The Divine Titans, the greatest and most terrifying war machines of the Nehekharan dynasties, were the pinnacle of ancient wealth, wisdom, engineering, and theology.
These Divine Titans were living statues, their faces carved in the likeness of one of the death gods of Nehekhara.
The statues radiated an aura of malevolent magic, and it was said that those who stood in their shadows could hear the cruel laughter of ancient deities.
After their construction, the Divine Titans were placed in the highest chambers of the tombs of the Tomb Kings. It was believed that these statues could guide the eternal souls of the deceased kings from the mortal realm to the afterlife. Thus, when the Tomb Kings created the Divine Titans, they spared no expense. Each Titan was crafted from the most precious gold and gemstones, as gold was not only a valuable metal but also an excellent conductor of magical energies.
A massive, intricately carved staff bore the ancient hieroglyphs of Ptra, the Sun God, symbolizing his infinite power and the light of dawn. When activated, the light of Ptra would illuminate both the mortal realm and the Warp, driving away daemons and bringing order.
In the other hand, the Titan held a giant scale, burning with the eternal flames of the underworld. According to legend, the souls of the deceased kings would be judged on this scale by the gods of the underworld, determining whether they were worthy of entering the realm of honored dead or being cast into the abyss.
On the battlefield, the Divine Titans drew power from the light of Ptra to charge their staffs, causing those bathed in their radiant light to burst into flames. They could also unleash the energy of the Scales of Judgment, summoning spectral claws to tear apart the souls of their enemies.
Such formidable war machines were only deployed when the Nehekharan dynasties faced their most dire battles and gravest dangers. The creation of each Divine Titan required the labor of thousands of Nehekharan slaves over many years. Within the chest of each Titan lay the mummified remains of an ancient priest from the Mortuary Cult, high-ranking individuals who had dedicated their lives to studying the arts of communing with the gods.
Thus, just as they had served their kings in life, their souls continued to serve in death. It was the magical coordination of these priests' spirits that allowed the Divine Titans to walk between the mortal realm and the afterlife, acting as conduits between the two worlds.
When these invincible war machines strode onto the battlefield, blocking the retreat of the High Elves, almost everyone was struck with terror. As the Divine Titans moved and swung their staffs, entire ranks of Lothern Sea Guard were sent flying into the air, their movements guided by an otherworldly force.
"Fall back! Fall back!" Tyrion ordered an immediate retreat the moment the Divine Titans appeared. The Lothern Sea Guard formed a protective shield around their Little Queen and the Defender, their formation retreating like a school of fish. The front lines quickly formed a shield wall, dozens of spears pointed at the approaching Titans.
But the wall was shattered in an instant.
The Divine Titans moved through the rift between the mortal realm and the Warp, their massive scales held high as they advanced. With a swing of their staffs, the Sea Guard's shields were reduced to splinters.
"Judgment has come." Beams of light, pure white and as thick as a man's arm, shot from the Titans' eyes, sweeping across the battlefield.
"Ahhhh!" An entire line of soldiers was obliterated. One Sea Guard's arm was caught in the beam, his flesh melting into a bubbling, charred mess.
The High Elves were forced to retreat further. Behind them, the undead horde pursued relentlessly. Tyrion realized there was nothing to stop the terrifying war machines. The retreat of the Sea Guard forced the Shadow Warriors of Nagarythe and the Phoenix Guard to fall back as well, as they struggled to hold off the undead cavalry flanking them.
Tyrion quickly handed Aliathra to his lieutenant, Belannaer, and began reorganizing the army, calling out the names of other High Elf heroes.
On a small hill at the rear, the Sisters of Avelorn, led by the Eternal Queen's chief handmaiden, unleashed a volley of arrows. The Sea Guard and the Shadow Warriors joined in, their arrows darkening the sky. But most of the arrows bounced harmlessly off the Divine Titans, even the magical arrows of the Sisters.
It wasn't enough. Far from it!
The Divine Titans continued their advance, their footsteps like the tolling of a doomsday bell.
And just as the High Elves were blocked by the Titans, two new undead armies joined the fray!
The Nagashizzar Guard, bearing the banner of the Undying King, emerged—super-heavy infantry wielding greatswords and massive shields.
"For the Undying King! For Nagash! For Nagashizzar!" The black-armored Grave Guard abandoned their fight with the dwarves, even giving up the chance to defeat High King Thorgrim's Eternal Guard, all to intercept the High Elves!
This army, named after Nagashizzar, was the strongest infantry force in the necropolis. These black-armored skeletal warriors were Arkhan's elite, considered a match for Ryan's Old Guard. Now, Arkhan intended to prove that they were far superior to the High Elves.
