Above the chaos of clashing steel and colliding formations, the usurper archers finally received their signal.
They had waited with disciplined patience, allowing the infantry and cavalry to engage first, allowing Valerion to commit fully to the choke point. Now, as the valley descended into close quarters carnage, their true role began.
Quivers were opened.
Not ordinary arrows.
These were specially modified shafts, their heads wrapped in tightly sealed capsules etched with runic patterns. Some contained condensed flame cores that would erupt upon impact. Others carried toxins meant to disperse through shattered armor. A few were designed to fracture into razor fragments mid-flight, shredding through clustered ranks.
The archers rose in coordinated motion along both ridgelines.
Bows drew back in synchronized arcs.
They loosed.
A dark wave of death poured downward toward Valerion's engaged front.
For a breath, it seemed inevitable.
