The people of Silverymoon knew nothing of this brief yet extraordinarily thrilling duel. They were still fighting desperately. A massive-area Bloodlust spell combined with the Black Orcs' vast sea of bodies was practically cheating.
In just four short hours, some sections of Silverymoon's walls had changed hands several times. Fortunately, the Black Orcs had been driven mad by Bloodlust and had no real organization, so as long as Silverymoon was willing to pay the price, it could still retake the occupied walls.
But this was not a long-term solution, because in those mere four hours, Silverymoon had suffered nearly five thousand casualties! That was only four hours! At this point, Silverymoon's defensive forces were still far from their limit. The warriors could still endure physically, morale remained fairly high, and the reserves were still reasonably sufficient, which was why they could hold on.
But as casualties mounted and time dragged on, all of those factors would become increasingly dire. By then, Silverymoon's situation would only grow more difficult.
It was already like this after four hours. What about the next four? And the four after that? Silverymoon might not even last twenty-four hours.
The mythal was powerful, but what the hell was the point of having only a mythal without soldiers? Within Silverymoon, even marked mages could not cast spells on a large scale, because the mythal was a very special magical barrier.
Its creation required a legendary spell as a guide, then magical formations and certain key buildings as anchors, gathering mysterious and poorly understood ley-line energy as its foundation. The magical formations aside, all those things were well protected. But the key buildings were troublesome. In summary, they had one defining trait: they were mystical—extremely mystical.
If magic was a scientific system entirely different from that of the