Next came Mannfred's elite: the Helmut Guard and the Drakenhof Guard. These two armies were Mannfred's strongest infantry, having served him for centuries. Clad in the red-and-black armor of the von Carstein family and wielding cursed weapons inscribed with necromantic runes, the two elite Grave Guard legions advanced tirelessly under the dark sky of Nagashizzar, ready to fulfill their duty and serve their master.
The Banner of Screaming Death floated in the air, its dark magic emitting piercing shrieks that disrupted the High Elves' drumbeats and battle cries, causing their souls to tremble and wail involuntarily.
The Lothern Sea Guard were on the verge of collapse. Their weapons were useless against the Divine Titans and the Grave Guard. The High Elves' morale plummeted as their formations crumbled. If not for Tyrion's desperate efforts to rally the troops, the Sea Guard would have already fled. Tyrion noticed that the High Elf noble commanding the Sea Guard had fallen on the plains of Nagashizzar, his face covered in hot blood, his helmet pierced by a greatsword.
Alarice Frostheart, the commander of the Shadow Warriors and Eltharion's trusted lieutenant, lay quietly in the arms of her comrades. Beside her, an entire unit of Shadow Warriors was being swallowed by the Grave Guard.
Tyrion fought valiantly, but the Defender could not stop his army from faltering. He was injured from his duel with Krell and had expended too much energy. Now, facing a horde of Grave Guard and the Divine Titans, Tyrion was overwhelmed. Several White Lions sent by Finubar to protect him had already fallen, leaving only two by his side, both wounded.
At that moment, a chain lightning spell struck the battlefield. The arcs of electricity danced among the Grave Guard, the crackling explosions echoing across the field. The Nagashizzar Guard was forced back by the magic.
The Divine Titans finally took some visible damage. One was temporarily immobilized, and another was forced back a step by the lightning. But the Tomb Kings' technicians quickly appeared to begin repairs. Everyone knew that within minutes, the Titans would be operational again.
"Brother!" An Arcane Phoenix descended from the sky, and Tyrion immediately realized it was Teclis coming to his aid. The Defender was overjoyed. He swung his sword, forcing back three Grave Guard, then cleaved through the armor of another, shouting, "If this continues, we're in trouble. You must know how to deal with those Titans, right?"
"...Only dragons or heavy artillery can match the Titans. If given enough time, I might have a chance," Teclis said to Tyrion. "The dwarves' heavy artillery."
"Why haven't the dwarves come to support us yet?" Tyrion roared in fury. He saw that the Swordmasters of Hoeth, who were covering the retreat, had already lost over seventy warriors, and the rest were barely holding on. Loremaster Belannaer was locked in a magical duel with Arkhan. Belannaer's magical prowess was second only to Teclis in Ulthuan, but he was no match for Arkhan...
"It's been two hours, brother," Teclis said calmly.
"I don't care if it's been two hours! I! Don't! Care!" Tyrion growled. The Divine Titans were getting closer, and with each swing of their staffs, more High Elves fell. Princess Alarielle was injured, her armor shattered, the wings on her helmet hacked off by a Grave Guard. Several Tiranoc Chariots were still charging, but one was crushed under the foot of a Divine Titan.
Teclis could only nod silently and send out the signal.
All the High Elves turned their hopeful gazes toward the dwarven lines.
With Arkhan and Mannfred having shifted their elite forces to block the High Elves, the dwarves faced much lighter pressure. Only weak undead like zombies, skeletons, and Arkhan's skeletal warriors remained to harass the Everpeak army, and the dwarves easily held their ground. These weaklings couldn't even scratch their armor.
By now, over two hours had passed, and the agreed-upon time between the dwarves and High Elves had elapsed. Upon seeing Teclis' signal, the High King's Throne of Power did not immediately move.
Come on! Come on! We need support! The High Elves were locked in a desperate battle, surrounded on all sides by the undead.
For a full minute, the dwarves seemed to take no action, as if they hadn't seen Teclis' signal, and simply continued to mop up the stragglers harassing them.
Hurry! Almost every High Elf hero silently pleaded, even as they had to split their attention between the plea and the enemies before them.
The High King's Throne of Power remained unmoved.
Tyrion's voice grew hoarse from shouting commands, competing with the shrieks of the Banner of Screaming Death. The Defender single-handedly held off the entire Drakenhof Guard, reducing thirty Grave Guard to bone dust, though he himself sustained three new wounds.
Eltharion and his griffon, Stormwing, were gradually being overwhelmed by Mannfred, but the soldiers of Yvresse fought valiantly. The Shadow Warriors defended their banner with their lives, using their bodies to block Arkhan's chariots.
Finally, the dwarves responded. High King Thorgrim gave the order, and the deep blare of dwarven horns echoed across the battlefield. The dwarven army began to slowly advance toward the embattled High Elves.
