Furbolg Attack, Part One

If anyone had seen them like this, they would have called them crazy. How could they still be smiling with a powerful enemy bearing down on them?

But they weren't crazy. They had simply lived too long and seen too much.

There was little left in life that could stir their hearts. A thrilling battle was one of the few pleasures they still had.

Meanwhile, Kalei, inside the Temple of the Moon, was in a very different frame of mind. After casting Rejuvenation on every wounded person there, he said goodbye to Lilin and left the temple.

With his staff on his back, he stepped outside. Thinking of the Furbolgs' strange behavior and the terrifying things he had heard about the Emerald Nightmare, he couldn't calm down.

He immediately went to the village's mount stable and found Big Black. Then he rode back to the Moonwell and sat down to meditate, recovering his strength and focus.

He had no idea how much time had passed when a sharp owl cry suddenly rang out from the mouth of the valley.

Kalei opened his eyes at once, got to his feet, mounted his Saber, and rode toward the village entrance.

He hadn't gone far when the owl cried out again in the distance—twice in succession.

Kalei's expression darkened. He knew the Sentinel Corps had many ways to communicate, one of which was using owl calls.

According to the Sentinel Corps' rules, a single call meant the enemy had been spotted; two calls meant the enemy was dangerous; three calls in a row meant the situation was extremely urgent.

It looked like tonight's attack wouldn't be simple.

Kalei urged his mount to go faster. Big Black sensed his master's urgency and broke into a long-striding gallop.

But Big Black wasn't a mount bred for war. He hadn't received special training, and his strength, speed, and stamina were far inferior to those of a military mount.

By the time Kalei rode out of the Moonwell area and reached Moon Plaza, the fighters had already followed Arenia toward the mouth of the valley.

Seeing this, Kalei quickly turned his mount and followed after them.

Moonlight Plaza in the village wasn't far from the valley entrance. Riding a Saber, they reached it in less than two minutes.

Kalei had just caught up with the group and was still some distance from the entrance when he heard a steady series of heavy footsteps coming from beyond it.

Everyone's faces changed at the sound.

Kalei straightened in his saddle and looked toward the entrance.

The White Lady's light was somewhat dim, while the Blue Child shone brightly.

Pale violet light spilled over the mist-shrouded valley, creating a dreamlike, hazy atmosphere.

Through the haze, one towering figure after another emerged, without pause.

Kalei gave them a quick count. There were three or four hundred of them. He drew a sharp breath and thought, These Furbolgs really have gone mad.

As far as he knew, the Bristlelimb Tribe had fewer than six hundred Furbolgs in all. Nearly four hundred had come this time. Add those they had already lost, and hadn't the entire tribe come out?

Most of the Furbolgs were level twenty or thirty, making them the equal of intermediate-level warriors. With their powerful racial traits on top of that, warriors of the same level might not even be able to beat them.

Arenia probably hadn't expected so many Furbolgs to come, but she didn't panic. As their commander, she immediately began giving orders.

"All warriors skilled in defense, take your Sabers and deploy at the front!"

Night Elves who grew up alongside Sabers were usually natural archers—and natural cavalry, too.

Combine archers with cavalry, and a formidable unit emerged: mounted archers.

Powerful mounted archers had always been the infantry's nightmare.

The Night Elves were not only natural mounted archers; they also had nature's protection. If infantry fought them in a forest, it would be a nightmare within a nightmare.

Under the circumstances, if the Night Elves had been in a forest or on an open plain, they could have used mounted-archer tactics to defeat the charging Furbolgs with hardly any effort.

Unfortunately, they were fighting at the entrance to their own home. They had to face the Furbolgs head-on; if they let them charge into the village, everything inside would be destroyed.

So even though the enemy was unexpectedly powerful, none of the warriors present backed down.

More than a dozen warriors carrying large shields rushed out of the battle formation and took up positions at the valley entrance.

The Night Elves were friends of nature and knew nothing about smelting. That didn't mean they couldn't make powerful equipment.

They had long since learned from nature all the knowledge they needed.

They didn't use minerals or smelting to make their gear. Instead, they used nature magic to draw the essence from mountains, rivers, plants, and trees, then transformed it into equipment.

As a result, Night Elf gear was not only powerful and beautiful but also so natural-looking that it showed no trace of having been forged.

