Ragon's precise calculations had successfully turned the tide of the battle, intercepting most of the flaming boulders before they could reach the city. The explosions filled the sky with smoke and debris, but for now, Elenadrom remained safe.
He let out a breath of relief—fewer damages meant fewer casualties. However, he knew that just defending wouldn't be enough. They needed to take control of the situation.
"Turn 45 degrees to your left!" Ragon shouted, his voice echoing across the walls as he continued directing the counterattacks. Despite their efforts, the enemy troops kept advancing, their large numbers forming neat rows stretching far into the distance.
Suddenly, elves began landing gracefully on the walls, descending swiftly from the upper levels of the fortress. Their bows were drawn, and their sharp eyes scanned the battlefield with precision.
