Chapter 853: Act 31 – The Archer’s Bloom
Wind Archers are a fourth-tier unit, and Fear Spirits are also a fourth-tier unit, but the agility and mobility that Fear Spirits pride themselves on are inherently restrained by the precision-seeking Wind Archers. The fearsome skeletal forms they possess offer negligible protection against enchanted arrows, leaving them with only their pitiful defense and vitality. These undead creatures flap their tattered wings as they fly over the battlefield, their chilling screams slicing through the air above the advancing White Lion Guard. When Carglis looked up, he could only see more of these monsters filled with arrows, resembling hedgehogs falling like rain, heavily landing on the riverbank. After the first wave of arrows, the number of flying monsters in the air had already decreased by one-sixth.
The Bloodstaff has not yet commanded the Fear Spirits to retreat, and the remaining Fear Spirits rolled in the air to lower their altitude, beginning to dive toward Erluin’s mage corps. “They really do plan to replace our mages; the Lord knows them too well,” Medisa said, pursing her lips as she gazed at the flying monsters through the gaps in the trees, her eyes filled with admiration. Raindrops pelted against her soft cheeks, gathering along the curves of her face and dropping from her pointed chin; nearby, around six hundred elves or human archers also held their breath, hidden beneath wide cloaks, their hundreds of eyes fixed on this scene while their hands never stopped, uniformly drawing a second arrow from their quivers.
“Arrow number three.” Medisa opened her bow, aiming at a certain area of the sky.
Immediately, clusters of white flames erupted in the forest, twinkling like stars in the darkness.
Medisa nodded in satisfaction. “Wait until they’re within four hundred feet, and follow my command.”
She squinted to gauge the distance. The Fear Spirits had almost flown directly above the mages, and some young apprentice wizards screamed in fright. If it weren’t for the leaders maintaining order in each formation, they would have scattered in panic. At this moment, the Silver Elf Princess slightly opened her mouth: “Follow my lead, shoot.” Breathing in the cool, moisture-laden air of the forest, her archery skills weren’t top-notch, but having once been a commander of the Lin Song Legion, she still ranked among the best among these tree elves. As she issued the command, she released the bowstring; the feathered arrow, accompanied by a splash of water, shot out like a silver line, piercing right into the formation of monsters in the sky, striking a Fear Spirit in the head.
The struck Fear Spirit let out a piercing scream, and holy flames instantly ignited at the point where the arrow penetrated its skull. While it flailed in the air, moments later, its body transformed into a fireball soaring upward, struggling as it descended, but before it could hit the ground, it had already burned to ashes.
Then, like a storm, with the thundering sounds of bowstrings, clusters of white flames surged up from the forest, shooting densely toward the diving Fear Spirits; for Madara’s side, what lay before them was nothing short of a disaster: nearly a hundred Fear Spirits seemed to collide with a holy storm, one after another getting struck and ignited in the tempest of arrows, wailing as they fell, igniting into countless fire sparks before they even hit the ground, turning into ash. The Fear Spirits maintained their formation, weaving through the rain of embers, but after the storm, only a quarter remained of their original number.
By Bloodstaff’s side, the high-level Necromancers who summoned the Fear Spirits were nearly stunned, watching helplessly as the high-level undead they had painstakingly summoned vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving them bewildered as to what had just happened. But the Bloodstaff understood; its skeletal palm gripped its staff tightly, the flames of souls in its eye sockets flickering with unprecedented intensity. It realized that it had been outmaneuvered by those damned Erluin people.
“They really did prepare arrows blessed by holy water,” Earl Jack mused from a distance, sighing. Others were way too well-prepared; in comparison, they seemed like amateurs—though in Brendel’s eyes, they truly were amateurs. But what surprised him was that the first wave of arrows clearly used a different enchantment. If they had initially used holy attribute enchantments, the Bloodstaff might have had the Fear Spirits retreat, showing the foresight that the Toniger people had planned this from the start, setting a trap for Madara’s skeletal army.
“If the first wave of arrows didn’t use enchanted arrows, then too many Fear Spirits remain now. This means they predicted that Bloodstaff would use Fear Spirits, and how they would be used. The Toniger people even had these Fear Spirits’ fate arranged,” Earl Jack pondered, perplexed. “How did that Lord Earl come to such conclusions?”