The dozen or so warriors assigned to defense lined up shoulder to shoulder and spread their shields. When they pressed them together, the shields fit tightly like a pair of twins, forming a solid, airtight wall.

The attacking Furbolgs didn't slow down just because the Night Elves were ready for them.

A roar rose from the Furbolg ranks. The ones in front heard it and charged faster, as if they'd been injected with a stimulant.

Arenia wore a long emerald-green bow across her back and held a pair of specially made Moonlight Scimitars. Calmly holding the rear, she continued giving orders. "Archers, split into two groups, one behind the other. Use regular arrows. One group, fire in an arc; the other, fire straight ahead. Take turns shooting to stop the charging Furbolgs."

Except for a few specialists, nearly everyone on the battlefield was an elite archer. At her command, they split into two groups, and the first began firing straight ahead.

It was night, and a thin mist hung over the valley entrance. But for Night Elves, drawing a bow and shooting was as easy as eating or drinking. They didn't even need to aim. The moment an arrow was nocked, they let it fly.

In an instant, streaks of light soared over the shield wall and flew toward the Furbolgs at the front.

The archers all fired at incredible speed. In the blink of an eye, twenty or thirty of them had loosed nearly a hundred arrows. Each one struck with tremendous force, and a swath of charging Furbolgs fell at once.

Ordinary Furbolgs would have been killed almost instantly by such a barrage.

But these Furbolgs, though they staggered under the volley and bled heavily, were still alive.

Watching from behind, Kalei saw that their bodies were larger than before. The skin on their hands and feet had turned dark purple, their eyes red and black, and black light shimmered across their claws and teeth. They had clearly been corrupted by shadow power.

The shadow power had affected the Furbolgs' temperaments, but it had also protected them, greatly strengthening their life force.

Seeing that the arrows hadn't killed them, the Furbolgs grew even more frenzied. They tore the arrows from their bodies, roared at the sky, scrambled to their feet, and charged forward again.

Even the well-traveled Night Elves felt a chill at the sight.

Arenia, sitting tall and straight on her Stag, also grew tense.

Raising her voice, she shouted, "Don't panic! The next group, switch to Explosive Arrows! Front line, raise your shields and push forward. Don't let the Furbolgs build up speed!"

At Arenia's command, the second group of archers, already prepared, pulled out arrows that glimmered with green light and fired them in arcs.

Their arrows were different from the regular ones used in the previous volley.

This volley was smaller, with each archer firing just one arrow. But almost every arrow carried the power of nature. On hitting an enemy, it would either explode or sprout and grow, turning into a blade among the enemy's flesh.

Sure enough, the shadow-protected Furbolgs took heavy damage from this volley. More than a dozen died at once.

Unfortunately, though magic arrows were powerful, there weren't enough of them to stop all the Furbolgs at the valley entrance. Several broke through the barrage and charged forward.

Thud, thud, thud! One after another, Furbolgs weighing over five hundred pounds and standing more than six feet tall crashed into the Night Elf shield wall.

The heavy impacts made everyone's hearts clench.

The Night Elves living here knew all too well how powerful the Furbolgs were.

An ordinary Furbolg might not be a match for an ordinary Night Elf—but that assumed the Night Elf had a weapon and enough room to maneuver.

If they had to fight a Furbolg at close quarters with their bare hands, five Night Elves wouldn't be enough to beat one.

Fortunately, the Furbolgs had lost much of their momentum after being held up along the way. The front-line warriors managed to hold them back with their shields. Once the first charge was stopped, the rest of the battle would be easier.

Arenia immediately called out, "Front line, hold your ground!"

"All warriors, keep your Sabers beside you and watch for Furbolgs breaking through. When you counterattack, don't use your mouths. Use your claws and bodies."

Though the Sabers were mere animals and couldn't speak, they understood Arenia's orders perfectly.

The Sabers following behind the warriors sprang into action. Whenever a Furbolg tried to break through its master's defenses, they lunged in and struck back with their bodies and claws, helping the front line hold firm.

The Furbolgs' first charge was stopped. Behind them, the archers responsible for dealing damage loosed a rain of arrows without waiting for Arenia to tell them to.

After several volleys, the valley was packed with Furbolg corpses. The thick stench of blood mingled with the foul odor of shadow power, becoming almost unbearable.

But no one backed down. They couldn't.