"Slash!" Thranduil roared, his voice carrying the weight of command as a crescent moon materialized behind him, signaling the activation of Hunting Moon!
"Bang!" Khamûl swung his flail with such force that the radiant crescent moon shattered into fragments.
The dissipated fragments released bursts of fiery battle energy, scattering in all directions.
"Nature's Strike!" With a deft leap to create distance, Thranduil swiftly drew his longbow, initiating his next skill.
Nine streams of battle energy, interwoven with wood and wind elements, condensed into arrows.
The bowstring hummed with tension as the projectiles shot forward with unparalleled speed and precision.
"A Howling Blood Shield?" Thranduil's instincts screamed danger as soon as he unleashed his attack.
His sharp eyes caught sight of the rippling, blood-red barrier surrounding Lidiriyas, and without hesitation, he twisted his body in an almost impossible angle, evading to the side.
"Ahhh!" As the Howling Blood Shield shattered, a terrifying shockwave emanated outward in visible crimson ripples.
The air itself seemed to wail, echoing with a haunting and spine-chilling cry.
"A forced mental attack!" Thranduil's face turned pale.
While elves are children of nature and inherently possess strong mental resilience, this specific ability of the Howling Blood Shield ignored all mental defenses.
The only options were to evade or endure its effects.
Thranduil wasn't foolish enough to endure.
A direct hit from such an attack could result in nosebleeds, blinding headaches, impaired mobility, interrupted skill usage, and even the cancellation of certain beneficial effects.
So, he retreated with explosive agility, his movement so swift that he left afterimages in his wake as he darted toward the entrance of Singrey.
"Blessing of the Goddess!"
Without breaking stride, Thranduil silently cast a skill that boosted all his attributes.
In a fluid motion, his longbow was ready again, and a shimmering magical arrow began forming on the string.
"Wrath of Nature!" His fingers acted as floodgates, unleashing a torrent of battle energy into the arrow.
This arrow, known as the Energy Arrow, had its power determined by the amount of energy infused into it.
A sixth-tier tracker like Thranduil pouring his entire reserve into it meant unimaginable devastation.
"Defend!" Khamûl's soul flames flickered violently in his hollow eye sockets.
Though renowned as the Wraith-Lord, an entity formed entirely of energy and spirit without a physical body, even he felt an instinctual shiver.
The arrow, blazing across the battlefield, seemed to freeze his very soul.
Lidiriyas, already cautious, used his battle axe to slice open a pocket of space, vanishing into the void to escape the impending attack.
"Die." Without even turning back, Thranduil bolted toward the barrier's entrance after loosing the arrow.
Having exhausted his energy reserves, he could no longer fight. All his hopes lay in the destructive potential of the arrow.
"Undead Guardian! Bone Bulwark! Soul Fortress! Wraith Wall! Immortal Spirit!" Khamûl frantically layered himself with defensive skills.
"Vwoom~" Time seemed to slow. Khamûl's vision filled with a blinding torrent of emerald energy—compressed battle elements exploding from Thranduil's arrow.
The next moment, Khamûl was sent flying backward, layers of his multicolored shields shattering one after another, each dispersing into nothingness.
"Cough, cough!"
Kneeling on one knee, Khamûl pressed a hand to the ground, coughing weakly. Though he had no physical form, the damage to his soul was excruciating.
This was no ordinary battle energy infusion—Wrath of Nature had amplified the natural elements' destructive force.
Not only had it obliterated his hastily deployed defenses, but it also shredded his left arm. Black, malevolent energy now swirled around the stump, slowly regenerating the limb.
"Such a pity…" Thranduil caught a glimpse of the battlefield as he teleported into Singrey.
His all-out attack had severely injured Khamûl, but Lidiriyas, ever cautious, had evaded unscathed.
It was frustrating—Thranduil had nearly sent the second Ringwraith back to his phylactery for a forced reset. Unfortunately, Khamûl's luck prevailed, sparing him from destruction.
Though Thranduil couldn't overcome the combined might of two sixth-tier opponents, neither could the Nazgûl stop his relentless assault.
The Woodland Elves and Star Elves successfully regrouped within Singrey.
(A Black Knight, upon physical death, transitions into an undead state, automatically forming a phylactery.
As long as the phylactery remains intact, the Black Knight achieves a form of immortality. Necromancers operate under the same principle.)
"What was that noise?" Rynar looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing.
Thranduil's explosive skirmish brought to mind the Dragon Meteor Storm, a forbidden spell unleashed by a Star Dragon.
Its devastation still scarred the land near Loshanier, now known as Dragon Star Lake by Long Lake.
"It must be the Woodland Elves engaging the Orcs!" Rynar calculated quickly, concluding that only the elves could have reached the forest so swiftly.
As for his army's surprising pace?
Rynar had no shortage of buffs! Between his and Omsk's layered enhancements, the Zaltarion Royal Guards could run faster than ordinary cavalry. Rynar's march was always a spectacle of speed.
"We should aid them!" Vanervi's blood boiled with fervor. Elves, after all, had a natural camaraderie.
Rynar stared at Vanervi for a long moment. "Do you think you can handle it?" he finally asked.
The truth was, rangers were at a significant disadvantage against Ringwraiths.
While elemental attacks were effective, a ranger's physical strikes were rarely destructive enough against knights of the same tier.
Against the high-damage, high-defense, and highly mobile Ringwraiths, it was akin to being cannon fodder.
Rynar had immense respect for rangers surviving in such an environment—it was simply because knights were so rare.
"What?" Vanervi asked, confused.
"We'll stick to cleaning up stray enemies. If we run into Sennar, you're done for, and we can't rely solely on Omsk to carry the team," Rynar explained.
A single Ringwraith like Sennar could overwhelm their group. Omsk might hold off one, but the rest of them couldn't withstand the pressure.
"Maybe we could observe from a distance?" Vanervi persisted, concerned for the Woodland Elves.
The thought of Thranduil falling to the Ringwraiths unnerved him—he didn't want another king lost.
"Fine. Let's scout from afar," Rynar agreed. Keeping track of allied forces was crucial for his next strategic decisions.
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