(Hey guys, this is the last chapter about the skirmish, and at the end of the chapter, it transitions back to Lunaria. Next chapter is more or less back to normal.)
"You deserve to die!" Dalrix's eyes were completely bloodshot, his veins pulsating. Watching his teammate brutally murdered right before his eyes made him furious, his mind overwhelmed by rage and the need for vengeance.
The black-clad leader remained disturbingly calm despite the chaos, methodically continuing to reload his expensive dwarven hand cannon with practiced efficiency. He took careful aim once more at the clustered elves.
Seeing the immediate threat, the elven mage immediately began chanting desperately, syllables tumbling from his lips faster than safe. Surging magical energy poured out from his reserves as a shimmering protective barrier formed, wrapping everyone inside a translucent shield just as the weapon fired.
BANG! The impact sent violent ripples spreading across the magical formation like stones thrown into still water. The mage's face instantly went deathly pale, sweat breaking out on his forehead.
The earlier prolonged battle against the orcs had already drained a catastrophic amount of his mana reserves. He hadn't had any time whatsoever to recover before being forced immediately back into high-intensity combat. H had almost no Mana left to speak of.
"Kill them all. Don't let a single witness escape!" the black-clad leader commanded coldly, seeing that ranged attacks were proving ineffective against the barrier.
He personally drew his own weapon, a wicked, curved blade, and joined the assault himself. The surrounding assassins surged forward as one, attacking the exhausted elves from all sides as complete chaos instantly erupted across the blood-soaked battlefield.
"He's incredibly strong!" one ranger screamed alarmingly.
Once the black-clad leader personally entered close combat, the elven squad was immediately pushed into a desperate, barely sustainable struggle for survival. His fighting style was extremely strange and completely unpredictable, utilizing techniques none had ever seen before. Movements that should have been impossible flowed together seamlessly.
One elf made a single minor mistake in his footwork, hesitating for just a fraction of a second, and was instantly pierced clean through the chest by the leader's blade. The ranger collapsed immediately, clearly beyond any hope of saving. Dead before hitting the ground.
Though the ordinary black-clad fighters weren't particularly powerful individually, being merely competent rather than exceptional, their significant advantage lay in overwhelming numbers and fresh energy reserves. They could afford to trade lives. The elves could not.
With his mana nearly completely exhausted, the elven mage's casting speed had slowed down drastically. Cold sweat beaded continuously on his pale forehead as he struggled to maintain even basic defensive spells. Knowing his critical weakness is melee combat, the remaining rangers positioned themselves protectively around him, forming a defensive circle.
The black-clad leader was supremely confident in his strategy and its execution. As long as he could completely wipe out this elven investigation squad here and now, leaving no survivors or witnesses, their mysterious plan would proceed smoothly without any interference. No one would know the truth.
Aisha cut down one black-clad enemy with a precise strike, only for another fresh fighter to immediately take his place in the formation without hesitation. An endless stream of fighting. By now, everyone in her squad was already battered and bruised, blood staining their once pristine armor and skin. They were barely able to hold on, exhaustion taking hold.
The situation had reached a critical breaking point. Was today the day they'd die? So far from home? Aisha's mind raced desperately for any form of solution, for any possible way out. Her thoughts briefly drifted to Alto, far away and safe in Lunaria, completely unaware of what was happening out here in the wasteland. Would he even learn that she died?
She positioned herself back-to-back with Dalrix and the struggling mage, their small defensive triangle the only thing keeping them alive.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, voice heavy with guilt. "I dragged you all into this nightmare."
If she hadn't insisted on pushing deeper into orc territory against protocols, if she'd turned back when they had the chance, none of this catastrophe would have happened and Aya would still be alive.
"What's the point of saying that now?!" Dalrix shouted harshly while desperately blocking another vicious attack, his sword arm screaming with pain. "Find a way to break through instead of apologizing!"
