《Lord Of The Rings : Lords Of Middle Earth》


 Chapter 1: Into Middle-earth

    "What the hell is this place?" Roland had been gaming on his computer, immersed in "The Lord of the Rings," when a flash of light transported him to an unknown location.


    A harsh scream echoed around him, sending Roland''s heart racing. He glanced down and saw he was decked out in fine gold armor from the game, complete with the legendary Dragon Slaying Sword at his side and an adamantine tower shield on his back.


    "Holy crap! Is this my in-game gear?" Roland''s brain struggled to process.


    "Did I just get transported to Middle-earth?" he wondered.


    But soon, Roland realized he might be in the game''s version of Middle-earth, filled with added magical elements and a reimagined map. Panic set in.


    "Jeep!" Several short, green-skinned goblins armed with bone sticks and rusty iron picks leaped out from the bushes.


    "Oh, come on! Wasteland goblins?" Roland instantly recognized the creatures.


    "Qiang!" He drew the Dragon Slaying Sword and readied his shield.


    The goblins charged, their feeble attacks bouncing off his shield harmlessly.


    "Ha!" With a fierce yell, Roland swung his sword, slicing through the goblins effortlessly.


    "Yeah, that''s more like it..." Roland felt a surge of power, realizing he was now a great knight in this world. Here, the ranks of extraordinary power included apprentice knight, knight, great knight, knight commander, and knight commander.


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    Ignoring the nausea from the gory scene, Roland sheathed his sword. The Dragon Slaying Sword was impressively sharp and clean.


    "A battle to test your skills: Completed. Reward: A fully-armed charr warhorse*1. It has been stored in the Lord of the Rings space." The ring on Roland''s hand glowed, displaying a notification.


    "The Lord of the Rings system? No way! This is awesome!" Roland cheered. With this system, he could earn rewards, build a kingdom, and become a powerful lord, just like in the game.


    Roland summoned the fully-armed warhorse from the ring. In the wilderness, cavalry had a clear advantage, and a knight without a horse was no knight at all.


    "Wow, this thing is seriously armored..." Roland marveled at the heavily armored warhorse, impressed by its design.


    "Alright, now I''m ready for those orcs!" Roland psyched himself up. No orc would dare mess with a heavily armed knight.


    "Lord of the Rings, what do I need to do next?" Roland asked, hoping for guidance.


    "¡­"


    "Okay, so I need to earn rewards by completing achievements," Roland figured out.


    "I should find a place to stay. It''s getting dark, and I need food. Tomorrow, I''ll search for towns or villages. Who knows where I am..." Roland muttered.


    Gathering dead branches, Roland rode aimlessly, hoping for a distraction.


    "This looks like a good spot." He decided to spend the night in a small cave formed by staggered rocks.


    "Now, how do I light a fire?" Roland suddenly realized his predicament.


    "Damn, I should''ve watched more survival shows..." he cursed under his breath.


    "Maybe I can try rubbing sticks together?"


    "Nope, not working."


    "Oh, wait, it''s smoking!"


    "Ouch! My hand!"


    "Screw this!" Roland was beyond frustrated as the night closed in.


    "No, I need to light this fire! The wasteland at night isn''t friendly," he urged himself.


    Finally, a small flame flickered to life. Roland carefully fed the fire, relief washing over him.


    "The first fire: completed. Rewards: loaves of bread*100, water*100. Distributed to the Lord of the Rings space."


    "Huh, it rewarded me! Now I don''t have to worry about food and water," Roland laughed.


    He toasted some bread over the fire, quenched his thirst, and prepared to rest. Leading the horse into the cave, Roland admired the quality of his gear.


    "Haha, first night in Middle-earth, good night!" Roland said, looking up at the starry sky.


    Outside the cave, the fire flickered in the evening breeze. Little did Roland know, the fire might attract unwelcome visitors.


    "Pfft!" The warhorse snorted, waking Roland.


    He grabbed his shield and sword, ready for trouble.


    "Oh, come on! An Earth dragon?" Roland groaned, staring at the massive creature approaching his camp.

 Chapter 2 : The Dragon Encounter

    "I hope the Dragon Slaying Sword actually slays dragons," Roland muttered, gripping the hilt tightly.


    The Earth Dragons, close relatives to true dragons, inherited their kin''s brute strength and fiery breath, capable of obliterating small armies. Roland''s pulse quickened as he led his warhorse out of the cave, hurriedly saddling up. Putting on the vest would have to wait; surviving came first.


    Luckily, the trained Shire warhorse wasn''t fazed by the dragon''s presence, giving Roland a fighting chance.


    "Let''s go!" he shouted, urging the horse forward.


    "Roar!" The Earth Dragon lunged, jaws wide open.


    "Whoa!" Roland yanked the reins, narrowly dodging the massive maw.


    "Take this!" he yelled, swinging his sword.


    The blade cut through dragon scales, drawing a roar and a gush of hot blood.


    "It works!" Roland marveled, landing another blow on the dragon''s leg.


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    Enraged, the dragon whipped its tail, but the warhorse dodged nimbly.


    "Boom!" A fiery breath shot past Roland, the heat intense even through his armor.


    "That was close!" he gasped, feeling the heat radiate.


    "Ha!" Roland blocked an incoming tail swipe with his sword, the impact almost knocking it from his grasp. The tail split in half, the Dragon Slaying Sword proving its worth.


    "Ow!" The dragon roared, its fury now focused on the pesky knight.


    "Time to finish this!" Roland charged, dodging another fiery blast and slicing through the dragon''s belly.


    The dragon''s blood spattered, but Roland kept hacking until he created a gaping wound.


    "Not good!" he realized, remembering the dragon''s massive weight. He scrambled out from beneath it just in time.


    The dragon collapsed, dead. Roland breathed a sigh of relief, finding his warhorse patiently waiting nearby.


    "Dragon Hunter: Completed. You have successfully proved your courage and strength. Reward: The Dragon Knight*1. You can summon it at any time." The ring on his hand glowed again.


    "A Dragon Knight?" Roland''s eyes widened. He knew this was a game-changer.


    "Summon!" he commanded, eager to see his reward.


    "My lord!" A young, blond knight appeared, looking strikingly handsome.


    "How old are you?" Roland asked, noticing the youthful face.


    "Eighteen, my lord," the knight, Caslow, replied respectfully.


    Roland, only sixteen before crossing over, felt a pang of jealousy. "What''s your level, and where''s your dragon?"


    "I am a great knight, and my dragon is in the dragon flute," Caslow explained.


    "Summon it," Roland ordered, intrigued.


    Caslow played the flute, and a ten-meter-long blue dragon appeared, its four legs and sleek form indicating its noble lineage.


    "A four-legged flying dragon! Not bad," Roland said, impressed.


    He knew exposing his dragon knight too soon could invite trouble. In this magic-altered Middle-earth, many would covet a dragon flute.


    "Alright, put it away," Roland ordered, knowing he had to be cautious.


    Roland envied Caslow''s gear: Adamantine Dragon Armor, Mithril Longsword, Dragon Spear, and more. Roland had only a sword and shield by comparison.


    After dealing with the dragon''s body and storing the useful materials in his system''s space, Roland returned to the cave, hoping for some rest.


    Lying down, he couldn''t help but think of the challenges ahead. Tonight, though, he was just grateful to be alive.

 Chapter 3: Trouble on the Road

    "Are you full?" Roland asked, clapping his hands to get Carlos''s attention.


    "Yes, my lord," Carlos replied.


    "Alright, let''s head out. Hopefully, we''ll find a village or town today to get our bearings," Roland sighed.


    "Yes, sir."


    ...


    "My lord! We may be in trouble!" Carlos suddenly halted Roland''s horse.


    "What is it?" Roland asked, alarmed.


    "This is Gundaba Warg dung," Carlos explained, his face serious.


    Roland''s expression darkened. "So, that means...?"


    "That''s right, there are half-orc wolf cavalry nearby."


    "Damn it! Stay alert!" Roland ordered, raising his tower shield just in time to deflect an incoming arrow. "Carlos, summon your dragon! We need to get up and out of here, quick!"


    Shadows flickered among the trees as half-orcs on wargs emerged, followed by a horde of orc infantry.


    "My lord, we''ve wandered into orc territory!" Carlos said, his voice tense, as he hastily took out his dragon flute.


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    "For the glory of the knights! Charge!" Roland bellowed, urging his horse forward, slashing at the orcs.


    Roland''s sword cleaved through an orc''s head, and his shield blocked a machete. His Dragon Slaying Sword pierced another orc''s chest with ease.


    A dragon''s roar echoed above. Carlos, mounted on his dragon, took to the sky. The orc army hesitated, giving Roland the chance to cut down several more.


    A wind blade, several meters wide, shot from the dragon''s mouth, shredding orc cavalry and their wargs. Roland felt a surge of nausea at the sight.


    Hearing the dragon''s obscure language, Roland turned his horse and bolted as Carlos''s dragon created a tornado, lifting orcs high into the air and then dropping them like rain.


    "Roar!" Carlos''s dragon continued its assault, slicing through orcs with wind blades. Roland could only watch as the dragon decimated the ground forces.


    The last half-orc fell, and Carlos descended.


    "Sir, it''s all settled!" Carlos reported, landing beside Roland.


    "Good. Put the dragon away and ride this," Roland said, pointing to a Shire horse nearby. "It''s a reward from the system."


    "An inch of grass does not grow: Completed. All orcs exterminated. Reward: 10 fully-armed apprentice knights."


    Roland summoned the knights, each in three-layer armored Sharma, with steel armor, cross shields, long swords, lances, ironwood bows, and mithril hammers. They looked formidable, with dragon emblems on their cloaks.


    ...


    Five days later...


    "Is this the village?" Roland muttered, squinting at the closed wooden gate.


    "Yes, my lord. But it doesn''t seem very welcoming," Carlos noted, spotting armed militiamen on the wall, their bows drawn.


    "Put away your weapons, everyone. Take it easy," Roland ordered. The group complied, stowing their arms.


    Roland rode up to the gate. "Excuse me, we''re just travelers looking for a place to stay for the night. We can pay."


    "Really? Where are you from?" an older villager called down.


    "Uh, I''m from the Eastern Empire. These are my squires from Gondor," Roland said, removing his helmet to reveal his black hair and eyes.


    After a brief discussion among the villagers, the gate creaked open. "You can come in, but no fighting or disturbing the villagers."


    "We agree," Roland said quickly.


    Inside, Roland was surprised to see what appeared to be a row of dwarves, though they were actually hobbits.


    "Hello, where are we exactly? We got lost in the wasteland," Roland asked one of the hobbits.


    After some questioning, Roland confirmed they were in the northern part of the Shire, within the world of "The Lord of the Rings."


    "Perfect, I know this map well!" Roland mused. "Carlos, find out what year it is."


    "Yes, sir."


    ...


    "What! The year 2940 of the Third Age!" Roland exclaimed.


    "Is that significant, my lord?" Carlos asked.


    "It means something very interesting is about to happen. I''m considering whether we should get involved," Roland said, thinking of the upcoming dwarf expedition in "The Hobbit."


    "Thorin Oakenshield could be a valuable ally. Uniting with him might help us establish ourselves here," Roland reasoned. "Let''s head to Hobbiton."


    With that, their course was set. They were about to embark on an adventure in Middle-earth, aligning with key figures to secure their place in this new world.

 Chapter 4: A Knights Proposal

    The rapid sound of hoofbeats broke the tranquility of Hobbiton as twelve fully-armed men rode along the path.


    "Are you sure this is the way, Carlos?" the young knight Roland asked, scolding his entourage.


    "Yes, well, maybe... The country roads here are quite winding," Carlos, the dragon knight, hesitated.


    "What''s wrong with you? Are you out of your mind?" Roland couldn''t hold back his frustration.


    "Sorry, brothers, that wasn''t meant for you," Roland quickly apologized to his men.


    "Let''s keep asking for directions. We need to find this blasted Bag End hole," Roland said, sullenly.


    ...


    "Hi! Excuse me, friends, do you know where Bilbo Baggins lives?" Roland asked each passerby.


    After several fruitless inquiries, Roland muttered, "Who said Hobbits are so friendly?"


    "Hello, do you know Bilbo Baggins?" Roland asked a hobbit sitting in his yard.


    "Baggins? Why are you looking for him?" the young hobbit asked, surprised.


    "Uh, well, because a group of dwarves and a wizard will visit him soon, and I want to meet those dwarves," Roland explained.


    "Okay, I am Bilbo Baggins. I don''t know about any dwarves coming, but a wizard did visit today. He wants me to go on an adventure with him and even more absurdly, to be a burglar! I don''t know how to fight at all!" Bilbo Baggins explained.


    "Ah, this..." Roland was stunned. He glanced at Bilbo with sympathy.


    "Mr. Baggins, see you tonight," Roland said with a smile.


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    "Um, sir, you mean you''ll be my guest tonight?" Bilbo was surprised.


    "Yes, you just need to prepare food for me. My entourage won''t join. Oh, and my name is Roland," Roland smiled kindly.


    "Okay, Sir Roland. I will be expecting you tonight."


    ...


    "The Fetters of Destiny: Achieved! 90 apprentice knights will be rewarded! You can summon them at any time," the system announced.


    "90 knights... plus these 10! A hundred apprentice knights, and the next knight order is complete," Roland thought with satisfaction.


    Finding a corner to summon the knights, Roland hurriedly used the gold coins rewarded by the system to book a larger hotel for his entourage.


    The crisp sound of horses'' hooves arrived, and Roland marveled at the system''s efficiency. These knights came from the wasteland, and no one knew they were summoned.


    As the sky faded, Roland asked Carlos to arrange accommodations for the knights, while he prepared for the banquet.


    ...


    "Ding ding ding!" Roland rang the doorbell of Bag End.


    "Boom!" The door opened, and the aroma of food mixed with the sound of a chaotic party greeted him. The dwarves had already started their revelry.


    Roland twitched the corners of his mouth at the mess. He hesitated but then saw Bilbo''s frustrated gaze.


    "Sir Roland, do you know what to order... and the food I prepared for you..." Bilbo said, embarrassed.


    "It''s alright, Bilbo," Roland comforted him and stepped inside.


    He immediately recognized Gandalf. The robe and staff were unmistakable.


    "Mr. Gandalf, hello!" Roland greeted.


    "Should I call you Thorin Oakenshield or King Under the Mountain?" Roland asked, looking at the dwarf king.


    Thorin stood, fists clenched, but Gandalf quickly intervened. "Thorin, calm down," he urged.


    "Young man, I can''t see through you..." Gandalf said, amazed.


    Roland smiled noncommittally. "The blood of Durin, grandson of Thror, son of Thrain, can you still be called the King Under the Mountain?"


    "Bang!" Thorin slammed the table, ready to fight, but his companions restrained him. His nephew, Kili, stood up. "Are you here to cause trouble, sir?"


    The other dwarves looked at Roland warily, while Gandalf watched thoughtfully.


    "Cause trouble? You don''t deserve it. I just don''t want to see the end of Durin''s line," Roland said, knowing the future plot.


    Roland sensed everyone present. Besides Thorin, a berserker, the others were apprentice warriors. This lineup was no match for Roland''s knights.


    "Enough! State your purpose!" Thorin demanded, stopping his men''s accusations.


    "Happy to. I am the head of the Holy Light Knights, seeking a territory to settle my knights. I need funds," Roland stated calmly.


    "What? Knights?"


    "My God! He has a knight order..."


    The dwarves were shocked, and Gandalf''s confusion deepened.


    "Mr. Roland, this joke isn''t funny. Do you know what constitutes a knight order?" Thorin asked solemnly.


    "Of course. Mine is the weakest, with 100 apprentice knights and a knight commander," Roland said proudly.


    "So... what do you propose?" Thorin''s tone softened.


    "I will lead my knights into battle, killing our way to the Mountain. You pay a commission, and if there are casualties, you cover pensions. If we fail to retake Erebor, you owe nothing," Roland''s eyes burned with ambition.


    "If you agree, I can call my entourage now," Roland continued.


    Thorin pondered, and Gandalf whispered, "Promise him. The road is fraught with danger. A knight order''s protection can ensure our safe arrival."


    Thorin nodded. "Mr. Roland, I will draft the contract now."


    As the dwarves prepared the contract, Roland noted it was even longer than Bilbo''s initial contract. Finally, they signed it.


    "Then, I wish our expedition a smooth journey," Roland said, pocketing the contract. He declined Bilbo''s offer to stay and left.


    "By the way, tomorrow morning, I will wait for you at the edge of the forest!" Roland called out.

 Chapter 5: A Knights Vow

    "The Lonely Mountain Expedition: Joined. Bonus to 10 shooters. You can summon them at any time."


    After summoning these ten shooters, Roland couldn''t help but admire them. Ah! Really impressive!


    First of all, let''s talk about the people who have a high professional level. The archer profession is divided into apprentice shooter, archer, sharpshooter, eagle-eyed shooter, and sniper, with the highest level being star hunter.


    After looking at the equipment, Roland couldn''t help but admire it¡ªit was too luxurious. Mithril inner armor jacket with silver chainmail, a mithril purple shirt, a bow in hand, and 50 star silver steel armor-piercing arrows on their backs. There was a mithril fighting sword at their waists, a pair of steel arm shields on their left hands, and a steel armor-piercing hammer that was one meter long. Fortunately, they were dressed in chainmail; if they wore plate armor, they could be mistaken for heavy infantry. Roland really wanted to ask them if they had forgotten their jobs, as their melee heavy armor profession seemed to overshadow their archery skills.


    This group must have seen Roland''s doubts, because without saying anything, they held their bows and fired into the dark night, bringing back startled birds for Roland. As for why there were two birds¡ªit was because one arrow passed through both. Roland decided not to question their abilities again.


    ¡­


    In the early morning, Roland led his troops to wait outside the woods in Hobbiton. One hundred apprentice knights formed a neat phalanx, and ten archers rode on fully armed warhorses produced by the system. This time, they looked more like heavy knights. Roland didn''t care anymore; apart from the conspicuous longbows, their attire suggested melee units.


    "I''ve been waiting for you for a long time!" Roland finally saw the expedition team arriving late.


    "One, two, three... fourteen. It''s good that Bilbo Baggins isn''t here yet," Roland counted the number of people and nodded. Just like in the movie, Mr. Bilbo hadn''t decided to join last night, but he should be on his way now.


    "Are we all here? Aren''t we waiting for Mr. Baggins?" Roland asked.


    "No, he won''t come when everyone is together!" Thorin said.


    "Hey, Sir Roland, the army under your command is really majestic!" The dwarves praised, and even Gandalf cast an amazed glance.


    "Thank you for the compliment. But I''ve decided to wait for Bilbo," Roland said to Thorin.


    "But it doesn''t matter, he can catch up with us!" Roland glanced at Hobbiton and said to himself, after all, Hobbits are famous for being good at running.


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    "Oh! This level of forging is incredible! It''s actually mithril, adamantine, and star silver steel!" Fili called out.


    "Oh, man, I spent a lot of money on their equipment, otherwise I wouldn''t be as poor as I am now..." Roland said easily.


    Everyone chose to believe it. After all, how could they know about the unreliable system?


    "Hey! Wait! Wait!" Suddenly a voice came from far away. It was Bilbo Baggins, running to join them.


    The Batenian archer immediately raised his longbow, and several knights in the rear also raised their lances, ready to nail the fast-running Hobbit to the ground.


    "Oh! Mr. Baggins! Alright, put down your weapons," Roland said, showing a sudden look.


    "Oh! Hello, Sir Roland, Sir Thorin. I signed it!" After greeting Roland, Bilbo hurriedly raised the contract.


    "Well, that''s right!" Several dwarves gathered around to take a look, and after finding no problems, they announced to the crowd.


    "Then welcome to be the 14th member of the expedition!" Thorin opened his arms.


    "Number 14? Wait, then they..." Bilbo pointed at Roland in disbelief.


    "We are mercenaries, Master Baggins!" Roland explained.


    "They get paid," added Gandalf.


    "Wizard, how do we go?" Roland asked.


    "Take the Eastern Avenue, then cross the Misty Mountains, and finally take the Laolin Road along the Rapids North to the Lonely Mountain."


    "Sounds good, but this road will never be peaceful..." Roland looked into the distance.


    "Alas... this road is destined to be full of danger," Roland thought to himself. He was familiar with the plot and knew that there would be many orcs later, and even the Battle of the Five Armies.


    "Sir Roland, your army amazed me! I don''t think I''ve seen their armor before..." Thorin, walking side by side with Roland, asked.


    "Well, I''m a human from the east. This is the plate armor unique to our homeland. We were defeated in battle, and our people began to wander in the north," Roland quickly made an excuse. After all, the system-produced plate armor was very different from the armor style of this world.


    "My lord! An enemy is approaching us! It''s a half-orc!" An archer in charge of reconnaissance galloped on his horse, bringing the bad news to everyone.


    "Did you see clearly? How many people are there?" Roland asked hurriedly.


    "There are about 300."


    "My lord, I think we should gather the knights now. After all, the power of the knights mainly comes from the group charge. Let the knights move, otherwise we will be the best target," Carlos said, understanding that Roland didn''t want him to show his identity as a dragon knight.


    "Gather the knights! Crush them under our iron hooves!" Roland said viciously. After all, he had soldiers, so he didn''t panic.


    Sure enough, after a while, hundreds of orcs rushed out of the woods in a mess, charging at everyone with various broken weapons. Roland even saw a dung fork among them.


    "Huh¡ª" Gandalf let out a long sigh. "Fortunately, it''s not the half-orc army from the Misty Mountains."


    "Don''t be too happy. Our whereabouts and purpose may have already been exposed," Roland said, pouring cold water over Gandalf''s relief.


    "Charge! Crush them!" Roland pulled out his Dragon Slaying Sword and rushed out first!


    All kinds of war flames covered the war horses, armors, and weapons with the urging of the apprentice knights. The knights gradually integrated their momentum into a whole during the charge, each person''s weapon showing a nearly half-meter-long fighting edge. This was the difference between knights and cavalry. The knights released their fighting spirit in the charge, connecting themselves with other knights as a whole. As long as the fighting spirit wasn''t exhausted, they shared the damage and received the addition of the knights'' fighting spirit. At this moment, they were the knights known as the King of Land Wars!


    "Bang¡ª" With dull crashing sounds and the tearing sound of spears penetrating bodies, the knights collided with the vanguard of the orcs. Roland and the knights under his command wielded their weapons, manipulating the war horses to tear apart more than a dozen orcs. The ten archers behind them also raised their longbows, and with each shot, an orc fell to the ground with an arrow in the eye socket or throat. All the orcs charging around the knights were knocked to the ground by these ten.


    "So, aren''t you going to help?" an archer asked, looking at the stunned group.


    "Eh! Kill!" The dwarves, startled, quickly took up weapons like axes, swords, and hammers to meet the orcs. Only Bilbo stayed where he was, at a loss, while Gandalf picked up his staff and chanted a spell. The next second, a fireball the size of a human head passed over the heads of the crowd and hit the rear of the orcs.


    "Beautiful! Finally, not the battle mage from the movie," Roland glanced at Gandalf in surprise and then said to himself.

 Chapter 6: The Paladins Arrival

    After a while of slashing, the remaining orcs rolled and crawled into the woods. Roland stopped the pursuit decisively, gathered the knights under his command, and continued on their way.


    "Encounter: Completed. Reward: Royal Guard Paladin *1. You can summon him at any time."


    "Wocao!" Roland almost shouted in excitement.


    The Royal Guard Paladin is one of the most coveted units in the Lord of the Rings game. However, this was the Third Era, and the Royal Guard Paladin in the game only appeared in the Fifth Era. Its rarity is second only to super-professionals like various dragon knights. The Royal Guard barely mustered enough knights to form an army, never reaching the lowest number of 100. At their peak, they had 87 members, which dropped to less than 50 after the Battle of Jiliuhe. The most famous attribute of this legion is "holy." The entire unit comprises real paladins, unlike the Holy See knights who use light knights as paladins. Their equipment is luxurious, featuring dragon armor, dragon swords, dragon spears, and dragon shields forged with dragon blood holy steel. They even possess dragon bows, with dragon main tendons for strings and dragon arm bones for bow arms. The quality of this legion''s equipment rivals that of dragon knights, with the saying, "Dragon knights rule the sky, and paladins rule the earth."


    Now, Roland had a Royal Guard Paladin under his command. He was moved to tears, suspecting the Lord of the Rings system had granted him a rare birthday gift. The Royal Guard Paladins were even rarer than dragon knights. Many players had tried to recruit (or abduct) a Royal Guard Paladin but rarely succeeded.