"Those damn dwarves are finally good for something!" Tyrion mounted his horse once more, raising Sunfang and shouting to Teclis, "Signal the retreat! We'll break through toward the dwarves and let them deal with the undead. Everything, everything is for Aliathra!"
"Brother?" Teclis was taken aback.
"Do as I say!" Tyrion barked, then turned and charged back into the Grave Guard.
The remaining Silver Helms and Ellyrian Reavers followed Tyrion, forming a cavalry wedge with the Defender at its tip. They launched a suicidal charge, crashing directly into Arkhan's Nagashizzar Guard and Mannfred's Helmut Guard and Drakenhof Guard.
It was a tragic charge. In the first moments, over a hundred High Elf cavalrymen fell, their bodies left in a foreign land far from home, their helmets and armor serving as their tombstones, marking their sacrifice for the future of Ulthuan.
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"Grand Spell: Swords of Light!" Teclis chanted, and three massive light swords, dozens of meters long, illuminated the battlefield, piercing the ground around the Divine Titans. A web of light surged, immobilizing all three Titans.
The effort of restraining three massive war machines drained Teclis completely. The Archmage knelt on the ground, only to be pulled up by Princess Alarielle and placed onto a chariot.
Belannaer spat blood, forced back by Arkhan. Another White Tower mage chose to sacrifice himself, his body erupting in flames as he transformed into a scythe of fire that exploded among the undead. Arkhan had no choice but to retreat to avoid the blast.
The chief handmaiden, Ystranna, ordered the Swordmasters to retreat first. The Sisters of Avelorn covered the retreat with rapid volleys of arrows.
Tyrion, the Defender of Ulthuan and hero of the High Elves, almost single-handedly carved a path through the enemy. The High Elves, bolstered by Tyrion's unmatched valor, managed to break through. The Swordmasters and Sisters of Avelorn covered the retreat.
Of the two thousand High Elves Tyrion had brought, fewer than eight hundred made it out. The Lothern Sea Guard, Silver Helms, Ellyrian Reavers, and Tiranoc Chariots were almost completely wiped out. The Shadow Warriors and Phoenix Guard had lost over half their numbers, while the Sisters of Avelorn and Swordmasters had lost a third.
After breaking through, Tyrion turned back once more to cover the retreat. The undead seemed to fear the Defender's terrifying skill and the flames of Sunfang, choosing not to pursue. Under Arkhan's orders, they regrouped and held their position in Nagashizzar.
As the High Elves prepared to join the dwarven lines, all the heroes and soldiers breathed a sigh of relief.
They had done it. Aliathra was saved!
But just as everyone let their guard down, disaster struck. In the dark sky above, the injured Eltharion and his griffon, Stormwing, were forced to land. Mannfred's zombie dragon descended from above.
The zombie dragon unleashed a blast of scorching breath, filled with ash and bone, directly at Belannaer, who was holding Aliathra. The dragon then swooped down, its rotting belly crashing into the High Elf formation, sending soldiers flying. Belannaer was knocked to the ground, desperately trying to hold onto the Eternal Queen.
A cursed blade pierced his shoulder, blood gushing as a pale hand snatched Aliathra away.
"Well, well, the Little Queen is mine again," Mannfred cackled, swinging his blade to cut down two White Lions who charged at him. The zombie dragon rolled through the High Elf lines, then took off, ready to carry Mannfred to safety. "So adorable. If not for her other uses, perhaps she could have been my countess~"
"Don't you dare touch Aliathra!" Tyrion's voice was hoarse, his eyes bloodshot. The Defender charged at Mannfred with incredible speed, Sunfang blazing with fiery light as he aimed for the vampire.
"Such a clumsy attack," Mannfred sneered, casting a spell.
"Curse of Ages!"
A beam of dark purple magic struck Tyrion, sending him flying dozens of meters. If not for the Avelorn Heart, a gift from the Eternal Queen Alarielle, which activated to protect him with a burst of life energy, the Defender would have been killed or severely injured.
Other High Elves were not so lucky. A dozen were hit by the spell, rapidly aging before turning to dust.
No one could stop Mannfred now. The last von Carstein rose into the air on his zombie dragon, holding the unconscious Aliathra. Mannfred's face was alight with glee as he watched the High Elves' expressions of rage, despair, and madness. He was so happy he could dance.
So high! It feels like I've reached the peak of life!
Everyone was stunned.
Tyrion and his forces could only watch helplessly as Aliathra was taken from them once more. Mannfred carried the Little Queen back to Nagashizzar, while three reactivated Divine Titans and dozens of undead legions stood between the High Elves and their goal.
"Damn it!"
"Damn it!"
"Damn it all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
The Defender's roar echoed through the mountains.
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