"Captain, this absolutely isn't your fault!" the mage added between gasping breaths and spell components. "We must get this critical information back to command, no matter what it costs!"
But there were simply too many black-clad enemies surrounding them on all sides. More wounds appeared on their battered bodies with every passing moment, their defensive circle shrinking.
The black-clad leader was completely confident that this was another inevitable victory in his record. Though the elven squad was undeniably strong and well-trained, they had just finished an exhausting battle against the orc raiding party. Combined with his significant numerical advantage and his own combat skills being comparable to theirs, it was only a matter of time, perhaps mere minutes, before they were completely wiped out.
The elves were clearly at the absolute end of their strength, barely holding on through pure willpower under their relentless coordinated assault.
Suddenly, without warning, the ground began to tremble ominously in the distance. Small rocks bounced and skittered. On the horizon, clearly silhouetted against the darkening sky, another massive group of orcs appeared, war drums beating.
The black-clad leader's expression changed drastically beneath his concealing mask. This was an unwelcome complication.
But visible joy and desperate hope appeared on the faces of the battered elven squad. Even if the orcs weren't deliberate reinforcements coming to their aid, as long as the battlefield situation became sufficiently chaotic with a third faction involved, they might have a slim chance to break through the encirclement and escape into the wilderness.
The massive, burly orc war chief at the front of the charging horde looked down at the corpses of his slaughtered kin scattered across the blood-soaked ground. Bloodfang's entire raiding party was massacred. Righteous fury flashed dangerously in his piggish eyes.
Seeing two separate forces locked in intense combat ahead, he didn't waste time on analysis or tactical consideration. Thinking wasn't what orcs did best anyway.
With a bone-shaking roar that echoed across the entire wasteland, he charged forward at full speed, his warriors following.
"WAAAAAAAA!" Howling with mindless rage, the fresh orc reinforcements surged forward like an unstoppable dark green tide of muscle.
The already chaotic battlefield instantly descended into complete, unpredictable pandemonium. The orcs didn't care who they attacked or why. Anyone who wasn't obviously one of their own was hacked down on sight without mercy or questions. The fight shifted violently from two opposing sides to a three-way brawl of absolute carnage.
"This is it!" Aisha's exhausted eyes suddenly lit up with renewed determination and clarity.
"I'll cover the rear! Everyone, prepare to break through!" she commanded.
Seeing the elves attempting to exploit the chaos and escape, the black-clad leader grew genuinely frantic for the first time. His attacks became even more ferocious and reckless, abandoning defensive techniques entirely.
He completely ignored the rampaging orcs attacking his own men, focusing his full attention solely on preventing the elves from reaching the perimeter.
"I'll hold him back! The rest of you get out of here!" Dalrix charged straight at the black-clad leader with suicidal determination.
"No, I'll do it! You go instead!" Aisha countered immediately.
"Get out of here, Captain! This bastard killed Aya right in front of me. Today, it ends with one of us dead!" Dalrix's voice was final.
The black-clad leader was incredibly, overwhelmingly powerful in single combat. Dalrix was clearly no match for him in skill or raw power. But with his completely reckless, life-for-life fighting style that ignored his own safety entirely, trading wounds for positioning, the leader was forced to fight more cautiously to avoid taking crippling damage.
The others hesitated no longer, trusting Dalrix's final act. The elven mage chanted one final time, drawing on the absolute dregs of his reserves, casting a powerful wind-enhancement spell that made everyone's bodies feel light and swift.
Seizing the critical opening Dalrix had created with his blood, they tore violently through the weakened encirclement and fled desperately into the darkening distance, not looking back.
Lunaria
Inside the magnificent palace hall with its soaring ceilings and ornate decorations, Queen Ysera, one of the co-rulers of the vast Elven Empire, sat regally upon her throne. The carved seat seemed to amplify her natural authority.
Elven nobles and council elders filled the chamber, deep in a heated, increasingly fractious discussion about the border crisis. Voices echoed off marble walls.
