The Assault on Tor'watha (3)

It had been some time since any trolls had been sighted, and the faint mist rising around him made Lor'themar feel increasingly restless. This humid, sweltering sensation was something he rarely encountered while stationed in the Eversong Woods; if not for the golden-lit treetops shimmering under the moonlight, he might have even thought he had wandered beyond the borders of Ban'dinoriel.

Just as Lor'themar's thoughts began to drift, the mist before him suddenly vanished. Caught off guard, the Ranger Captain's gaze was instantly drawn to the scene unfolding before him.

In the mountain hollow, crude huts built of grass and wood loomed in the sparse forest, their orange firelight flickering like stars fallen into the ravine, casting a faint yet conspicuous glow.

As I thought...

Lor'themar gritted his teeth. The trolls establishing a camp right under his nose not only threatened the safety of the Quel'dorei, but for a Ranger Captain responsible for this region, it was a grave dereliction of duty.

A surge of anger welled up in his chest, making Lor'themar long to draw his blade and charge down to raze the camp, but he was, after all, only flesh and blood; such suicidal folly was merely a fleeting thought.

Yet, for some reason, he had forgotten one thing: he had not felt such an impulse in many years.

Slowly crouching down, Lor'themar followed the shadows cast by the moonlight on the thickets, inching closer to the troll camp in the hollow. As the mission planner and temporary scout, he needed to determine the enemy's exact numbers and combat capabilities to minimize losses and maximize the odds of victory.

He had failed his duty once; he could not afford a second time.

Following the markers left by Lor'themar, Halduron had successfully passed the blockade, yet now he had been circling the same spot for quite some time.

Lor'themar's markers had vanished!

Halduron recalled Lanlos's concerns, his heart growing increasingly tense. He knew Lor'themar; the Ranger Captain would never commit such a rookie mistake. The only possibility was that he had encountered danger!

His forward stride suddenly halted as Halduron's gaze was drawn to a withered Peacebloom at his feet. A light touch caused the grey-black petals to crumble and merge with the soil.

This flower was delicate, yet its traces could be found everywhere in the Eversong Woods. At the same time, it possessed excellent medicinal value and was one of the most common materials for alchemists and herbalists.

As its name suggested, Peacebloom, when ingested, had a potent refreshing effect and possessed an excellent ability to neutralize drugs and herbs that affected the mind.

The unnatural withering of this particular Peacebloom was clearly inseparable from that cause.

Halduron's brow furrowed tightly as countless possibilities flashed through his mind, but the next moment, everything turned to horror.

Whistle!

A piercing shriek tore through the sky, audible even from several kilometers away.

A signal arrow? That's a retreat signal, Lor'themar!

Ignoring the consequences of disobeying orders, Halduron instantly transformed into an elongated blur, darting through the forest at high speed toward the source of the sound. Yet, even he did not expect that he was stumbling upon the truth by accident.

The tall figure nodded with satisfaction and tossed the golden-patterned elven longbow onto the ground: "Very good. This way, those elves will retreat for the time being."

A wooden mask covered the upper half of his face, but one could still judge the troll's advanced age from his exposed, wrinkled skin. He wore a crude Amani tribal robe, which appeared to be pieced together from loincloths, feathers, and various leather trinkets.

Aside from the simple staff that resembled a withered tree branch in his hand, two light throwing axes hung on each side of his belt, resting against his hips.

This was an elderly troll witch doctor—no, he was not alone. Beside him stood a tall figure in similar attire: "Father, why don't we skin this elf and let the other scum see the consequences of entering Tor'watha?"

"No, elves are not beasts. Doing that will only enrage them." The old witch doctor glanced at Lor'themar, who was bound and hanging upside down in the air, and shook his head slowly. "Zumalosh gave us orders to stall for time. As long as we can complete the Darkpine Troll's plan, we can return to our homeland."

Watching the glimmer of hope in his father's eyes, the young witch doctor curled his lip: "I don't like those Darkpine Trolls, nor their servants. Those evil creatures defile our land. Disgusting!"

Hearing this, a strange light flickered in the old troll's cloudy eyes, and he patted his son on the shoulder: "Everything is for Zul'Aman. The gods will forgive us."

"No, Father, that power comes from demons—the sworn enemies of the gods." Watching the old troll's back, the young witch doctor shook his head silently.

On the outskirts of the troll village, a petite figure loomed in the darkness. Of course, "petite" was relative compared to these Amani trolls.