    Roland resisted the urge to summon the Paladin immediately, opting to continue marching instead.


    "Let''s take a break," Roland said, looking at the map and addressing Gandalf and Thorin.


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    "Alright, we can replenish supplies. There won''t be many opportunities for resupply in the future," Thorin agreed.


    "Master Baggins! We can stay at an inn tonight. You can sleep on a soft bed instead of the ground," Roland teased Bilbo, who was riding a pony.


    "Oh, really? That''s great. You don''t know how crowded it is sleeping on the ground in a tent!" Bilbo complained.


    "Hahaha, you have Gandalf to thank for pulling you out of your cozy home," Roland laughed.


    "God! What was I thinking, agreeing to this adventure..." Bilbo lamented.


    "Because you have a restless heart!" Gandalf interjected.


    "Hahaha, the wizard is right!" Roland laughed again.


    Roland eagerly anticipated meeting his Royal Guard Paladin in Bree. He had already chosen to summon him, and the system thoughtfully set the knight to wait for him in Bree. Wait, Bree? His knight in Bree?


    "Oh no, it better not be Aragorn, the protagonist of The Lord of the Rings..." Roland thought in shock.


    ¡­


    Lost in thought, Roland saw the outline of the town of Bree.


    "Alright, everyone, we can enjoy some comfort!"


    ¡­


    "My lord, Royal Guard Paladin Reynold reporting for duty!" A tall, silver-haired, handsome man, appearing about thirty years old, approached Roland.


    What? Roland was now filled with questions. The Royal Guard Paladin was excellent, but Lord Reynold? This knight commander might be too much to handle.


    "Why did such a formidable character come under my command? Can the system discuss a different choice?" Roland lamented internally.


    "Welcome, heroic paladin! You are welcome to join us," Roland greeted the knight with a smile.


    "I hope his troublemaking tendencies haven''t followed him here... Otherwise, the Battle of the Five Armies might gain a few more enemy troops," Roland thought, remembering Reynold''s penchant for attracting enemies.


    "Reynold, can you still release your divine aura?" Roland suddenly remembered the most important aspect.


    "Of course, Lord! If you wish, I can release it now," Reynold replied respectfully.


    "That''s good," Roland sighed in relief. The holy aura of the Royal Guard Paladins was invaluable, enhancing the combat capabilities of friendly forces within a certain range. In the world of Lord of the Rings, this was a rare and powerful advantage.


    "Reynold!" Roland called out excitedly.


    "Sir!" Reynold responded immediately.


    "Carlos and the archers will protect me, and the knights will be under your command," Roland instructed. Reynold commanding 100 knights was a trivial task. Roland had no commander buff, and Carlos, a dragon knight, lacked experience in commanding ground knights. Reynold, with his halo skill, was a beacon of hope for Roland.


    "Alright, Lord. May the light of the lord shine on you and me," Reynold said

 Chapter 7: Battle in the Troll Forest

    In the early morning, everyone packed up their bags and left the town of Bree as the rising sun cast its first light over the land.


    Roland furrowed his brows as he studied the map, his eyes fixed on the dark expanse of woodland to the west of the Misty Mountains along the East-West Avenue.


    "The Troll Forest?" Roland''s voice carried a hint of concern. Trolls, both fearsome and iconic, were known to inhabit that treacherous territory, a crucial element in the tales of hobbits and adventurers alike. The three elf swords glinted in the sunlight¡ªGramdrin, Oakrest, and Stinger, a weapon for Bilbo alone.


    "There is malevolence lurking within those woods..." Gandalf''s presence materialized beside Roland, his words ominous.


    "Trolls? My knights will make short work of them!" Roland''s resolve hardened.


    "I hope so..." Gandalf''s gaze lingered on Roland, his expression unreadable.


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    Alerted by Roland''s command, the company readied themselves, tightening their belts, fastening their swords, and preparing their bows for battle.


    "Stay vigilant, stay focused. Do not falter in the face of danger. Let your shields be your shield, and keep moving¡ªnever stand still!" Roland''s voice rang out, his words a beacon of strength.


    As the group prepared to face the perils ahead, Carlos approached Roland with news.


    "My lord, some of our knights are on the brink of advancement," Carlos murmured, his eyes alight with anticipation.


    Roland''s eyes gleamed with pride. The prospect of his apprentice knights ascending to full knighthood filled him with a sense of accomplishment.


    With the night drawing near, a sense of unease settled over the camp. As the fire crackled and shadows danced, the company gathered around, their minds filled with tales of valor and treachery.


    "Rest well, for tomorrow we face the unknown," Roland''s voice broke through the quiet night, a promise of challenges to come.


    But as the night deepened and whispers of danger crept through the camp, Roland''s worst fears were realized.


    "Someone is missing!" The cry cut through the darkness, sending a ripple of fear through the company.


    In the chaos that followed, Roland sprang into action, his sword drawn, his resolve unwavering.


    "Reynold! Rouse the knights, ready them for battle!" Roland''s command echoed through the night, his eyes fixed on the looming threat.


    As the company braced themselves for the battle ahead, Roland''s gaze fell on Thorin, a silent plea for understanding passing between them.


    "Stay sharp, for the trolls will not be kind to trespassers," Roland''s voice held a note of urgency as he scanned the faces of his companions.


    And so the stage was set for the showdown in the Troll Forest, a clash of steel and shadows, a test of courage and valor that would echo through the ages.

 Chapter 8: The Treasure of the Troll Forest

    As the knights charged into battle against the fearsome trolls, Roland felt a surge of adrenaline. The clash of steel and shadows filled the air as the company fought with unparalleled bravery.


    "Kill!" Roland''s voice rang out, his sword striking down a troll with a swift blow, inspiring his companions to fight with fervor.


    The archers used their Running Shot skill to increase their accuracy while moving, landing precise shots on the trolls. The enemies fell one by one under the onslaught of the company''s coordinated attacks.


    The battlefield was a chaotic symphony of war as knights and trolls clashed, their weapons flashing in the sunlight. Reynold and Lagrand stood out as beacons of light, their strikes powerful and decisive, bringing down the trolls with unwavering resolve.


    But amidst the chaos, there was a sudden interruption¡ªa foul smell filled the air, causing Roland to retch in disgust as unknown objects coated him in filth.


    "Lend me your water bag, my lord," Carlos offered, rushing to aid Roland, only to cause further mess with his hasty movements.


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    Enraged, Roland cursed and vowed vengeance, his frustration boiling over. But in a moment of unexpected clarity, a golden light washed away the stains, revealing a newfound power within him.


    "Purification!" The miraculous ability cleansed Roland''s body, leaving him amazed at the transformation.


    Gandalf watched in awe as Roland''s aura shifted, a revelation unfolding before them.


    "God bless Lagrand! The lord has awakened as a Paladin!" Reynold exclaimed, his excitement palpable as hope surged through the company.


    The revelation of two Paladins among their ranks sparked discussion and surprise, with Gandalf reflecting on the implications of such a rare occurrence.


    As they regrouped, Gandalf noted the absence of trolls during the day, hinting at a nearby cave where the creatures dwelled. Thorin''s keen observation led them to discover the trolls'' hideout, where a trove of treasure awaited them.


    Excitement filled the air as the company uncovered gold coins and valuable weapons, including legendary elf swords. Gandalf''s discovery of the Beast Bite Sword and the Gondolin Forest King''s sword added to the richness of their newfound treasures.


    Despite Thorin''s initial reluctance, the allure of the elf-forged weapons proved irresistible, prompting the dwarves to claim their share of the spoils.


    Bilbo received a special gift¡ªa magical sword made by the elves, a weapon of great power and significance. Gandalf''s words of wisdom resonated with the companions as they embraced the newfound bounty and the courage it symbolized.


    As the company prepared to leave the troll forest, Roland couldn''t shake the feeling of missed opportunity, longing for the elusive elf swords that had slipped through his fingers. But with the treasure secured and new allies by their side, they set off on their next adventure, their hearts full of hope and determination.

 Chapter 9: The Battle with the Wargs

    " Suddenly, there was a rustling sound from the bushes in the distance, causing several archers to raise their bows and arrows.


    "Ah! Fire! Death!" A figure riding a sleigh pulled by a dozen rabbits burst out of the underbrush.


    "Radagast!" Gandalf recognized the newcomer and quickly motioned for everyone to lower their weapons.


    "Brown robe wizard Radagast? Probably a senior wizard like Gandalf," Roland thought to himself. In this world without Valar and Maiar, Roland couldn''t fully grasp the rank of the brown-robed wizard from the original tales.


    "Don''t be nervous, everyone. This is wizard Radagast," Gandalf introduced to the group.


    "Radagast, why are you here?" Gandalf asked curiously.


    "I came looking for you. Greenwood is sick!" Radagast lowered his voice and said mysteriously.


    "Huh?" Gandalf looked at him suspiciously.


    "Uh..." As expected, poor Radagast, as Roland knew, had forgotten what he was going to say again. Roland''s face changed, he turned his head immediately, and scanned the surroundings. Sure enough, Radagast opened his mouth and pulled out a huge bug.


    The knight who saw this scene immediately vomited.


    Even the normally stoic dwarves twitched at the corners of their eyes, while Bilbo''s face turned blue and purple.


    Roland was glad he missed the sight of the meal, otherwise, the sight would have been unbearable.


    "Ha! It''s a insect!" Radagast finally exclaimed happily.


    " The knights who had just restrained their stomachs couldn''t hold back any longer.


    "The Greenwood is sick, darkness covers the earth, everything stops growing, the air is full of rancidity, and the worst is those webs."


    "Webs? What webs?" Gandalf asked in surprise.


    "It''s spiders! Big ones. I''m pretty sure they''re the descendants of Ungoliant. I followed them and found that they came from Dol Guldur!" Radagast said seriously.


    "Dol Guldur? The old fortress?" Gandalf said in surprise. "It''s been deserted long ago!"


    "No! No! A necromancer is entrenched there..." Radagast began to recall, his voice full of fear.


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    "Hey! Take some old Toby tobacco, it will help you feel at ease." Gandalf handed over his pipe. Looking at Radagast, who took a deep breath, Gandalf asked, "Now can you be sure that it is the Necromancer?"


    Radagast didn''t speak but took out a cloth bag from his arms. "This is definitely not a weapon from the Human World!" he affirmed.


    Gandalf opened the cloth bag with a bitter face, and his expression changed drastically. He was about to speak when a howl interrupted him.


    "What is that? Are there wolves in this forest?" Bilbo asked curiously.


    "What the hell! The whole army is on alert! It''s a warg!" Roland''s expression changed.


    "Qiang!" Reynold drew his long sword.


    "Roar!" A figure jumped out of the shadows, this time the warg was obviously stronger than any Roland had encountered before.


    "Death!" Carlos raised his spear and was about to throw it, but the archers, who had been on alert, were faster, and a sharp arrow pierced the warg''s eye socket.


    "Damn it! Warg scout!" Gandalf''s face changed drastically.


    "We are being hunted! The half-orc army is nearby!" Roland panicked.


    "Ah!" A knight was thrown down by a warg. Fortunately, his reliable teammates chopped off the warg''s head with one swift strike.


    "Leave the woods!" Roland forced himself to calm down.


    "Sir! How should we go?" Reynold came to Roland at this moment.


    "Gandalf! Take us to Rivendell!" Roland shouted.


    "This way!" Gandalf hurriedly pointed the way.


    "Why go to Rivendell? Do you think those elves will help us?" Thorin said angrily.


    "My friend, if you want to be drowned by the torrent of orcs, then do it yourself! Thorin''s bloodline will end today! I will not bring my knights to die with you!" Roland said coldly.


    "If you think 13 dwarves can fight the half-orc army, then you are free! Knights! Let''s go!" Roland urged his horse forward.


    Thorin should feel lucky. After all, in the original tale, they lost all their ponies, and now they still had means of transportation. Based on the principle of not taking immediate losses, Thorin eventually led his followers to join Roland.


    "Gandalf! You take them away! We will stay behind! Otherwise, no one will be able to leave!" Roland shouted.


    "Get out of here! All archers obey orders! Follow them and keep them safe!" Roland turned his horse after speaking.


    "Brothers of the Holy Glory Knights, let''s go to the plain!" Roland called the knights to rush to the plain beside them.


    Sure enough, the half-orc army was attracted and didn''t notice the small group''s departure.


    ¡­


    "No!" Thorin said in pain while sitting on his horse.


    "Let''s go back and save them!" At this moment, Thorin had not been affected by the curse of the Lonely Mountain; he was still the dwarf who was extremely loyal to his friends.


    "Come back! They paid a great price to let us go! We cannot fail them!" Gandalf stopped his foolish behavior.


    "We should find elves!" said an archer.


    "It''s very close to Rivendell, and there should be cavalry and rangers guarding around here!" Another Batenian archer analyzed.


    "Yes, we should seek the help of King Elrond!" Gandalf''s eyes penetrated the distance.


    ¡­


    "The whole team! Line up!" Roland stopped his war horse to let it rest for a while.


    "I''ll give you the command!" Roland said to Reynold.


    "Yes, your lord!" Reynold took the task worriedly.


    "Don''t worry, Carlos will support us at any time!" Roland patted his shoulder with a relaxed expression.


    Leaving everyone''s sight meant Roland''s strongest combat power could be fully unleashed, and the dragon knights were simply unbeatable against the half-orc wolf cavalry hunting down the dwarves.


    "You don''t know, right? Carlos is a dragon knight, the kind with flying dragons." Roland asked, looking at the confused Reynold.


    "Uh... No one really told me..." Reynold took a deep look at Carlos. It was unbelievable that this handsome guy had a dragon in his pocket! No wonder Lord Roland wasn''t panicked and even took others away.


    "Ow!"


    "Roar!"


    The messy wolf cavalry appeared in Roland and his group''s field of vision, about two or three hundred strong.


    "That''s it?" Roland almost spat out.


    "Ah, hehehe." Reynold, who was originally nervous, smiled dryly at the moment.


    "This..." Carlos covered his face.


    The half-orcs who were scared to death were so frightened, Roland, Reynold, and Carlos all covered their faces. How embarrassing! To tell others that they had a knight order that let three hundred orc wolf cavalry scare them out of the plain from the woods, and even prepared to unleash a flying dragon to fight... Roland took a few glances around. No outsiders, very good! Otherwise, he might consider silencing witnesses.


    "Little ones! Charge!" The soul of the King of the Mountain instantly possessed Roland, shouting slogans, spearing, and riding horses.


    "Knights! Charge!" Reynold blushed and ordered the knights to activate their charge skills. The horses rushed out in neat steps. From the sky, 100 apprentice knights under Reynold''s command rushed out, performing a difficult wall charge.


    "Boom!" The next moment, the wall of steel hit the orcs heavily.

 Chapter 10: Lost and Found

    Roland had 103 people when he arrived and 193 when he came back. Could this be the legendary art of warfare¡ªfighting to grow stronger?


    "Guys, speed up! We need to get to Rivendell!" Roland shouted, full of energy.


    "So, my lord... where is Rivendell?" Reynold asked weakly.


    "..." Roland sighed.


    "Carlos, do you know where Rivendell is?" Roland asked with a glimmer of hope.


    "Uh, maybe we should look at the map?" Carlos suggested, scratching his head.


    "So... we''re lost again?" Roland said, disbelief written on his face.


    Seeing Reynold and Carlos nod in affirmation, Roland covered his face with his hand. The last time he got lost, he was looking for Bag End Cave in Hobbiton.


    "Alright, let''s find our way..." Roland sighed.


    ¡­


    "This is the last elven refuge in the East, often called..." Gandalf raised his eyebrows and introduced, pausing for dramatic effect.


    "Rivendell!" Bilbo murmured, stunned by the beauty before him.


    "Gandalf?" An elf greeted him.


    "Ah! Lindir, I''m here to see Lord Elrond," Gandalf said.


    "Unfortunately, Lord Elrond is not here," Lindir replied.


    Just then, the sound of horse hooves echoed behind them...


    ¡­


    "When the thrush knocks, stand by the gray rock. The setting sun will shine on the keyhole with the last light of Durin''s Day," Lord Elrond read from the map in the moonlight.


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    ¡­


    Late at night, Roland and his group huddled around a campfire, scrutinizing their map, trying to make sense of the stick-figure-like drawings.


    "Sir, maybe we should just go our own way..." Reynold suggested helplessly.


    "What are you thinking? We still have ten brothers with them," Roland retorted, holding his head.


    With his current strength, Roland could easily take over a small town in the Shire and become its ruler. However, he was reluctant to give up the quest rewards of the main storyline.


    "Sign in the system!" Roland looked up at the sky. It was past midnight.


    "Sign-in successful! Reward: 100 Lagrand Empire Infantry."


    "I''m not dreaming, am I? We''re getting reinforcements!" Roland said in surprise.


    However, the infantry couldn''t ride horses. First, they were infantry units and wouldn''t improve their combat effectiveness. Second, Roland''s horse reserve was nearly depleted...


    Roland chose to summon the 100 infantry soldiers. Soon, the sound of marching feet echoed in the distance, and the vigilant Batanian archers readied their bowstrings.


    "Relax, they''re our people," Roland assured the nervous crowd. No band of wandering orcs would attack an army composed entirely of professionals unless it was an orc army.


    "My lord! Reporting for duty!" The neatly lined-up infantry clenched their fists and saluted.


    "Good work, rest now," Roland waved his hand. Someone immediately went to help set up tents. Everything was running smoothly.


    Roland took a closer look at the infantry. It was his first time observing this unit. These were the most common soldiers in the Lagrand Empire. Though they were ordinary men and mere cannon fodder in the game, they were different now.


    Thanks to the Lagrand Empire''s strong national strength, even regular infantry were well-equipped. They wore fine iron barrel helmets, lined with leather armor, and outer chainmail. They wielded five-meter-long spears and carried full-body shields inlaid with iron and leather, with steel maces hanging at their waists. They were armed to the teeth. Unfortunately, as non-professionals, they couldn''t use skills. If they faced an equal number of professional infantry, even probationary level, they would be slaughtered.


    ¡­


    After clearing the area, Roland and his group set off again. This time, they wandered in circles...


    "All right, spread out and look for the elves! If we can''t find Rivendell, maybe we can find some elves!" Roland suggested.


    "High! High! It''s a brilliant idea!" Carlos quickly flattered him.


    Reynold covered his face, embarrassed by their leader''s suggestion. It was the first time he had seen someone get lost and resort to capturing others to ask for directions.


    Meanwhile, Lindir was leading a patrol of ten elf cavalry. They climbed over hills, crossed streams, and walked through grasslands, only to find themselves surrounded. Nearly 300 armed soldiers emerged from all directions. The most fearsome were the infantry with their five-meter-long spears. The heavily armed knights cruising on the periphery looked just as intimidating.


    Lindir rode forward and shouted, "What are you doing? Are humans breaking the covenant? This is Rivendell!"


    Someone in Roland''s group couldn''t help but snicker.


    Roland''s eye twitched. He had expected Lindir to challenge him to a duel, but instead, he was waving the flag of surrender.


    "Alright, we''re looking for Rivendell! Capture them!" Roland ordered.


    "On it!" Carlos grinned and led the charge.


    "Ah! Despicable humans!"


    "Hey, don''t hit the face!"


    ¡­


    "My lord! They''ve all returned," Carlos reported happily.


    Reynold was shocked by the sight before him.


    "What did you do to them?" Roland asked, pointing to the 11 bruised and swollen elves.


    "Uh, they resisted, but we couldn''t kill them..." Carlos explained, embarrassed.


    "The Shire! The Shire!" Lindir shouted, though his words were slurred.


    "Let them go..." Roland turned around, shoulders shaking with laughter. After a moment, he composed himself and turned back.


    "Hello, could you please tell us how to get to Rivendell?" Roland asked, suppressing a smile.


    "You fools! Follow the high-speed trail!" Lindir said angrily, though his speech was barely understandable.


    "What about your lord?" Reynold asked.


    "Everyone, stay alert! Wait for more elves to come. A patrol team is missing; they must be searching for them," Roland sighed.


    "Alright!" Reynold left to set up their defenses.

 Chapter 11: Misunderstandings and Movements

    Chapter 11: Misunderstandings and Movements


    "Sir, aren''t we being too arrogant?" Reynold, who had arranged the plan, gathered his courage and approached Roland.


    "No way, I just want to find Rivendell. No harm in that," Roland shrugged helplessly.


    "I hope there won''t be any misunderstandings with the elves," Reynold said, glancing nervously at the tied-up elves struggling against their bonds.


    "Let me know when the elves arrive," Roland replied, waving his hand dismissively as he went to lie down comfortably in the shade of a tree.


    ...


    Back in Rivendell...


    "King Elrond! Linde and his reconnaissance team are missing!" an elf reported urgently.


    "When did they leave?" Elrond narrowed his eyes.


    "They set off early this morning. Linde said they were going to patrol the kingdom to prevent orc incursions. It''s been half a day with no word..."


    "Gather a search party. Let''s find Linde," Elrond commanded solemnly. "Gods, please protect them from harm..." he murmured a quick prayer.


    ...


    "Sir, something''s not right," Carlos said, shaking Roland awake.


    "What..." Roland looked up, stunned.


    "Why are we surrounded by an elf army?" Roland asked Reynold in disbelief.


    "Uh, there might be a misunderstanding," Reynold pointed to Linde and the other tied-up elves.


    "This wasn''t part of the plan!" Roland was shocked. In his mind, even if the team disappeared, the elves should have sent a smaller group to investigate, not an entire army.


    What Roland didn''t know was that the half-orcs had learned about the dwarf expedition and organized several wolf cavalry troops to intercept them. After encountering one such troop yesterday, Elrond thought the orc army was heading south and mobilized his forces to search for the enemy. Instead, they found a small group of humans resting in the shade, with Linde and his team tied up nearby. Elrond assumed the humans were preparing for war against the elves.


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    A full three thousand elf archers were lined up in the rear, and a thousand elf knights on moon deer stood at the front. Behind them, the fluctuating magic power indicated the presence of at least ten elf mages. Roland''s hundred infantrymen had their shields grounded heavily. Only then did Roland realize they were using leather-wrapped iron shields. The five-meter-long pikes pointed diagonally at the sky. The Batanian archers, having given up their mounts, hid behind the infantry to protect their fragile bodies during the battle. The knights mounted their horses, ready to engage in combat.


    "Let''s go," Roland said, knowing they couldn''t avoid this confrontation. He took Reynold and Carlos to meet the elves.


    Elrond approached on his moon deer.


    "Why did you invade elf territory and arrest our people?" Elrond''s tone was harsh.


    "King Elrond?" Roland recognized the elf king immediately.


    "You know me? I don''t recall meeting you. Where are you from? Where are you going?" Elrond asked, his eyes gleaming with a detection spell.


    "We come from the remnants of the Lagrand Empire in the East. Our homeland was destroyed," Roland said, not delving further into the painful topic.


    "We''re looking for you, King Elrond," Roland said, saluting respectfully.


    "Looking for me?" Elrond asked suspiciously.


    "More precisely, we''re looking for the group of dwarves and Gandalf who entered Rivendell," Roland explained.


    Elrond eyed Roland warily.


    "You misunderstand. We were hired by Thorin Oakenshield. Ten of our comrades are with them. We didn''t know how to reach Rivendell, so we had to resort to this," Roland said.


    "And you didn''t think to ask Linde and the others?" Elrond pointed to the bruised elves.


    "They attacked us first. We had no choice but to capture them," Roland lied smoothly.


    Elrond was speechless.


    "Can you release them now?" Elrond asked with a dark expression.


    "Of course. Carlos, release them," Roland ordered.


    "Yes, my lord!" Carlos hurried to comply. Linde''s angry shouts echoed as he was freed.


    ...


    "What? Thorin and the others left first? My people stayed?" Elrond informed Roland as they headed to Rivendell.


    "Your soldiers are loyal. They insisted on waiting for you before continuing. Thorin didn''t want to waste time and left," Elrond explained.


    "Unbelievable!" Roland was stunned. He quickly realized Thorin intended to abandon them. "King Elrond, I need your help to catch up with them!" Roland said urgently.


    "Why?" Elrond was puzzled.


    "Our movements are known to the orcs. They''ll block the dwarves in the Misty Mountains. Without our help, they''ll be slaughtered. The line of Durin will end!" Roland explained.


