The wind came from the hills to the west.
Among the bards who traveled from place to place, there was often a legend: the strong wind soared, while giant beasts traveled across the sky.
And the wind was the sound of their wings.
"What is that?"
A necromancer suddenly screamed.
There were four long, interweaving silver lines. They were like four dazzling blades, slicing across the sky above the entire battlefield in an instant.
Wherever they passed, the crystal clusters and Nightmare Insects in the sky fell like raindrops.
Everyone instinctively looked up. At the end of their vision, the silver lines stretching ahead curved in an arc before turning back. This time, they could see clearly: they were gigantic dragons, each with a powerful body. Yet on their long necks and massive heads, besides the horns of a dragon, they also had a single horn pointing straight forward.
"Dragons!"
"No, th-those are..."
Riders clad entirely in silver armor sat one behind the other on long saddles. The rider in front held a five-meter-long shuttle-shaped lance, while the rider behind carried a massive shield.
Their faces were completely hidden beneath silver visors. Exquisite, mysterious patterns were embossed on the metal, cold and arrogant.
It was as though they were recounting the most glorious identity they had possessed a thousand years ago.
Silver Elf Guard, Dragon King Cavalry.
They raised their lances.
"Varlor!"
The Dragon Knights shouted in unison.
"Varlor!"
Cries of victory rang through the heavens.
Behind them, countless silver specks of light flickered like stars on the eastern horizon.
"Silver Elves!" The Undead Lords were nearly unable to believe their eyes. "Martha above, those are Silver Elves!"
It was a silver flood surging down from the Lorwede Hills. Countless Heavy Cavalry swept forth, their snow-silver armor gleaming beneath the