Halduron looked toward the elf hanging upside down in the center of the village, and seeing the latter's chest still rising and falling weakly, he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. However, the relief of confirming his old friend was alive quickly vanished. As he took in the troll sentries stationed every ten paces around Lor'themar, Halduron's forehead creased with deep lines once more.

Dawn was approaching.

Glancing at the whitening sky, Halduron grew increasingly anxious. If they could not retreat under the cover of the final night before daybreak, then not only Lor'themar, but his own situation would become extremely perilous.

More importantly, the signal from earlier must have already been carried out by their companions; without confirming Lor'themar's safety, the Farstriders would likely not launch their attack on time.

Delaying the battle was a grave taboo.

Taking a deep breath, Halduron gripped his hilt, his legs tensing to spring, when a dark shadow instantly appeared behind him.

Sensing a disturbance in the wind, the elven ranger immediately drew his blade and swung backward.

Clang!

The crisp sound of clashing blades rang through the night. Nearby trolls paused to look, but none abandoned their posts.

"What are you staring at? Go see what's happening!" The young witch doctor emerged from a wooden hut and roared at the guards at the gate.

As for Halduron, just as he was about to launch another attack, two scarlet lights flashed in the darkness, causing his movements to falter.

"Lanlos?! How did you..."

"Enough talk, move!" Grabbing the other's wrist, the elven mage turned and ran, dragging the stunned Halduron with him, and soon they vanished into the night.

As for the trolls who came to investigate, they naturally found nothing.

The two sprinted to a clearing. Lanlos shoved him hard, and the sheer force caught Halduron by surprise; it took great effort for him to steady himself.

"Hey, have you lost your mind..." Rubbing his reddened wrist and eyeing the panting elven mage, Halduron's brows knitted tightly together. "Are you alright?"

Waving a hand, Lanlos closed his eyes, struggling to regulate his breathing, but the thunderous pounding of his heart refused to calm.

Berserking, originally a troll racial ability in the game, provided powerful burst potential. But when this ability was sustained for a long duration, one would find that the oxygen inhaled could never keep up with the consumption. Every moment, his lungs felt as if they were filled with raging flames, ready to explode at any second!

No wonder there was weakness after the effect ended; no wonder the inability to focus caused the spell success rate to plummet. The 20% speed bonus could not compensate for Lanlos's loss in combat effectiveness.

"I have new intelligence..." Struggling to suppress his violent impulses, Lanlos's voice was terrifyingly low.

"What did you say? This place is just a lure?!" After hearing Lanlos's words, Halduron was so shocked he nearly jumped, but his gaze quickly returned to Lanlos, tinged with a hint of skepticism. "But, how did you..."

"There's no time to explain. If we don't relocate as soon as possible, the Eastern Temple will be in big trouble! Find Lor'themar; we must provide support immediately..." Seeing Halduron's eyes darting away, Lanlos paused, as if realizing he had overlooked something. "Where is Lor'themar?"

Pointing toward the Troll camp, Halduron didn't speak, but Lanlos already understood.

"Damn it, at a time like this..." Under the influence of Berserking, Lanlos's emotions were extremely unstable, and he didn't notice that his pointless complaining seemed a bit excessive.

"We can use Invisibility to sneak over and rescue him."

"No, it's hard to explain right now, but in my current state, Invisibility is too easy to expose." Shaking his head, Lanlos thought of something and gave a sinister grin, the scarlet light in his eyes seemingly intensifying. "I do have an idea."

The elf mage raised his right hand high, a strand of invisible power pushing against the air, leaving behind ripples that blurred the space as it drifted slowly into the distance, carried by the breeze.

This was Wind Message, the 2nd-circle spell with the longest casting range, though it possessed no offensive capabilities; it merely carried a short message to a designated location via a gentle breeze. Lanlos had originally learned it before departing to send messages to the academy, but since the Ley Line of the Eastern Temple had been disrupted, long-range spells could not be transmitted, and it had remained tucked away in his memory archives—until now, when it was finally time for it to shine.

"Are you sure this will work?"

"Of course."

"But didn't you just say we needed to shift our attack target as soon as possible?"

"Don't you think cutting off the retreat of those Trolls at Tor'watha is also very important?" Lanlos's smile appeared somewhat savage, and even he didn't notice that under the influence of Berserking, his selfishness had overcome his reason.

He had no affection for the Eastern Temple; compared to assisting Landral, he was far more willing to rescue Lor'themar.