The Ranger General's Toy?

"When communications with the Northern Temple were cut, Kaidenis was the first to find Silvermoon City. What about you?" As the noise around them gradually subsided, Velania, who had been silent for a long time, finally spoke.

Hearing the accusation, Landral's face, hidden by her fiery red curls, showed terror. Status, power—the thought of losing it all made her heart churn with suffocating emotions.

"Plus, abandoning your post..." He beckoned towards Lanlos's position, and the sapphire crystal immediately detached from his hand, floating slowly into Velania's grasp. "How do you suggest we punish you?"

"There are reasons for all of this..."

"Oh, how novel. Who doesn't have reasons?" Velania raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You can tell those stories when you get to the Sunstrider Court."

He paused, then turned his gaze to Lanlos. "I'm very curious how you dealt with that thing, but we don't have much time now. I look forward to meeting you at the Tower of Sunfury someday."

"Landral, come with me to the Western Temple. It's time for you to atone for your mistakes."

"Yes."

Velania raised his hands, and the calm sky suddenly churned with violent winds. The next moment, he and the Magister troops below vanished in a dazzling white light.

An enduring magical aura flowed before his eyes. Although the crystal was taken, Lanlos showed no sign of sadness.

He raised a finger, and soon, a small orb of light appeared on it.

Dancing Lights.

No incantation, no gestures. A cantrip that didn't even count as a first-level spell seemed insignificant, but it was proof of his ability to cast third-level spells, proof that he had truly stepped through the gates of Arcane.

The corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn up. Excitement and elation made Lanlos want to burst into song, but in this environment, it was best to refrain...

"Did I miss something?"

Turning his head at the sound, Lanlos looked at Lor'themar, covered in blood, and the ugly head he held in his hand.

"You missed some things that would make us both happy. What are you doing with that thing?"

"Spoils of war." Lor'themar threw Zumalosh's massive head to the ground, letting out a long sigh before slumping onto the ground. Clearly, decapitating the Troll leader hadn't been as easy as it looked.

"Those cowards, once they knew their leader was dead, basically lost the will to fight."

"By the way, was that Grand Magister Velania just now?"

"What, you want to latch onto a powerful figure?"

"I'm not a mage. You're the one who should want to latch onto someone, aren't you?"

The Western Temple, unlike what Velania had imagined, had hardly changed, as if everything that had happened before was just an illusion.

"W-welcome, esteemed sirs." At the entrance of the tower, a female elf apprentice bowed slightly, her face etched with panic. Whether it was the excessive movement or something else, her posture appeared flustered and messy.

"Where is Velania?"

Velania's sharp inquiry made the female elf shrink back in fear. After finally steadying herself, she stammered incoherently.

"Never mind, I'll find her myself." Seeing the apprentice's gaze inadvertently drift towards the floor in the center, Velania immediately strode forward. As magic surged, he quickly located and opened a secret passage.

However, when they descended, the scene below stunned everyone.

It wasn't the sight of decaying mummified corpses.

Velania lay prone on the altar, a dagger plunged deep into her spine. The overflowing blood had almost completely soaked her robes.

"I, I didn't want to do this... She killed so many people... I, I was scared..." The elf apprentice knelt on the ground with a thud, her voice trembling with tears from fear.

After a long period of contemplation, Velania personally helped her up. "No, you did very well."

No one noticed the faint emerald glint that flashed in the female apprentice's moist eyes.

The Farstrider Enclave welcomed a special guest today.

Bathed in golden sunlight, its long, smooth feathers shimmered with a golden luster. Its hard beak and talons gleamed with a dazzling sharpness. Its long tail feathers drifted in the air, beautiful and elegant.

Dragonhawks, these large beasts, were the Quel'dorei's most beloved flying mounts. Their noble and radiant appearance, gentle temperament, and love for the sun were all reasons why they became the High Elves' companions.

(PS: The appearance here is not the lobster from WoW, but the Dragonhawk Rider from War3, which resembles a hippogryph without horns or hooves.)

Screech!

A clear, piercing cry tore through the sky. The golden Dragonhawk kicked up a cloud of dust, landing steadily on the open ground of the Farstrider Enclave.

