The battle between Mamir and Trawen raged on with unrelenting fury. Their blades clashed like thunder, sparks bursting with every strike, lighting up the night sky. The duel was so intense that even the elves and dwarves fighting around them couldn't look away.
Mamir roared with fury, unleashing strike after strike. Trawen countered with the savage strength of his orc body and the cunning hidden behind his human face. Yet slowly, the tide of battle began to shift. The elves and dwarves were cutting down the dark army, their numbers dwindling with every heartbeat.
With a sudden slash, Mamir cut deep into the back of Trawen's knee. The dark commander collapsed to the ground. Without hesitation, Mamir drove his sword straight into Trawen's chest, then pulled it free. The black-skinned orc fell to the ground, blood pouring, as Mamir stood over him, his aura blazing.
— "Do you have any last words?" Mamir demanded.
Trawen coughed blood, yet a twisted smile spread across his face.
— "We are the 110 commanders of Ostomas. Counting the ones you've already slain, even if you kill me, there are still 106 of us alive. And each commands hundreds of thousands of warriors… That means millions of dark beasts in total. And remember… Our lord, the King of Darkness, Ostomas, sent not only me, but ten of his commanders to this continent."
Mamir clenched his fist.
— "So there are ten of you in Elandur alone?!"
Trawen chuckled through the blood.
— "Yes… Ten of us were sent to Elandur. You defeated four of us. But six still remain… and they are stronger than I am."
As his life faded, he whispered the locations:
— "The fifth is in the east, in the Gray Mountains, within the Daren Kingdom.
The sixth lies on Erak Island, home of the sea-folk.
The seventh dwells in the desert kingdom of Trahvan.
The eighth waits in the waterfall mountains of Fleron.
The ninth resides in the north of the Wolf Lands, in the frozen realm called Kuzren.
And the tenth… our strongest… rules at the foot of the sleeping volcano in the west, in the kingdom of Magmon."
He ended with strange, tender words:
— "I am coming, my love…"
And with a twisted smile of peace, Trawen died.
Mamir froze, unsettled. Could such a dark creature truly speak of love? His mind flashed back to the centaur Tagor, whom he had slain in the hell of Elandur. Tagor, too, had spoken strange words before death: "Thank you, warrior…"
The thought burned in his heart, but the battle was finally over. The dark beasts were gone. Victory belonged to Mamir and his army.
Yet the cost was heavy. 440 elves and 560 dwarves had perished; counting the earlier clash, a thousand brave souls were gone. Mamir mourned them in silence as King Eavar of Sahal, alongside Kirarya and Bete, approached him.
Eavar rode to his palace, freeing his people from the dungeons where the shadow beasts had enslaved them. Thirteen thousand of his soldiers had fallen, seven thousand were taken captive — and now released.
From the massive underground cells, two hundred thousand people poured out, freed at last. Eavar raised his voice:
— "They saved us! Without Mamir and his warriors, we would all be lost!"
The people wept and rushed to Mamir, embracing their liberator.
True to his word, Eavar granted Mamir 4,000 elite soldiers from his surviving forces.
— "My friend, Prince Mamir… You saved my kingdom and my people. Now I give you my finest warriors. You will not face the darkness alone."
He also ordered the immediate construction of a massive fleet, capable of carrying 30,000 troops.
— "Your army numbers ten thousand, but when you return to your homeland, you will need ships to continue this war. Begin at once!"
Mamir embraced his new ally.
— "With friends like you, the darkness will never prevail."
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