"Melissa, is there any news from the investigation squad?" The queen's voice was naturally magnetic, elegant, and noble, yet filled with an undeniable authority that commanded immediate attention.
"Your Majesty," Melissa replied carefully, her expression deeply troubled, "the investigation squad has had absolutely no contact whatsoever since entering the orc wastelands. We must assume the worst."
Queen Ysera's elegant features drew into a deep frown upon hearing this dire report. The political pressure she had been under lately was immense and growing daily. This border matter concerned countless civilian lives, and the increasingly vocal pro-war faction was growing more dissatisfied and aggressive with each passing day of perceived inaction.
Melissa was someone Ysera trusted more deeply than perhaps anyone else in the kingdom. If formal titles and protocol were set aside completely, the two were practically best friends who'd known each other since childhood.
Melissa personally commanded Lunaria's elite ranger forces, the kingdom's first line of defense.
"We should declare war immediately! Stop this endless hesitation, Your Majesty!" a particularly radical noble shouted from the assembly floor. "The orcs must pay the ultimate price for their aggression!"
"I've heard credible reports that a new Orc King has risen in recent years," another elder countered more cautiously. "If we rush blindly into a full-scale war without proper intelligence, we might repeat the absolute disaster from generations past that nearly destroyed us."
"So what if there's an Orc King?!" a captain shot back dismissively. "Report this situation to the Imperial Capital immediately! Once the grand imperial army mobilizes with full strength, who cares how many Orc Kings they have? We'll crush them all!"
"This matter involves far too many dangerous variables and unknowns," a more moderate voice argued. "We should wait patiently until the investigation is actually complete before committing to any irreversible action!"
As the border territory directly adjacent to orc territory, Moon Elf Territory would inevitably suffer the most catastrophic damage and casualties from a prolonged war. The nobles here understood that reality intimately.
Just as the increasingly heated debate grew even louder and more chaotic, Melissa's composed expression suddenly changed dramatically. Her eyes widened slightly.
At last, news had finally arrived through the Dreamscape. The investigation squad had returned, or at least someone had.
"She's back. My dear disciple is back," Melissa whispered with visible relief.
Grand Theft Auto: Liberty City development was progressing steadily according to Alto's carefully planned schedule. Upon hearing the urgent news about Aisha through official Temple channels, he immediately dropped absolutely everything he was working on without hesitation.
The message from the Temple had been brief but alarming. Aisha had been gravely injured in the field and was currently still unconscious, slowly recovering within the Temple's healing sanctum under priestly care.
Alto rushed there without any delay, his heart pounding with worry.
"Don't panic, Alto. It's just severe blood loss from multiple wounds," Melissa reassured him gently when he arrived, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "With proper rest and the Temple's healing magic, she'll make a full recovery. I promise."
Standing anxiously beside the hospital bed, Alto looked down at his unconscious sister, deep worry weighing heavily on his heart. Only after hearing directly from Melissa that there was genuinely no immediate danger to Aisha's life did he finally allow himself to breathe a proper sigh of relief.
Even though she was technically a sister from the original body's memories rather than his own, someone he'd only known briefly since transmigrating, she was still someone he truly cared about deeply.
What he absolutely hadn't expected was discovering that the mentor Aisha had mentioned so often respectfully was actually Melissa, the same elegant judge who had helped and supported him during the Flower Dance Festival competition.
Fate really did work in mysterious ways sometimes.
A thought occurred to him. Did Melissa already know about his relationship with Aisha back during the competition, and deliberately help him because of that connection? Had she been manipulating events from the beginning? Alto couldn't help but wonder suspiciously.
In truth, he was completely overthinking the situation and seeing conspiracies where none existed.
Melissa genuinely hadn't known anything about Alto before their first meeting at the competition. She had been just as surprised and delighted as anyone to later discover that her exceptionally talented ranger student was actually his adopted sister.