Chapter 86: Death of Bolg
"..." Elenthor glanced at the shattered Dragon-Slaying Crossbow before vanishing in an instant; there was still another crossbow waiting for him to deal with!
"Kill!" Vanervi raised his Manikati, flames of battle energy igniting along his arm. At that moment, countless orcs felt the terrifying pressure emanating from him.
"Pursuit Slash!" Activating the unique secret technique of the Prairie Elves, Vanervi flashed and instantly appeared in front of a orc warrior a hundred meters away.
The sharp Manikati sliced through the warrior's battle axe like a hot knife through butter, then cut through his skin, muscles, and bones.
Once he felt the resistance of the Manikati vanish, Vanervi unleashed another Pursuit Slash, reappearing before a orc a hundred meters further away.
He was rapidly closing in on Bolg's location! The orc he had just left behind was already emitting a burnt smell, split in two…
"Wind Slice!" Thranduil also detected the presence of the orc lord.
He decisively abandoned his slaughter of the foot soldiers, sprang into the air, and conjured swirling blades of wind in the sky.
Using the wind blades to propel himself, he surged toward Bolg and his group like a gust of wind!
Seeing Thranduil soaring through the air, Rynar couldn't help but roll his eyes. Who would have thought that was the kind of Thranduil he was?
Floating in the air was one thing, but why fly so high? As if afraid no one would see him! What a show-off!
Rynar was quite familiar with the skill "Wind Slice." He knew it was a move many ranger players in his past life had mastered, as it was one of the few aerial combat techniques available to rangers!
A player who had perfected this skill could perform intricate sword techniques and knife maneuvers in the air.
Countless aerial combat techniques had evolved from this move, and for a while, wind-element rangers had been incredibly popular, especially when someone used "Wind Slice" in combination with other skills to slay dragons mid-air!
"Novice!" Rynar sneered at Thranduil.
Though his performance was impressive, it paled in comparison to the wonders Rynar had seen before.
That rigid movement, he could honestly say, a high-end marksman from his past life could have taken him down easily.
Unfortunately, the orcs lacked that level of marksmanship. As Thranduil soared through the air, the orcs below were stunned, while the elves erupted in thunderous cheers.
The morale-boosted allied forces launched a frenzied counterattack against the orcs. Rynar grimaced as he witnessed the bloodthirsty elves.
The orcs, flanked on both sides, were pushed back by the enraged elves with their curved blades and arrows!
For the first time, Rynar realized how terrifying the elves' melee capabilities were!
As the last orc lunged forward, a spiked mace shattered its skull, the remaining orcs hesitated. They could feel fear too!
Faced with the immovable shield wall and the desperate, reckless elves, most orcs chose to retreat!
"Kill! For the Battle of the Black Gate! For our fallen kin!" After a brief silence, the elves seemed to recall the past.
Like berserkers, they fell into a frenzy! Countless Star Elves and Forest Elves surged past the Rapid Infantry at the front line, charging at the orcs!
The hatred from three thousand years ago had not vanished; it had simply hidden deep within their blood over time. Now, the scene before them awakened those memories buried in their veins…
"Going crazy!" Lance observed the furious Forest and Star Elves with trepidation.
They had completely abandoned formation and identity, driven solely by the desire to send their former enemies to hell.
"Swish!"
"Pfft!"
"Rip!"
The sounds of clashing blades rang out, but most of those falling were orcs.
The demoralized orcs were overwhelmed by the elves, who wielded blood-soaked curved blades and daggers against them!
"Aaah!" A chilling scream echoed, drawing the astonished gazes of countless orcs.
The source was the great lord of the Northern Plains orcs, who was now dragging himself across the ground, desperately trying to flee from the "devil" behind him.
"Spare me! Don't kill me!"
The orc lord, split in two by Thranduil, begged, spitting blood. He could still be saved; a shaman could preserve his life. He desperately hoped that Thranduil would let him go.
"Whoosh!" Without a change in expression, Thranduil swung his curved blade, and a flash of light cut through the air. In an instant, a head flew into the sky, and thick streams of black blood sprayed upward.
"..." Bolg felt a chill run down his spine as he watched the orc lord's head roll away; he was also being targeted… Vanervi was swiftly approaching him with the Manikati…
"Roar!" Seeing the body torn into three pieces on the ground, countless orcs from the Northern Plains turned bloodshot with rage!
Their lord had been brutally dismembered right before their eyes! In the sorrowful turmoil, a thought of destruction silently emerged.
"Stop the pursuit!" Rynar sensed something was off when he saw the orcs appearing to abandon their resistance. To be safe, he ordered archers to halt their chase; after all, they were not regular knights.
Just look at how the legs of their endurance-trained Sharma trembled to know how strenuous their recent battles had been.
"Damn it! Not good! This is a mournful army!" Rynar's pupils shrank! Anyone from Huaxia should have heard the ancient saying—"A mournful army will surely win!"
The elves quickly paid the price for their reckless advance! Faced with equally bloodthirsty orcs, the elves found themselves at a disadvantage.
Their numbers were limited, and their defenses were low.
Suddenly, the counterattack from the orcs resulted in heavy casualties among the elves, with hundreds of both races being killed or wounded in an instant!
...
"This should be it!" Elenthor coldly withdrew his curved blade from a orc's chest. Just moments ago, he had nearly faced a calamity!
A dying orc had almost shot him with the Dragon-Slaying Crossbow! If that arrow had hit, they would have been preparing for a funeral…
However, Elenthor's luck held, as he decisively threw his curved blade, pinning the orc to the ground.
...
"Anything else to say?" Vanervi pointed his Manikati at the fallen Bolg, flames flickering ominously. Despair shone in Bolg's eyes.
"I'll be waiting for you in hell…" Bolg roared unwillingly. How could he, a fifth-tier warrior, possibly withstand a sixth-tier pursuer? He wasn't a special class after all.
"Fool!" Vanervi swung his sword, cutting off Bolg's last words. The hideous head rolled to the ground.
"Bolg is dead!" He raised Bolg's head with the Manikati, shouting loudly.
"Whoa!" In an instant, the orc horde boiled over! Even their respected lord had perished! The allied forces were truly invincible! The thought sparked in every orc's mind…
"Swish~" Soon, the orcs, having lost their spirit, scattered like startled deer.
Just moments ago, they had fought desperately, but with their final pillar of support gone, they completely collapsed, becoming easy prey!
Seeing this scene, Rynar breathed a sigh of relief but felt an immense weight. He was relieved because the war was finally coming to an end, but heavy-hearted because he saw his own shadow in Bolg and the orcs…
If one day he were to be slain, would his subordinates also become mere meat on the chopping block like them…
"Here we are, Riding the sky…" Suddenly, familiar singing echoed from afar. Rynar smiled; he knew it was over for the orcs.
When Reynard appeared on the battlefield, it signified that all routes for the orcs had vanished!
"Boom!"
The main gate of the orc camp was knocked down! Countless dwarves and humans from Lonely Mountain surged forth…
The dull thundering of hooves soon echoed across the western plains! The crimson and gold dragon banner of the Zaltarion Empire billowed in the north wind…
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