Chapter 783: Can't Hold On
Outside Elsa's cabin, Leon Merlin set up a defensive alchemical array, then led the group toward the battlefield.
A piercing howl echoed through the Dark Elf enclave. The War Ancient Oaks, the strongest line of defense on the outskirts, had already decayed for the most part. Now, these frenzied Ashen Orcs barely exerted any effort before several of them broke through the outer defenses.
Leon glanced back, voice tense: "How is Elsa?"
And that wasn’t the end. In the now dimming haze, more figures flickered in and out of sight. Since the Ashen Orcs had resumed their assault, in just a matter of seconds, shocking changes had taken place.
Even the remaining War Ancient Oaks were crushed by the rampaging force, their ancient limbs splintering under the onslaught.
To the left of the Ashen Orcs, countless Dark Elves—just like the orcs—burst forth, clad in crude, smoke-stained armor. Their eyes gleamed with a slick, eerie blue, their gazes hollow and terrifying, their expressions twisted in madness.
Reina replied quietly, "She's still unconscious, and we don't know when she'll wake up."
On the right, a group of Forgefire Dwarves, also under control, surged out of the black mist.
Anderson replied indifferently, then continued trying to convince Leon.
Just a single wave of Ashen Orcs was already overwhelming for the Dark Elf enclave. Now, with a horde of Dark Elves and Forgefire Dwarves joining in, the outermost defense was shattered in an instant…
Anderson pressed, voice urgent, "Leon, this situation is far too dangerous. We should leave now."
Orc slaves, wielding crude weapons, charged at the front. Meanwhile, the Dark Elves on the left, corrupted by sinister powers, began casting spells in a frenzy. The magical runes on their bodies flashed one after another as they unleashed every spell they could muster, with no rhyme or reason—just raw, desperate power.
Anderson hovered in midair, letting out a cold, mocking laugh.
Countless flames, frost shards, wind blades, and arrows of darkness merged into a wild storm of magic, pouring down on the Dark Elf enclave.
Leon’s eyes narrowed with resolve. "I can't just stand by and watch the Dark Elf enclave be destroyed. You should understand that."
The Ashen Orc wind riders swooped down again and again, hurling poisoned spears. Demon warlocks unleashed abyssal spells, sending meteor fireballs reeking of sulfur crashing into the Dark Elf enclave.
After the torrent, hordes of orc slaves howled as they charged into the breach, while the corrupted Dark Elves and Forgefire Dwarves behind showed no sign of stopping their spellcasting.
On the right, the Forgefire Dwarves were the most frenzied of all. Countless hammers flew from their hands, hundreds of them crackling with lightning, raining down indiscriminately on the enclave.
Leon glanced around. The others remained silent; Reina's face was cold and expressionless, while Hubert, knowing his objection would be futile, wore a resigned look.
Their fighting was pure chaos—no coordination, no tactics, just raw, unrestrained madness. Yet somehow, the unique powers of the three races fused this insanity into a monstrous torrent, a swirling flood of spears, warhammers, and spellstorms.
This torrent crashed into a corner of the Dark Elf enclave's defenses, bulldozing through with brute force and utter disregard. In the end, the message was clear—the Great Tree of Life of the Dark Elves was about to be toppled by these frenzied fiends.
Countless buildings were flattened, and even the remaining War Ancient Oaks here were crushed beneath this rampaging force.
A War Ancient Oak swung its mighty arms, but the moment it raised them, a barrage of berserk spells—mixed with spears and warhammers—tore it to shreds.
In the blink of an eye, the War Ancient Oak’s branches and leaves were ripped apart by this sheer, chaotic force. Even the ground was scoured, and cracks began to appear on the trunk—the strongest part of the tree.
A moment later, the War Ancient Oak—now reduced to a bare trunk—was swept up by the overwhelming torrent, ripped straight out of the earth.
At this moment, the War Ancient Oak was like a sapling caught in a flood—utterly powerless, crushed by that unstoppable force.
The chaotic torrent surged through, shredding everything within hundreds of meters. The dozens of Dark Elf defenders here tried to hold out with spells, but within seconds, they were completely swept away.
After the torrent passed, packs of Ashen Orc slaves charged into the breach, howling. Behind them, the corrupted Dark Elves and Forgefire Dwarves showed no sign of stopping their spellcasting.
Spells and warhammers rained down, and the first to be torn apart were those Ashen Orc slaves who rushed in headlong.