But if he were to express these doubts to Brendel, Brendel would undoubtedly dismiss them as overthinking. To him, Bloodstaff was like an open book, its contents clearly laid out; it felt akin to cheating. Historically, Bloodstaff was cautious yet bold, adept at seizing fleeting opportunities, but it was exceedingly arrogant when facing Erluin people. With its character, it would undoubtedly realize its judgment errors. However, if it didn’t demonstrate enough ‘sincerity’ in its initial ambush, it would definitely arouse the cautious personality of that individual. Therefore, it used the Wind Archers and another type of enchantment but refrained from using the strongest holy property anti-undead enchantment to instill in Bloodstaff the mindset, ‘So this is the ambush from the Erluins—nothing to be afraid of.’ Thus, it could boldly utilize its Fear Spirits.
As for the matter of calculating how to deal the most damage to the Fear Spirits, that was utter nonsense. The battlefield changes rapidly, and human hearts are inscrutable; no one can claim total certainty. Setting this trap based on Bloodstaff’s character was essentially a gamble to inflict as much damage to the Fear Spirits as possible; however, the results were surprisingly out of expectations. Rather, it should be said that it couldn’t get any better. In the sky, there were still a handful of isolated Fear Spirits remaining, and as they attempted to dive again, they would achieve nothing impactful, since the mages below were also not without the ability to retaliate. Thus, the high-level Necromancers controlling them hurriedly summoned back the remaining seeds; otherwise, in the ensuing battle, the undead wouldn’t be able to conduct aerial reconnaissance.
If there were to be another fight after this.
The young female archers in the forest watched in disbelief as they assessed their achievements, nearly bursting into cheers. Medisa let out a long sigh as she looked at the retreating Fear Spirits. Lowering her longbow in the rain, she thought that the Wind Archers had finally handed in a perfect report for their first battle. “Though this Wind Archer granted by the Lord is still far from our time, it has its unique aspects,” she mused silently to herself. The historically known Lin Song Legion was a versatile force, capable of charging honorably riding unicorns with silver lances in close combat, and instantly switching to top-shooting archers at range, mastering both foot and mounted archery. The archer unit she led now might not compare to her past subordinates, but it was indeed top-tier in this age, and it had to be top-tier.
Though she usually spoke little, seemingly indifferent and unconcerned with the world, deep within her, there resided the pride of the People of Silver. This was her army; thus, it could only be the best. Historically called Lin Song, it ought to inherit that name, an ancient song passed down through the forest for millennia, echoing within the trees, singing the legends of elven heroes who shot their arrows as if woven in competition against enemies—this was the Song of the Forest.
She glanced outside the forest at Brendel standing in the rain, filled with admiration.
Brendel, equipped the Wind Archers with three types of enchanted arrows: the first arrow enchanted with Wind’s Wing to increase shooting distance; the second arrow enchanted with Stone’s Edge, used to counter heavy cavalry within firing range; while the third arrow was specially prepared for the conflict against Madara with a holy attribute enchantment. Generally, each Wind Archer would carry twenty-four regular arrows, with the other three types of arrows in pairs, totaling thirty. However, for this battle against undead, the numbers of the first and second arrows had been notably reduced, replacing them with four third arrows.
This luxurious equipment, worth four hundred and twenty Tor, when six hundred Wind Archers shot six volleys, equated to the annual maintenance costs of a regular infantry regiment—spent in a single conflict.
Such extravagant provisions would certainly be regarded as reckless by any Erluin noble; they would rather risk losing a small sum in a battle to redeem their lives than engage in such extravagant warfare, which was more akin to a contest in burning money.
Yet this costly expenditure bore its meaning today; those trembling Viereans in the linden trees should have felt this all the more keenly at that moment.
“But why can the Lord see the arrival of this day?” The princess’s eyes brimmed with confusion and curiosity. She had studied human history during leisure moments in Cold Fir Territory, and such an era had not dawned for ten full centuries. The War of the Saints felt like a distant memory. What could her Lord see to tread further down this path? Or was it as Yuta and others speculated, that the Lord had been deeply impressioned by those undead in Buche, leading to everything today?