    "We encountered an orc attack from Gundabad. They''re watching us!" Roland added, seeing Elrond''s skepticism.


    Elrond studied Roland and then increased his pace. "Follow me."


    ...


    "My lord! We''re relieved you''re safe!" an archer greeted.


    "Thank you, Lagrand. Our lord is safe and sound!"


    "Stand down," Roland ordered.


    "King Elrond, where did the dwarves go?" Roland asked anxiously.


    "That path," Elrond pointed to a narrow mountain trail.


    "Are you kidding? Can you ride a horse there?" Roland asked in disbelief.


    "They abandoned their horses and snuck away last night," Elrond shrugged.


    "Damn it! They''re walking into a death trap! Where''s Gandalf?" Roland fumed.


    "They left Gandalf too," Elrond replied.


    Roland forced himself to calm down. Thorin''s stubbornness had disrupted his plans. "It''s late, you should rest," Elrond said, leaving Roland to his thoughts.


    Roland knew Gandalf would head to Dol Guldur, the dwarves might fall into Goblin-town, and Bilbo would still find the ring. "History''s torrent is hard to change..." Roland mused.


    Unable to sleep, he finally got up to find Carlos and Reynold.


    "Assemble the team. We''re moving out," Roland said firmly. The treasure of Lonely Mountain was within his grasp. He might even secure River Valley City.


    "Yes!" The two men nodded and left.


    "System, sign in. Give me something useful," Roland sighed.


    "Sign-in successful! Reward: 100 Lagrand Empire Infantry!"


    "Another 100 infantry?" Roland was surprised.


    ...


    "King Elrond, they took the path you indicated," Linde reported.


    "Yes, they''re gone... Shadows from the north and south... Peace in Middle-earth won''t last," Elrond sighed.

 Chapter 12: Storms and Giants

    "Full speed ahead! We''ve left them for a day!" Roland urged, his voice tinged with urgency.


    "Sir, don''t worry too much. They don''t have horses; we''re much faster than them," Carlos tried to comfort Roland.


    But as everyone turned to look at Carlos, the reality dawned on him. Good grief, they were a group of 200 heavily armed infantrymen rushing with spears and shields on their backs.


    "Yes! Forget I said anything," Carlos added sheepishly.


    The infantrymen provided to Roland by the system were fast-trained, strong-bodied, and had exceptional stamina. Long-distance raids were their forte, but outrunning cavalry was a different story.


    Carlos felt slightly offended by the realization.


    A rumble of thunder echoed through the sky, and silver streaks of lightning coiled above.


    "It''s going to rain heavily!" Renault said solemnly.


    "Perhaps everyone needs to take a break from the rain," Roland suggested, looking up at the darkening sky.


    Suddenly, a huge boulder fell from the sky, landing not far from Roland and his group. Everyone quickly raised their shields to protect themselves from the splattering gravel.


    "Someone attacked! Be alert!" Kaslow was the first to react.


    "Look up there!" Roland pointed to the valley next to them, his face paling.


    "The mountain giants!"


    "Run!" Reynold shouted.


    Everyone immediately wished for more legs as they sprinted out of the valley with all their might.


    "What''s going on? How can there be mountain giants here? Weren''t they supposed to be extinct?" Carlos said, the rain mixing with the dust and turning into muddy water on his body.


    "Who knows! It''s outrageous!" Reynold exclaimed.


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    "Are mountain giants from the evil camp or the lawful camp?" Roland asked, trying to make sense of it all.


    "They''re neutral! Those savages only seek peace. Logically, they should''ve been extinct since the First Era!" Reynold replied, puzzled.


    "Maybe they''re survivors," Carlos suggested, glancing warily at the chaotic valley behind them.


    "Were they just playing on the hillside?" Roland asked curiously.


    "Yeah, those barbarians love throwing rocks in thunderstorms. We''re really lucky..." Reynold sighed.


    Wait! Roland thought, were these the giants who threw rocks in *The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey*? They seemed at least 50 meters tall, their actions capable of destroying the world... How terrifying. Reflecting on their close encounter, Roland broke into a cold sweat.


    "Sir, we can''t move forward..." Reynold frowned.


    "It''s really too dangerous. Don''t worry, I won''t put the lives of my people at risk. The Lagrand Empire is still waiting for my revival. After all, I''m the last Lagrand lord." Roland nodded, affirming Reynold''s concerns.


    "Let everyone rest and stay vigilant. We''re in the Misty Mountains now, and the orcs could attack at any time!" Roland ordered.


    "Yes, my lord!" Reynold turned and left.


    Carlos set up the tent quickly, ushering Roland inside to prevent him from getting cold in the rain.


    "My lord, how should we proceed tomorrow?" Carlos asked.


    "Tomorrow, we''ll check if the stone giants have left. If they''re still playing there, we''ll have to take a detour. We can''t fight them," Roland replied, his head aching at the thought.


    Lying on his bed, Roland couldn''t sleep. This world seemed different from the original book, the movie, and the game. Maybe because there were no players, Middle Earth and the original book''s worldview had mixed, creating a unique world.


    "God, have pity on me. Don''t let anything go wrong in the Battle of the Five Armies," Roland prayed.


    He felt that his involvement had increased the number of orcs chasing them. Perhaps the enemy''s forces in the Battle of the Five Armies would be more powerful than expected.


    "Maybe because I changed history, I touched an important timeline," Roland pondered.


    "It has to be changed. Since history cannot be reversed, it must be altered! I will arrive on the battlefield as a reinforcement! Let this war become a Battle of the Six Armies," Roland decided firmly.


    "If I had known, I wouldn''t have left Rivendell in the middle of the night. It was so comfortable there, with the beautiful elf ladies," Roland said angrily.


    He regretted not staying longer in Rivendell, not experiencing its customs, or forming any bonds with the elf women.


    "Alas! It''s a pity! It''s a pity!" Roland regretted deeply. Now, he felt no connection to Thorin and his company. He just wanted reliable allies and a little profit... Besides, D¨¢in Ironfoot was an honest man and would make a good king of the mountain like in history. Bard the Bowman was also a good ally, and Lake-town, after his reforms, had some war potential.


    Roland planned to first build a city in the Rapids River Basin to lay the foundation of the Lagrand Kingdom. This should earn him a wave of system rewards. Roland swayed at the thought of system rewards.


    "Time is running out... It is estimated that less than 1,000 people can be saved before the war," Roland said with some regret after calculating.


    "If not thousands, then another 100 rapid-flow infantry. Anyway, give me 300 people for the rapid-flow battle formation," Roland muttered to the system in his ring.


    ¡­


    At the same time...


    "Gandalf! Quickly think of a way!" Thorin and his company, who were trapped in the pine trees by the Wargs, looked at Gandalf anxiously.


    An obscure incantation echoed, and a six-pointed star formation appeared in front of Gandalf.


    "Go!" Gandalf opened his eyes, waved his staff, and dozens of fireballs the size of human heads flew out of the hexagram, turning the land of more than 1,000 square meters in front of him and the orcs and wolves on it into scorched earth.


    "Good job, Gandalf!" Everyone cheered, the high-level spell Meteor Shower boosting their morale.


    "Uh, gentlemen, I think we can wait to cheer... It seems the orcs in front don''t want us to be too happy..." Bilbo stammered.


    "Oh! Forging above!"


    "My God..."


    Under the starry sky, the black orc wolf cavalry surrounded them, led by the pale orc Azog!


    "Impossible!" Thorin was stunned.


    "This one is mine! Kill all the others!" Azog roared.


    "Fire Seal!" Gandalf initiated the human confusion tactic from history¡ªfiring pine cones.


    Everyone lit the pine cones and threw them toward Azog and the orcs.


    "Roar!" Azog roared angrily as the Wargs, blocked by the flames, hesitated to advance.

 Chapter 13: The Goblin Pursuit

    While Thorin and his party were escaping the clutches of the goblins with Gandalf¡¯s aid, Roland found himself in a much grimmer situation.


    "Damn, where did so many goblins come from?" Carlos exclaimed, astonished at the swarm of goblins pursuing them.


    Roland grimaced, realizing that Thorin and his group had likely stirred up the goblins in the Misty Mountains. "Damn it, Thorin! You all ran away and left this mess for me!" Roland muttered, feeling the weight of the situation.


    "Retreat, retreat! Move quickly!" Roland ordered. He knew fighting back wasn''t an option; their only hope was to outrun the goblins.


    In the eastern foothills of the Misty Mountains, a remarkable sight unfolded: about 400 heavily armed humans raced through the woods, pursued by thousands of screeching goblins. It was a desperate marathon of survival.


    "Fall back!" Carlos suddenly shouted. Some of the goblins were gaining on the slower infantry. Under his command, the knights and archers turned, firing arrows to slow the goblins down. The initial volley struck true, felling dozens of goblins. The second wave of arrows from the Batanian archers was even more effective, dropping scores of goblins with precise shots to their throats and hearts.


    "Good shooting!" Roland thought, impressed by the archers¡¯ accuracy.


    "My lord! The infantry can''t keep up!" Reynold yelled.


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    Roland looked back and saw the exhausted faces of his men. "We can''t keep running like this," he thought grimly.


    "Everyone, form up!" Roland shouted.


    Reynold looked alarmed. "Is he mad?" he thought. But Roland had a plan. He had noticed the goblins were scattered and disorganized from the chase.


    "Prepare for a rapid charge formation!" Roland ordered.


    The infantry quickly formed a defensive line. The first row set their spears and shields, while the second row angled their shields to provide gaps for their own spears and readied their maces.


    "Carlos, cover us with your archers! Reynold, take the knights and look for an opening to attack!" Roland commanded.


    "Yes, my lord!" Reynold replied, leading the knights to circle around.


    "We should be near the edge of Mirkwood," Roland said to Carlos.


    Carlos checked the map. "Yes, my lord, we''re at the edge."


    Roland nodded, drawing his sword and moving to the front. "Soldiers! We can''t run anymore. We must fight back! Stand with me and show these goblins the strength of the Lagrand Empire!" Roland shouted.


    "For the glory of the Lagrand Empire! Long live the empire!" the men roared in response.


    "Charge!" Roland ordered as the goblins closed in. The first row of infantry thrust their spears, impaling the goblins who charged. The second row struck with maces, crushing any goblins that broke through.


    "Carlos, more arrows!" Roland yelled as more goblins tried to flank them.


    The Batanian archers unleashed a torrent of arrows, cutting down hundreds more goblins. The ground in front of the infantry was soon littered with goblin corpses.


    A horn sounded, and Reynold¡¯s knights charged from the flank, breaking the goblins¡¯ resolve. Seeing their comrades fall, the remaining goblins fled in disarray.


    "Forward!" Roland commanded, leading a charge to finish off the stragglers. The infantry and archers advanced, pushing the goblins back. The Batanian archers, no longer needing their bows, drew their short swords and joined the melee.


    "Is this really a battle?" Roland mused, surveying the aftermath.


    "Over 2,000 goblins lie here... Can we call this a victory?" Reynold asked, wiping blood from his sword.


    "Numbers count," Roland replied, though he was still unsure.


    "Congratulations, host, on an excellent battle! The ratio of casualties between the enemy and our forces is 2457:0. The reward is 100 infantrymen."


    "System, well done!" Roland thought, thrilled at the much-needed reinforcement.


    "All units, prepare to move out! Our target is the Lonely Mountain!" Roland commanded, feeling a surge of determination.


    As the 100 new infantrymen joined his ranks, Roland looked towards the horizon. The final battle awaited, and he intended to face it head-on.

 Chapter 14: The Perils of the Old Forest Road

    Roland and his party planned to traverse the Old Forest Road and ascend the Lonely Mountain along the river. This route had the advantage of bypassing the Woodland Realm, avoiding conflict with the wood elves who excelled in guerrilla tactics. For Roland¡¯s cavalry-heavy force, moving through dense jungle would be a nightmare.


    Their march was methodical: infantry with large shields formed the outer ring, Lagrand knights and Batanian archers were positioned in the middle, and Roland led the team with Reynold, while Carlos kept to his habitual position at the rear.


    "Why are there so many cobwebs on this road?" one infantryman grumbled as he disentangled his spear.


    "Who knows! These webs are huge¡ªcould they be from spider monsters?" another infantryman speculated.


    "Maybe... but we''ve got a hundred master knights here, so what¡¯s to worry about?" the first soldier replied.


    "Still, the surroundings feel off," an infantryman said warily.


    "Huh?" Roland turned, sensing the unease spreading through his men. "Reynold, what do you think?"


    "There''s definitely something wrong here, my lord," Reynold responded without hesitation.


    "Then why are you so relaxed?" Roland¡¯s eyes widened. He knew the dark forest was infested with giant spiders. Was Reynold suggesting they just march into their lair?


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    "It''s just a low-level demonic beast, the shadow spider," Reynold replied nonchalantly.


    Low-level or not, Roland knew even minor demonic beasts could be troublesome. "Even low-level monsters can be dangerous! Not everyone is a knight commander like you," he muttered.


    "Keep your eyes open, everyone," Roland ordered, feeling a bit more at ease.


    "My lord! The cobwebs are getting thicker!" a swift-flowing infantryman reported.


    "We''re not walking into a spider''s nest, are we?" Reynold asked, his face pale.


    "Is this path really safe?" Carlos inquired, looking worried.


    Roland felt a surge of irritation. "If there''s an issue, blame King Elron! It¡¯s his map!"


    "Or maybe it''s not Elron''s fault," Reynold interjected. "The spread of evil here might be worse than we thought. If spiders can web up Esgaroth, it means east and west haven''t communicated for a long time¡­ Esgaroth could be abandoned."


    "Everyone, battle formation!" Roland commanded, taking a deep breath.


    "Another fight?" Carlos asked, catching up to the reformed team.


    "This road is infested with spiders, and we need to get through now," Roland explained.


    "Can''t we detour?" Reynold asked, frowning.


    "It''s too late! We''re on a tight schedule," Roland replied, thinking about the upcoming Battle of Five Armies.


    "Are you afraid of spiders? You''re a dragon knight! Call your dragon!" Roland suddenly remembered Carlos¡¯s hidden trump card.


    Carlos, realizing his oversight, dismounted and took out his dragon flute. The melodious sound echoed, and a gust of wind tore through the sky. A dragon appeared, roaring as it landed heavily, causing the warhorses to neigh and rear in fright.


    "Kaldor, long time no see," Carlos said, patting his dragon¡¯s head.


    "Roar!" The dragon responded, its tail swishing joyfully, reminding Roland more of a happy dog than a fearsome beast.


    "Take to the skies and clear the path!" Roland ordered, his voice filled with determination.


    The giant spiders that had taken residence on the Old Forest Road soon faced relentless attacks. Wind blades from above sliced them to pieces, while Roland''s men burned cobwebs and cleared the way. The spiders, not prepared for such a coordinated assault, fled or died trying to resist.


    Surviving spiders watched with their eight eyes, tears streaming as they realized they couldn¡¯t touch the dragon or the heavily armored soldiers below. Their stealth abilities were useless against the paladins who sensed them like beacons in the night. Any attempt to attack was met with spear thrusts or holy sword strikes.


    Roland¡¯s luck held as they passed through the dark forest, unaware that they narrowly missed encountering an orc army from Dol Guldur.


    "A dragon?" Azog muttered, looking skyward. He hadn''t known a dragon was here but hadn''t seen the dragon rider. He shook his head, focusing on his goal: tasting the blood of the dwarf king.

 Chapter 15: The Return to Long Lake

    The Long Lake..." The group emerging from the woods stared at the expansive river before them.


    "Plop!" A knight dismounted and knelt, followed by the rest of the party. Roland watched, surprised, as they all knelt with red eyes. Reynold grabbed a handful of soil from the riverbank and pressed it to his chest, weeping openly.


    "Long Lake! Lagrand''s people are back!" Reynold cried out, his voice breaking.


    Tears flowed freely among the group. The empire''s fall had left them scattered and homeless. Today, they finally returned to the land of their ancestors.


    "For the revival of the empire!" An infantryman stood and shouted.


    "For the Empire!"


    "Long live Lagrand!"


    Roland observed in silence. Though these men had seemed distant, almost like NPCs, he now felt deeply connected to them. They were real, with flesh and blood, capable of pain, joy, and death. They were his people, his family, and Lagrand''s last hope.


    "Rise up... Let''s reclaim the northern jewel of the empire¡ªEsgaroth!" Roland declared, narrowing his eyes with determination.


    Roland knew Esgaroth wasn¡¯t part of Lagrand¡¯s territory yet, but with his strength, he intended to claim it. A lord without land was hardly a lord, and Esgaroth¡¯s thousand inhabitants would form the foundation of his new empire.


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    "Wait! Smaug¡¯s death should be imminent..." Roland suddenly realized the urgency. If Esgaroth fell to Smaug, his plans would crumble.


    "Everyone, move out! Quick march!" Roland commanded sharply.


    ...


    Meanwhile, Thorin had reached Lake Town, staying in Bard''s house and paying gold for weapons.


    "Is this all? We paid gold for proper weapons, not these makeshift tools!" grumbled the dwarves, eyeing the modified hammers and harpoons.


    The dwarves¡¯ outburst frightened Bard¡¯s children, Baan and his two daughters.


    "Thorin, let''s make do with these for now," Bilbo suggested. "We¡¯ve managed with worse."


    ...


    Forming a swift formation, Roland¡¯s infantry scattered a group of orcs, swiftly moving through the dark forest.


    "Death!" A Batanian archer felled an orc with a precise shot to the eye.


    "Move quickly!" Roland ordered.


    "Knights, stay together! Disperse the orcs and leave the rest to the infantry!" Reynold shouted.


    "Archers, target any orcs breaching the line! Don¡¯t delay¡ªwe''re short on time!" Roland urged.


    "Bang!" Roland¡¯s sword cleaved through an orc¡¯s neck as he rode past.


    "My lord, the dark forest is infested with orcs!" Reynold exclaimed.


    "Then we cut through them! No one halts the Knights¡¯ advance or Lagrand¡¯s revival!" Roland roared, covered in orc blood, his once golden armor now a grim purple-black.


    The infantry formed a phalanx, spears bristling from their shields. They pushed forward relentlessly.


    "These orcs are like cockroaches. Hundreds of them already!" Carlos panted.


    With Roland and Reynold¡¯s divine inspiration¡ªa paladin skill boosting morale and stamina¡ªthe troops pressed on despite their exhaustion.


    "Holy Inspiration!" Roland cast the aura over the infantry, their hurried steps becoming more coordinated.


    "Keep going! Esgaroth is just ahead!" Roland encouraged.


    A silver light suddenly illuminated them¡ªthe reflection of Esgaroth¡¯s waters.


    "Huh! Esgaroth!" someone exclaimed.


    "It''s Esgaroth! The Pearl of the North!"


    "We''re here!"


    Excitement rippled through the ranks as they beheld the shimmering city.


    "But how do we cross?" A voice cut through the cheers, bringing silence.


    "My lord, we need a way to cross the river. We¡¯re exhausted," Reynold said solemnly.


    Roland sighed in relief, remembering his contingency plan. He summoned ten Galen boats from his storage space, to the cheers of his men.


    "Board the boats!" Roland ordered.


    The men leapt into the lake, washing off blood as they swam to the boats. Some chopped wood to create a makeshift dock for their war horses.


    "Is everyone aboard?" Roland asked.


    "All accounted for, my lord!" Carlos assured him.


    "Set sail!"


    Under the sun, the city of Esgaroth loomed ahead.


    "Esgaroth, I¡¯m coming," Roland whispered, eyes fixed on their goal.

 Chapter 16: The Dawn of Conflict

    Early in the morning, after the carnival last night, the dwarf king Thorin Oakenshield set off with the expedition under the cheers of the people in Long Lake Town. Kili, due to injuries, stayed behind, with Fili and two others remaining to care for him. Bofur missed the boat because of his drunkenness. The dwarves'' expedition to the Lonely Mountain was about to reach its final destination.


    ...


    "My Lord, Esgaroth is in front of us. What should we do?" Reynold asked, unsure.


    "Let''s see how things unfold," Roland replied. "If they resist, we''ll deal with the resistance accordingly."


    Reynold hesitated, then nodded. "As you wish, my lord." Reynold''s acceptance signaled his recognition of Roland''s authority. Roland''s decisiveness earned the support of his people.


    As the morning mist cloaked their approach, the group quietly rowed their boats toward the outskirts of the town.


    "Move swiftly," Carlos instructed, his eyes sharp.


    The board fell, and agile archers leapt down, abandoning their longbows for long swords. They quickly occupied nearby wooden buildings. The residents, still waking up, were bewildered and stunned as swords were pressed to their necks.


    "You... you... who are you?" an old man asked, trembling.


    "We are warriors from hell," Reynold responded with a grim smile.


    "For the king," he muttered to himself.


    "Everyone, off the boats, quickly!" Reynold ordered.


    ...


    They disembarked before the town guards could react. Roland waved his hand, and the boats disappeared back into his storage space.


    "Find someone to lead us to the town hall," Roland commanded. Knowing the plot well, he was aware that the mayor and his crony, Aifud, were obstacles that needed to be removed.


    "Ha!" Several infantrymen formed a shield wall, surrounding the guards who arrived in response. Other infantrymen placed their spears over the shields, aiming at the panicked guards.


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    "Are you going to move?" Roland taunted. The guards, overwhelmed by fear, could only hold their weapons awkwardly, forced back by the advancing spears.


    Drawing his sword, Roland let the golden light play along the blade. "So, gentlemen, where is your mayor?" he asked with a devilish smile.


    ...


    "Boom!" The shield wall crashed onto the square in front of the mayor''s hall, causing the wooden planks to creak under the weight.


    The guards, clustered before the mayor''s gate, trembled as they pointed their weapons at Roland and his men. Their panic was evident, with shaking hands and unsteady legs.


    "No one can stay calm with 200 bows and arrows aimed at them," Roland thought, observing the scene. "So, do you want war or peace?" he asked nonchalantly, raising his sword.


    "What are you doing?" the mayor demanded, emerging from the hall with Aifud.


    "How do you think your rule is going?" Roland asked, genuinely curious about the mayor''s audacity.


    "I''m the legal ruler of Esgaroth. You have no right to interfere!" the mayor insisted.


    "Do these soldiers give you confidence?" Roland gestured toward the guards.


    "Are you all willing to die for him?" Roland asked, tapping the guards with his sword.


    "This is your last chance. Drop your weapons and go home, or else..." Roland smiled as the knights and archers behind him radiated fighting spirit. Reynold''s aura extended four feet, a terrifying sight.


    "Ding, ding, bang!" Weapons fell to the ground.


    "Knight... Sergeant..." someone whispered, hands and feet cold.


    "Boom!" The crowd scattered. Roland, watching them flee, focused back on the mayor.


    "You were a ruler, but now...?" Roland taunted.


    "No... no..." the mayor stammered.


    "Isn''t this Aifud? Why are you shaking?" Roland mocked.


    "Forget it, just kill them," Roland said, waving his hand. A shot from Reynold''s Sword Judgment skill turned several people into piles of ash.


    ...


    "You are Bard?" Roland asked the tough-faced man before him.


    "Yes. Why are you here?" Bard replied warily, looking at Reynold.


    "My name is Roland," he introduced himself. "Bard the marksman, descendant of King Girion? How did you become a fisherman and hunter?" Roland joked, glancing at Bard''s two frightened daughters.


    "We live happily now," Bard said, looking at his family.


    "I just killed the mayor and his men. Do you have any suggestions?" Roland asked.


    "What about the ordinary guards?" Bard asked.


    "You are indeed a qualified lord," Roland praised.


    "No, I''m just an ordinary man now," Bard replied.


    "But you will eventually be crowned king," Roland said meaningfully.


    Roland, realizing the true situation in the town, decided to leave Bard in charge. Smaug was coming, and Roland knew he couldn''t stop the dragon alone. It was better to leave the town in Bard''s capable hands.


    ...


    "Half-orc!" A Batenian archer exclaimed, sending an arrow through the orc''s eye socket.


    "Alert!" officers in the town called out.


    "Elf?" Carlos was surprised to see Legolas fighting the orcs.


    ...


    "Oh no!" Roland remembered the impending orc attack and rushed to Bard''s house. With Bard not imprisoned, the half-orc warriors were a significant threat.


    "Uh, are you all right? The dwarves will be happy to see you again!" Roland greeted everyone.


    "Bard, we need to evacuate the town. Smaug is coming. You must lead the people to the valley beneath the Lonely Mountain," Roland urged.


    "What about you?" Bard asked.


