Chapter 186: Final Battle (Part 8) (First Update, Seeking Monthly Tickets, Subscriptions, and Recommendations)
Orcs have a saying: “Ors atrzz ma sok,” meaning even a cornered beast will fight back, akin to the Chinese saying that a rabbit will bite when it’s cornered. Brendel felt this phrase aptly described his predicament, but only the first half, as the difference was that he couldn’t bite back even if he wanted to. The Platinum Steed still had some energy left, but Brendel himself could no longer hold on.
As the saying goes, “One who brings trouble upon oneself cannot live,” he had previously charged forward on his Platinum Steed without considering the relationship between endurance, agility, and the capacity for strength in the game. To be honest, it wasn’t his fault. In the game, a low-level player would find it hard to acquire a pet with strength vastly exceeding their own, so when the steed unleashed its agility of 1320 energy levels, the combined speed of horse and rider momentarily surpassed twenty-five times the speed of sound—passing through the conical shockwave. The overload and air resistance Brendel endured felt like a fly crashing into a piece of tempered glass at ten kilometers per second.
Although his five-times heightened perception allowed him to realize his mistake in a fraction of a second, it was still too late. The Platinum Steed leaped ahead, nearly covering a distance of sixteen miles, creating an unnatural and resplendent silver light trail through the forest. But Brendel saw his life draining away, blood seeping from his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears, his organs severely damaged. Once his life exceeded the critical threshold, he immediately entered a weakened state, coughing up blood, the only fortunate part being that he hadn’t dropped dead instantly.
Thanks to his nearly twenty times enhanced constitution, his robust regenerative ability and protective nature prevented his organs from being completely shattered. If this injury had occurred when he first traversed here, he would have likely been dead by now. However, with the resilience granted by his high constitution, he believed he would be fine as long as he had some time to recover after the battle.
But two problems lay before him.
The first was that he had no time to recover.
The second was that the Earth Envoy presumably wouldn’t give him this time to recuperate.
The fight continued. Although the Earth Envoy was massive, slow-moving, and among the lowest in speed for level 60 beings, “a dragon’s step equals ten human steps,” meaning it still boasted nearly two hundred energy levels of base agility. In the ten-plus miles distance, it would only take the monster eight or nine seconds to catch up again.
In desperation, Brendel could only come up with a half-baked plan to have his sitting Platinum Steed draw the enemy away, even if it meant preparing for a card to be discarded. He looked up at the position of the sun; they were already very close to the designated location—even though it had seemed like a long trek, that was because he had ample time and had to consider Antinna and Romaine, ordinary people who couldn’t compare to the fast-paced escape and chase he had experienced with Eck. They hadn’t pursued or fled for more than a few minutes, repeatedly changing direction, yet they had still delved nearly fifty or sixty miles into the hilly regions to the south. Reflecting on the whole process filled Brendel with cold sweat.
Reversing fifty or sixty miles was equivalent to regaining half the strength for the Silver Elf Royal Guard, reaching the level of mid-tier gold warriors. Twenty mid-tier gold warriors against a level 60 BOSS was entirely sufficient. Therefore, all he had to do now was stall for time. After Naminez finished the battle, they would speedily rush to this location, and according to their speed, it would take about ten minutes in a straight line to arrive.
This meant he had to hold on for at least another thirty minutes.
Brendel spent about one or two seconds roughly checking his plan and found no obvious flaws before he dismounted. He patted the long metallic cheek of his steed—a mechanical being, seemingly a creation of the gods, precise, shockingly sturdy, and seemingly never fatigued, having withstood multiple attacks from the Earth Envoy without a scratch. It was indeed the best executor of his plan.
However, losing the steed meant losing his ability to continue fleeing, and this action was akin to drinking poison to quench thirst. This was nothing like making decisions in past games; Brendel would be wagering his life, and his heart began to thump uncontrollably.
Yet even so, he decisively issued the order: “BMW Silver! Go!” shouting the temporary name he’d assigned to the battle horse, and pointed the way back—details of the commands could be filled in by his mind. The Platinum Steed, being a mechanical being, naturally felt no fear; it raised its head and glanced back at Brendel with its ruby-like eyes—merely to confirm the command. Then it turned and vanished into the jungle.
Brendel pressed his hand to his chest, stifling the pain as he exhaled gently.
He took out the card for the Platinum Steed and listened intently toward the direction of the forest. Before long, an angry roar from the Earth Envoy Eckmen echoed from that same direction, startling flocks of birds.
…
As long as one is not truly driven mad, there will always be a moment of icy coldness in their limbs.
Yuhjiker, like a gambling addict blinded by rage, threw his subordinates into the battle within the ruins of the Balrog Great Shrine, but it seemed like a bottomless pit. Though initially, it seemed divine inspiration struck him as he sent part of his people to flank the enemy’s rear, the situation improved for a time, the foe lost their ranged cover, and his lizardmen archers were gradually gathering. The back and forth led the Silver Elves to quickly abandon their frontline, with the struggle gradually moving into the inner streets and alleys of the Great Shrine.
