The armies of Strongson, long gathered at the border, launched their assault at the break of dawn. The deafening sound of war drums thundered across the battlefield as Leon's cavalry charged forth like a ferocious beast, unleashing their fury upon the allied forces.
The warriors of Mathur reacted swiftly, loosing thousands of arrows into the sky, transforming it into a storm of steel. Moments later, the Horas cavalry surged from the rear, galloping fiercely into the enemy lines. Their tight formations and the glinting lances and battle axes of their riders struck like a tempest, briefly breaking the Strongson front line.
Eldenia's defenders responded with unyielding resolve, deploying their fire cannon ballistae. The ground shook as explosions tore through the Strongson ranks, scattering men and horses amidst fire and smoke. For a moment, the alliance managed to halt the advance, creating a chaotic scene in the enemy's lines.
Yet, the sheer size and discipline of the Strongson forces could not be denied. Leon's iron hooves overwhelmed the border defenses with relentless pressure. Heavy infantry surged forward like a tide, followed closely by cavalry hammering into the scattered ranks of the allied vanguard. No amount of arrows from Mathur's elite archers or fire from Eldenia's ballistae could slow their onslaught.
The battle turned into a gruesome slaughter. Strongson's 200,000 troops poured like a flood into the region, overwhelming the allied forces' 100,000 defenders. Frontline defenses crumbled under the pressure, and chaos ensued. Commanders struggled to regain control as soldiers were trampled or fled in despair. In the midst of the fray, Arthur and Zack led their tribal warriors in a desperate stand to hold off Strongson's central force. Their ferocity bought time for the allied generals to regroup. Greve, Eldenia's commander, rallied his spearmen to confront the cavalry, locking them in a brutal stalemate.
Meanwhile, the Green Shadow archers and the elite warriors of the Ancient Deer tribe emerged from the forests, ghostlike in their silent movements. They infiltrated Strongson's rear, targeting supply lines with precise strikes. Arrows flew, and knives flashed as they disrupted logistics and sowed confusion. Yet, the overwhelming numbers of Strongson's forces quickly countered these efforts.
The battle grew even more savage as Strongson launched a massive counterattack from the flanks and center. Allied morale plummeted as defensive positions fell one by one. Even as Arthur's Silver Wolf tribe stubbornly held the line, their losses mounted.
Then, the tide shifted again. From the shadows, a mysterious figure emerged. His cold gaze fixed on the battlefield as he opened an ancient box at his side. With a low command, a wave of scorching flames erupted, spreading like a ghostly inferno through the allied rear. Supplies, provisions, and weapons were consumed in a fiery blaze. Soldiers screamed as they were engulfed, their cries mingling with the roar of the flames. The battlefield turned into a hellscape, breaking the allied forces' cohesion.
Arthur and Zack turned to see the blazing inferno, their hearts sinking as they realized the battle had taken an unforeseen turn. This was no ordinary war—it was a calculated, brutal assault.
"This isn't just war," Arthur muttered, his expression grave.
Zack's face betrayed a rare hint of fear.
"We have to hold the line!" Arthur commanded, rallying his warriors. The Silver Wolves charged forward, cutting down enemies with relentless fury. Amidst the chaos, Arthur spotted a critical target: a heavily guarded carriage flanked by Strongson's royal guards. He immediately realized its significance—inside was Leon himself.
Gripping his spear, Arthur hurled it with all his might. The weapon flew true, aimed directly at the carriage. It struck a protective talisman on Leon's chest, shattering its glow. Though unharmed, Leon's face reflected surprise as he sensed the talisman's mystical power. This was no ordinary assault—it signaled deeper forces at play.
The fighting intensified. Arthur and Zack led their warriors in a fighting retreat, but the Strongson forces pressed on relentlessly. Leon orchestrated his army with unyielding precision, driving the allied forces into a corner. Eldenia's frontline was completely overrun, transforming into a blood-soaked battlefield for Strongson's advance.
At the same time, Taka and Maeldor continued their harassment operations behind enemy lines. They launched daring strikes to draw Strongson's attention and delay their advance. Yet, Leon's numerical advantage allowed him to reinforce his rear swiftly, leaving no room for respite. Meldar's tribal forces, though valiant, were forced to withdraw under overwhelming pressure.
As Strongson's iron tide surged forward, the allied forces found themselves encircled and crushed on multiple fronts. The alliance's chances of recovery dwindled rapidly.
Amid the inferno and chaos, Arthur and Zack rallied their remnants, resolutely protecting the retreating allied forces. Smoke and fire enveloped the battlefield, turning the ground to ash and steel-gray. Despite their exhaustion, they stood unyielding, determined to hold the final defensive line.
The Silver Wolf tribe anchored the last stand. With their war axes and shields, they formed an unbreakable barrier of flesh and steel. The echoes of their defiance reverberated through the valley, even as Strongson's forces bore down on them with relentless ferocity.
The fate of the eastern alliance now hung by a thread. The sound of battle merged with the roar of flames, and the smoke-filled horizon bore witness to a war that would reshape the history of the entire continent.