CHAPTER 203: BATTLE OF EASTERN MAEGRATH (5)

The subtle silvery rays of the Luna shone upon the world, dimly illuminating a certain forest with the help of fires from torches and the occasional bright projectiles fired by wizards and Manatech Artillery.

As the night deepened, the battle in Parralen Valley also intensified.

The Imperial Army officers thought that, with enough casualties, the horde would retreat once more, giving them a few hours to breathe.

But no...

This time, it seemed that the remaining three thousand or so fell creations were determined to finally break through, uncaring whether the beast beside them was dead or alive.

They marched ever forward like a raging storm, destroying everything in their path.

Due to the all-out attack, the wizards of the Imperial Army had to fight back even harder, or they would be overwhelmed.

They desperately stood their ground, scuffling with the beasts in the limited space of the valley’s rift.

Many soldiers perished in the first hour of the clash, and it seemed that the number would only increase, especially if the horde didn’t retreat.

Nonetheless, the symphony of death was mostly performed by the beastly howls of agony.

The humans’ death throes were only there to supplement the main, chilling melody.

It was the poor, mindless beasts that suffered the most casualties, while their creators relaxed at the backlines, only engaging occasionally.

The situation soon changed, however, as a massive Gravity Ball suddenly materialized above the valley, descending slowly like an inevitable doomsday meteor at the horrified wizards of the Imperial Army.

There was no way they could stop such a spell...

Their bodies trembled at the thought of their impending death, yet their duty firmly caged them inside the valley.

They could run. But they didn’t.

The Imperial Army soldiers in the effective area of the spell held their ground, fighting the fell creations to their bitter ends.

Above the valley, five individuals of the fell race hovered with an oppressive presence.

The one in front of them crossed his arms in front of his chest, watching with an anticipatory, cold smirk as his Gravity Ball descended upon the lesser race’s warriors.

But then, just before his spatial spell devoured everything in its path, it seemed to have imploded from within, as thousands of wind cutters burst in the direction of the fell from inside the Gravity Ball, reaping hundreds of Fell Beasts in a single moment.

Khatu and his cohort frowned, sensing something a few hundred meters in front of them.

There Zephyron and his veterans were, floating in the air just like them.

The battle at Parralen Valley seemed to be reaching its climax.

Khatu’s frown turned into a disdainful sneer, and the fell leader snapped his fingers.

In the next moment, Fell Cohorts of five Fellkin Warriors each emerged from the darkness, the void, the space, and some arrived like thunder.

There were at least fifty cohorts scattered across the battlefield.

Some appeared in the left uplands of the valley, a majority in the valley rift, and the rest at the right uplands, dividing their manpower equally for an all-out assault.

Zephyron watched coldly as the Fellkin Warriors appeared one after the other, signaling for one of his subordinates to blow the Zephyr Horn.

A gentle yet eerie sound then escaped the horn, though strangely, it echoed in the entire valley, despite its low volume, and even the Fellkin could hear its ominous caress as if the horn were whispering straight into their ears.

The Wind Magna was naturally not about to be outdone.

The Zephyr Battalion, Zephyron’s hand-picked and personally-trained wind elemental wizard battalion, had finally been summoned to join the battle.

In the next instant, a violent breeze swept through, forcing the fell race to close their eyes for a moment.

When they opened them again, fifty squadrons of ten wizards each had already appeared, donning light green battle robes with the Wind Magna’s emblem—a four-winged hawk—on their backs.

Like the Fell Cohorts, the squadrons were scattered all over the battlefield.

The Fire and Chaos Platoons were dumbfounded for a moment, awe-struck by the sudden appearance of the mighty Stiff Face and his display of power.

Their little platoons appeared far too shabby compared to the grand aura of the Zephyr Battalion.

Hal and Ennya couldn’t help but wonder whether they could achieve the heights Zephyron did as a wizard.

It seemed a tall task, but the two youngsters from Poporo had always dreamt big.

Perhaps they could...

A brief staredown ensued between the fell and the zephyr as the battle of the pawns raged on beneath them, seemingly sizing their opponent up.

Ultimately, both Zephyron and Khatu sneered in disdain, fancying their chances of winning against their opponents.

As for whether their judgments were accurate, only battle could truly tell.

Soon, the Fellkin Warriors, donning their combat gear of enchanted armguards, hide armor, hide trousers, and combat boots, charged forward, their hair flowing in the night wind.

The Zephyr Battalion Wizards, in contrast, held their ground, waiting for their adversaries to appear with stern and stoic expressions.

It seemed they weren’t fazed in the slightest.

The Fell Cohorts drew ever closer, and finally, upon getting in range...

Thunder Spears, Void Blasts, and Gravity Balls shot forward at the Zephyr Battalion.

However, the attacks were easily dodged, and Zephyron’s men countered with Wind Cutters, Wind Slashers, Air Cannons, and Wind Tornadoes, wreaking havoc upon the ranks of the approaching fell.

The initial clash was fierce, but surprisingly, no one had died.

The two leaders only glanced at the clash for a moment before shifting their attention back to their opponents.

Both Khatu and Zephyron knew that it would be their battle that would have the most impact.

If they could kill the opposing leader, the morale of their troops would plummet, and they would naturally begin to lose the battle.

"Zephyron, the Magna of the Winds...I’m somewhat disappointed that it wasn’t Kalna who was sent to battle me." Khatu began, "But no matter, my reputation will grow either way. A wine cup made from the Wind Magna’s skull doesn’t sound too bad, either..."

Khatu’s words were brutal and were enough to scare a majority of humans witless.

Zephyron, however, wasn’t one of those who would be shaken by mere words.

He had long been familiar with the Fellkin, and not one of them had managed to defeat him in battle until now.

Why would he be scared when he had already heard such words countless times, with all of them ending up as nothing but empty talk?

"Heh, delusional," was Stiff Face’s only response.