Anger could drive people to do irrational things.
Yet Knife-in-the-Butt was calm now... or rather, he believed he was calm. Bringing the fleet rashly toward Moonstone Port was not a good idea, because the players had not destroyed those five Magic Towers and had no idea what offensive capabilities they still possessed.
But Knife-in-the-Butt's irrational move struck the elves right where they were most vulnerable.
When the Mages inside the main tower saw through their crystal ball that the terrifying giant warship had not remained a thousand meters away, but was instead raising more sails and leading several smaller enemy ships slowly toward Moonstone Port with steady, unwavering resolve...
There was no joy inside the Magic Tower at the prospect of the enemy entering their range. Instead, a deeper, suffocating panic instantly engulfed them.
"They... they're coming closer! They're closing the distance!"
The young elven Mage screamed, his voice distorted by fear.
Olarian's expression instantly became even uglier than when the shield had been struck. He could almost hear his heart hammering wildly against his chest, and an icy sensation swept through his entire body.
"No... this isn't good news..."
He murmured hoarsely, then jerked his head up and shouted at all the nearly despairing Mages inside the tower.
"Maintain the shield at full strength! They're moving into a more effective firing range!"
Those words landed like a block of ice on every elven Mage's heart.
They had just experienced it firsthand: at the extreme distance of a thousand meters, most of the enemy's cannon fire missed, but even with only ten or twenty percent of the shots hitting, the destructive power and drain on their shields were already terrifying. The magical shields they took such pride in were like eggshells being repeatedly battered by heavy hammers under that pure