She shook her head again. Deep inside, she had a nagging feeling that her Lord was always preparing for something, but it could not solely be about everything that happened in Buche; otherwise, his actions in Ampere Seale made no sense.
Medisa turned her head, placing her index finger and thumb in her mouth, and whistled long towards her subordinates, her sisters. “Break’s over,” she commanded, her voice not loud but echoing through the entire forest. “We’ve had a great start, but now it’s time for us to shine. Let’s show our enemies the essence of Lin Song!”
“Arrows like woven fabric!” The girls responded in unison.
Medisa nodded.
Brendel stood atop a high ground at the riverbank, observing the tide of battle shift across the hilly region. The White Lion Guard had completely ripped apart the positions of the Viscag and Morgjin Skeleton Sword Teams under the nonstop cover of the mages. Fireballs surged across the entire riverbank. Just as the skeleton swordsmen who had been blown to the ground were attempting to rise, sharp ice shards rained down, and the young White Lions trampled over the wretched enemies. Freya and Vurn worked together to kill Viscag, and a flag depicting a black rose and spider collapsed on the battlefield with a fluttering shake.
Brendel pursed his lips, coldly watching Viscag, who had lost an arm, struggling to maintain balance while facing Freya. He couldn’t help but be inwardly amazed. If a human fought under such conditions, they might have long gone mad, fighting driven solely by their last vestiges of belief. But Viscag remained remarkably calm—this was the undead; their hollow chests bore no fear, fervor, or impulse, any one of which could easily manifest. Even in death’s final moment, they were still terrifying, a deadly snake that could bit holes in you at any time.
Fortunately, they underestimated their enemies too greatly.
Viscag fell, following Morgjin’s footsteps soon after. The former’s demise felt particularly suffocating, as under the influence of Mountain’s Gift, Himelam demonstrated a terrible power that even he couldn’t have imagined. After the battle in the Frosty Death Forest, Himelam had become a Priest of Elemental Manifestation, now holding the same warrior level and combat experience—a near-elite dual class reminiscent of gaming. Brendel had only heard of such phenomena among a few pivotal plot NPCs, such as the Earth Sage Erlantha in the North, and now, he found a living legend before his eyes.
What was even more terrifying was Brendel had finally understood what that sentence meant in the skill description of Mountain’s Gift: “He can integrate blessing spells from the earth into his fighting style. The more blessings he obtains, the higher the attack power and attributes of this staff.” So it turned out that during its attacks, the staff had a chance to apply beneficial spells to the wielder, which in turn strengthened the properties of Mountain’s Gift, embodying the ideal of becoming stronger with every swing. Moreover, the benefits from Gaia’s blessing spells were starkly different from those of the Temple of Fire, where most spells were self-targeted. The Temple of Fire may boast the strongest battle priests and flame-blessed knights in this world, but Gaia’s Hallowed Temple possessed the globe’s finest area effect blessing spells.
Brendel now saw the white lion infantry surrounding Himelam, nearly reaching the threshold of a small BOSS. The White Lion Guard had been established only recently, and their officers were silver-ranked, while many soldiers, even after consuming Dragon Blood potions, still lingered at the pinnacle black iron level. However, under Himelam’s blessing aura, they all seemingly bore combat power on the verge of reaching silver peak.
Even Brendel felt this a tad ridiculous.
Thus, the left flank where Himelam was located progressed rapidly, almost breaking through the positions of the two skeleton swords teams. According to their original plan, they did not stop to envelop the remaining forces of Viscag and Morgjin but continued to storm toward Bloodstaff’s main formation. The distance between both sides was not far, and the speed of the white lion infantry was astonishing. Bloodstaff was currently pulling back the several units previously used to besiege the Viereans, leaving the rear exceptionally vulnerable. Should they break through, the central necromancer formation would suffer a disastrous fate.
Brendel focused his gaze further. Across the riverbank, the undead were indeed withdrawing their skeleton cavalry. However, the Lantonrand knights, having entangled the undead earlier, were now tangling with them spitefully. The two light cavalry units fought fiercely in the valley direction, making it evident that Bloodstaff could not rely on its skeleton cavalry at this moment. Of course, Brendel couldn’t expect the Lantonrand knights to assist in attacking Bloodstaff’s flank.
