Nightfall enveloped the western forests of Eldenia. Inside General Oscar's campaign tent, several faint oil lamps flickered, casting their wavering light upon a spread military map. Oscar leaned on the table with both hands, his sharp eyes fixed on the terrain marked with valleys and dense woods along the border. His officers and staff stood solemnly at his sides.
"If Duke Horace's intelligence is correct," said Staff Officer Kahn, his voice deep and steady, "Airtulan's ambush forces are likely hidden in these two valleys. The terrain is narrow and heavily forested, making it the ideal spot for an ambush." He pointed to the marked valleys on the map, continuing, "Their forces may number no more than a thousand, but given Airtulan's guerrilla tactics, even a few hundred men could pin down the bulk of our army. If we move recklessly, the losses could be catastrophic."
Oscar raised his head, his piercing gaze sweeping across the group. "Continue."
Kahn cleared his throat softly before speaking again. "We have two options. The first is to bypass the eastern region and enter Eldenia through a longer mountain route. While this would avoid the ambush, it would significantly delay our progress. The second option is to stage a feint to lure Airtulan's forces into revealing themselves, then launch a surprise attack from both sides of the valley. This would require a complete blackout for the army, moving quietly and setting up before dawn."
Lieutenant Bradley furrowed his brow. "General, if we go with the second plan, we must completely suppress the enemy forces. Otherwise, we risk getting bogged down in a protracted fight, jeopardizing the entire campaign."
Oscar tapped the table lightly, his voice resolute. "Kahn's suggestion, though risky, is the only way to crush the enemy. If we choose the detour, by the time reinforcements from the east are destroyed, the campaign will be a failure. Pass the order: extinguish the torches, and move to the designated positions as planned—we will strike just before dawn."
The orders were swiftly relayed, and the entire army descended into darkness. Soldiers wrapped their weapons in cloth and even removed their armor to avoid making noise. Oscar led the vanguard, carefully advancing along the narrow paths through the dense forest. The crackling of dry leaves was sharply audible in the silent night, and the occasional bird call added an eerie touch to the atmosphere.
"Watch your steps," Kahn whispered to the soldiers nearby. His eyes, already accustomed to the darkness, scanned the surroundings vigilantly, alert for any possible enemy sentries.
Meanwhile, Airtulan's ambush had already positioned itself on the high ground of the two valleys. In the forest, hundreds of warriors hid among the grass and shrubs, their archers ready with drawn longbows, their expressions cold. "The signal is the smoke," their commander whispered, "Once the enemy enters the valley, we strike with everything we have."
The first light of dawn began to filter through the forest, illuminating the valley entrance. Oscar's vanguard feigned an unguarded approach, their steps heavy as if the fatigue of a night march had crushed their morale. The commander of Airtulan's ambush watched with a cold smile. He raised his torch and lit the pre-prepared signal fire.
Deep in the forest, Taka stood on a thick tree branch, watching the approaching Strongson reinforcements. His bow was ready, an arrow already nocked, but he did not draw it. Instead, he looked down at the traps laid out on the ground.
"These traps are enough to slow them down, but they can't stop my anxiety," he whispered to himself.
Taka was not a natural leader; he always felt that fate had forced him into this position. His father, the previous chief of the Green Shadow Tribe, was a battlefield hero, but Taka never felt he was worthy of carrying the heavy responsibility.
"If we fail, how will the tribe view me? If we succeed, how many will we lose?" Taka clenched his bow tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force. His gaze fell on the soldiers below, and their trust and expectations only deepened his unease.
But he knew that retreat would only cause more suffering. Taking a deep breath, he whispered, "Father, if you watch over me from the afterlife, please tell me that the decision I'm making is the right one."
The wind howled through the valley as Meldaor stood beneath a giant tree, his hands pressed against the rough bark, feeling the rhythm of the earth. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if he could hear the distant footfalls of elk in the forest.
"The children of nature should never participate in human conflicts," he silently repeated the ancient vow of his tribe, "But now, I must break this belief."
Meldaor was a staunch guardian of nature and despised war. However, seeing Airtulan's warriors forced to clash with the Strongson army, he could no longer stand by. The land of the Ancient Deer Tribe had been trampled by the fires of war, and elk and moose scattered in panic. He had no choice but to step out of the forest and fight for the future of nature and his tribe.
"If this war can awaken their reverence for nature, then perhaps the sacrifice is worth it," he murmured. He looked down at the deer antler staff in his hands, a symbol of his status as an elder, now transformed into a weapon of war. A tinge of sorrow appeared in Meldaor's eyes. "Once this war ends, I will personally restore this land, even if the world no longer has a place for our ancient tribes."
Thick smoke rose as Airtulan's archers unleashed a hail of arrows, their deadly barrage descending like a violent storm. Oscar had anticipated this, and his vanguard quickly dodged, shrinking their target. Meanwhile, his main force had quietly surrounded the rear of the valley.
"Attack!" Oscar shouted. The forces waiting behind the valley surged forward like tigers, with warriors armed with spears and bows emerging from the forest to launch a surprise attack. Airtulan's forces were caught off guard, their flanks completely exposed and unable to retaliate.
