Furbolg Attack

If anyone were to see the two of them in this state, they would likely call them mad; how could anyone laugh when a formidable enemy was closing in?

In reality, they were not insane; it was simply that they had lived for so long and seen so much.

There were few things left in their lives that could stir their hearts, and a hearty, unbridled battle was one of the few pleasures remaining to them.

Meanwhile, Kalei, currently at the Temple of the Moon, was in a completely different state of mind. After casting Rejuvenation on every wounded person in the temple, he bid Lilin farewell and departed.

With his staff on his back, he reached the area outside the temple. Thoughts of the anomalies among the Furbolg and the terrifying rumors regarding the Emerald Nightmare left his heart unable to find peace.

He immediately went to the village stables, found Big Black, and rode him back to the side of the Moonwell to begin meditating and restoring his stamina and spirit.

Time passed, he knew not how long, until he suddenly heard the sharp cry of an Owlman echoing from the direction of the valley entrance.

Kalei opened his eyes instantly, stood up, mounted his Saber, and raced toward the village entrance.

He had not ridden far when the Owlman's cry sounded again in the distance, twice in quick succession.

Kalei's expression darkened. He knew the Sentinel troops had many ways to communicate, and one of them was through the calls of an Owlman.

According to Sentinel regulations, a single cry meant the discovery of an enemy; two cries meant the enemy was dangerous; three consecutive cries meant the situation was critical.

It seemed the raid tonight was no simple matter.

Kalei urged his mount to increase its speed. Sensing his master's urgency, Big Black broke into a wild gallop.

However, Big Black was not a war-mount; lacking specialized training, his strength, speed, and endurance were significantly inferior to those of military mounts.

By the time Kalei rode Big Black out of the Moonwell area and reached Moonlight Plaza, the combatants had already followed Arenia toward the valley entrance.

Seeing this, Kalei quickly adjusted his mount's course and followed from behind.

The distance from Moonlight Plaza to the valley entrance was short; it took less than two minutes on the Saber to arrive.

Kalei had just caught up to the group and was not yet near the entrance when he heard a rhythmic thud-thud-thud of footsteps coming from outside.

Everyone who heard the sound changed color.

Kalei stood up in his stirrups and peered toward the valley entrance.

At this moment, the light of the White Lady was somewhat dim, while the Blue Child was exceptionally bright.

Pale purple light spilled into the mist-filled valley, creating a dreamlike, hazy atmosphere.

And within this haze, tall figures emerged in a continuous stream.

Kalei scanned them roughly and found there were three or four hundred of them, causing him to gasp; he thought to himself, These Furbolg have truly gone mad.

To his knowledge, the total population of the Bristlelimb Tribe was less than six hundred. With nearly four hundred here, plus those who had fallen earlier, it seemed they had mobilized their entire force.

Furthermore, these Furbolg were generally between level twenty and thirty, equivalent to intermediate warriors. Combined with their formidable racial traits, even warriors of the same level might not be their match.

Arenia likely had not expected so many Furbolg to arrive, but as commander, she did not panic and immediately issued deployments.

"All warriors proficient in defense, take your Sabers and move to the front to establish a defensive line."

Generally speaking, Night Elf, who grew up alongside Sabers, were not only natural archers but also natural cavalry.

With archers and cavalry combined, a powerful unit—the mounted archer—was born.

Powerful mounted archers had always been the nightmare of infantry.

Night Elf were not only naturally powerful mounted archers, but they were also protected by nature. If infantry were to fight them in a forest, it would be a nightmare within a nightmare.

In today's situation, if the Night Elf were in a forest or an open plain, they could have defeated these charging Furbolg with mounted archer tactics without any effort.

Unfortunately, they were fighting at the threshold of their own home. They had to face these Furbolg head-on; otherwise, once the Furbolg breached the village, everything would be destroyed.

Thus, even though the enemy was unexpectedly powerful, the warriors present did not retreat.

More than a dozen warriors holding large shields rushed out of the ranks and, following battle formation, reached the valley entrance.

Do not assume that because Night Elf were friends with nature and knew nothing of metallurgy, they were incapable of crafting powerful equipment.

In reality, Night Elf had long ago learned the knowledge they needed from nature.

They did not need minerals or smelting to create equipment; instead, they used nature magic to extract the essence of mountains, rivers, and plants, converting that essence into gear.

Therefore, the equipment of the Night Elf was not only powerful and beautiful but also appeared entirely natural, showing no traces of forging.

