Adrian let out a long breath at those words, then nodded firmly.
"Exactly!"
He suddenly raised his sword and roared:
"Pass on my orders!"
The cheers of the Elven army abruptly stopped.
"The entire army! Use the three Treants as mobile fortresses and continue advancing! Establish a frontline outpost!"
"Mage Corps! Set up an alert barrier!"
"We cannot give the Demon Clan any chance to catch its breath!"
A perfectly synchronized roar that shook the heavens answered him.
"Yes!!!"
The Elven army, which had been basking in joy just moments before, swiftly sprang into action.
The soldiers of the Technology Corps checked their ammunition and changed their magazines.
The three enormous Treants began moving with heavy strides, the steel artillery platforms on their bodies exuding a cold, oppressive presence.
As the Elves inside Lothia City watched this army of steel and nature slowly march out, an unprecedented sense of security welled up in their hearts.
They knew that, from this night onward, Lothia City would be impregnable.
Atop the city wall, Elder Valerius leaned against a crenellation, utterly distraught.
In the torchlight, his ashen face looked little better than a dead man's.
He watched the army outside the city, so utterly different in appearance and surging with momentum, and stared at those lumps of iron he had once dismissed as "useless gimmicks," muttering over and over:
"How... how could this happen..."
The Archer Formation he took such pride in had not even been capable of scratching the enemy in this battle.
The Elegant Combat Techniques he believed in had been torn to shreds by those crude, barbaric, utterly unreasonable explosions.
"Valerius."
Elder Archmond's voice suddenly sounded behind him.
Valerius stiffened and slowly turned around.
He looked at the expressionless Archmond, his lips trembling. He wanted to say something, but