The battle in the valley quickly turned into a one-sided massacre. Oscar's forces swiftly took control of the high ground and crushed Airtulan's ambush.
The echoes of the battle reverberated through the valley, the air thick with the stench of blood. Oscar's forces controlled most of the terrain, but the resistance from Airtulan's forces was far from broken. Amid the chaos, Meldaor of the Ancient Deer Tribe fought alongside several warriors, his gaze ironclad as he led the tribe's soldiers in a fierce defense and retreat. Just then, he saw Taka struck by a cold arrow in his arm.
Meldaor, a veteran of countless battles, was no longer young, but his eyes still burned with wisdom and sharpness. His years of combat experience had given him unparalleled insight, and now, he realized he had to call upon the power of nature. Raising the ancient deer bone horn in his hand, he blew it—a signal only sounded in times of dire need.
"O guardians of the mountain, heed our call!" Meldaor whispered, the sound of the horn a deafening roar that seemed to rip through the valley. The echoes resounded in the mountains.
After a brief silence, the ground began to tremble. Heavy footsteps echoed from afar, like thunder rolling toward them. Moments later, thousands of stags, elk, and massive bull moose charged out of the forest, a furious tide of wild beasts rushing toward Oscar's army.
Oscar calmly raised his hand, ordering his soldiers to form a defensive line. But the wild beasts ignored their spears and shields. A giant moose slammed into the soldiers' formation, shattering their shield wall, its sharp antlers tearing through the enemy lines. The battlefield erupted into chaos as Oscar's formation was utterly broken.
Meldaor gripped his spear with one hand and leapt onto the back of a moose. His agility was undiminished by his one-armed stature, making him appear even more nimble. His moose bounded through the enemy lines like an elusive phantom.
A soldier appeared before him, attempting to block his path. Without hesitation, Meldaor's spear cut through the air, whistling past the soldier's ear and embedding itself in the ground behind him. The soldier stopped in shock, feeling blood trickle from his ear. He stood frozen, watching as Meldaor disappeared deeper into the battle, a mixture of anger and awe in his eyes.
When Meldaor reached Taka, the latter was struggling to stand, covered in blood. Meldaor lifted Taka with one arm, leaped onto the moose's back, and gently placed him there. "We leave!" he said firmly.
The surviving members of the Ancient Deer and Green Shadow Tribes quickly mounted their deer and began retreating under Meldaor's command. Their movements were as fluid as a stream, weaving through the narrow mountain paths. However, despite their speed, many tribal members fell under the enemy's blade.
On the other side of the valley, Meldaor led the survivors toward Airtulan, but their retreat was closely pursued by enemy forces. Just as the survivors were about to be surrounded, a clear battle horn rang out from the distance. Loka of the Firebrand Tribe appeared from the eastern mountain path, wielding his fiery axe, charging straight into the enemy's ranks. Kanu of the Mountain Eagle Tribe followed on the opposite side, leading his hawks to tear through the enemy's defenses. Magda of the Ice River Tribe hurled longspears from the front, her armor and giant spear shining in the morning sun.
The reinforcements from the three tribes quickly clashed with Oscar's pursuing forces, turning the forest into a cacophonous battlefield in an instant. Although Oscar's soldiers were extraordinarily brave, their advance was temporarily halted by the obstruction from the tribal alliance. Seeing that reinforcements had arrived, Meldaor immediately ordered loudly, "Retreat! Do not engage!"
The survivors did not hesitate, swiftly mounting their deer and retreating towards Airtulan. However, a few of the enemy pursuers still relentlessly chased after them. One even got dangerously close to Meldaor's back. At that moment, the sound of bowstrings being drawn echoed from afar. Two sharp arrows flew almost simultaneously, each striking the throats of two pursuing soldiers, who fell to the ground without a sound.
Meldaor looked up and saw Katherine and Irene standing on a nearby rock, their bows raised, their expressions resolute. Catherine quickly nocked a third arrow, aiming calmly at the enemy's leader. Another shot flew, hitting its mark and driving away the last of the pursuers.
Although Meldaor did not know who they were, he nodded in acknowledgment before urging the tribe members to continue their retreat without hesitation. Loka, Kanu, and Magda fought fiercely on the battlefield, holding off Oscar's pursuing forces. After a brief but intense skirmish, Oscar, observing the situation from the front line, realized that the tribal alliance had created enough distance between themselves and his forces. He decisively ordered a halt to the pursuit, coldly stating, "Let them go. Continuing the chase will only cost us more."
Oscar watched the scene with a calm expression, but a hint of impatience flickered in his eyes.
After the battle ended, Oscar stood at the mouth of the valley, gazing at the scattered bodies of Airtulan soldiers on the ground. His eyes were stern, unwavering, and without a trace of hesitation. "Send the order to prepare the troops. We continue eastward. We must secure the border before the enemy's main force has a chance to regroup."
Staff Officer Kahn stood beside him, his voice calm but tinged with concern. "General, these were only small units of Airtulan. If the enemy gathers again, they may summon more forces to block us."
Oscar nodded. "I understand. But the primary objective this time is to push Airtulan's tribes back into their territory. Now, order the entire army to head east."