    "I''m going to secure my army. My archers will stay to hold off Smaug," Roland replied.


    "Remember to come back. Your ancestors shot Smaug. You need to settle your grievances," Roland encouraged Bard.


    ...


    "Reynold, lead the knights and infantry out. Archers, stay behind to snipe Smaug. Kaslow, follow me," Roland ordered.


    "My lord, let me stay!" Reynold protested.


    "Don''t worry. The team is in good hands. We have adamantine armor to protect us from the dragon''s breath. Smaug can''t harm us," Roland assured him.


    ...


    "Hi! Roland, I''m back!" Bard returned after arranging for his family and the dwarves to leave.


    "Good. Show me the black arrow. It''s one of the few weapons that can slay dragons," Roland said, curious.


    Bard handed him the black arrow. "It''s so long! It could be a spear," Roland remarked.


    "Look at the Lonely Mountain," Bard said, pointing.


    In the dark night, the mountain glowed with the light of Smaug''s fiery breath.


    "The dragon is coming," Roland said, narrowing his eyes.

 Chapter 17: The Battle for Long Lake

    "Carlos! Get everyone to distract the dragon and create an opening for Bard," Roland commanded.


    "Right away! Tell the boys... They''re brave, but make sure they protect themselves." Roland stopped Carlos, who was about to leave, and added, "And tell them to aim for the loose scales on the bottom of the left flank. Use the Star Silver Steel Armor-piercing Arrows!" he shouted after Carlos.


    "You''re acting more like an overprotective parent than a lord," Bud remarked.


    "As the last lord of Lagrand, I have a duty to my people," Roland replied firmly.


    "But, where is Lagrand?" Bud asked, puzzled.


    "In the far east," Roland answered curtly, not wanting to delve into the past.


    Bud, interpreting Roland''s silence as a sign of painful memories, didn''t press further. He couldn''t know Roland was struggling with an unexplainable truth about Lagrand''s existence in Middle-earth.


    "I hope your aim is true; otherwise, we''ll have to fight him up close," Roland said, drawing his sword.


    Bud looked at the weapon in awe. "What''s this?"


    "An ancestral sword. It''s slain many dragons, though none as fearsome as Smaug," Roland explained.


    "Let''s go set up the dwarf spear launcher," Roland said abruptly. "We won''t stand a chance without it."


    ...


    Roland and Bud struggled to secure the dwarf spear launcher with a rope. "Keep it hidden and safe. If it''s destroyed, we''re done for," Roland said, patting the heavy crossbow.


    ...


    "I am fire, I am death!" Smaug roared as he flew towards Long Lake Town.


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    "Dragon incoming!" shouted a Batenian archer.


    "Release the arrows!" Several archers echoed, launching their armor-piercing arrows.


    Most arrows bounced off Smaug''s scales, but one found its mark, slipping between two scales. "Roar! Damn ants! You can actually hurt me!" Smaug bellowed, furious.


    A column of dragon fire swept through the town, forcing the archers to dive into the water or hide in alleys.


    "Shoot!" More arrows flew as Smaug swooped over Long Lake Town again. Some pierced his scales but failed to cause serious harm.


    "We can''t penetrate his hide!" a Batenian archer shouted as Smaug turned to dive.


    "Boom!" Dragon flames engulfed the archers'' previous positions.


    Carlos returned, looking grim. His armor bore scorch marks from dragon fire. "It''s too hard to kill! This dragon is tougher than any giant dragon I''ve seen!"


    "Should I try to fight him head-on?" Carlos whispered.


    "Don''t be foolish. You''d just be a target," Roland replied sternly. "Tell the men to retreat once their arrows are spent."


    "We can only create a distraction. The armor-piercing arrows are too short..." Roland sighed, watching Smaug rampage.


    "Bard! Not yet!" Roland shouted, seeing Bard ready the heavy crossbow. "We only have one shot. We need to make it count. Think of your ancestors, Bard!"


    "Damn it!" Bard punched the wall in frustration.


    ...


    "Look at what we''ve caused," Bilbo lamented as he watched Long Lake Town burn.


    "Poor people..." Balin murmured.


    The dwarves sat despondent, their faces illuminated by the distant flames. Thorin stood silently, staring at the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo glanced at him but said nothing.


    ...


    "My quiver''s empty!" a Batenian archer called out.


    "Me too!"


    "I''ve got a few left. Share them around!" another archer shouted.


    The archers began to retreat, moving to the outskirts of the town and rowing away in small boats hidden earlier.


    "Most of the archers are out of arrows," Carlos reported.


    Smaug continued his rampage, his flames boiling the town''s waterways.


    "Bud, get the bowstring! We need to draw Smaug''s attention," Roland ordered, leading the remaining archers.


    Smaug''s body was riddled with arrows, yet he remained unscathed.


    "Shoot him!" Roland commanded.


    The sound of arrows hitting scales rang out. Enraged, Smaug turned and charged at Roland and his men.


    "Boom!" Smaug''s landing crushed a row of houses, and he strode towards them.


    The archers fired their last arrows, then drew their swords and hammers.


    "Oh? Tiny humans? Without your bows, what will you do?" Smaug sneered.


    Roland signaled to Bard, who quietly prepared the spear launcher. Smaug, unaware, focused on Roland.


    Bud spotted the loose scales and took aim. "For the glory of River Valley! For mankind! Die, Smaug!" he shouted, releasing the black arrow.


    Roland and his men dove for cover as Smaug unleashed his flames. The black arrow struck true.


    Smaug roared in agony, struggled to fly, and crashed down heavily.


    ...


    "He fell?" Bilbo asked, astonished.


    "I saw him fall!" Balin exclaimed.


    "Smaug is dead!" The cheer spread among the townspeople.


    ...


    "Well done!" Roland said, emerging from the ruins and patting Bud on the back.


    "He¡¯s really dead?" Bud asked, still in disbelief.


    "You''ve restored your family''s honor," Roland praised.


    "But Long Lake Town is destroyed..." Bud lamented.


    "At least the people are safe. We can rebuild," Roland said with a reassuring smile, stepping onto a small boat. "Coming with me?"


    "Of course," Bud replied, joining him.


    "Wait, I almost forgot! We need to salvage Smaug''s remains," Roland said, running towards the dragon''s corpse, knowing its value.


    "Congratulations on completing the quest: The Battle of Smaug! Reward: Temple Priest."

 Chapter 18: Uncharted Fortunes

    "Congratulations to the host for unlocking the new function - shop! Please pay attention to check." Roland opened the system to the shop, but his study was interrupted by Bud.


    "It all feels like a dream," Bud said, staring at the sea of fire behind him in disbelief.


    "Yeah, such a big town... overnight..." Roland echoed, filled with emotion.


    "Let''s go!" Roland handed the reins of a horse to Bud.


    "Why aren''t we leaving?" Bud asked, puzzled.


    "I need to wait for my soldiers. River State City needs you, King Bard!" Roland called out after him.


    ...


    "Carlos! Bring all the horses. Let''s find our archers!" Roland instructed Carlos, who gathered the horses and began searching for the remaining archers along the lake''s shore.


    "Here!" An archer climbed up from the shore, exhausted and lying flat on the ground.


    "Come on, man! We have to search for the others!" Carlos encouraged him.


    "Quick, quick, quick! Time is life! Spread out and look for our brothers!" Roland urged, using all his strength to find the shooters who had escaped.


    ...


    "Thank you, Dragon God! May Lagrand''s glory bless you!" Roland addressed the group, who could now be called soldiers.


    In the Battle of Smaug, the Batanian archers had miraculously survived, save for a few who died when houses collapsed. Their excellent physical fitness helped them recover quickly.


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    "Let''s rest, everyone. It''s been a long day," Roland said, leading the group into the woods.


    "My lord, aren''t we going to Lonely Mountain? The dwarves owe you a lot of money!" Carlos, Roland''s first squire, reminded him.


    "To Lonely Mountain?" Roland looked at Carlos strangely. "I don''t plan to go there now. It''s too dangerous. We don''t know if the dwarves and elves will fight first. If they do, who do we help? The whole Lonely Mountain is a trap!"


    Roland shook his head, dismissing the thought. He turned his attention to the new system function. A light curtain appeared before him, showing the new function - the shop. It displayed 12 different products daily, purchasable through wealth value. Roland frowned at his wealth value: 5.


    After some fiddling, he discovered the conversion rate: 10,000 gold coins equaled 1 wealth value.


    "Hehe, poverty limits my imagination!" Roland realized he couldn''t afford even the cheapest item. The Dragon Hunter cost 10 wealth points. A Forbidden Curse scroll required one million wealth points, which forced Roland to recognize his limitations.


    Roland dismissed the system light curtain and stepped out of his tent, looking at the burning Long Lake Town in the distance, sighing softly.


    "Sir, when can we go back to Lagrand City?" Reynold asked quietly.


    "Lagrand City has been gone for years..." Roland could only use white lies to dissuade Reynold. He couldn''t tell him Lagrand City doesn''t exist.


    "Lagrand City was the capital of the Lagrang Empire," Roland explained. "Built on the north bank of the Rapid River and Red River confluence, it was majestic with nine city walls. The Lagrand Empire stationed 13 dragon knights, royal guards, and paladins there. The city guards were the most powerful and sophisticated non-professional units."


    "Lost people may need the guidance of the Holy Light of Lagrand..." A crisp female voice came through the dark night.


    Roland''s expression changed to joy, while Reynold quietly drew his sword, looking at the white-robed figure warily.


    "Ivy, the priest of the Lagrand Empire, at your service." The visitor greeted with a salute.


    "Temple priest? Which god do you worship?" Reynold asked, curious.


    "May the Dragon God bless you," Ivy replied, a pure white holy light falling from her.


    "A priest of the Temple of the Dragon God?" Roland showed interest.


    "Carlos! Arrange a tent for Miss Ivy!" Roland shouted.


    Carlos reluctantly crawled out of the tent, sleepy-eyed, and went to set up the tent.


    "Okay, everyone, rest early. There might be a battle tomorrow," Roland said, looking at the familiar faces around him, his heart sinking. He didn''t know how many would still be there if they fought tomorrow.


    ...


    History seemed to repeat itself. The elves came to River Valley, Bilbo gave the Arken gem to Bard and the others, and Thranduil and Bard arrived at Lonely Mountain with their men.


    "You want peace or war?" Bud gave the ultimatum.


    Thorin glanced at the eastern mountains and solemnly said, "I choose war!"


    "Boom~Boom~" Heavy steps sounded as the Ironfoot Army of the Dwarf King Dain from Ironhill appeared on the hillside.


    "Oh roar! The raven spread our news to the dwarves all over Middle-earth!" The dwarves in Elub City cheered.


    Meanwhile, the orcs were also approaching Lonely Mountain.


    Roland and his party slowly marched towards Lonely Mountain.


    A war at Lonely Mountain, destined to be different from history, was about to begin.


    ?

 Chapter 19: The Battle of the Five Armies

    The elves, led by Thranduil, prepared to face the dwarves of Iron Hill. Suddenly, the ground shook, and monstrous creatures emerged.


    "They''ve forgotten about the giant earth snakes," Azog said grimly.


    Black orcs burst forth, shields raised, weapons in hand, charging at the elves, dwarves, and humans.


    "The devils are upon us!" Ironfoot Dain shouted, pulling his mount''s reins.


    "Fight! Fight, descendants of Turin!" he roared.


    The dwarves, who were poised to fight the elf army, turned to face the new threat, forming a shield wall.


    "Why aren''t the elves fighting?" Bilbo asked Gandalf.


    "Thranduil! You cannot do this!" Gandalf shouted.


    Thranduil hesitated, glancing back at the dwarven army.


    ...


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    "Speed up! We need to assess the battlefield!" Roland commanded, seeking a strategic vantage point. He wasn''t willing to commit to a losing battle and risk his men''s lives unnecessarily.


    "We need to circle to the left!" Roland directed. Approaching from the rear or right would be suicidal, given the orc reinforcements and Azog''s command post.


    The orcs slammed into the dwarven shield wall, but the sunlight glinted off the blades of elven rangers.


    Elven rangers, highly skilled and well-armed, cut through the orcs like a hot knife through butter. Thranduil had committed nearly 1,000 rangers, their skills turning the tide.


    "Kill! For the glory of Turin!" The dwarves, buoyed by the support, pressed forward, unleashing their combat skills.


    Elven archers released a barrage of arrows, stalling the orc advance and creating a gap in their lines.


    ...


    "This is a slaughter," Roland muttered, observing the carnage.


    "Sir, are we really going to fight?" Reynold asked, fearing for their lives.


    "We have to recover our commission. The capital we started with is in that mountain," Roland replied, eyeing the treasure within Erebor.


    "Let''s assess the situation first." Roland counted the forces: around 4,000 elves, 1,000 dwarves, and 500 human soldiers from Lake-town.


    "But there are at least 15,000 orcs," Carlos pointed out.


    "And reinforcements from Gundabad Fortress," Roland sighed. He didn''t want to get involved, but the potential wealth was tempting.


    ...


    "They can''t fight on two fronts! Attack River Valley!" Azog ordered, aiming to divide the coalition forces.


    Humans would defend River Valley, dwarves Erebor, but the elves couldn''t be everywhere. Azog''s plan to split the battlefield was working.


    "Withdraw to River Valley!" Bard ordered as orcs charged toward the town.


    "Retreat to River Valley!" Thranduil commanded, leading a tactical retreat covered by elven archers.


    In front of Erebor''s gates, only the dwarves remained, their space shrinking.


    "Thorin! Where is he? We need him!" Dain searched frantically for his cousin.


    An orc''s blade struck Dain''s mount, toppling him. He fought on foot, crushing orc skulls with his warhammer.


    A tall troll cleaved a dwarf berserker in two. The battle was brutal, the dwarves struggling to hold their ground.


    "Thorin! Thorin¡ª" Dain shouted desperately, but Thorin was lost in the dragon''s gold curse.


    ...

 Chapter 20: The Desperate Retreat

    "Retreat!" Thranduil shouted, his voice filled with anger and desperation as he saw his people falling to the Orcs.


    A powerful wood-based energy gathered around him, and a blue crescent moon formed behind him.


    "Bang!" Thranduil released the crescent moon, which flew around the battlefield with deadly precision. Orcs within a fifty-meter radius of Thranduil were cut down mercilessly.


    "An Elf Stalker? The highest-level ranger?" Even Roland and his party, observing from a hillside, were struck by the sight of the crescent moon.


    "The Moon of the Hunt," Kaslow explained. "It¡¯s a unique combat skill of the Stalker. The crescent moon automatically targets marked enemies within fifty meters."


    "The Woodland Kingdom is more formidable than I thought," Roland remarked, impressed by the elven power. Elves, with their long lifespans, could become highly skilled professionals, unlike their human counterparts. Thranduil had brought nearly 5,000 elven professionals to the battlefield, though their low population and poor fertility rates were a significant drawback.


    "Ow!" Giant trolls emerged, carrying small trebuchets on their backs. They braced their arms on the ground to steady the trebuchets, and orcs loaded boulders into them.


    "Boom!" Boulders crashed into River Valley City, sending elven archers and human soldiers flying. The walls crumbled under the onslaught.


    "Kill! For the Goddess of the Forest!" An elf ranger, seeing his comrades in peril, charged into the fray.


    "Hold the line!" Human defenders with spears fought desperately to repel the orcs scaling the crumbling walls.


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    A troll, with a battering ram mounted on its head, charged the outer wall, breaking it down and creating a wide breach.


    "Abandon the walls! Prepare for street fighting!" Bard ordered, his voice heavy with sorrow.


    "Bahn! Take the women and children to the church!" Bard instructed his panicked son.


    ¡­


    Under the city of Erebor, Ironfoot Dain led his dwindling forces in a desperate stand against the orcs.


    "Duh duh!" The dwarven crossbows unleashed a rain of arrows, momentarily halting the orc advance.


    "Roar!" Dwarf berserkers, lost in their battle frenzy, cut through orcs with brutal efficiency.


    "Thorin! Where are you? We need you!" Dain called out, but his cousin was lost to the lure of the dragon¡¯s gold, laughing among the wealth while his kin died outside.


    ¡­


    "Bang!" Thranduil, atop his moon deer, charged through the orcs, slashing them down. But the moon deer stumbled, throwing Thranduil off. He saw the iron swords embedded in its chest¡ªthis area was overrun by orcs.


    "Heh," Thranduil sneered, drawing his double-edged blade. A dozen orcs surrounded him but fell swiftly to his deadly skill.


    He moved through the city, anger boiling as he saw the fallen elves. Each orc he encountered met a swift, brutal end.


    Finally, he found a group of elves making a last stand. Thranduil joined them, cutting down orcs with precise, merciless strikes.


    "Gather our troops!" Thranduil commanded. "Let''s get out of this hellish place!" He had hoped to retrieve the elves'' treasured white gem but had been overwhelmed by the orcs. Nearly a thousand elves had died.


    "You can''t do this! You can''t leave!" Gandalf appeared before Thranduil.


    "My people have bled enough for this land!" Thranduil replied coldly, unwilling to sacrifice more elves for dwarves and humans.


    "Dwarves and humans still need us!" Gandalf pleaded.


    ¡­


    "Forget it, retreat," Roland sighed. The battlefield was too chaotic. Involving his men in such a mess would likely lead to their annihilation.


    "Why? Aren''t we staying to fight?" Reynold asked, surprised.


    Roland explained, "We have no chance of winning. Even with dragon knights, it''s not enough. Orc reinforcements from Gundabad are on their way. We can¡¯t turn the tide."


    The group fell silent, understanding the truth but reluctant to abandon their allies.


    "Sorry, my king. This may be the first and last time I disobey your orders," Reynold said, saluting. "Soldiers of Lagrand! The glory of our ancestors flows in our blood! Maybe today we will fail, but the will of the Empire will never perish! We will fight!"


    "For the glory of the empire!"


    "Long live Lagrand!"


    "The Swift River shelters you and me!"


    "Use my longbow to point the way forward!"


    The men, inspired by Reynold''s speech, readied themselves for battle.


    "Maybe you''re right," Roland said quietly. He watched his men, understanding their resolve.


    "Then, let''s go to war!" Roland drew his sword and mounted his horse, leading his men into the fray.

 Chapter 21: Battle for Glory

    "Today... we may have no survivors, but history will remember us! We stand by our glory and faith!" Roland shouted, his voice echoing across the battlefield.


    "Lagrand''s flag may fall! The Empire may never be reborn! People may forget your name! But today, I want you to charge with me! To hell! To death! To the end of the world!" Roland''s roar was met with a thunderous response.


    "For the glory of the empire! Kill!" he cried, raising the Dragon Sword high. The crowd erupted in a frenzy.


    "Blow the horn of war! Tell everyone... The Emperor of Lagrand is here!" Roland commanded Carlos.


    "Yes, my lord!" Carlos responded, pulling a dragon horn from his armor. The deep, resonant sound of the horn cut through the chaos of the battlefield, capturing everyone''s attention, even Azog on Raven Hill.


    In the east, under the sunlight, silhouettes appeared on the hills, and a huge golden dragon flag with a red background waved proudly.


    "Who are they?" Azog growled, confused.


    "It''s Lord Lagrand! Roland?" Bard, standing on an observation deck, recognized the flag.


    "Oh! It''s Sir Roland!" Bilbo exclaimed.


    "There''s still hope in this battle. The mysterious lord has finally come with an army..." Gandalf smiled, having foreseen this moment.


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    "Roland! They''re alive!" The dwarves on the walls of Elub City cheered.


    "Who are they?" Thranduil asked, unfamiliar with the flag.


    "Aha! Children! Reinforcements are here!" Ironfoot Dain roared, seeing the approaching army.


    ¡­


    "Here we are..." Reynold sang softly.


    Roland, riding his warhorse, was momentarily stunned. He remembered that "StarSky" had been purchased as Lagrand''s battle song to accompany their soldiers.


    "Riding the sky, painting the night with sun..." the knights joined in the song.


    The horses moved in time with the singing, their hoofbeats becoming brisk. Under Roland and Reynold''s lead, 100 Lagrand knights galloped forward. The sacred halo of the knights cast buffs on the infantry and archers.


    As the knights moved ahead, Batenian archers on heavily armed shire horses were revealed, followed by rapid infantry in formation, shields and spears at the ready.


    In the terrified eyes of their enemies, a dragon''s roar echoed through the sky. Carlos joined the fray on his dragon.


    "A dragon! No, a four-legged dragon!" Thranduil gasped in shock.


    "Ang!" The dragon''s storm blade struck the ground, leaving a trail of destruction.


    "Kill!" Roland''s knights charged into the orc flank, their lances cutting down hundreds of orcs. The iron hooves trampled the remaining orcs, leaving a bloody trail.


    Carlos swooped down, his dragon spear piercing the orcs'' defenses. Wind-element magic tore through their ranks.


    "No!" Azog roared from Raven Hill, watching the battle turn against him.


    Carlos continued his aerial assaults, while the knights regrouped and charged again.


    ¡­


    "Accompanied by the battle song, the swift infantry slammed into the orc army, cutting down their enemies. Batenian archers protected the Templar Priest Ivy, their precise shots suppressing the orcs'' flanks.


    The holy knights, returning from their charge, met the infantry. Roland ordered them towards River Valley City.


    "Quickly, to River Valley City!" he commanded.


    The swift infantry followed the gap created by the knights, rushing towards the city before the orcs could regroup.


    Roland''s maneuver stabilized the dwarves'' position, but he saw the danger to the human and elf coalition in River Valley City. The swift infantry could reinforce the elven archers, who were vulnerable to the orcs'' brute strength.


    "Boom boom boom~" The sound of approaching orc reinforcements filled the air.


    "My lord! Orc reinforcements are here! At least 20,000!" Kaslow reported, flying past Roland.


    "Ang!" Carlos and his dragon fought the war bats of Gundabad.


    "Brothers! Form a formation! Stop them!" The swift infantry turned to face the new threat.


    "Bang!" The stone wall was smashed open as Thorin Oakenshield and his dwarves broke free of the dragon''s curse.


    "Kill!" Thorin led the charge, followed by his kin.


    "Brother, I''ve been waiting for you! What took you so long?" Ironfoot Dain greeted Thorin, embracing him joyfully.

 Chapter 22: The Last Stand

    "Thorin!" Roland nodded when he saw Thorin rushing out.


    "Sir Roland, I thank you on behalf of the Turin family in the name of the King under the Mountain!" Thorin said gratefully.


    "You''re welcome, we have a contract after all." Roland tried to sound indifferent. He didn''t want Thorin to know that if things went badly with Reynold, he planned to take his men and leave.


    "Azog!" Thorin Oakenshield gritted his teeth, staring in the direction of Raven Hill.


    "Give it up, we still don''t have the strength to break through," Roland said, glancing at the exhausted dwarves around him.


    Kind-hearted Ivy was holding her staff high, white healing light pouring down from its top. The dwarves within a hundred meters suddenly felt lighter as their wounds healed rapidly.


    Roland glanced at Ivy. An area-based healing spell? he thought, impressed. Finding such a talent among temple priests is rare. It seems I''ll need to protect her and perhaps train a few more apprentices to form a dedicated medical team.


    "Roland! Can you lead the knights to drive away the orcs and take me and my men to Raven Hill?" Thorin asked anxiously.


    "Impossible! Gundabad''s orc reinforcements have arrived! I can''t send you there to die!" Roland turned his head to look at Raven Hill in the distance.


    "Pfft!" Roland''s eyes widened. What was he seeing? The Swiftstream Infantry had given up on reaching the safety of River Valley City and instead turned toward the orc-infested Raven Hill.


    "Charge! Rescue our brothers!" Roland''s face turned red with urgency.


    "My lord! Your Majesty! My king!" Reynold hurried over and grabbed Roland''s reins.


    "Reynold! Do you intend to disobey my orders again?" Roland''s eyes narrowed, his hand tightening around the Dragon Sword.


    "My lord! Don''t question the professionalism of the Lagrand soldiers! They just made the right choice!" Reynold said in pain. He knew what the Swiftstream Infantry were planning. They intended to block the orc reinforcements, even if there were only 300 of them.


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    "Only by quickly destroying the enemy in front of us can we have hope of victory and save them!" Reynold pulled Roland, speaking earnestly.


    "I want to save my people first!" Roland rushed forward, disregarding Reynold''s words.


    "But even if we break through, we won''t be able to bring them back! They are infantry..." Reynold said in a daze.


