed the army of elves stealthily approaching from behind and quickly raised morale.
Although the well-trained Rapid Infantry maintained their fighting spirit even in dire straits, a hopeful boost could make them even more fervent.
"Kill!"
The Rapid Infantry madly waved their weapons, using their tower shields like bricks, smashing and crashing into their foes!
Blood and flesh splattered across the shield's surface.
Many of the frontline Rapid Infantry had lost their caltrops in the recent intense battle, where countless had been broken.
Now, they desperately swung their durable maces, searching for the heads of the orcs, with each swing accompanied by a sound reminiscent of cracking melons.
Every moment, orcs were surrounded, killed, and dismembered by the frenzied Rapid Infantry…
"Kill!"
"Clang!"
"Boom!"
On the chaotic battlefield, the neatly lined-up Rapid Infantry surged like an unending stream, crashing relentlessly into the ranks of orcs.
"After this battle, the Rapid Infantry will probably be decimated…" Rynar sighed regretfully, mourning the loss of each and every life under his command.
The sight of countless fallen green-armored bodies deeply pained his heart!
Closer, closer, the Knights were less than a thousand meters from the orc army, the heavy sound of hooves already faintly echoed.
Feeling the tremors in the ground, countless orcs looked around in panic.
"For the glory of the knights! In the name of the Zaltarion Empire! Charge!" Rynar raised his lance high.
Flashes of light danced across the knights, showcasing glory, mercy… A series of status buffs cascaded onto the knights, and the knightly order, fueled by boundless rage, activated their charge skill!
One after another, the Zaltarion knights, mounted on their three-layered armored Shire steeds, bent low in their saddles.
The steel-forged Zaltarion standard knight armor gleamed brilliantly in the snowy light, and the taut knightly shield in their left hands wrapped in battle aura brought them a sense of security!
In their right hands, they brandished their lances, glinting coldly, with lance tips extending a full meter, ripping through the cold winds as they thundered forward.
The dragon emblems on their capes fluttered wildly, the blood-red capes foretelling the arrival of death…
"The knightly order…" The orcs let out terrified screams, reminiscent of frightened women, voices that could shatter armor.
"Boom!" The iron hooves easily overwhelmed the orcs trying to resist.
How could the flimsy formation of hastily gathered orcs, led by their captains, withstand the charge of the organized knightly order?
Not every troop was called Rapid Infantry!
Rynar casually tossed aside the two corpses hanging from his lance; the still-warm bodies quickly grew cold. He looked up, scanning the battlefield as if searching for something.
"Radiant Knights, listen! Shift left! Target the pale orc! Kill!"
Upon spotting the pale orc king mounted on a white warg in the distance, still attempting to resist the coalition, Rynar's eyes turned red with fury.
"This loss will be repaid by you!" Rynar thought fiercely.
As long as he could slay Azog and capture those 100 heavy cavalrymen, this operation wouldn't be a total loss.
After all, with proper training, the heavy cavalry could add more than a dozen knights to Rynar's ranks, which was a devastatingly appealing prospect, given that he currently lacked any formal sources for knightly training.
The numbers in the Order of Dawn Knights were awkwardly minimal, barely meeting the lowest standard. If two or more knights tragically fell…
Rynar's greatest trump card, the Order of Dawn Knights, would be rendered useless. Thus, he was desperate to increase his knightly numbers.
...
"Catch up! Hold on to them! Don't let them regroup!" Elenthor shouted.
"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!" A rain of arrows caught Elenthor's attention.
With his keen senses, he clearly identified that they were shot by elves.
At this point, the army of Star Elves had no strength left to draw their bows again; just looking at the bloodied fingers of the rangers and archers revealed how far they had pushed themselves.
Maintaining contact with the orcs was the best they could manage now.
Countless elven rangers and archers waved their trembling arms, exquisite daggers and curved swords slicing through the air, taking the lives of orcs one after another.
It was then that Elenthor realized the shooting elves were led by Vanervi and the prairie elves.
Agile prairie elven rangers continuously saved fellow elves and humans from being counterattacked by dying orcs, leaping and shooting with incredible skill.
"Elf king? Which elf kingdom do you belong to?" Elenthor sensed Vanervi's familiar presence; the pressure from the sixth-tier hunter made him mistakenly believe Vanervi was the king of another elven realm.
(While elves have long lifespans, top-tier powerhouses among them are scarce. However, the strength of mid-tier practitioners is immense.
Usually, there is only the king, the priest, and a few elders at the sixth tier in an elven kingdom, a number slightly inferior to that of dwarves, and far fewer than that of humans.)
"Greetings, your majesty the Star Elf King. I am a prairie elf, not a king; the thorn crown atop my head is just for decoration," Vanervi replied, realizing Elenthor had misunderstood him.
He smiled, glancing at Elenthor, who also wore a thorn crown.
"Um… prairie elf? My apologies!" Elenthor quickly apologized, knowing full well the history of the prairie elves.
After the fall of Gondolin, some of its remnants chose to wander the wastelands, losing the protection of the magic wells…
"It's fine; we've long grown accustomed to it," Vanervi said calmly, casually slashing down a frantic orc that rushed past.
"How did you end up here?" Elenthor asked curiously.
The prairie elves were notorious for their instinct to avoid danger; otherwise, these severely weakened elves would have long since disappeared from history, unable to survive in a scattered state across the wilds.
"We just happened to be caught here by you," Vanervi sighed while explaining, dodging a spinning throwing axe.
"Sorry…" Elenthor immediately understood. It turned out that they had wandered into the war and were forced to stay here.
"You can choose to leave before the battle…" Elenthor said.
"I promised King Rynar that I would participate in this war, and he will help us establish a realm for prairie elves to live in." Expectation flickered in Vanervi's eyes.
Elenthor felt a pang in his heart. Was this once-great and noble branch of the elven race now in need of human assistance even to establish a kingdom?
Bitterness wrapped around Elenthor as he clearly sensed the era of human dominance in Middle-earth was about to arrive…
...
"Azog! Die!" Rynar roared as he led the Radiant Knights charging toward Azog, already discarding his lance.
The sharp Dragon-slaying Sword surged with a swirling battle aura like a dragon coiling around it.
"In the name of the Zaltarion Empire! Strike!" Rynar bellowed as he swung down the high-held sword.
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