By this point in the battle, both sides had indeed identified their opponent’s most vulnerable aspects. On the Erluin side, the Viereans remained trapped in the linden grove. Though they maintained morale, they dared not act rashly against the only remaining regiment of skeleton warriors in front of them. Their greatest issue was the second-tier elite crossbowmen, who had gotten little success in this war; while on the Lantonrand side, they were forced to help Brendel check the undead skeleton cavalry—they were nearly useless. The frontline battles had almost turned into a contest between Brendel and Bloodstaff’s forces, with the only advantage for Brendel being that Bloodstaff’s army was facing away, while the two elite detachments covering its flank had already been breached. If Toniger’s main force could deliver a deadly strike before Bloodstaff completely reorganized their formation, victory could be seized in one fell swoop.
On Bloodstaff’s end, despite being attacked from behind and in front, they actually had an advantage in numbers at that moment. Behind them were only Brendel’s five units of white lion infantry, two units of Wind Archers, and a mage corps, meaning that the Wind Archers were practically incapable of making any frontal attack. Moreover, it was unlikely that the five units of White Lion Guard would surge up without pausing to secure their position after breaking through Viscag’s stronghold; even if one or two units did charge up, it would be futile against Madara’s overwhelming forces.
At this moment, both combatants were effectively unable to organize their flanks. The Toniger forces were desperately attempting to breach the undead’s front lines to obliterate Bloodstaff’s necromancers, while Bloodstaff was frantically trying to reorganize its formation to deal with this sudden influx of troops. Both sides were racing against time; or rather, as long as either side had one reserve unit, they could unilaterally exploit this moment of vulnerability and launch a decisive blow against their enemy.
Yet the problem was that it seemed neither side had a reserve force left.
The battle had wholly fallen into a tangled deadlock.
But this very deadlock was precisely what Bloodstaff delighted in. “Unaware of their demise!” it cackled sharply. What it needed was time, not a swift victory over the enemy. Though it was a bit embarrassing to have these flimsy opponents bound, it was far better than defeat. Moreover, these humans clearly constituted the last military force of the Kingdom in the Southlands. Should they fall, not only Viriere or Karasu but Madara itself would not miss the opportunity to take advantage.
They had another ally—let Rendener dominate this vast area, clearly a vision the high being would want to see.
Bloodstaff finally sighed in relief, seeming to catch a glimpse of victory beckoning it.
On the hilltop, among the linden woods, Earl Jack also had a sullen expression. The Toniger forces were making blunders. But perhaps they shouldn’t be called mistakes, as they were unavoidable. Earl Zilin had earlier inquired whether he should sound the alert to that Toniger Earl, but he had rejected this notion; he understood that doing so would be pointless. The Toniger Earl was making the correct choice, though it still appeared to be incorrect given that there were no opportunities presenting themselves on the battlefield.
Their forces were still too few.
He regretted this deeply. If he hadn’t wiped out the Vierean army earlier, the situation would undoubtedly be far different now. The Earl unconsciously gripped his sword hilt, knuckles whitening from the tension. During his first battle, he had not held his breath as he did now.
Yet perhaps no one on the battlefield could fathom what Brendel’s mood was at this moment; in fact, he felt quite content, standing in the light rain, as he saw Bloodstaff indeed committing errors—
This mistake was fatal.
For it truly believed that Toniger had no more reserves to strike its flank.
He turned his head; in the forest, Medisa gave him a distant nod, and then the Silver Elf Princess unsheathed a horn from her waist—an elongated horn of the Fran Knights, with a dark body adorned with silver rose patterns. The horn depicted scenes from past wars, narrating a legend where azure banners fluttered across the plains of Marald, telling tales of the Fran lances glimmering, and the long blasts of the horn echoing with the courage of the ancient spirits.
Describing the Silver King leading his knights into a charge against the Minren.
The Silver Elf Princess placed the horn to her lips and blew with great force.
The long blast of the horn resonated throughout the mountains.
In everyone’s eyes, it was as though snow was falling; thousands of silver steeds thundering from the horizon surged forth. At that moment, the earth roared as if shaking the very mountains.
The staff in Bloodstaff’s hands clattered to the ground.
