The war clouds over the Elf Kingdom continued to linger, showing no signs of dissipating. The elves who had lived here for generations beca tense, a feeling they hadn't experienced for thousands of years.
The ghost troops attacking from the east and the fishn attacking from the west seed to be facing unexpected resistance. The fishn got completely lost in the jungle, and most of their leaders were eliminated by Caidi and others. Although these scaly monsters still had a significant nurical advantage, their combat effectiveness was steadily declining. Even though the vampires eventually broke through the tower defenses in the Elf Forest, they failed to eliminate many of the stubborn elf priests. A few giant eagles arrived in ti to evacuate the tower's occupants to prevent them from being overwheld by the undead army. Druids set up multiple layers of traps on the path of the vampires, using the power of nature to resist the undead army.
The slightly younger elves were curious about the arriving giant eagles and seed excited. However, the older ones sighed silently in their hearts: "In the tales, the legion of thousands of giant eagles, Anriel's mightiest aerial force, has dwindled to so few?"
Not only the giant eagles, but many of Salantir's troop types had also been lost to the annals of history. Only so nostalgic elf tribes symbolically retained so formations. Among them, the most famous was the elven heavy armor legion. In general perception, elves are always agile, wearing light but tough armor, fighting like dancers. Such heavy armor is usually associated with dwarves and humans. However, the Elf Kingdom once had a powerful heavy armor army that nearly overturned all war traditions.
These heavy-armored soldiers were trained ranger warriors who carved their own armor out of the heaviest wood and then used the "Ironwood Technique" to make it as hard as steel—if not stronger. With such protection, they didn't even need to move on the battlefield; their armor spared them the energy wasted on dodging. As for attack thods, whether it was long-range arrow shooting or casting spells, close combat, or even attending to wounds, they could handle everything themselves on the front lines. When necessary, they could also summon fierce animals, especially hawks, to coordinate attacks from the air, making them the elves' sturdiest defense.
"Each of them would be equipped with more than ten blades, ensuring that their hands were never idle," Lynch said. "Their formations in front are like a swirling array of knives; no matter how thick your protection is, you'd be turned into minced at. If they were still here, dealing with those undead creatures wouldn't require such effort."
"Are they really that formidable?" Kuboert yawned, just waking up from sleep, his mind still not clear: "Then why did such a troop type disappear?"
"Not disappeared, but hidden away," Lynch remarked. "Just like the Residual Star Swamp in front of us, who can tell now that beneath this calm water surface lies a giant teorite from beyond the sky? Perhaps after this battle, the elves will once again value these things."
Kuboert buried his face in the water, washing it as quietly as possible. This was their third night in this marshland; the sky no longer had a moon, and the stars that were supposed to illuminate the night were also nowhere to be found. It was a dark night, with only a stifling impatience lingering around the two guardians.
"Lynch, will those undead creatures pass through here?" the Priest asked after tidying up his outfit: "If the battle ends and I haven't seen any undead, I wouldn't have the face to return to Heather. A priest of Pate not being at the forefront when evil spreads is practically blasphemy."
"They will definitely co, Mr. Priest," Lynch smiled and said, "Rember your words; you must stand at the front line."
While they were whispering, the wind suddenly stopped, and the stifling feeling beca more pronounced. The air was filled with moisture, and a thick fog ford at the other end of the marshland. The white mist obscured the original silhouette of the forest there.
Kuboert gradually felt nauseated, and breathing beca difficult. This humid and hot climate was too suffocating for him. Just as he was about to stand up to stretch his limbs and relax, Lynch beside him gripped his magic wand tightly, holding it across his front.
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