But that was where the good news ended.
The Silver Elves launched a counter-charge, then pulled back. They lost one comrade, but what startled Yuhjiker even more was that at the moment the Silver Elf fell, its body transformed into white light and shot toward a direction in the south. That direction was far too familiar to him—the burial ground of the Silver Elf King.
For the first time, this lizard commander doubted the origins of these Silver Elves, but soon realized he wouldn’t have the chance to act on that doubt.
A large group of lizardmen sent to the rear of the battlefield was still silent, but instead, a high flag was raised at the direction of the ceremonial hall. As a result, morale plummeted, the previously smooth offensive halted, and the Silver Elves seized the opportunity to counterattack, reclaiming a section of the outer wall. Yuhjiker spat blood in anger but could do nothing about it; at least he had launched an offensive, and its numerical advantage was gradually starting to manifest.
However, just when he prepared to further expand on his victories, he turned back to be surprised to find he had no reserve troops left. It felt like a mad gambler turning back to retrieve his chips only to find he was left with nothing, yet all his chips still lay on the table, and the scales of war had begun to slowly tilt.
Twenty Silver Elves remained as firm and resolute as a steel wall, standing immoveable in the dark green tide.
Yuhjiker felt a chill in his limbs.
But compared to his colleagues whose brains had yet to fully evolve, Yuhjiker was considered one of the more clever ones. He reflected for a moment and quickly grasped the cause and effect of the situation—mostly the consequences. He immediately summoned his deputy, instructing, “Have the line officers press forward further, move the front line up.”
“Boss, are we launching a full assault?” asked the green-skinned, sharp-nosed subordinate.
“No,” Yuhjiker shook his head. “We’re preparing to retreat, just us.”
“But those brothers…”
“Forget about them, there’s no time for this now,” the lizard bandit chief shook his head helplessly, his three skinny fingers gripping a gleaming necklace as he replied, “As long as we have this, we can re-enter this region with the help of the Tree Shepherds. I think I’ve figured out where those Silver Elves came from; next time, I’ll be better prepared.”
“But if we leave like this, without notifying Conrad?” the deputy asked.
Yuhjiker hesitated slightly but quickly shook his head. “Don’t worry, that guy is a diplomat; even without us, he can take care of himself.” He inwardly added something venomous: no issues, even if he did. However, if Conrad were to die in an area he was responsible for, it would also be on him, so for a moment, he felt a bit conflicted.
(*Within the Tree Shepherds, the members coordinating and commanding the actions of the Envoys are called “Diplomats,” while those carrying the blood of the gods are referred to as “Cultivators” or “Experimenters.”)
Thinking this, the lizardman couldn’t help but look up at the battlefield. Although superficially the lizardmen were still holding the offense with casualties below twenty percent, the Silver Elves showed no signs of succumbing; on the contrary, they continually inflicted casualties upon the lizardmen. The bandits had no discipline, and Yuhjiker believed that once the casualties exceeded thirty percent or the battle dragged on for over twenty minutes, these rascals would quickly rout.
By then, even if he wanted to flee, he would have to consider the enemy’s mood.
Yuhjiker’s seasoned gaze was accumulated from years of resistance wars against Cruz and the Empire. In his homeland, lizardmen, as slaves to the Cruzian, had been engaged in sporadic revolts for centuries, of which Yuhjiker was one—only he acted more like a bandit. Yet it was precisely because he was a bandit that he had more confidence in his instincts regarding danger.
…
The battle had actually only lasted thirty-two minutes.
When Naminez sensed some unusual emotions beginning to shake the front lines’ determination to attack from the rear of the lizard army, this Silver Elf commander with hundreds of years of command experience seized the opportunity decisively. He sounded the dragon horn once more, and the elven warriors summoned their last strength for another charge. The lizardmen’s weak crossbow bolts bounced harmlessly off their armor as the twenty warriors surged forward in unison, resembling a moving wall.
The lizardmen collapsed.
The dark green tide began to retreat, and the command structure disintegrated, but when they ultimately noticed Yuhjiker was no longer there, this retreat transformed into a true rout. Naminez only sent his troops to pursue a few hundred meters, but the lizardmen screamed in panic, trampling over each other as they fled towards the forest.
From the ruins’ direction, it appeared as if a swarm of green cockroaches scattered; besides the bodies, they quickly fled, leaving no sign behind, leaving one dumbfounded. If Brendel were here, he would certainly tease these elven warriors with a line:
“The enemy turned too quickly, and our army could not keep up—”
…
(PS: First update, seeking monthly tickets and subscriptions. Honestly, I disdain April Fool’s Day.) (To be continued; for the continuation, please login; more chapters are available; support the author, support legitimate reading!)