Including Lanlos, everyone stood ramrod straight in front, awaiting the agile and beautiful figure to leap from the Dragonhawk's back.

A base of emerald green, with gold and brown edging, her leather armor was exquisite and elegant. A cool and fiery breastplate exposed a large expanse of tanned skin. The flat abdomen clearly showed the contours of her abdominal muscles. The smooth texture was incomparably radiant under the sunlight. Her proud long legs were tightly wrapped in form-fitting leather pants. Such enviable proportions, if coupled with sky-high heels, she could easily captivate countless men just by standing there silently.

Even after riding the Dragonhawk, her hood remained in place, not blown off by the wind. A few stray bangs on her forehead barely covered her left eye. Her light golden hair seemed to transform into intangible radiance under the sun.

This beauty was like a masterfully crafted sword, stunning and sharp, allowing people only to admire from afar. Not to mention the disdain and boredom projected from her sapphire eyes, a tangible coldness that could likely cleave in two anyone who dared to pursue her with affection.

This extraordinary elven ranger possessed more than just extraordinary charm.

Her wide pauldrons were carved into the likeness of a Dragonhawk's face. Under the glow of magic, the two pairs of eyes, emitting a faint light, looked extremely intimidating.

Coupled with the gorgeously embroidered and majestic golden cloak, the visitor was clearly not here for pleasantries...

"General, I didn't expect it to be you..."

"Don't try to get close, Lor'themar." Sylvanas's slender eyebrows furrowed slightly, causing everyone's breath to seem to halt at that moment. "You have disappointed me."

"I..."

"Although the Sunstrider Court issued a promotion order for you, I have rejected it." Shaking her head, the Ranger General's words carried an air of unquestionable authority.

Taking a scroll from her waist, Sylvanas tossed it directly toward Lor'themar: "I can't be bothered to read it aloud. Take it and see for yourself; it contains the details of rewards and punishments for all of you."

As soon as she finished speaking, Sylvanas leaped lightly, as graceful as a drifting feather, and returned nimbly to the saddle on the back of her Dragonhawk. With a sharp tug on the reins, just as those broad wings began to beat, the Ranger General fixed her piercing gaze on the person beside Lor'themar.

It was Lanlos.

"Lanlos, right?" Though phrased as a question, coming from Sylvanas, it was a statement of certainty; she was confident she couldn't be mistaken.

Therefore, she gave him no chance to reply: "Vereesa has mentioned you to me."

His heart skipped a beat, and Lanlos felt inexplicably guilty.

Like a blooming rose, the corners of Sylvanas's mouth curled into a charming yet dangerous arc: "Although I would love to chat with you longer, I have much to attend to. I hope we shall meet again soon."

Screech!

A piercing shriek tore through the eardrums and shot into the sky, kicking up a raging dust storm once more. In the blurred vision of the crowd, the Dragonhawk quickly became a tiny speck, vanishing rapidly toward the south.

"Looks like you're in for a tragedy." Waving his hand to disperse the dust before him, Halduron whispered to Lanlos, his tone filled more with pity than mockery.

"Huh?"

"No one targeted by the Ranger General ever has it easy, for example..." He gestured toward the sullen-faced Lor'themar and shrugged helplessly, "Captain, tell us, what is written in there?"

"You'll have to change how you address me from now on; call me Lieutenant." With a bitter smile and a shake of his head, Lor'themar handed the letter to Halduron.

After a brief glance, Halduron's expression shifted constantly, making it impossible to tell whether he was sad or happy.

The order was short, clearly not originating from the Elven Court, which was known for its red tape. Given Sylvanas's decisive style, it was undoubtedly written by her.

While Lor'themar was demoted to Lieutenant, he was also transferred to the southern border. For this Ranger Captain who was passionate about defeating enemies, this did not seem like a bad thing.

What left Halduron feeling helpless was that his own name appeared on the document as well.

"It's all yours now, Instructor." Patting his former deputy on the shoulder, Lor'themar laughed heartily, showing no signs of the frustration one might expect from a demotion.

"Are you mocking me?"

"What kind of talk is that? I'm congratulating you, truly."