Although the move was utterly reckless, a group of warriors charging into the ranged position did cause considerable confusion among the elves.
"Don't panic! Rangers, split into two groups. One group, move forward and engage them in melee to hold their warriors back. Mages and the remaining rangers, provide fire support from a distance."
At that critical moment, the seasoned Yawen overstepped his authority and issued orders in place of Sylvanas, who was likewise facing such a forceful breakthrough for the first time and was somewhat panicked.
"Leave Nalorakk to me. Charlemagne! It's time to test your melee skills. You and the second young lady hold Halazzi back! Once we blunt their initial momentum, we can suppress them completely!"
"Everyone, fight hard! For Quel'Thalas!"
While rapidly firing five consecutive Aimed Shots at Nalorakk, Yawen made suitable arrangements for everyone present.
"Yes! For Quel'Thalas!"
Everyone, including Sylvanas, instinctively shouted the rallying cry upon hearing Yawen's orders and threw themselves at their respective opponents.
Charlemagne deftly drew the twin blades at his waist, even finding a moment to give Sylvanas a teasing shrug.
"I never thought I'd actually see the day I became a melee archer. I'll leave the backup to you, Sylvanas, sec-ond young la-dy!"
"Shut up! Stop being so glib. Halazzi's coming!"
"Yes, yes..."
Although Charlemagne sounded relaxed, he actually had little confidence that he could hold Halazzi back.
After all, this was his first time tangling with a warrior in actual combat, and his very first opponent was an advanced warrior...
Seeing that only two upper-intermediate rangers stood in his way, Halazzi immediately broke into a savage grin.
"Haha! What luck. It's you two little rookies. You'll be my dinner tonight!"
As he spoke, he launched a powerful leaping cleave at Charlemagne, who stood in front.
Charlemagne was no fool. Following the ranger's style, how could he possibly clash head-on with a strength-based fighter? A slight dodge to the right took him clear of the attack, and he even found an opening to slash his left-hand short blade toward Halazzi's waist.
Though he was prone to getting hotheaded, how could Halazzi, with over a thousand years of combat experience, be struck by a sneak attack from a rookie like Charlemagne?
He had already planned his follow-up before bringing his leaping cleave down. Now, he thrust out his big foot and kicked swiftly at Charlemagne.
Given the length of the Troll's legs and the speed of that Rage-coated kick, Charlemagne would undoubtedly be hit before his short blade could reach his opponent. Left with no choice, he abandoned his attack, stamped his right foot against the ground, and swiftly darted backward.
After retreating two steps, Charlemagne frowned, looked at Halazzi's foot, and unleashed a venomous taunt.
"Troll, how long has it been since you washed your feet? That stench counts as a biochemical attack, doesn't it? Do you primitive races hiding in the forest all day really have no idea what hygiene is?"
Halazzi's already foul mood grew even darker at Charlemagne's mockery.
Did the Trolls want to live in such misery? In the end, wasn't it all because the High Elves had forced them to? And this wet-behind-the-ears little elf actually dared to poke at their sore spot.
Provoked, Halazzi's attacks grew increasingly broad and sweeping. Of course, attacks like these played right into Charlemagne's hands.
What he truly feared was his opponent calming down and trying some tricky moves. Though these straightforward attacks had grown more powerful, they were actually easier for an agile ranger to dodge.
"What's wrong, Troll? Didn't have lunch? Should we wait for you to go back and eat before we fight again? Your fellow Trolls might not taste very good, but at least they'd give you some energy."
As he dodged and weaved, Charlemagne kept needling Halazzi with his sharp tongue. Those cutting words had Halazzi bellowing with fury, but his attacks never managed to hit Charlemagne, making him increasingly agitated.
Moreover, Sylvanas's occasional supporting shots interrupted many of his crucial attacks. An advanced warrior was being completely tied down by two intermediate rangers, and the humiliation nearly made him explode with rage.
Nearby, Yawen was fighting Nalorakk while fluidly switching between melee and ranged styles. The corner of his mouth twitched when he caught sight of their situation from the corner of his eye.
Has it started? Charlemagne's damned mouth is still enough to infuriate anyone to death.
Yawen, who often trained Charlemagne alongside Lireesa, had no idea when Charlemagne had suddenly learned to attack his opponents' weaknesses with his sharp tongue during combat.
Yet this trash talk, without a single swear word, usually managed to send his opponents into a towering rage.
Having experienced it personally many times, Yawen observed a moment of silence lasting 0.3 seconds for Halazzi, then devoted himself fully to his battle with Nalorakk again.
The fight between these two was much more subdued. After all, they were old opponents who had fought each other for over a thousand years, and both were thoroughly familiar with the other's methods.
However, Yawen's practiced switching between melee and ranged styles left quite a few rangers dumbfounded. This was their first time seeing Adjutant Yawen fight at full strength.
"What are you standing around for? Give your comrades ranged support!"
Having just deflected his opponent's attack with a spear, Yawen used Disengage to leap into the air and drew his bow. Seeing his rangers standing there dumbly infuriated him, and he barked an order at them.
Of course, his hands did not stop while he shouted. Five arrows in rapid succession flew precisely toward Nalorakk's head, forcing him to raise the shield in his right hand to block them.
"Y-yes!"
Snapped out of their daze, the rangers hurriedly drew their bows and began providing fire support to their comrades tangling with the Troll warriors on the front line.
Fortunately, only a small number of Trolls had charged their position this time. Otherwise, that brief spell of staring blankly might have cost them quite a few comrades.
As the two sides temporarily reached a stalemate, the Trolls in the rear also entered range, and the headhunters and hexers began casting.
On the High Elves' side, rangers were pierced by spears from time to time. Once the blood-grooved spears lodged in their bodies, they rapidly bled them. Without timely healing from the priests in the rear, their lives would likely have been in danger.
Those chosen as targets by the hexers had it even worse. Inexplicably transformed into frogs or suddenly afflicted with a host of strange curses, these rookie rangers fighting Troll spellcasters for the first time struggled badly to adapt.
After they finally dealt with the dozen or so warriors who had charged their position, the two remaining advanced commanders also knew the tide had turned against them. Unfortunately, tied down as they were, leaving would not be so easy.
However, the elves were also unwilling to keep fighting these two thick-skinned warriors. Once Lireesa's reinforcements arrived, all these Trolls would be caught together like turtles in a jar.
Nalorakk and Yawen now both began deliberately reducing their attacks, preparing to break apart and withdraw.
Just then, however, a startled cry suddenly rang out from Halazzi's fight.
"Charlemagne!"
(End of chapter)