    "Holy Knights! Goal: Don''t leave any of these damned orcs standing!" Roland''s face was hideous with determination. He knew Reynold was right. Only by quickly destroying the orcs in front of them could they hope to rescue the Swiftstream Infantry.


    "Kill!" The dwarves'' shield formation opened a gap, and Roland led the knights in a charge. The dwarves followed, launching a counterattack under Thorin''s leadership.


    "They fought for their king," Gandalf said, showing a smile of approval as he threw fireballs at the enemy.


    ...


    "Tiger!" The right hand of the first platoon of Swiftstream Infantrymen bent back and then suddenly thrust forward.


    "Pfft~" The sound of spear tips cutting into flesh was continuous.


    "Ow~" Many orcs wailed in pain, clutching the spear shafts embedded in them.


    "Pfft!" The Swiftstream Infantrymen spun and pulled their spears back, and the orcs who were stabbed collapsed to the ground.


    "Captain! There are too many orcs! We¡¯re going to be surrounded!" a Swiftstream infantryman shouted anxiously.


    "Brothers! Are you afraid of death?"


    "Don''t be afraid!" they replied in unison.


    "Then in the name of the Empire! Charge! For the homeland! For Lagrand! For the King!"


    The infantrymen raised their spears, forming a Swiftstream formation and charging forward. The sudden counter-attack caught the orcs by surprise, momentarily halting their advance.


    "Oh! Have they gone mad?" a dwarf exclaimed, astonished by the Swiftstream Infantry''s charge.


    "God! How are they doing this?" Bard, leading the townspeople in River Valley City''s desperate resistance, was equally shocked.


    "..." Roland was stunned, watching the soldiers charging in the distance. His warhorse, losing its rider''s guidance, wandered aimlessly on the battlefield.


    "My God!" Roland had never seen such a grand scene. The noble blood of dragon knights splattered in the sky, the unyielding arrogance of paladins fell to the ground, and sage-level mages were easily felled by ordinary orcs. Temple priests shuttled through the battlefield, and allies from various races¡ªelves, dwarves, and tree people¡ªjoined from all directions.


    At that moment, Roland witnessed a scene he would never forget. The Swiftstream Infantry from Swiftstream City and along the Swiftstream River, lined up in rows of 30 and columns of 10, sang battle songs as they charged. They crashed into the ranks of the Dark Alliance, disrupting their lines. Thousands of Swiftstream Infantrymen, like the waters of the swift river, relentlessly battered the demons'' and orcs'' defenses. Reynold''s group successfully tore through their lines, stabilizing Lagrand''s defenses.


    In that battle, only a thousand of the 500,000 Swiftstream Infantrymen who followed Reynold made it into Lagrand City. They all fell on the road to the charge, their blue and green steel armor covering the city of Lagrand. They used their mortal bodies to break the professional army...


    Tears filled Roland''s eyes and flowed silently. The familiar figures from the past now merged with the present. Roland saw the green speck upstream in the black tide, as if a square of rapids stood beside them.


    "Those are the heroic spirits of Swiftstream," Roland murmured.


    In the cries of the Swiftstream Infantry, they seemed not to be alone. The spirits of their ancestors stood with them, marching in a neat square, in unison. The phantom of Lagrand City was faintly visible ahead...


    "For Lagrand!" Roland remembered, the Swiftstream Infantry of the Lagrand Empire were still reliable.


    The sound of spears breaking, shields shattering... Sharp swords pierced their bodies, heavy hammers shattered their helmets. They might fall, but they never stopped. Whenever a Swiftstream Infantryman fell, another immediately filled his place. After their spears broke, they drew maces and swung them hard...


    Roland trembled all over, but he had no choice. He could only watch his soldiers die on the battlefield, just like the Swiftstream Infantry who watched Lagrand fall in battle...


    "No!" Roland cried out in grief as the last Swiftstream Infantryman was overwhelmed.


    They kept their oath, and the world''s last Swiftstream Infantry... perished.

 Chapter 23: The Retreat

    Roland stared blankly at Raven Hill, his mind a whirl of chaotic thoughts.


    "Carlos!" Roland''s voice was raw with emotion.


    Hearing his lord''s call, Carlos shook off a swarm of bats and hurried towards him.


    "Send me to Raven Hill!" Roland demanded, his tone fierce.


    Carlos, just having landed, nearly fell off the dragon''s back. "My king, you want to die with them?" he muttered under his breath, knowing it was suicidal. Even a third-tier great knight like Reynold wouldn''t stand a chance.


    A loud eagle''s cry echoed through the sky.


    "The giant eagles are here," Bilbo said, eyes wide with excitement.


    "Roar!" Druid Bion transformed into a giant bear, using his natural magic.


    "Roar!" With a swift motion, he decapitated a troll, its body crashing through the orc ranks, leaving a trail of destruction. His thick fur provided him with unmatched defense.


    The giant eagles dove down, their talons tearing apart the war bats, clearing the sky in an instant.


    The brown-robed wizard Radagast waved his staff, releasing wood-type magic. Thick thorns erupted from the ground, ensnaring orcs, as prepared dwarves and Lagrand soldiers swiftly finished them off.


    ¡­


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    "Break!" Thorin''s blade sliced through an orc''s neck, and he realized there were no more enemies in front of him.


    Bard and Thranduil had also finished off the invading orcs in Riverdale.


    Legolas, from his vantage point on the arrow tower, saw only mourning humans and injured elves. He jumped down, stunned by the sudden quiet.


    ¡­


    Roland landed with a thud, rolling to avoid a potential attack. When he looked up, he saw Carlos''s cautious eyes and his heart sank.


    On the vast Raven Hill, only Azog''s banner remained. Through the smoke, Roland saw the orcs retreating.


    "They ran away! My lord!" Carlos said, shaking his head.


    "Azog is a coward," Carlos thought to himself.


    "Why did they retreat when they had the upper hand?" Roland was perplexed.


    "They don''t want to face the knights on the plain," Carlos explained. "If the orcs hadn''t fled, do you think I would have brought you up here? With the giant eagles and the druid arriving, the orcs had no chance."


    "They would lose tens of thousands of troops in this terrain," Carlos continued. "Our knights are not ordinary. These are 100 second-order professionals. The orcs knew they couldn''t win without severe losses."


    Orcs had their own calculations. They served Sauron to rule Middle Earth, not to decimate their own race. Azog had hoped for a quick raid but encountered unexpected resistance. The arrival of powerful allies and a dragon knight made him reconsider.


    Azog suspected the Battle of the Lonely Mountain was a trap. Despite outnumbering their enemies, the presence of formidable foes like paladins, druids, and giant eagles made victory uncertain. So, he chose to retreat and survive.


    ¡­


    Roland knelt before the corpses of the Swift Stream infantry. They had advanced less than a mile but left behind nearly 2,000 dead orcs and 300 fallen comrades. Each infantryman had fatal wounds in front, a testament to their unwavering charge.


    "Azog! I will kill you!" Roland swore, his voice filled with hatred.


    The knights and Batanian archers silently moved the bodies of the Swiftstream infantry, their mood somber. These were their brothers, now cold and lifeless.


    Roland led the effort to bury the fallen on Raven Hill. They had died stopping the enemy, and now they would guard the mountain in death.


    "Congratulations to the host for winning the Lonely Mountain War! Participation is 87%! The system is being updated! The task panel is loading..." The system''s voice rang out.


    "Update completed! The system has unlocked functions: shopping mall, mission hall, storage."


    "The Lone Mountain War rewards are being distributed..." It continued.


    "Bonus City: Rapid Town! The host can manifest at any time on land that meets the conditions." The system concluded.


    Roland was stunned. After losing 300 rapid soldiers, this reward was a blessing. A town, especially a Rapid Town, was invaluable. Rapid Towns could recruit Swift Infantry, powerful troops crucial for future battles.


    Roland planned to establish the town at the mouth of the original Long Lake, the location of Rapid City in the game. He believed it would become a beacon of Lagrand''s glory. But first, he needed to discuss compensation with Thorin.


    Clapping his hands, Roland mounted his horse and rode towards Thorin and the others, who were gathering the bones of fallen dwarf warriors in front of Elub City.

 Chapter 24: A Reward for Sacrifice

    "Sir Roland, hello!" Thorin greeted respectfully as he saw Roland approaching on horseback.


    "Well, I''m here to claim our reward." Roland''s voice was cold, reflecting the heavy loss his Swift Infantry had suffered.


    Thorin hesitated, seeing the blood-soaked and battle-weary knights and archers behind Roland. "Of course, you deserve this reward. The wealth in Elub City will be yours," he said, bowing. Despite his weariness, Thorin retained his noble demeanor.


    "Sorry for the casualties your men faced," Thorin added, noting Roland''s bloodshot eyes. He wisely stopped speaking as Roland''s grim expression remained unchanged.


    "Then allow us to clean up the battlefield," Thorin said, looking at the chaos around Elub City. The ground was littered with bodies of elves, dwarves, and orcs. Survivors combed through the carnage, searching for any sign of life.


    Thranduil and Bard approached with their own troops, joining the grim scene.


    "King Roland, thank you for your help in this crisis. The elves will remember your kindness," Thranduil said, bowing slightly despite his disheveled state.


    "We''re glad you could come to support us," Bard added, his eyes red with emotion. "The elves'' help turned the tide in Riverdale."


    Roland raised his Dragon Sword, pointing it at the sparse soldiers behind Thranduil and Bard. "What now? Another battle for the Lonely Mountain?"


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    "No, we just want the wealth Thorin promised to rebuild our homes," Bard replied calmly.


    "We seek only the White Stone," Thranduil added, looking at Thorin.


    Thorin sighed. "You deserve it," he conceded, glancing at his own tired troops.


    "Everyone, come to Elub tonight. We''ll hold a celebration for the recovery of the Lonely Mountain," Thorin invited.


    As they entered Elub, Roland spotted Bilbo standing alone. "Hello, Mr. Baggins! I''m glad you''re alive!"


    "Mr. Roland? It''s good to see you. I thought you were still at Rivendell," Bilbo stammered.


    "Don''t worry. Lagrand''s knights are strong. The orcs can''t defeat us," Roland reassured him.


    "What are your plans now?" Bilbo asked.


    "I plan to build a town at the mouth of Long Lake. You¡¯re welcome to visit," Roland replied with a smile.


    Inside Elub, Roland felt a strange tremor in his Dragon Sword. "Something''s wrong," Carlos said, gripping his sword tightly.


    "The evil dragon''s curse lingers here," Ivy, a temple priest, explained with a frown.


    Dyne, a dwarf, noticed their hesitation. "What''s wrong, friends?"


    "My subordinates are sensitive to the curse here," Roland explained.


    "Get out of here!" Carlos suddenly pulled Roland, causing confusion.


    "Enough, Carlos!" Reynold intervened, reprimanding Carlos for his outburst.


    "Apologies, my lord. The curse affects the sensitive," Carlos said, embarrassed.


    "The curse of greed and death lingers here," Ivy said, looking around disdainfully.


    "Can it be removed?" Roland asked.


    "Yes, with purification magic," Gandalf appeared, explaining the solution.


    "We have three people here who can help," Ivy said, pointing to Gandalf, Roland, and herself.


    Thorin looked hopeful. "Will you help us remove the curse? We will pay you."


    Inside the treasure vault, Roland was awestruck by the wealth. "Let''s begin," Ivy said, as they cast their purification spells.


    As the curses lifted, Thorin expressed his gratitude. "You can take as much wealth as you can carry."


    Roland activated his Lord of the Rings system, converting gold coins into wealth. One-seventh of the vault''s treasure disappeared into his storage.


    Thorin looked shocked. "Is Elub being robbed?" Dyne asked.


    "No, we agreed to this," Thorin said, still stunned.


    "The banquet is starting soon. Join us, King Roland," Dyne invited.


    "Of course. I look forward to experiencing the dwarves'' hospitality," Roland replied with a smile.


    Only Thorin, looking as if he had lost his soul, was led away by Dyne.

 Chapter 25: A New Beginning

    After a warm celebratory dinner, Roland and his party bid farewell to Thorin early the next morning and left the city of Irube located in Lonely Mountain. The farewells were heartfelt, but the future awaited.


    Riding his horse, Roland glanced back at the empty space where his loyal and brave Swiftstream infantry once marched. The loss of 300 men was a devastating blow, both emotionally and militarily. Sighing, he looked at the scroll in his hand and managed a faint smile. The offensive and defensive alliance treaty signed by the four northern kingdoms¡ªLagrand Kingdom, Yamashita Kingdom, Woodland Kingdom, and River Valley Kingdom¡ªwas a beacon of hope in these dark times. With Azog and Bolg''s escape, unity was paramount.


    Roland''s next goal was to build his first city.


    "Let''s part here," Roland said, turning to Gandalf and Bilbo.


    "Goodbye, Roland. Good luck!" Gandalf nodded slightly.


    "Mr. Roland, if you ever pass through Bag End, please drop by. Afternoon tea starts at 4 o''clock!" Bilbo said, his eyes misty.


    "Of course, Mr. Baggins. Just make sure there''s dinner next time!" Roland laughed heartily, his laughter dispelling the gloom.


    "Uh, I''ll make sure of it!" Bilbo blushed, remembering how unprepared he had been during Roland''s last visit.


    As they waved goodbye, Roland turned his attention to the east side of the lake where the former Swift Stream City once stood.


    "System! Let''s go here! Realize the town of Swift Stream!" Roland commanded, standing at the mouth of the lake.


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    "Received! Retrieving terrain..."


    "The terrain meets the requirements..."


    "The city wall is being generated..."


    "The Lord''s Castle is being generated..."


    "Building houses..."


    "The construction is completed, please check the host."


    Roland watched as a stream of data enveloped the land before him. When the system finally indicated completion, he looked up, expecting a thriving town. Instead, he was met with a dilapidated village.


    "What is this?" Roland angrily pointed to the pathetic sight before him. "Can you show me that this is the rapid town you''re talking about?"


    "The system is detecting...the detection is correct!" the cold voice of the system replied.


    "I''ll go to your uncle! Explain this two-meter-high stone wall! And these leaky houses! There''s grass growing inside! The only building taller than two stories is this shabby lord''s castle!" Roland was furious.


    "¡­" system.


    "Playing dead?" Roland muttered, realizing the system wasn''t going to respond.


    Roland tried to compose himself as he turned to his men. "Ahem, this will be our home from now on, the relic of the former Swift Stream City..."


    To his surprise, everyone cheered.


    "Look, this is our Lagrand''s architectural style!"


    "A typical Lagrand village!"


    "Yes, I feel like I''m back home again!"


    Everyone was thrilled to see a piece of Lagrand in this foreign land, their excitement palpable.


    "System, are you really not going to say anything?" Roland muttered, frustrated by the system''s silence.


    "Sir, it''s very nice here! We finally returned to our hometown!" Caslow said, running up to Roland.


    Roland held his tongue, not wanting to dampen their spirits. He opened the system''s mall, trying to distract himself.


    "Griffin Egg: Quantity 5. Unit price: 10,000 wealth value."


    "Darian Archer: Quantity 100. Unit Price: 10 Wealth Points."


    "Earth-type War Mage: Quantity 1. Unit price: 50,000 wealth value."


    Roland''s eyes widened. "War mages?"


    He exchanged 5 griffin eggs and a war mage. Griffins were formidable air combat creatures, and war mages were invaluable for both combat and construction. His wealth value shrunk by one tenth, but it was worth it.


    "The system has set that the war mage will bring 5 griffin eggs to the host, please pay attention to the host," the system informed.


    "My lord, give this city a name!" Reno interrupted Roland''s thoughts.


    "Let''s call it Rapid City. We will rebuild and honor our ancestors'' legacy," Roland declared solemnly.


    "Rapid City... It''s good to hear that name again..." The priest of the temple guard wiped away tears.


    "Ding! The main quest is on..." the system chimed, signaling the start of a new chapter in their journey.


    As they began to rebuild, Roland couldn''t help but feel a sense of hope. Despite the setbacks, they had a chance to create something lasting, a beacon of hope in a world still shrouded in darkness.

 Chapter 26: The Weight of the Crown

    Roland stared at the system screen, the words "Main Quest: If You Want to Wear a Crown, You Must Bear Its Weight" glaring back at him. The task was daunting: build a city worthy of a king''s name, complete with fortified walls, defensive structures, essential workshops, and a population of 5,000 Lagrand civilians.


    His first reaction was disbelief. "Are you serious?" he muttered, scrolling through the detailed requirements. A small town with such minimal requirements could hardly be considered a kingdom. But then again, he mused, Bard had ruled River Valley City with far less. Still, the demand for 5,000 Lagrand civilians gnawed at him. This was Middle Earth¡ªwhere would he find them?


    "System, what¡¯s the deal with these civilians?" Roland asked, hoping for a loophole.


    "Please check the territory page," the system responded, its tone cold and unyielding.


    With a sigh, Roland opened the territory page and was met with a sobering sight. The page displayed his lone territory: Rapid City, a shadow of what he had imagined.


    **Territory: Rapid City**


    - **Area**: One kilometer in radius


    - **Construction Units**: Dilapidated lord¡¯s castle, crumbling dwellings, shabby stone walls, and a well barely fit for use


    - **Troops**: 203


    - **Population**: 0


    - **Evaluation**: A relic offering little more than shelter from the elements. The town¡¯s sole redeeming feature is its strong military presence. Note: There are no civilians in the town!


    But then, something caught his eye in the territory''s abilities.


    1. **Attraction of Lagrand''s Remnants**: As the only territory of the Lagrand Kingdom in Middle Earth, it will draw in Lagrand¡¯s remnants. The system will guide a wave of wandering Lagrand civilians to arrive daily.


    2. **Recruitment of Civilians**: Civilians in Rapid City can be trained into infantrymen.


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    Roland¡¯s frustration ebbed away, replaced by cautious optimism. The system, usually as stingy as a miser, was offering him a steady influx of Lagrand civilians, who could be trained into soldiers. Perhaps all was not lost.


    ¡°Look! Those are our wandering clansmen!¡± shouted one of the Batanian archers from his post. Sure enough, a small group of bedraggled refugees appeared on the horizon, carrying with them the tattered remnants of Lagrand¡¯s banner.


    Roland''s excitement faded when he saw their condition. There were only seven of them, and only two were adults. The rest were children, all of them exhausted and undernourished.


    Before he could speak, the refugees dropped to their knees, startling him. ¡°Dragon God above! To see a lord of Lagrand again... We thought they were all gone!¡± the lead man choked out, tears streaming down his face.


    Roland reached out to help them to their feet, a heavy sense of responsibility settling over him. ¡°You¡¯re safe now. The Empire¡¯s army will protect you. You won¡¯t have to leave your home again.¡± His voice was firm, but inside, he felt the weight of the crown he now bore.


    He glanced back at the territory page, noting the population had risen to seven. ¡°At this rate, it¡¯ll take forever to reach 5,000,¡± he thought with a mix of frustration and determination.


    ¡°Alert!¡± Reynold¡¯s voice cut through Roland¡¯s thoughts. The camp sprang into action, everyone rushing to the walls. The newly arrived refugees huddled by a dilapidated wooden house, a testament to how deeply fear had ingrained itself into their lives.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Roland asked, leaping up onto the stone wall.


    ¡°A war mage is approaching! I can feel the magic of a fourth-order mage,¡± Reynold replied, his tone serious. While the war mage wouldn¡¯t pose a threat to Reynold or the Dragon Knight Caslow, the rest of Roland¡¯s troops¡ªand Roland himself¡ªcould be easily overwhelmed by such powerful magic.


    ¡°War Mage?¡± Roland¡¯s mind raced as he recalled the Griffin and Earth Mage he had purchased from the system.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be too hasty; it might be one of ours. More and more Lagrand survivors are returning,¡± Roland said, trying to cover his tracks.


    Reynold remained vigilant. ¡°Even so, we must be cautious. Rapid City is still fragile.¡±


    Just then, a booming voice echoed across the field. ¡°Respected King Lagrand! Ladir is at your service!¡± An elderly man in a khaki robe rode up on a thin horse, his voice surprisingly clear despite the distance.


    Roland smiled, recognizing the war mage. ¡°Welcome, Mage Ladir! May the glory of the empire shine on you and me forever,¡± he called back, descending from the wall to greet the old man.


    Ladir bowed deeply. ¡°Your Highness, I bring you five griffin eggs as a gift.¡±


    Caslow, unable to contain his excitement, rushed forward to examine the eggs. ¡°The Dragon God above! There really are five!¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s find you a place to stay, Mage Ladir. Caslow, take care of the eggs,¡± Roland said, gesturing toward the simple accommodations.


    Ladir looked around, his eyes widening as they fell on Caslow. ¡°A Dragon Knight? Your Highness, you have indeed been favored by Lagrand!¡± he exclaimed, clearly impressed.


    ¡°Haha, well, we could use your help with construction,¡± Roland replied, recognizing that Ladir¡¯s earth magic would be invaluable for rebuilding the city.


    As the group moved to make preparations, Roland glanced back at the newly arrived refugees, who were being settled into makeshift shelters. Their gratitude was palpable, their eyes filled with hope for the first time in years.


    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± one of the refugees choked out.


    Roland smiled, though his heart was heavy. ¡°Tomorrow will be better,¡± he assured them, turning his gaze to the swift river that flowed beside their fledgling city.


    The weight of the crown was indeed heavy, but with each passing day, Roland grew more determined to bear it. The future of Rapid City¡ªand the revival of the Lagrand Empire¡ªdepended on it.

 Chapter 27: A Harsh Winters Burden

    Roland woke up with a groan, his back stiff from a restless night in the hammock. "This thing is torture," he muttered, twisting his body to shake off the discomfort.


    He was still lost in thought when Carlos suddenly entered the room, the wooden door creaking loudly in protest. "Sir, breakfast is ready," Carlos announced, placing the meal on a rickety table.


    "Thanks, Carlos," Roland replied absently, eyeing the modest spread: a bowl of oatmeal, three slices of white bread, and two small grilled fish. He was surprised by the quality, considering the grim conditions they were in.


    After eating, Roland stepped outside, but the door finally gave way, collapsing behind him. Shaking his head, he called over two knights to clean up the mess before heading off to find Caslow, who was already busy with his own meal.


    "Who made breakfast today?" Roland asked, noticing the stark contrast between his meal and the rough fare his knights were consuming.


    "The wife of one of the refugees," Caslow replied between bites. "She insisted on helping out, and she¡¯s a better cook than any of us."


    Roland frowned, his eyes narrowing as he saw Caslow''s meal¡ªblack bread and a water bag. "You¡¯re eating this?" he asked, shocked that his soldiers, who had risked their lives to protect the city, were surviving on such meager rations.


    Determined to get to the bottom of it, Roland marched over to the shelter where the refugees were staying. As he approached, he witnessed a scene that made his heart sink. The family was hard at work, baking black bread from the little flour they had, and serving thin vegetable soup to the soldiers. The children, their eyes bright with hunger, eagerly devoured their meager portions.


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    Roland''s anger vanished, replaced by a deep sense of responsibility. He glanced at the couple¡¯s bowl, noting the few floating leaves in the watery broth. "Carlos, why are we feeding my people scraps?" he asked, his voice low but filled with frustration.


    "We''re running out of supplies," Carlos explained quietly. "It¡¯s winter, and there¡¯s nowhere to replenish what we have. The little food we¡¯ve managed to store won¡¯t last long."


    Roland sighed, rubbing his forehead. His dreams of rebuilding the glory of Lagrand seemed distant and unattainable if he couldn¡¯t even ensure his people¡¯s survival through the winter. "Send out the archers to hunt," he ordered, though he knew it was a long shot.


    "They¡¯re already out there, but this land is a wasteland," Carlos said grimly. "There¡¯s not much game left to hunt."


    "What about fishing?" Roland asked, suddenly grasping at straws. "The river¡¯s close by, and it¡¯s full of fish."


    Carlos shook his head. "We don¡¯t have boats or nets. Fishing with rods won¡¯t provide enough to make a difference."


    Roland paused, deep in thought. Then his eyes lit up. "We still have the boats we used to cross the lake during the raid on Long Lake Town, don¡¯t we? And there must be fishing gear left behind there!"


    Carlos looked skeptical but nodded. "It''s worth a try. I¡¯ll fly out and search the ruins for anything we can use."


    As Carlos prepared to leave, Roland gathered the remaining knights. "Get ready to fish," he commanded, determined to provide for his people.


    The day passed in a flurry of activity. When Carlos returned, his dragon laden with dried fish and nets, Roland felt a surge of hope. The knights worked tirelessly, setting up the boats and casting the nets into the river.