These dozen defensive warriors stood side by side and extended their shields, locking them together until they fit like twins, forming an impenetrable, solid shield wall.

The incoming Furbolg did not stop their advance just because the Night Elf were prepared.

A roar erupted from the Furbolg horde, and those in the front, hearing the cry, seemed to be injected with adrenaline, accelerating their charge.

Arenia, with a verdant longbow on her back and two specially crafted Moonlight scimitars in her hands, remained calm at the rear and continued to issue orders: "Archers, split into two rows. Use standard arrows. One row fires volleys, the other fires direct shots. Alternate fire to halt the charging Furbolg."

On the battlefield, aside from a few with special professions, almost everyone was an elite archer. They followed orders and split into two rows, with the first row opening fire with direct shots.

Although it was night and there was mist at the valley entrance, for the Night Elf, drawing a bow and firing was as simple as eating or drinking. There was no need to aim; the moment the arrow was nocked, it was released.

In an instant, like streaks of flowing light, the arrows flew over the shield wall toward the leading Furbolg.

Because these archers simultaneously employed rapid-fire techniques, twenty or thirty of them loosed nearly a hundred arrows in the blink of an eye. Each arrow carried astonishing force, and a large swath of the charging Furbolg fell instantly.

If they had been normal Furbolg, such a heavy blow would have killed them immediately.

But these Furbolg, though sent reeling and bleeding profusely, were not yet fully dead.

Kalei observed from the rear, discovering that these Furbolg were larger than before, their skin turned a dark purple, eyes a crimson-black, and their claws and fangs shimmering with black light; it was clear they had been corrupted by shadow energy.

Although this shadow energy had affected the temperament of the Furbolg, it had also protected them, significantly enhancing their vitality.

Seeing that they did not die from the arrows, the Furbolg became even more frenzied, pulling the shafts from their bodies while roaring at the sky, scrambling up from the ground to continue their fierce charge.

Witnessing this scene, even the experienced Night Elf were somewhat chilled.

Arenia, sitting straight as a rod upon her Stag, also felt a surge of tension.

She raised her voice and roared, "Do not panic! The next squad, switch to Explosive Arrow; front-line warriors, raise your shields and advance, do not let the Furbolg build momentum!"

Hearing Arenia's command, another squad of prepared archers immediately drew arrows shimmering with green light from their quivers, drawing their bows to fire in a high arc.

The arrows fired by these archers were different from the ordinary ones used by the previous wave.

The number of arrows in this volley was smaller, with each person firing only one, but almost every arrow carried a corresponding force of nature; once they struck an enemy, these arrows would either explode or sprout and grow, turning into blades within the enemy's flesh.

Sure enough, facing this wave of arrows, those Furbolg shielded by dark power suffered heavy blows, with over a dozen dying instantly.

Unfortunately, although the power of the magic arrows was great, their numbers were insufficient to block all the Furbolg at the valley entrance. A few Furbolg broke through the barrage and charged over.

Thud, thud, thud—with several muffled impacts, Furbolg weighing over five hundred pounds and standing over two meters tall slammed into the shield wall of the Night Elf.

The heavy sound of the collision made one's heart tighten.

The Night Elf living here knew the combat prowess of the Furbolg all too well.

An ordinary Furbolg might not be a match for an ordinary Night Elf, but that was assuming the Night Elf was armed and had sufficient room to maneuver.

If forced into close-quarters combat relying solely on their bodies, five Night Elf would be no match for a single Furbolg.

Fortunately, after being obstructed, the momentum of these Furbolg had been greatly reduced, and the front-line warriors barely managed to hold off the charge with their shields. Once the first wave of the offensive was blocked, the subsequent battle became much easier to manage.

Arenia immediately commanded, "Front-line warriors, hold the line."

"All warriors' Saber must remain vigilant, staying by their masters' sides to guard against any Furbolg breaking through. When counterattacking, do not use your mouths; use your claws and bodies."

Although these Saber were merely animals that could not speak, they were fully capable of understanding Arenia's commands.

The Saber following behind the warriors immediately took action; whenever a Furbolg attempted to break through their master's defense, they would pounce, using their bodies and claws to counterattack, which allowed the front-line warriors to hold the line firmly.

The first charge of the Furbolg was thus blocked. The archers responsible for damage in the rear, without needing Arenia's instruction, unleashed a rain of arrows.

After several continuous volleys, the valley was filled with the corpses of Furbolg, and a thick, bloody stench mixed with the foul odor of shadow energy permeated the air, becoming unbearable.

However, facing this situation, no one retreated, nor could they retreat.