Chapter 48: Fate's Reckoning

"However, only you can change all of this!" Rynar urged desperately.

"We've already suffered heavy losses; three thousand years of rest have merely restored our ability to protect ourselves. 

Forgive me, but I lack the capacity to engage in battle…" Elenthor remained resolute against joining the fight.

"Your Majesty, the Star Dragon is not invincible. The barrier dragon has its own weaknesses, and attacks that are too powerful will exceed what the Star Barrier can withstand." 

Rynar spread his hands in resignation, realizing that a softer approach was no longer effective.

"As far as I know, Sauron has gained the allegiance of a demon dragon, and he also commands the Hammer of the Underworld, Grond. 

Do you believe this barrier can stop them? 

I acknowledge that you are a competent lord who doesn't wish for his people to be ensnared in war, but you have no path of retreat; sooner or later, you will be targeted by Sauron, unless you think you can single-handedly withstand his forces." Rynar dropped this bombshell.

Seeing Elenthor fall silent, he pressed on, "When it comes down to just you, you will face the full force of the orcs alone. 

Singrey will be destroyed by the flames of war! Your people will wail in anguish amidst the inferno! Is this what you want to see?"

"Outrageous!" Elandor slammed his hand on the table, standing up. Facing the aggressive Rynar, Elandor felt that his king was being insulted.

"What? Am I wrong, Sir Dragon Knight?" Rynar replied coolly.

"You!" Elandor was immediately rendered speechless.

"Forget it! Reynard, let's go. I hope King Elenthor can withstand the orcs alone after we have all perished." Rynar stood, bowing slightly before calling Reynard to leave.

"Wait! Tell me your plan," Elenthor's cold voice came from behind Rynar.

Hearing this, Rynar, who had been turning to leave, couldn't help but smile as he slowly turned his head. 

"Sorry, we have no plan besides facing the enemy head-on, unless you think we can force our way into Dol Guldur."

"Has it truly become this dire?" Elenthor thought to himself; surely these kingdoms outside could at least muster a large army of around twenty thousand.

"The reality is that the combined forces of Erebor, the Woodland Realm, the Zaltarion Kingdom, Dale, Loshanier City, and Iron Hill only amount to about eight thousand soldiers. 

This is the total of all our soldiers," Rynar shrugged, looking helplessly at the bewildered star elves.

"Our odds are slim…" Elandor suddenly spoke up.

"Yes, but doing nothing will leave us with no chance at all!" Rynar stepped closer, locking eyes with him.

"You're right!" Elenthor rubbed his tired eyes, affirming Rynar's words. He hadn't realized how weak the outside kingdoms had become after three thousand years.

"May I ask, how many elven soldiers does the Kingdom of Singrey have now?" Rynar asked, his expression shifting oddly as if he had just thought of something.

Elenthor gestured for Elandor to tell them, and Elandor hesitated before speaking. "About three thousand elven soldiers…"

"…" Rynar's eye twitched. 

It was supposed to be a hidden power; why was it so embarrassing? 

At least in the game, there were at least eight thousand elven soldiers; why was reality so meager?

"However, our army is composed entirely of tier-three professions!" Elandor said proudly.

"Damn!" Rynar's eyes widened. 

A military force of three thousand tier-three professionals… that was practically a orc harvesting machine! 

"What are the professions?" Rynar asked eagerly.

"One thousand mid-level rangers, one thousand sharpshooters, and one thousand elite swordsmen!" Elenthor listed them off like a proud catalog.

"Seriously? Not a single proper frontline unit?" Rynar thought bitterly. 

The archers were obvious—they were ranged attackers. 

Elven rangers primarily focused on long-range attacks and had weak melee capabilities (comparatively). And the elven swordsmen were just a joke!

What comes to mind when you think of swordsmen? A heavily armored front-line tank like the Dunwenian Swordsmen, right? 

But the elves' swordsmen were truly ridiculous! They didn't wield swords! They wielded freaking crescent blades!

Do you know what a crescent blade is? It's a giant blade shaped like a crescent moon, with the hilt located at the center! 

The key point is that this weapon is thrown to attack! In simple terms, it's a large boomerang… What kind of defense could they possibly have?

"Indeed! The front line will ultimately rely on humans and dwarves…" Rynar slapped his forehead, suddenly speechless.

There was a reason the star elves had organized like this; their population was already small, and they couldn't afford the attrition of a frontal assault, so naturally, their unit choices leaned towards those suited for guerrilla tactics and ranged engagements.

However, Rynar still wanted to weakly ask the star elves if it was polite to call the guys carrying giant boomerangs "swordsmen." 

"So… you can't fight on your own?" Rynar asked, his expression odd as he looked at Elenthor and Elandor. 

Sending out all those mid- and long-range units could instantly unleash terrifying firepower on the orcs, but once they got up close and mixed it all together… that would tell a different story, and unfortunately, the orcs had numbers.

"Uh, actually, we can deploy the dragon knights!" Elenthor said.

"I see…" Rynar sighed heavily.

He had thought that the Woodland elves' ratio of melee to ranged units was already exaggerated, but it turned out that the star elves were even more extreme…

"We need to keep enough people to protect the barrier, so even if we deploy troops, we can only send out two thousand!" 

Elenthor paused for a moment, as the flames of war had yet to reach them, and the crystal still needed guarding.

"Understood." Rynar nodded. 

He knew Singrey's deepest hidden secret, a Star Well! Like other elves who worshiped the Moon Goddess and the Nature Goddess, the star elves originally worshiped the Nature Goddess. 

At that time, the Star Well was still the Sun Well. This magical source granted the elves strength and longevity; elves without a magical well would gradually move toward extinction. 

When the Singrey elves converted to the worship of the Star Goddess, the original Sun Well was blessed and transformed into the Star Well, giving birth to the first and only Star Well in the world.

"When will they come?" Elenthor's calm exterior hid a deep rage. This was nothing like his previous indifferent demeanor; it was clear he harbored a deep-seated hatred for Sauron and his minions.

"Probably next spring! They won't allow us to sow or farm in peace," Rynar said quietly.

"Hmm…" Elenthor fell into deep thought.

"Elandor! Gather all the sharpshooters and rangers! Bring enough supplies! We will head to the Long Lake and wait for those scoundrels to arrive!"

 A glint of cold light flashed in Elenthor's eyes.

He refused to miss the opportunity for battle and decided to lead his people to await the orcs' arrival; his curved blade could hardly wait to drink the blood of the orcs.

"Tell my people that after I leave, I will seal off all of Singrey. If the seal is broken and I do not return… then I will have already returned to the embrace of the stars!" 

Elenthor smiled as he stood up from his throne. He pushed open the great hall doors and pulled out a blood-stained horn from his robes.

"Father, I'm about to walk your path again…" Elenthor's eyes sparkled with a brilliant light.

"Since the night has fallen, let us be the only light in the darkness!"

The sound of the horn echoed throughout every corner of Singrey.

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