    By evening, they were gathered around a large fire, grilling their catch. The smell of fresh fish filled the air, and for the first time in days, there were smiles on everyone¡¯s faces. But as Roland looked around, his heart ached. The people were huddled together, their thin clothing no match for the biting cold.


    Ivy approached him, reporting that more refugees had arrived¡ªthree families, all in desperate need of food and warmth. Roland sighed deeply. "Tomorrow, we¡¯ll head to Iruba," he decided. "We need more supplies, and I won¡¯t let my people starve or freeze."


    As he walked away, Roland cursed the system under his breath. "You could at least provide decent clothing," he muttered bitterly, determined to do whatever it took to keep his people safe through the harsh winter.

 Chapter 28: A Kings Burden

    Roland began his day with a familiar ritual. "System check-in," he muttered, hoping for something that might ease his growing burdens. As the system chimed in, Roland could only sigh, anticipating the usual assortment of useless rewards¡ªa book on magic, perhaps, or a golden trinket of no real value.


    "Sign in successful! Congratulations to the host for receiving Lagrandian City Guards*100."


    Roland''s eyes widened in surprise. A hundred elite guards were a formidable asset, but the reality of his situation quickly tempered his excitement. His kingdom was already stretched thin, struggling to feed its current population. Adding a hundred more mouths to the already meager rations seemed irresponsible, if not outright impossible. With winter tightening its grip, food was becoming scarcer by the day, and Rapid City was barely holding on through fishing and hunting. The influx of refugees into the city only worsened the situation.


    Carlos entered the room, the creaking of the damaged wooden door reminding Roland that repairs were yet another task on the growing list. "Sir, the horses are ready."


    Roland nodded, his mind already on the journey ahead. "Let''s go. We need supplies, and we need them soon."


    Accompanied by ten knights, Roland set off toward River Valley City. The sight of the frozen Long Lake reminded him of the devastation his kingdom had suffered. The ruins of Changhu Town loomed in the distance, a grim testament to the destruction that had ravaged his lands. Roland clenched his fists, silently vowing to rebuild what had been lost. Carlos, riding beside him, seemed eager to explore the ruins once more, hoping to scavenge anything that might be of use.


    As they approached the gates of River Valley City, a lone guard stepped forward, raising his spear. "Stop here! Identify yourselves!"


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    The soldier squinted at the flag Roland carried, then his eyes widened in recognition. "King Roland?"


    Roland smiled faintly. "I''m here to see Bard."


    The guard hesitated only a moment before nodding. "I''ll inform him. Please wait here."


    Within minutes, Bard appeared, his face lighting up with a broad smile. "Roland! It''s good to see you."


    Roland returned the embrace. "And you, Bard. But I''m afraid this isn''t a social visit. I''ve run into some serious trouble."


    Bard''s smile faded as he listened. "What''s happened? Are you facing an orc army?"


    Roland shook his head. "No, it''s not orcs. It''s something far more insidious¡ªfamine and cold."


    Bard''s expression darkened. He knew all too well the toll winter could take on a struggling kingdom. "Famine and cold..." he echoed, his voice heavy with understanding.


    Roland explained his dire need for supplies. The population in Rapid City was growing faster than he could provide for, and the winter was proving harsher than anticipated. The two kings, both of whom had seen better days, exchanged a weary glance.


    "After Smaug''s attack, the people of Long Lake Town have been barely scraping by," Bard admitted. "Without the woodland elves, I don''t know how we would''ve made it through."


    "I was hoping to find some tools and food from the dwarves of Iruber," Roland continued, outlining his plan. "It''s our only hope of making it through this winter."


    Bard sighed, the weight of his own struggles evident in his eyes. "I wish I could offer more, but we''re barely getting by ourselves."


    After a brief but somber farewell, Roland and his knights pressed on towards Iruber. As they approached the mountain city, the dwarves'' industrious nature was on full display. They worked tirelessly, hoisting stones and repairing their gates, seemingly unbothered by the biting cold.


    "Greetings, King Roland!" A familiar voice called out. Balin, with his unmistakable snow-white beard, stepped forward to greet them.


    "Balin!" Roland exclaimed, relieved to see a friendly face.


    The dwarven leader bowed respectfully. "To what do we owe the honor of your visit?"


    Roland quickly explained the dire circumstances his people faced. "My people are suffering. We need food and tools, anything you can spare."


    Balin''s expression grew serious as he listened. "This is indeed a grave matter. Come, I''ll take you to see the king."


    As they followed Balin into the heart of the mountain, Roland couldn''t help but feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. He had always known that ruling a kingdom was no easy task, but the harsh realities of winter had brought a new understanding of just how difficult it could be to keep his people safe and fed.


    For now, all he could do was hope that the dwarves would be able to provide the aid he so desperately needed.

 Chapter 29: The Dwarves Generosity and a Dangerous Promise

    Roland stepped into the royal hall of Elub, his boots echoing in the vast stone chamber. The great Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, stood at the other end, surrounded by dwarven advisors and courtiers. When Thorin saw Roland, his eyebrows shot up in surprise.


    "Roland?" Thorin''s voice boomed across the hall. "What brings you here so soon? I wasn¡¯t expecting a visit until spring."


    Roland walked briskly towards him. "I¡¯m in need of the dwarves¡¯ aid, Thorin. My people are in dire straits."


    Thorin¡¯s face hardened, expecting the worst. "Orcs? Are they on the move again?"


    Roland shook his head, his expression grim. "No, it¡¯s not orcs. It¡¯s something even more relentless¡ªfamine."


    Thorin¡¯s serious demeanor dissolved into a hearty laugh, catching Roland off guard. "Famine? You? The mighty King Roland, brought low by hunger? The man who bested orc armies is now overwhelmed by mere refugees!" Thorin¡¯s laughter echoed through the hall, and several dwarves joined in.


    Roland¡¯s face flushed with embarrassment, but he kept his composure. "This isn¡¯t a joke, Thorin. My people are starving, forced to eat chaff. I wouldn¡¯t be here if it weren¡¯t desperate."


    Thorin wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "You¡¯ve humbled me, Roland. To think, a dragon knight comes to beg for food! What a tale this will make."


    Roland¡¯s patience was wearing thin. "Laugh all you want, but I need your help. If you have any food or warm clothing to spare, I¡¯m willing to pay for it." He pulled a small leather pouch from his belt, spilling a handful of glittering gems onto the table before Thorin.


    Thorin¡¯s laughter faded as he eyed the gems, not with greed, but with amusement. "So you come to Iruber, to the very dwarves you¡¯ve already plundered for gold, offering gems to buy what you need. Bold, even for you, Roland."


    Roland felt a pang of regret as he saw Thorin¡¯s expression change. He had indeed taken a large sum of gold from the dwarves during the previous trade, and now he was back for more. "I¡¯m not here to insult you, Thorin. I¡¯m here because I have no other choice."


    Thorin stared at Roland for a long moment, then smiled slyly. "Of course, Roland. We dwarves know how to treat our friends. Let¡¯s not talk of money; we¡¯re not mere merchants after all."


    Roland let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding. "So, you¡¯ll help?"


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    Thorin nodded, but as Roland moved to collect the gems from the table, Thorin¡¯s hand shot out, scooping them up with a grin. "Consider this a friendly gesture¡ªthese gems will do nicely as a token of your goodwill."


    Roland was momentarily stunned by Thorin¡¯s audacity. But he quickly masked his surprise, reminding himself that he had little room to negotiate. "I see," he said, his tone neutral. "Thank you, Thorin. Your generosity will not be forgotten."


    Thorin waved his hand dismissively. "Come, let¡¯s see what we have in the storerooms."


    Thorin led Roland to the loading docks, where 20 sturdy carts were being prepared. Five were filled with sacks of flour, another five with dried meats, five more with warm leather and linen clothing, and the final five with various tools.


    "How¡¯s that for a start?" Thorin asked, smirking.


    Roland surveyed the goods and nodded, relieved. "This will get us through the worst of winter. With these supplies, I might even be able to equip those hundred Lagrandian guards I¡¯ve been holding back."


    Thorin¡¯s grin widened. "You¡¯ll need them if the orcs regroup. Winter is their season, after all."


    Roland agreed, knowing well the dangers that still lurked beyond the borders of his fragile city. "We¡¯ll have to stay vigilant. Thank you, Thorin. Truly."


    "Don¡¯t thank me yet," Thorin replied. "Balin will accompany you back to Rapid City. He¡¯ll make sure everything arrives safely."


    Roland appreciated the offer. "Of course, that would be a great help."


    As they departed from the mountain stronghold, Roland rode alongside Balin. The veteran dwarf cast curious glances at Roland, particularly when they passed the ruins of Changhu Town.


    "You¡¯ve built a new town at the mouth of the lake?" Balin asked.


    "Yes, we¡¯ve started over. There¡¯s not much left of the old town," Roland replied, his voice carrying a trace of sorrow.


    Balin nodded thoughtfully, then hesitated. "Roland, there¡¯s something I¡¯d like to ask you."


    Roland glanced at him. "What is it, Balin?"


    Balin took a deep breath. "We¡¯ve been thinking of an expedition. To Moria."


    Roland¡¯s heart skipped a beat. "Moria? You¡¯re serious about retaking it?"


    Balin nodded. "Khazad-d?m is our greatest legacy, the heart of our people. We want to bring its light back."


    Roland was quiet for a moment, thinking of the dangers Moria still held. The balrog, the ancient darkness that had driven the dwarves from their home, still lingered in the depths of the city. "Thorin tried and failed, didn¡¯t he? You know what¡¯s still there, Balin. It¡¯s too dangerous."


    Before Balin could respond, Roland¡¯s system chimed in his mind: *Ding Dong! Side Quest Unlocked: Reclaim Moria. Quest duration: 1 year. Reward: Random Attribute¡ªDragon Knight*1.*


    Roland¡¯s heart raced. A new dragon knight was too tempting to pass up. "Balin," he said suddenly, "I¡¯ll help you. For the sake of our friendship, I¡¯ll lead the expedition myself."


    Balin stared at Roland in shock, his earlier doubts evaporating. "You... You will? After what you just said?"


    Roland patted Balin on the back. "Absolutely. We¡¯ll retake Moria, and after that, Gundabad if need be!"


    Balin was still processing Roland¡¯s abrupt change of heart when Carlos, Roland¡¯s loyal companion, muttered under his breath. "The balrog is a monster... Only a madman would challenge it head-on."


    Roland, ignoring Carlos, led the group back to Rapid City. As they approached the familiar broken stone walls, Roland couldn¡¯t help but feel a sense of pride. Despite everything, his people had made progress. The city was beginning to take shape again, and with the supplies from the dwarves, they could survive the winter.


    Balin admired the burgeoning town as they entered. "You¡¯ve done well, Roland. I can see why the people follow you."


    "Thanks, Balin," Roland replied, smiling. "But we¡¯ve still got a long way to go."


    As they unloaded the supplies, Roland turned to Balin. "Let¡¯s set the expedition to Moria for next summer. I¡¯ll need time to prepare, and spring will be busy with planting and rebuilding."


    Balin nodded. "Summer it is, then. We¡¯ll be ready."


    With that, Roland bid Balin farewell, watching as the dwarf and his companions turned their carts back toward Iruber. As they disappeared into the distance, Roland felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. The future held both promise and peril, but with friends like Balin and Thorin, he knew he wouldn¡¯t face it alone.

 Chapter 30: Guardians of Lagrand

    Roland couldn''t help but kick the soldiers who were staring wide-eyed at the piles of supplies, their faces lit up with excitement. The cramped quarters of Rapid City¡¯s lord''s castle were now overwhelmed with goods¡ª20 carts worth, to be exact¡ªleaving little room to move. Unable to find a proper warehouse in the city, Reynold and Carlos had chosen the lord''s castle as a makeshift storage space, much to Roland''s dismay.


    "So, you''re not going to give me an explanation?" Roland laughed, though his eyes were stern as he stared down Reynold and Carlos, who were attempting to sneak away unnoticed.


    "My lord, there''s been a misunderstanding..." Carlos stammered, his voice betraying the nervousness he felt.


    "Uh, esteemed king, please let me explain..." Reynold hesitated, trying to find the right words.


    "Misunderstanding? Explanation? You¡¯ve even taken over where I sleep!" Roland barked, chasing them both down with a ham in hand, ready to make his displeasure known. The ham swung with the ferocity of a sword, and the two men fled, stars dancing in their vision from the blows they barely dodged.


    "Hee hee, Sir Ladir, why is the king chasing after Lord Reynold and Lord Carlos?" Ivy asked with a chuckle, watching the spectacle unfold in the courtyard.


    "Maybe because they forgot to leave him a bed," the old war mage Ladir replied, the wrinkles on his face forming a smile. He watched with amusement as the three men sprinted across the city. At his age, strenuous activity was a rarity, and deep magic often replaced the need for physical exertion.


    "Hmm?" Ladir¡¯s vast mental power swept across the land, detecting a group of refugees more than ten kilometers away being hunted by orcs. With a slight movement, he vanished from Ivy¡¯s side in a flash.


    "Wow, that was Flash!" Ivy gasped, awestruck. As a third-order priest, she had yet to master such high-level magic.


    "God, who will save us?" cried the women and children among the refugees, their voices filled with despair as they faced the approaching orcs. They had thought they would be safe under Lagrand¡¯s protection, only to find themselves cornered by a savage group.


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    Several hunters among the refugees managed to hold off the orcs with their bows, but they were vastly outnumbered. The orcs, though smaller and less equipped than the main Orc Kingdom forces, were still a formidable threat.


    Suddenly, with a thunderous crack, the ground beneath the orcs erupted with jagged spikes of rock, impaling them where they stood. Blood spattered the barren earth as the orcs were cut down in an instant.


    "Ah!" The refugees recoiled in terror at the sudden carnage.


    "Hey, hey! Are all the Lagrand survivors so timid now?" Ladir emerged from the shadows, smiling as he leaned on his staff.


    "Sir Mage!" The men quickly recognized their savior and bowed deeply, showing their utmost respect to the noble mage.


    "There''s no need for formalities. You¡¯re here to join the last King of Lagrand, aren''t you?" Ladir noted the makeshift dragon flag the refugees bore, a symbol of their loyalty.


    "Yes, my lord. We were guided by the gods to find Lagrand¡¯s final glory," one of the hunters replied humbly.


    "Well, you''re only a few kilometers away from safety. Follow this direction; there¡¯s no danger ahead," Ladir said, smiling before flashing away. His age prevented him from joining the refugees on foot, and though he could have escorted them with magic, his strength lay in guiding others, not in direct confrontation.


    ---


    Meanwhile, a hundred Lagrand City Guards marched silently across the wasteland, their heavy armor clinking softly as they moved. Guided by divine purpose, they were making their way to Rapid City to join their king.


    "Halt!" The lead guard suddenly raised his hand, signaling the others to form a circular formation. The soldiers locked their shields together, creating a wall of steel, their spears pointed outward, ready for battle.


    "Half-orcs! Recently killed by an earth-type mage, probably second-order," reported one of the scouts after inspecting the scene of the recent battle.


    "We need to move quickly. These orcs belong to a wasteland tribe; their kin will come searching soon," the lead guard analyzed, his voice tense.


    "But there were civilians here too," another guard pointed out, noting the rough arrows embedded in the orcs¡ªclearly not military issue, but the work of hunters.


    "We can¡¯t just abandon them to the orcs. They¡¯re likely heading for Rapid City, just like us. If they veer off course, the orcs might catch them," the lead guard reasoned, his expression grim. The thought of leaving civilians to fend for themselves was unthinkable.


    "Then what¡¯s our plan?" another guard asked, concerned.


    "We hold our ground here and stop the orcs. We¡¯re the guards of Lagrand City, after all. Our duty is to protect the people," the lead guard declared, his voice filled with resolve. The pride of being a Lagrand City Guard surged through the ranks¡ªthey were the guardians of the empire, and they would not falter in their duty.


    "In the name of Lagrand! Long live!" The guards roared their battle cry, preparing for the coming fight.


    They quickly reformed their circular shield wall on a small rise, kneeling behind their shields, crossbows at the ready. Time passed slowly as they waited, their eyes scanning the horizon for movement.


    Finally, the grass rustled in the distance, and the ugly heads of orcs began to emerge from the withered foliage.


    "Fire!" The order was given, and the crossbows released their deadly bolts.


    ---


    Ladir, resting after his brief excursion, sensed the guards clashing with the orcs. He smiled, knowing they could handle themselves.


    "They''ll be fine. Fighting off a few wasteland orcs is nothing for Lagrand¡¯s finest," he murmured, settling back into his chair. It wasn''t laziness, he assured himself¡ªit was simply the confidence that the city guards could protect the people without his help.

 Chapter 31: Fortifying the Line

    As the orcs surged forward, the city guards, though inwardly dismissive of their foes, knew better than to underestimate them. Battle-hardened and disciplined, they formed up, their shields glowing with the shimmering aura of battle energy, creating a protective barrier larger than the shields themselves.


    The orcs collided with the shield wall, the impact sending a series of jolts through the guards. But the soldiers stood firm, shoving back with practiced precision. The clash of steel on steel, accompanied by the bone-crunching force of the aura shields, sent the orcs sprawling, their bodies twitching on the ground. The city guards moved swiftly, their spears finishing the job before the battle aura dissipated, leaving the shields to their ordinary state.


    ¡°Why do these orcs keep coming in waves?¡± one of the guards muttered, frustration edging his voice as more orcs appeared on the horizon.


    ¡°We¡¯ve stirred up a hornet¡¯s nest,¡± another replied, wiping the sweat from his brow. ¡°But the civilians are safe for now. We need to fall back and regroup.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t let them follow us to Rapid City,¡± the captain said, his voice firm. ¡°We¡¯ll make our stand here, but we need to figure out how to shake them off. Our aura reserves are nearly depleted.¡±


    As they discussed their options, a distant howl pierced the air, causing every man to tense.


    ¡°Wolf cavalry!¡± The words were barely a whisper, yet they carried a weight of dread. Everyone knew that these were no ordinary orcs.


    The guards quickly formed a tighter circle, layering their shields and raising their spears. The howl was followed by the appearance of warwolves, their riders¡¯ eyes gleaming with predatory intent. Relief swept through the guards as they realized these were not the elite wolf knights. Still, the sight of the approaching cavalry sent adrenaline surging through their veins.


    ¡°Hold steady!¡± the captain barked. ¡°They won¡¯t charge head-on!¡±


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    The wolf cavalry circled, growling and snapping, but they did not dare approach the bristling formation of spears and shields. After a few tense moments, the orcs, recognizing the futility of an attack, retreated into the wasteland.


    ¡­


    Back in Rapid City, Roland approached Mage Ladir, who was enjoying a rare moment of peace, basking in the winter sun.


    ¡°Your Highness, what brings you here?¡± Ladir asked, though his relaxed posture suggested he already knew.


    ¡°I need your help reinforcing the city¡¯s defenses,¡± Roland replied, getting straight to the point. ¡°We need magic stone bricks to strengthen the walls.¡±


    Ladir sighed, sitting up and giving Roland a serious look. ¡°You realize how much magic it takes to create those bricks, don¡¯t you? And without a holy spring or moon well, my power is limited.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± Roland said, a bit awkwardly. ¡°But I don¡¯t expect you to do all the heavy lifting. Just make the bricks¡ªwe¡¯ll handle the construction.¡±


    After a moment of contemplation, Ladir nodded. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll do what I can. But this will take a toll on me, even with help.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and one more thing,¡± Ladir added as Roland turned to leave. ¡°A small group of Lagrandian city guards should be arriving soon. They might be able to assist.¡±


    Roland nodded, grateful for the information. ¡°I¡¯ll send someone to meet them.¡±


    ¡­


    The Lagrandian city guards arrived at the gates of Rapid City, their eyes widening as they took in the sight of their king standing on the city¡¯s damaged walls, a figure of defiance against the harsh winter sky.


    ¡°Welcome back to Lagrand¡¯s glory,¡± Roland said, gesturing for them to forgo formalities. His words, spoken with conviction, inspired the guards, who had seen little but hardship in recent months.


    Among the onlookers was Ivy, who couldn¡¯t help but raise an eyebrow at Roland¡¯s dramatic display. ¡°He certainly has the makings of a high priest,¡± she muttered to herself.


    With the guards now assembled, Roland wasted no time. ¡°The city needs your help,¡± he said, directing them to assist with moving the stone bricks. At first, the guards balked at the idea of doing manual labor, but when they saw the knights already hard at work, they had no choice but to join in.


    Mage Ladir, exhausted from his efforts, sat down heavily, his breath coming in short gasps. Before him lay a pile of magic-patterned stone bricks, each engraved with spells to fortify the walls.


    ¡°That¡¯s all for now,¡± Ladir said, waving a hand at the bricks. ¡°Take them and start building.¡±


    The knights and city guards, now united in purpose, began the arduous task of transporting the bricks to the construction site. Without carts, the work was slow, but under Roland¡¯s watchful eye, the city wall slowly began to take shape, brick by brick.


    Ladir closed his eyes, sinking into meditation to restore his depleted magic. The air around him shimmered as he drew in energy, preparing for the next round of work.


    As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the busy workers, Roland allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, things were finally moving in the right direction.


    The wall was rising, and with it, the hopes of a city on the brink.

 Chapter 32: Forging Ahead

    Roland woke up at the crack of dawn, his mind buzzing with anticipation. "System, sign in," he muttered, his eyes still heavy with sleep. The system''s daily rewards had become a routine, even if most of the items weren''t immediately useful.


    "Sign-in successful. Congratulations to the host for obtaining a Lava Forging Furnace (small)*1."


    Roland sat up, blinking in surprise. "A lava forging furnace?" He chuckled. "What am I supposed to do with that? I can''t forge magic equipment...wait." His mind raced as he realized the potential.


    Without wasting another second, Roland bolted out of his tent and made his way to Ladir''s quarters. He found the old mage lazily tending to a set of gryphon eggs, their shells gleaming faintly in the morning light.


    Ladir, noticing Roland''s hasty approach, frowned deeply. "Your Highness, it''s barely morning. Can you not let an old man enjoy his breakfast in peace?"


    Roland grinned sheepishly, scratching his head. "I stumbled upon something big, Mr. Ladir. I got a lava forging furnace from the system."


    Ladir''s expression shifted from annoyance to disbelief. "A lava forging furnace? For what purpose? We¡¯re in no position to forge magic equipment."


    "I know, I know," Roland replied quickly. "But what if we used it to repair our soldiers'' gear? Our current equipment is falling apart, and we can¡¯t rely on the dwarves for everything."


    Ladir eyed Roland skeptically. "You want to use a high-end furnace for basic repairs? That¡¯s like using a dragon''s breath to light a campfire."


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    "Maybe," Roland admitted, "but we can''t let our soldiers go into battle with dull swords and broken armor. This furnace could be the answer."


    The mage sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging. "I suppose you have a point. We can¡¯t afford to let the troops fight with shoddy equipment. But starting that furnace requires magic crystals or a magician¡¯s power. It''s not a simple task."


    Roland nodded, his determination unwavering. "I know. But it¡¯s a risk worth taking. I¡¯ve got nearly a thousand magic crystals from the shadow spiders we defeated. That should be enough to keep the furnace running for a while."


    Reluctantly, Ladir agreed. "Fine, but don¡¯t expect miracles. And if you think I¡¯m building that blacksmith shop, think again."


    Roland laughed, knowing full well that Ladir would help. "Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll handle the construction. Just point me to a good spot."


    Ladir sighed again, this time more out of resignation than frustration. Together, they found a suitable location, and Roland quickly set his men to work. As the sun rose higher, the camp came alive with activity. Archers prepared for their daily fishing, while the knights and city guards resumed their construction work.


    As the blacksmith shop took shape, Roland turned to Carlos. "Go to Irube and ask the dwarves for some iron anvils and steel. We¡¯ll need them to get the forge up and running." He tossed Carlos a storage ring, another gift from the system, capable of holding vast amounts of material.


    By midday, the blacksmith shop was complete. Ladir, though visibly exhausted from the effort, managed a small smile. "It¡¯s done, Your Highness. Now you just need a blacksmith."


    Roland nodded and sent Reynold to search the camp. Before long, Reynold returned with a timid man dressed in rags.


    "This citizen used to be a blacksmith, Your Highness," Reynold reported.


    Roland sized up the man, who looked ready to bolt at any moment. "What¡¯s your name?"


