Only now did the people who had come to the Silvermoon Federation begin to truly reassess the real strength of this northern ally.
In ages past—at least in humanity's scattered records—limited by sparse populations and relatively scarce resources, on battlefields of limited scale, legendary powerhouses could often settle the outcome with a single hammer blow.
That was why the era of city-states had been able to rise and endure.
Because a city-state often needed only one or several sufficiently powerful protectors to survive for a long time.
And legendary powerhouses happened to meet that condition.
Anyone capable of becoming a legend usually possessed a life story legendary enough in its own right, and people were willing to live of their own accord beneath the shelter of such legends.
But as the times advanced, some gradually realized that even legendary powerhouses were merely powerful—not gods.
They could be wounded, they could bleed, they could grow tired, and the spells a Spellcaster could unleash were likewise limited.
That meant that once there were enough elite troops capable of threatening them, it was possible to restrain them—or even bury a powerhouse beneath sheer numbers.
Yet that existed only in theory. So long as a legendary powerhouse did not fall into a carefully laid deathtrap, if they wished to leave, most non-legendaries had no way to keep them.
But when she saw the rolling torrent of steel before her, Tina Garrod, a long-established legend of the Northlands, could not help pondering a question:
If they were the enemy, could she truly stand against them?
Unlike humanity, elven history was far more ancient and weighty.
When their ancestors had first entered this world, they had relied on comparatively greater numbers to survive in the cracks between the War of a Thousand Years waged by dragons