    "R-Ren, Your Highness," the man stammered.


    "Can you still forge?" Roland asked, keeping his tone gentle.


    Ren nodded quickly. "Yes, Your Highness."


    "Good. When Carlos returns with the supplies, I want you to start repairing the knights¡¯ equipment. Can you handle that?"


    "Yes, Your Highness," Ren replied, a bit more confidently this time.


    Satisfied, Roland turned to inspect the newly installed forge. The lava furnace, a formidable piece of equipment, would be the lifeline they desperately needed. Unlike conventional forges, this one required no fuel; it was powered by hellfire, ignited by magic.


    As Roland busied himself with final preparations, a group of archers returned from their morning fishing expedition, their expressions grim.


    Roland looked up, sensing something was amiss. "What¡¯s wrong?"


    One of the archers, a seasoned veteran, stepped forward. "Your Highness, we need to talk. There¡¯s something you should see."


    Roland¡¯s heart sank, but he kept his voice steady. "Show me."


    The day had started with promise, but Roland knew better than to believe that fortune alone would see them through. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it head-on, as always.

 Chapter 33: The Swift River Beast

    "Your Highness..." A group of Batanian archers ran back, their faces pale with dismay.


    The commotion caught Roland''s attention. He stepped out of the blacksmith shop, his curiosity piqued, only to be stunned by the sight before him. The archers were in disarray, their armor torn, some of them bruised, and others soaked to the bone, looking like drenched, defeated birds.


    "What happened?" Roland narrowed his eyes, a growing concern evident in his voice. Had they been attacked by orcs?


    "My lord, a massive octopus-like monster emerged from the Swift River. It''s a high-level creature!" One of the archers, breathless and shaken, relayed the story to Roland.


    The archers had ventured out to fish, taking advantage of the river''s winter bounty. They had already hauled in a dozen baskets of fish when the nightmare began. As they pulled in their nets one last time, thick tentacles shot out of the water, ripping the nets apart with terrifying ease. A gaping maw lined with sharp teeth followed, devouring the fish. The archers had tried to fight back, shooting arrows at the beast, but it retaliated with such force that five of them were thrown into the icy water. Thanks to their agility and the quick rescue by the remaining boats, no lives were lost, but many were injured. Unable to kill the creature with their arrows, the archers had no choice but to retreat.


    Roland''s expression darkened. "This monster dares to threaten us? In a winter like this, with Swift City already struggling to survive on what little food we have left?" Even Roland himself had been surviving on little more than brown bread and fish. Losing the river''s bounty could be catastrophic.


    "All Knights, stay here. Reynold, you''re in charge of protecting Rapid City. The City Guards and Batanian archers will come with me. Priest Ivy and Mage Ladir, your assistance will be crucial." Roland''s orders were swift and decisive. He lamented the absence of Carlos, knowing his dragon would have been a great help.


    "Let''s go! We need to deal with this creature," Roland said through gritted teeth.


    ---


    When they reached the Swift River, which had now calmed down, Roland turned to Ladir. "Sir Ladir, I need your expertise."


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    "This is my duty, Your Highness." Ladir bowed before unleashing a tremendous spiritual force through his staff. The staff''s power was clearly not of mortal origin, amplifying Ladir''s already formidable abilities. The mage closed his eyes, concentrating, as his spiritual energy spread out like an invisible net across the river.


    "I''ve found it!" Ladir''s eyes snapped open.


    "Spiritual Burst!" Ladir cast a high-level spell. Though he was primarily an earth-based war mage, his spiritual power was more than sufficient to handle such magic. The spell struck the water with a thunderous boom, and a massive white water bubble emerged, bursting to reveal the monster''s writhing form.


    "It''s a Water Watcher," Roland muttered as he recognized the creature''s barbed tentacles and grotesque appearance. The similarity to the monster that had once appeared in Mirror Lake near Moria''s West Gate was striking. "So, it''s made its way here¡­"


    "Release the arrows!" Roland ordered. The City Guards'' hand crossbows and the Batanian archers'' skillful shots rained down on the creature, though Roland knew their ordinary arrows would struggle to penetrate the beast''s thick hide.


    "Light Bomb!" Ivy conjured a sphere of light and hurled it at the creature. The beast reacted violently as the light seared its flesh, writhing in agony.


    "It''s a dark attribute creature! It''s vulnerable to light, fire, and holy attacks!" Ladir shouted, his discomfort with fighting on water clear as his usual earth-based spells were ineffective. Yet, his spiritual power remained crucial in holding the beast at bay.


    "Sacred Sword Judgment!" Roland raised the Dragon Slaying Sword, plunging it into the ground. A golden hexagram appeared beneath him, with the sword at its center. A divine sword materialized from the hexagram, descending upon the Water Watcher.


    The creature''s scream was ear-splitting as the sword struck, leaving a deep wound that oozed black blood.


    "Well done, Sir Ladir!" Roland praised the mage, who had used his mental power to restrict the beast''s movements, preventing it from escaping into the depths of the river. Roland knew his Sacred Sword Judgment was powerful, but it had a significant flaw¡ªit required time to cast, making it difficult to use in fast-paced combat. This battle was a harsh reminder of how much he still relied on his soldiers, and how much he needed to improve his own combat abilities.


    "Sacred Sword Judgment!" Roland unleashed the attack again, determined to finish the beast.


    ---


    Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Roland released his 47th Sacred Sword Judgment. "It should be dead now..." he muttered, leaning on his sword, exhausted.


    Ivy, observing the nearly obliterated Water Watcher, couldn''t help but smirk. "Your Highness, I think that''s more than enough... It''s already dead."


    Roland glanced at the lifeless monster floating on the water. "Right... Let''s fish it out, extract the magic crystal, and dispose of the body. No point in letting it go to waste."


    He then surveyed the damage. "It''s a shame we lost those Galen ships... Our daily catch will suffer."


    "We''ll need to pair the archers with the City Guards for future fishing expeditions. I underestimated the dangers in this river," Roland sighed, realizing that this world was filled with far more monsters than he had anticipated.


    With the threat now neutralized, Roland turned his thoughts back to his blacksmith shop. "I need to get back to work. There''s still much to repair."


    With that, he led his troops back, leaving the battlefield behind. The winter was harsh, but Roland knew that with determination and strategy, they could survive whatever challenges came their way.

 Chapter 34: The Burden of Leadership

    Roland trudged back to Rapid City, the weight of his recent victory against the Water Watcher pressing heavily on his mind. The brown bread in his hand felt as hard and unyielding as the winter itself, each bite a reminder of the difficulties that plagued his small territory. The memory of the fishnets and the Galen boat, both smashed to pieces in the battle, made his heart sink. He stared at the unappetizing bread, his appetite as cold as the season.


    "It''s too difficult for me..." Roland muttered, his voice tinged with exhaustion as he opened the system''s territory page.


    The image of Rapid City hovered before him, a disheartening sight. As he focused his consciousness on the page, a stream of information flowed into his mind:


    ---


    **Rapid City:**


    - **Area:** One kilometer in radius.


    - **Construction Units:** Dilapidated lord''s castle, 82 crumbling dwellings, 18 weak dwellings, dilapidated stone walls (under repair), stone wells, smithy.


    - **Troops:** 303


    - **Population:** 104 (Trainable civilians: 31)


    - **Evaluation:** The lonely king leads the remnants of his people back to their homeland. This relic, barely sheltered from the wind and rain, offers little comfort. The darkness still threatens the new king. With no productive capacity except for fishing, the military might be the town''s only strength. Note: The town lacks war potential, and a single defeat could spell doom.


    - **Ability:** As the only territory of the Lagrang Kingdom in Middle-earth, it will attract remnants of Lagrang. The system will guide a wave of wandering civilians to arrive each day, hoping the lord can provide for them.


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    ---


    Roland sighed heavily. "Outrageous!" he exclaimed, dismissing the system screen with a wave of his hand. After so much effort, his population remained pitifully low at 104, with only 31 men fit for service. Worse still, the town had no production capacity beyond fishing. The lava forging furnace was impressive, but without an alchemist, it was of little use. And the dwarves in the Blacksmithing Mountain could forge far better weapons than his own smiths.


    Winter made everything more challenging. Roland couldn''t risk sending his people out to expand the city or hunt for food¡ªorc attacks were too great a threat. For now, his people were little more than mouths to feed, their only contribution being the construction of the city''s defenses.


    As he passed by the blacksmith shop, Roland spotted Ren, hard at work on the magic power forging furnace. The sight of a finely crafted steel longsword brought a measure of relief. At least the soldiers'' equipment was being repaired, though the situation with the knights was more dire. Their leather armor, once a crucial layer of protection, was now in tatters. The knights, once formidable in their triple-layered armor, were reduced to just two layers of steel, with the leather linings worn beyond use.


    "This is nothing like the game," Roland thought bitterly. In the game, equipment durability could be restored with a bit of gold. But here, everything had to be replaced. He finally understood why knights were so powerful, yet so few¡ªno one could afford to maintain them. After the intense Battle of Lonely Mountain, his knights were in worse shape than ever, their strength greatly diminished by the loss of equipment.


    "God, give me infantry... I''ll be honest! I won''t play knights in the future..." Roland sighed, feeling the weight of his responsibilities.


    He knew he needed to build a leather workshop, a strategic necessity for producing new armor. Home-tanned leather simply wouldn''t cut it. But for now, he decided to visit the system''s mall, hoping to find something useful.


    He scrolled through the options, dismissing most of them out of hand.


    "City Guard? No need."


    "Lagrand Knight... Get out! I can''t afford it."


    "A high-level fire staff? What do I need it for?"


    Then, something caught his eye: "Divine weapon! Ring of Glory!"


    Roland''s heart skipped a beat. The Ring of Glory was a legendary item, one of the Nine Holy Rings of the Knights, and its power was the stuff of myths. It had the ability to enhance the knights'' skills, making them even more formidable.


    The Nine Holy Rings were the antithesis of the Nine Magical Rings worn by the Nazgul. Each ring represented a knightly virtue, from Glory to Sacrifice, and granted extraordinary abilities. The Ring of Glory, in particular, could amplify the power of the entire knightly order under its command.


    But the price¡ª500,000 wealth¡ªmade him hesitate. "So cheap?" he thought, then quickly realized why. The Ring of Glory, while powerful, was only useful in specific circumstances, unlike the more versatile Ring of Sacrifice or the Ring of Fraternity.


    Still, Roland knew the potential it held. "Woooooo... I went back to the night before liberation and bought it," he mumbled, feeling the sting of his decision as his wealth shrank by more than half.


    With a deep breath, he slid the ring onto his right index finger. The burden of leadership was heavy, but with the Ring of Glory, he hoped to tip the scales in his favor.

 Chapter 35: Ring Of Glory

    Roland stared at the Ring of Glory now adorning his right index finger, the weight of its significance sinking in. The octagonal ruby gleamed ominously, its golden band exuding an aura of ancient power. For a moment, Roland couldn''t help but feel a twinge of regret¡ªthe ring had cost him a significant portion of his wealth. But as he traced the delicate runes engraved along its surface, the feeling quickly faded.


    "Impressive, Your Majesty. This ring has a divine presence," Carlos remarked, his eyes locked onto the ring.


    Roland sighed inwardly. The ring was more than just a symbol of wealth; it was a powerful artifact, one that carried the weight of history and responsibility. "It''s more than just a pretty trinket. This is the Ring of Glory, the first of the Nine Holy Rings."


    Carlos''s expression shifted from admiration to awe, and Reynold, who had just entered the tent, immediately dropped to one knee upon seeing the ring. "My king, the glory of the Lagrand Empire has chosen you," he said reverently.


    Roland nodded, acknowledging the significance of the moment. "Let''s see if it lives up to its name. Glory!"


    As he uttered the command, a red-gold light radiated from the ring, spreading to encompass the knights around him. The power of the ring melded their collective strength, their auras unified in a single, radiant burst of energy. The knights echoed the call, their voices ringing out in unison.


    "God bless Lagrand!"


    "Dragon God above!"


    Reynold''s voice trembled with emotion. "The Ring of Glory has returned, my king. You are destined to revive the empire."


    Roland felt the weight of Reynold''s words. The Nine Holy Rings, once thought lost to time, were now within his grasp¡ªor at least one of them was. "Five rings are still out there," he mused, his gaze drifting towards the horizon.


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    "Yes, the first, second, sixth, seventh, and ninth rings were once held by the royal family, but they were lost," Reynold explained.


    "But with the return of the Ring of Glory, Lagrand''s glory will follow," Roland said, a determined glint in his eye.


    Reynold nodded in agreement, though the weight of their task was evident. "Indeed, my king."


    As Roland stared at the sky, lost in thought, the sound of footsteps brought him back to the present. Reynold re-entered the tent with a new visitor in tow.


    "My lord, an elf named Legolas seeks an audience," Reynold announced.


    Roland stood up, his interest piqued. "Legolas? What brings him here?"


    The elf entered, his movements graceful but urgent. "King Roland, I bring news from the north," he said, his voice steady despite the gravity of his message.


    "News? What are the orcs up to now?" Roland asked, already bracing himself for the worst.


    "The half-orc army is gathering at the northern fortress of Gambada," Legolas reported, handing Roland a map marked with strategic points.


    Roland''s heart sank. "Gambada... They''ve begun to mobilize already?"


    "Not fully, but I saw orcs moving through the Grey Mountains, heading toward Gondaba," Legolas replied, his gaze unwavering.


    Roland glanced at the map, his mind racing. "What do Bard and Thorin say?"


    "They are prepared to defend their homeland at all costs," Legolas confirmed.


    Roland nodded. "The north is in good hands, then. But I''ll need to focus on the south¡ªDogoldo and the forces led by Azog. They''ll likely target Rapid City first."


    "Dogoldo?" Legolas looked puzzled. "I wasn''t aware of any southern threat."


    Roland rubbed his temples. "Yes, it''s a fortress where Azog''s forces are entrenched. We can''t afford to ignore it."


    Legolas nodded in understanding. "I see. But I must return north. I trust you will handle the south."


    Roland dismissed him with a wave. "I''ll send scouts to establish an outpost across the river. We''ll monitor the orcs'' movements and prepare for the worst."


    As Legolas departed, Roland turned to Reynold. "Put the city construction on hold. Take the knights across the river and set up a camp. I''ll have Mage Ladir accompany you to build an outpost. Bring Carlos as well; his skills will be invaluable."


    Reynold bowed deeply. "Your will is my command, my king."


    Once alone, Roland felt a wave of unease wash over him. Despite all his preparations, he knew he wasn''t ready for a full-scale assault from the orcs. The thought of facing them head-on sent a chill down his spine.


    Just then, Mage Ladir appeared beside him, seemingly out of thin air. "Relax, Your Highness. It''s winter."


    Roland blinked, confused. "Winter?"


    Ladir smiled faintly. "Winter is not the season for war. The orcs will wait until spring to attack. You have time to prepare."


    Roland exhaled slowly, relief mingling with determination. "Then we''ll be ready for them when the time comes."


    But as he stared out at the snow-covered landscape, he couldn''t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. The second Lonely Mountain War was coming, and Rapid City would be the first line of defense. The Ring of Glory had chosen him, but whether he could live up to its legacy remained to be seen.

 Chapter 36: The Battle at Swift River

    Early the next morning, Reynold led the Knights across the Swift River in small groups. With the aid of Mage Ladir''s earth magic, they constructed a rugged but sturdy outpost. The outpost consisted of a 100-meter perimeter of square stone walls, each 3 meters thick and 6 meters high. Within these walls, they erected a wooden shelter to serve as a stable, and a 15-meter tower for both lookout and living quarters. At the top of the tower, they built a beacon to warn Rapid City across the river. However, the effort took its toll on Ladir, who became weak from overexerting his magic.


    "Carlos, you stay here. I''ll take a group to scout along the riverbank," Reynold ordered.


    "Be careful. Don''t engage if you encounter any resistance. We can always retreat to defend the city," Carlos cautioned, concerned that Reynold might be drawn into a trap. He was acutely aware of the Knights'' fatigue and the potential danger they faced.


    Reynold grimaced at the thought of the city''s inadequate defenses but didn''t voice his concerns. "We''ll be back soon," he reassured Carlos, who then slapped the flank of Reynold''s horse, sending it galloping off with the rest of the Knights.


    As Reynold and his men rode away, Carlos mounted his dragon and took to the sky, flying toward the dense forest to gather more intelligence.


    ---


    Meanwhile, in a crumbling fortress, Azog, the ferocious orc leader, snarled at a cowering subordinate. "What did you find?" he demanded.


    "N-nothing yet, my lord. That army seems to have appeared out of nowhere," the orc stammered.


    In a fit of rage, Azog drove the iron claw on his left arm into the orc''s neck, lifting him off the ground before hurling him into a pack of ravenous wolves. As the wolves tore the orc apart, Azog sneered, "Useless scum. Find them! I want to know where they came from!" His roar echoed through the ruins, sending shivers through the ranks of orcs beneath him.


    ---


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    By midday, Reynold and his Knights had reached the Long Lake Road. The sight of the familiar landscape filled Reynold with a sense of nostalgia. The road had once been traversed by a grand infantry, marching north to the Battle of Lonely Mountain. Now, only a handful of weary knights returned, the memories of their fallen comrades heavy on their minds.


    "Split into groups of ten and scout the area," Reynold instructed, his voice weary but firm.


    The Knights fanned out, cautiously moving through the forest. But the orcs, with their keen senses, had already spotted them and lay in wait, hidden in the shadows.


    "Why does it feel so eerie?" one of the Knights muttered, gripping his lance tightly.


    "Stay alert!" another warned, just as a bloodcurdling scream pierced the air. An orc had dropped from a tree, plunging a dagger into the back of an unsuspecting knight. The ambush had begun.


    "Orcs!" a Knight shouted as the group came under attack. The orcs, led by a cunning leader, launched themselves at the Knights with savage fury.


    "For the glory of Lagrand!" Reynold roared, rallying his men. Despite being outnumbered, the Knights fought valiantly, their swords gleaming with divine energy as they cut through the orcs'' ranks. However, the skirmish was brief and brutal. The Knights managed to break through the ambush, but one of their own had been grievously wounded.


    "Hold on, Lek! Don''t fall asleep!" a Knight urged, keeping the injured man conscious as they raced back to the river.


    Reynold met them at the water''s edge, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the wounded Knight. "Divine Inspiration! Divine Healing!" he invoked, sending a soft golden light over the injured man. The wound began to close, but the Knight still grimaced in pain as he pulled the dagger from his shoulder.


    "You''re brave, lad," Reynold said, his voice low but steady as he patted the Knight on the back. The young man, though weakened by blood loss, managed a grim smile.


    Reynold dismounted, drawing his knight''s sword. Unlike the cumbersome lance, his 1.5-meter blade was perfect for close combat. Channeling his combat aura, he slashed through the remaining orcs with a single, powerful sweep. The orcs, sliced in half, writhed in agony as their lifeblood stained the earth.


    Examining the totems on the fallen orcs, Reynold''s expression darkened. "These orcs are from the same clan as those we encountered near the Lonely Mountain. The threat is closer than we thought."


    A murmur of unease spread among the Knights. "We can''t fight on two fronts," one of them muttered.


    Reynold sighed deeply, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "It seems we don''t have a choice."


    ---


    Back at the camp, Roland listened intently as Reynold reported the skirmish. "Azog''s forces in the south are growing restless," Roland remarked, pacing inside the warm tent.


    "We''re facing a significant threat," Ladir, still recovering from his exertions, added as he gently cradled a griffin egg.


    Roland nodded, deep in thought. "If they attack, we''ll be the first to fall. River Valley City and Ilubo can offer little support; they have their own problems with the orcs from the north. The elves could intervene, but we can''t rely on them." He sighed, frustration evident in his voice.


    Carlos scoffed, "Great. Our so-called allies are practically useless."


    "Instead of hoping for help from Thranduil, we should count on Ironfoot Dain''s army," Ladir suggested, raising an eyebrow.


    Before Roland could respond, a Batanian scout burst into the tent, breathless. "Your Highness! There''s movement across the river!"


    Roland''s heart sank as he realized that the battle for survival was about to begin.

 Chapter 37: A New Alliance

    "What''s wrong?" Roland asked, startled. It wasn¡¯t the threat of the half-orc army that alarmed him.


    "Your Highness! There are a lot of people on the other side of the river! It looks like there are thousands of them," the soldier reported, his voice tinged with urgency.


    Roland''s eyes widened. "Thousands of people? Could it be that River Valley City was attacked?" He sprang to his feet, anxiety coursing through him. Apart from River Valley City, he couldn''t think of any other place from which so many humans might flee.


    ---


    At the outpost, the stationed knights had already taken up positions on the city wall, bows drawn, watching the approaching crowd with tense anticipation.


    "May I meet the lord of this place?" a young man with blond hair called out from below.


    The knights remained silent, following their orders to say nothing until their lord arrived.


    "Huh!" The sound of powerful wings filled the air as Carlos rode his dragon Kaldor, carrying Roland to the outpost. The dragon landed gracefully atop the sentry tower, and Roland dismounted swiftly.


    "Your Highness, they wish to speak with you," a knight reported.


    "Let them through," Roland replied with a nod.


    ---


    The iron-clad wooden door creaked open just enough for the young man to slip through before it quickly shut again behind him.


    "Hello, respected lord. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am James, the lord of the Cardan tribe in the northern wasteland," the young man introduced himself, bowing respectfully. He couldn''t help but notice the aura of power surrounding Roland, from his finely crafted magical armor to the imposing dragon knight who had just landed.


    "Hello, I''m Roland, King of the Lagrand Kingdom," Roland replied, returning the bow.


    James¡¯s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn¡¯t expected the young man before him to be the king, though it made sense. A dragon knight was a formidable asset that only a powerful kingdom could afford. He wondered how the king would react when he saw the desperate state of James¡¯s people.


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    "What brings you here?" Roland asked, his curiosity piqued.


    "Well, we were hoping to rent this outpost as a temporary refuge," James said hesitantly, his request catching Roland off guard.


    "What do you mean?" Roland asked, confused.


    "Our tribe was destroyed in the northern war. We had no choice but to flee south, crossing the Gray Mountains to escape the orcs," James explained, his voice filled with sorrow.


    "Have you been to Long Lake City or Elub?" Roland asked, his tone suddenly sharp.


    "Yes, we did visit Lord Bard of Long Lake City. He offered us refuge, but I declined. My people still need my leadership, and we hope to remain independent," James replied.


    Roland nodded, understanding James''s desire to maintain autonomy. Lords rarely wanted to merge their territories, especially when resources were scarce.


    Roland couldn''t help but feel sympathy for James. The young lord had led his people out of one danger only to stumble into another. He admired James¡¯s determination but knew the situation was far more dire than the young lord realized.


    "I''m afraid you haven''t escaped the orcs just yet," Roland said, his voice heavy with regret. He pulled out a sheepskin map and pointed to a location. "Here is the Orc Kingdom, ruled by King Azog, the Pale Orc. Their forces are strong, between the 5th and 6th ranks. Gundabad Mountain... Gambada! These are the orc fortresses to the north. You¡¯ve walked right into the middle of their territory."


    James¡¯s face paled. He hadn¡¯t realized the full extent of the danger they were in.


    "To be honest, there was a recent battle at the foot of the Lonely Mountain. The dwarves, humans, and elves formed an alliance and won, but the orcs are regrouping, planning their next move," Roland added, delivering another blow.


    James stood there, stunned, his mind racing to comprehend the gravity of the situation.


    "However," Roland continued, "if you truly wish to stay here, I can offer you this outpost. You can build a city here, and we won¡¯t interfere with the land west of the Swift River, provided you can defend it from other lords."


    James nodded, his mind made up. "Thank you, King Roland. We will stay and build our home here."


    Roland sighed, feeling a mix of admiration and pity for James. "Just know, the orcs will not be your only challenge. The northern lands are harsh, and the orcs could attack at any moment. But if they do, we will stand by you. We cannot afford to let them cross the Swift River into our kingdom."


    James nodded again, his resolve strengthening. "We understand. We will fight to protect our new home."


    ---


    "My lord, are we really leaving this place to them?" Carlos asked Roland quietly, watching as James''s people began crossing the river in small groups.


    Roland glared at him. "What, do you want to leave our people here to face the orcs alone? Their numbers give them an advantage."


    Roland couldn''t help but admire the industrious northern tribesmen. There were nearly 3,000 of them, including about 500 soldiers, and Roland was astonished to see nearly 40 knights among them, survivors of a brutal war.


    "The more people, the faster the work gets done!" Carlos remarked enviously as he watched the northern tribesmen begin construction on the log city wall.


    "Don''t worry, our people will return soon enough," Roland assured him with a smile.


    Carlos frowned. "Your Excellency, the soldiers who return to Rapid City are few and far between. The dwarves are quicker, constantly crossing the Misty Mountains back to Eruber."


    Roland chuckled awkwardly. "Well, our people are a bit scattered, after all."


    What Roland didn''t realize was that his decision to allow James and his people to stay would eventually lead to the founding of the Kingdom of Akvia, known as the Twin Stars of the North, rivaling the River Valley Kingdom. It would start as a humble town, but soon, it would be bustling with life.


    "All right, let''s not worry too much about the west bank for now. We need to focus on improving our city defenses. A two-meter-high city wall doesn¡¯t exactly make me feel safe," Roland said, his tone growing serious.


    The soldiers didn¡¯t even bother to patrol the city wall at night. It was more of a formality than a real defense. The real danger lay within the city, where wild beasts and wandering orcs often slipped through the cracks in the neglected fortifications.


    "Then we¡¯ll have to wait¡­ Mage Ladir is still recovering from his overuse of magic," Carlos reminded him.


    Roland sighed. "Ah¡­ I¡¯m exhausted. Let¡¯s destroy it and start anew."

 Chapter 38: The Rangers Arrival

    Roland lay weakly on the hammock, eyes half-closed as he murmured, "System check-in..."


    "Sign in successfully! Congratulations to the host for getting El Nino Rangers *10."


    Roland sighed, feeling a tinge of frustration. "Really? No iron ingots, no desks, nothing useful..." He muttered to himself. The system seemed to have a knack for providing items that were often more of a novelty than practical. The supplies he''d secured from the dwarves were dwindling fast, and the growing population of Rapid City made the situation even more precarious. At the current rate, they wouldn''t make it through the spring.


    The thought of James, who had inherited a well-established power, filled Roland with a pang of envy. Even though James had been forced to move south, he''d managed to preserve most of his supplies. Hundreds of trucks, brimming with goods, had followed him, and despite the challenges, his people''s lives were far more comfortable than Roland''s.


    "We need to have the civilians cut more trees and build boats. The soldiers can''t handle all the fishing on their own," Roland thought, his mind racing as he considered the options available to them.


    Just as he was about to rise, Carlos approached, his face weathered from the daily reconnaissance missions he undertook on his dragon.


    "Carlos, what are the Cardan tribe people up to across the river?" Roland asked, lifting the tent flap as he stepped outside.


    "They''re cutting down trees to build a city wall," Carlos replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "They have a few earth mages, but their skill level is low. They can only manage to raise some thorns and smash stones to build a basic foundation."


    "With enough people and resources, they should be able to build it quickly," Roland mused, nodding.


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    "Yes, once they have a wall, they won''t fear the orc attacks. They still have over 500 soldiers and at least 100 professionals. With nearly 4,000 people, they have significant potential in a prolonged conflict," Carlos added, his voice filled with cautious optimism.


    Roland nodded again. The Cardan tribe had the numbers and the resources that Rapid City lacked. It was a stark contrast to his own struggles, where every day was a battle against hunger and the elements. He couldn''t help but wonder about the future¡ªif these northern humans had migrated south before, their fate would have likely been the same as those who were either absorbed by River Valley City or annihilated by the harsh realities of the wilderness.


    A voice interrupted his thoughts. "King, a team of El Nino Rangers has come to pledge their service to you," Reynold reported, appearing at the entrance of the tent.


    Roland''s eyes lit up with curiosity. "Bring them to me," he ordered.


    Soon, a group of ten rangers stood before him. "Your Highness, may the El Nino Forest protect you and us," they said in unison, bowing respectfully.


    Roland studied them carefully. The El Nino Rangers were a legendary force, born in the El Nino Forest by the Inner Sea of Rune. Their reputation as dragon slayers was unparalleled. They were the only human army that had ever reached Dragon Island during the Human-Dragon War, slaying countless dragons and leaving a lasting impact on the world. The El Nino Rangers had nearly driven dragons to extinction, their numbers now reduced to a scarce few.


    "If only they had come sooner," Roland thought, a bitter smile crossing his face. "Perhaps we could have saved East Road Town..."


    The rangers were equipped with high-quality Mithril longbows, their bowstrings made from dragon tendons, and their close-fitting leather armor crafted from dragon skin. Their gear was designed for agility, not heavy defense, and they wore only minimal armor on their legs and arms, with dragon-scale head rings instead of helmets.


    "Not everyone is like the Batania shooters," Roland mused. The Batania archers, known for their heavy armor and flexibility, were a rare breed. But the El Nino Rangers were true archers¡ªswift, lethal, and lightly armored. Roland couldn''t help but think about the Avalon Rangers, the elite warriors from the Avalon elf tribe in the northern Eastern Mountains. As martial arts masters, they were among the most formidable rangers on the continent. If he had the chance, Roland would gladly recruit them as well.


    After a moment of contemplation, Roland made his decision. "You will serve as my personal guards," he announced. The El Nino Rangers were too few in number to form a separate army, but they would be invaluable in protecting him from aerial attacks.


    Roland knew that the orcs had sky knights, and Sauron''s forces boasted powerful abyssal creatures, akin to demonic dragons. The presence of these El Nino Rangers would be crucial in defending against any aerial assaults. As the inevitable confrontation with Sauron loomed on the horizon, Roland took comfort in the fact that these elite rangers would be at his side, ready to face the challenges ahead.

 Chapter 39 :"The Dragons Hoard"

    The El Ni?o Rangers had just begun their assigned tasks when Roland suddenly remembered a valuable asset he had yet to use.


    With a loud crash, a massive golden-red form hit the ground outside the city. The air filled with the pungent scent of sulfur.


    "How could I forget? Smaug, the 141-meter-long dragon!" Roland exclaimed, turning to face the astonished crowd.


    Although the people were accustomed to seeing Kaldor, a dragon over 15 meters long, flying overhead, Smaug was an entirely different beast. An adult dragon usually measures around 30 meters, but Smaug¡¯s size was legendary¡ª141 meters of raw power. However, his size came at the cost of his ability to wield dragon language magic, making him a force of pure physical might.


    "Ah, Your Highness! Why didn''t you bring this out earlier?" Ladir, the mage, ran over, his eyes gleaming with excitement. For mages, dragons were a treasure trove of rare and powerful materials.


    "Carlos, Reynold, get some men and start working! Dragon scales and skin are excellent materials for armor," Roland instructed, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.


    "Whoa! That¡¯s a massive dragon!" Ivy, the priest, exclaimed, hiding behind Ladir as if the dead dragon might spring back to life.


    "Don¡¯t forget the teeth! They¡¯ll make formidable weapons," Roland added.


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    "Dragon wings are premium materials for magical cloaks. Be careful not to waste them," Ladir advised as he began slicing into the wing membrane with a blade formed from earth elements.


    "Take the eyes too! A dragon''s eye can be turned into a powerful inspection tool with a broad detection range," Ivy chimed in, no longer scared, and joined in on the excitement.


    "Careful with those scales! Dragon''s blood is valuable," Carlos cautioned the knights as they began removing the massive scales.


    "And don¡¯t forget the reverse scales! They have potent magical properties!" Roland reminded everyone, thinking of the highly coveted inverse scales found on true dragons.


    "Bring the barrels! We need to collect the blood!" Reynold called out, ensuring that none of the precious dragon blood was wasted.


    "This is incredible! Dragon tendons are perfect for bowstrings!" Roland marveled as they carefully extracted the long, sinewy cords from the dragon''s body.


    Kaldor, Carlos''s dragon, watched the scene in horror. The once-mighty Smaug, now reduced to a pile of valuable resources, was being stripped clean by humans who saw his remains as nothing more than treasure. A shiver ran down Kaldor''s spine, and he quietly edged away, not wanting to end up in the same fate.


    "We need to be precise when extracting the dragon crystal. It¡¯s a crucial ingredient for alchemy and potions," Ladir explained as he supervised the removal of the dragon¡¯s massive heartstone.


    The work continued for hours, with every part of Smaug¡¯s body being harvested for its valuable materials. By the end of the day, Roland had amassed an incredible haul:


    "Thousands of scales the size of a washbasin, nearly a hundred bundles of dragon skin, sixty-four dragon teeth of varying sizes, a dragon crystal as large as a washbasin, seven dragon tendons, twenty claws, a mountain of dragon meat, and a hundred barrels of dragon blood," Roland listed, storing everything in the system.


    "This is a fortune!" Roland couldn''t help but be overwhelmed by the sheer wealth they had acquired. He glanced at Carlos''s dragon, Kaldor, a dangerous thought crossing his mind. Killing a dragon to get rich might just be worth the risk.


    "With the lava forge in the city, we can turn these scales into armor," Roland suggested, already imagining his soldiers clad in dragon leather.


    But Ladir, ever the pragmatist, quickly brought him back to reality. "Your Highness, we lack the other rare materials needed to create magical equipment. Besides, our priority should be reinforcing the city walls rather than focusing on luxury items."


    Roland sighed, realizing the truth in Ladir''s words. It was one thing to possess wealth, but another to have the means to use it. For now, the dragon''s hoard would have to wait until Rapid City was secure and its people were safe.

 Chapter 40: Unexpected Allies

    The early morning chill still lingered in the air as Ladir burst into Roland''s tent, his excitement unmistakable. "Your Highness, you need to see this!"


    Intrigued, Roland followed Ladir outside. As they approached a hidden area near the barracks, Roland¡¯s eyes widened at the sight before him¡ªfive tiny griffins, newly hatched, crawling around a straw nest. Their little wings flapped clumsily, and their wide eyes, full of curiosity, melted away any future image of ferocity.


    "They¡¯ve hatched?" Roland marveled, surprised by how early it seemed. "Isn''t it too soon?"


    Ladir chuckled, stroking his beard. "Griffins usually take four weeks to hatch, but with a little magical assistance, they¡¯ve arrived early."


    Roland nodded, understanding. "These griffins will need knights¡ªloyal ones who can raise and bond with them from now on."


    Ladir¡¯s face lit up with approval. "Indeed, Your Highness. The bond between a griffin and its knight is lifelong. Choose wisely, and these knights could forge a legacy that lasts for generations."


    Roland pondered this as he walked over to where Carlos was tending to his dragon, Kaldor. Seeing Roland''s approaching figure, Carlos immediately noticed his lord¡¯s unusual excitement.


    "What¡¯s got you so thrilled, Your Highness?" Carlos asked, curious.


    "The griffins have hatched. We need to find knights for them," Roland announced, a grin spreading across his face.


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    Carlos raised an eyebrow. "So soon? That¡¯s excellent news! It¡¯ll be good to have more than just me in the sky."


    Roland studied Carlos for a moment before asking, "You¡¯re a dragon knight¡ªtraining griffin knights should be within your expertise, right?"


    Carlos bristled with pride. "Of course! Training other aerial knights is easy compared to dragon-riding. No one¡¯s better suited for the job than me."


    "Good. Then start selecting candidates from the village children. We¡¯ll need knights who can form a strong bond with these griffins from an early age," Roland instructed, knowing this was a task that required patience and precision.


    After Carlos left, Roland realized he had forgotten to check in with the system that morning, distracted as he was by the hatching. He quickly corrected that, standing in the barracks as he called out, "Sign in to the system!"


    The system chimed in his mind, *"Sign-in successful! Congratulations to the host for obtaining 500 Recruited Light Infantry."*


    Roland¡¯s initial excitement quickly faded as the reality of the situation sank in. "Five hundred soldiers? That sounds great, but¡­ Recruited Light Infantry?" His heart sank further as he envisioned a ragtag militia rather than the elite force he had hoped for.


    Moments later, the alarm from the city¡¯s sentry tower interrupted his thoughts. A large group was approaching the city, and knights were quickly dispatched to intercept them. As the knights returned, they brought with them a group that looked more like desperate refugees than soldiers.


    "Your Highness, these are the Empire''s conscripted light infantry!" one of the knights reported, his voice tinged with disbelief.


    Roland¡¯s heart dropped as he surveyed the newcomers. Their armor was nonexistent, just plain clothes and a few hastily gathered weapons. They looked more like survivors of a calamity than an army ready for battle. These were the reinforcements? He could barely hide his disappointment.


    "These are little more than armed refugees," he muttered to himself, a bitter realization sinking in. The system¡¯s so-called gift was far from the elite soldiers he needed. Instead, he had a group that would require substantial time and resources to train into anything resembling a fighting force.


    Roland sighed, feeling the weight of his responsibilities grow heavier. This was a reminder that not every gift was what it seemed, and that even allies could come in unexpected¡ªand less-than-ideal¡ªforms.


    He would have to make the best of what he had. Even if these new soldiers were far from the elite warriors he had hoped for, they were still people who could be molded and trained. With determination and a bit of luck, perhaps they could become something more.


    "Well," Roland said aloud, trying to lift his own spirits as much as those of the knights around him, "We have our work cut out for us. Let¡¯s get to it."


    And with that, Roland resolved to turn this ragtag group into a force to be reckoned with, no matter how impossible it seemed at the moment.

 Chapter 41: A Call for Aid

    Roland gazed at the 500 light infantrymen standing before him, their ragged uniforms and lackluster equipment a stark contrast to the disciplined soldiers he had once imagined. These were not the warriors he needed to defend the city. They were more mouths to feed, and in a time when food was scarce, they felt more like a burden than an asset.


    "Five hundred more mouths to feed, with little to show for it," Roland muttered under his breath, frustration gnawing at him. The thought of disbanding them crossed his mind, but he knew he couldn¡¯t simply send them away. Despite their shortcomings, they were the best he had¡ªbetter than nothing.


    Reynold approached cautiously, sensing Roland''s discontent. "King... the food and clothing... it''s not enough."


    Roland sighed deeply, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. "I know," he replied, his voice tinged with resignation. "We¡¯ll have to find a way."


    With no other choice, Roland set out north with the conscripted infantry, hoping to find a solution. However, the journey only served to confirm his worst fears. The soldiers were inexperienced, poorly trained, and lacked any real discipline. When they encountered a small band of orcs armed with nothing but wooden sticks, the infantry panicked, fleeing in disarray and even knocking down the knights meant to protect them. Roland¡¯s anger flared as he beheaded the orc leader and tossed the severed head at the feet of his troops.


    "This is the army of the Empire?" he roared, his voice echoing across the plains. "This is your glory? Five hundred of you, driven off by sixteen orcs with wooden sticks? How can you call yourselves soldiers?"You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    His outburst was met with silence, the light infantry too ashamed to meet his gaze. Roland turned his horse sharply, leaving them behind as he rode toward the Lonely Mountain, his heart heavy with disappointment.


    "Follow your lord," Kaslow ordered the knights, sending them after Roland to ensure his safety while he stayed behind to manage the demoralized infantry.


    Upon reaching the Lonely Mountain, Roland sought out Thorin Oakenshield, hoping the dwarf king could offer some assistance. Thorin, still wary after their last encounter, listened as Roland explained the dire situation. The sight of the light infantry, ragged and starving, eating voraciously in the dwarven hall, only added to Thorin¡¯s concern.


    "Beards above! Are these really soldiers?" Thorin exclaimed, eyeing the ragged men with disbelief. "You¡¯re not serious about sending these civilians to war, are you?"


    "They¡¯re conscripted militia," Roland admitted, his face flushing with embarrassment. "They need better equipment, something that will give them a fighting chance."


    Thorin sighed, then nodded. "Alright, let¡¯s see what we can do. We¡¯ll outfit them with spears¡ªthree meters long, so they can keep the orcs at a distance. For armor, we¡¯ll use chainmail. It¡¯s light enough for them to move in but strong enough to offer protection."


    Roland felt a surge of gratitude. "Thank you, Thorin. This will make a difference."


    "Don¡¯t thank me yet," Thorin replied. "These men are still not ready for battle, but we¡¯ll do what we can. I¡¯ll have them equipped with cross shields and battle axes as well. They¡¯re simple, but effective weapons. And since they¡¯re going to be defending rather than attacking, that should be enough."


    As they walked through the dwarven armory, Thorin paused. "Do you need bows and arrows? We have plenty in storage."


    "Yes," Roland said after a moment''s thought. "They¡¯ll need to practice, but it¡¯s something they can work on during the winter."


    Thorin called out to Kili, instructing him to prepare six months'' worth of supplies for the soldiers. As Kili walked away, Roland noticed something that brought a smile to his face¡ªthe elf Tauriel, standing close by.


    "It seems some things have changed for the better," Roland remarked, glancing at Thorin.


    Thorin chuckled. "Indeed. Now, let¡¯s make sure your soldiers are ready for what lies ahead."


    Roland nodded, feeling a renewed sense of hope. With Thorin¡¯s help, perhaps these men could be turned into something resembling a fighting force. The road ahead was still uncertain, but at least now, they were better prepared for the challenges to come.

 Chapter 42: Shadows Over the North

    After spending several days in the dwarven city of Iruba, Roland departed with his light infantry, content with the dozens of carts filled with supplies and the new shotguns they had acquired. Thorin, knowing the growing threat of the orcs, had been generous with his resources. As the southernmost defense against the orcs, RolChapterChapterand''s protection was crucial for Iruba''s survival. Thorin, still wary from the last Lonely Mountain War, understood the importance of supporting Roland.


    As they left, Roland cast a sorrowful glance at River Valley City and Iruba. Although many wandering dwarves had returned from the Blue Mountains, Iruba City still housed fewer than 5,000 dwarves, many of whom had been delayed by the harsh winter. These numbers were insufficient to defend against the inevitable goblin orc assault from Gambada. Roland knew that next time, the orc leader Azog would bring heavy crossbows to counter their defenses. The woodland elves in the dark forest, led by Thranduil, could not be counted on. History had shown that when the Lord of the Rings War broke out, the elves failed to defend the river valley, leaving King Bard''s grandson and the dwarf king Dain to die outside the city of Iruba.


    The unreliable elves, Thorin, and Bard would be occupied in the north, leaving only Roland and the White Wing King to defend the south. Roland realized it was time to visit the White Wing King.


    As Roland turned his head to inspect his light infantry, now armed with shotguns, he felt a slight relief. If all else failed, Roland would lead his people west of the Misty Mountains, abandoning Rapid City if necessary. A king without subjects was no king at all.


    But the sight of the young recruits, no older than seventeen or eighteen, weighed heavily on Roland. These armed civilians were barely more than children, and he was leading them into a battle they might not survive. The thought of sending them to their deaths haunted him, and he could almost see their desperate faces in the heat of battle.


    "Carlos, train them well," Roland instructed softly, his eyes sweeping over the young faces. "I don''t expect them to lead, but I hope they can at least protect themselves when defending."


    "Don''t worry, my lord! They will grow up!" Carlos replied confidently.


    "But there''s no time for them to grow up..." Roland muttered under his breath.


    ¡­


    "King, Lord James has invited you to discuss matters crucial to the survival of both cities," Reynold informed Roland as soon as he returned.


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    "Did they say what happened?" Roland asked, curiosity piqued.


    "They mentioned a battle with the orcs," Reynold replied after a moment of thought.


    "Prepare the boat. We''re crossing the river," Roland ordered, his interest sharpening at the mention of orcs.


    ¡­


    Accompanied by Reynold and the El Nino rangers, Roland set foot on the west bank. As they walked, Roland was struck by the sight of a wooden and stone city wall in the distance.


    "Did they build that so quickly?" Roland asked in surprise.


    "Uh, it''s not as difficult as it looks," Reynold explained. "The wall is made of wood and stone, easily constructed by cutting a few trees. It''s not as advanced as the walls in Rapid City, but it works."


    "Oh! That makes sense," Roland said, feeling reassured by the comparison to his city''s fortified walls.


    As they approached the city gate, the soldiers standing guard saluted, recognizing the king''s banner fluttering behind Roland.


    "Welcome, King Roland! I apologize that Lord James cannot greet you personally," a man who appeared to be the housekeeper greeted them.


    "It''s been a long wait," Roland responded with a polite bow.


    "I''m honored to serve you!" the housekeeper bowed in return.


    "Take me to Lord James. I need to know what happened!" Roland said, a sense of unease creeping over him as he detected the heavy scent of blood in the air¡ªa scent that only came from many wounded men.


    "King Roland, forgive me for not being able to entertain you properly," James called out, his hands busy tending to the wounded as Roland approached.


    "Dragon God above! What happened?" Reynold exclaimed, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of over a hundred wounded men lying under wooden sheds. James and others were desperately dressing their wounds and moving them to tents or log cabins.


    "What happened?" Roland demanded, a cold dread settling in his chest.


    "The cavalry we sent south was ambushed by a large force of orcs¡ªthousands of them! We lost over a hundred men," James reported through gritted teeth. His cavalry was already few in number, and losing half of them was a devastating blow.


    "Impossible! The orcs in Dogordo can''t launch such an attack!" Roland countered, his mind racing. Dogordo''s orcs had been decimated during the Lonely Mountain War, with nearly 20,000 of them killed. How could they recover so quickly?


    "King, you need to see this," Reynold said, pulling aside a rag to reveal a banner bearing the totems of the orcs.


    "This was brought back by my soldiers," James added, glancing at the banner.


    "Is there a problem?" Roland asked, noting that all orc flags looked the same to him.


    "It''s a big problem! A very big problem!" Reynold replied, his voice shaking.


    "This isn''t the totem of the Dogordo orcs! These are from orcs much further south..."


    "Mordor!" Reynold and Roland whispered in unison, the name sending a chill down their spines.


    "Do we need to move immediately?" Roland asked weakly.


    "How could Mordor care about this place? We''re in the North!" Reynold raged.


    "Damn it..." Roland cursed silently. The orcs in Dogordo were under Sauron''s command, and by defeating them, Roland and his allies had disrupted Sauron''s plans. It was only logical that Sauron would retaliate. These thousands of orcs were likely reinforcements from Mordor, and there could be more coming.


    "Have the orcs in the south already extended their reach?" White Wing asked, his expression grim.


    "Yes, darkness is closing in on the north, and we are the last line of defense..." Roland took a deep breath.


    "We will wait for them here! Right here in Niel, the city of the Carden Tribe! This is our home, and we will fight to the death!" James declared, his voice filled with anger and determination. His people had nowhere else to go. Fleeing across the Misty Mountains in winter would be a death sentence, with orcs surrounding them at every turn.


    "Then be careful! I''ll light a beacon if there''s any trouble. My soldiers will come to support you," Roland assured James. "I''m going to Lonely Mountain to inform the dwarves. They need to know what''s happening."


    The entire North was on the brink of disaster.

 Chapter 43 : The Looming Threat

    "There''s big trouble in the north! How could someone like Master Sauron be concerned with a small place like Lonely Mountain? The troops of Mordor are all lined up!" Roland thought anxiously as he sat atop Carlos''s dragon, thousands of feet above the ground.


    "Sir, relax. Everything will pass! Lagrand''s glory blesses you and me!" Carlos turned his head, attempting to comfort him.


    Roland sighed. "Even if the elves join the fight, our chances of victory are slim," he said after a moment of reflection.


    "Why?" Carlos asked, confused. "With your command, we can pull together 800 men. James can muster 500, Thorin over 1,000. Bard in River Valley City can contribute 500, and the elves have at least 3,500. That''s a coalition of over 8,000 men! Surely, with the right strategy, we can defeat the orcs."


    "But we''re fighting on two fronts," Roland explained. "The only one who can support the south is King Dain of Erebor. The elves will intercept the goblins and orcs from the fortress of Gombarda. Bard and Thorin will defend their homes, but only the dwarves of Ironhill, led by Ironfoot Dain, can help us. And we''re up against Azog, supported by the full might of Mordor."


    Carlos''s face tightened with concern. "What should we do?"


    Roland''s mind raced. Suddenly, an idea struck him. "Wait! Take me back to Rapid City! You head north to deliver the news!"


    Carlos was puzzled but obeyed without question.


    Did Roland think of a way to break the stalemate? The answer was yes. This world was eerily similar to the Middle-earth of *The Lord of the Rings*, a game Roland had played. If the hidden forces in that world existed here, too, then perhaps he could turn the tide.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    After whispering a few words to Reynold and Radiel, Roland hurriedly rode towards the pier. His mind raced with possibilities. If the star elves¡ªthe children of stars¡ªtruly existed in the dark forest north of Dogoldo, he might have a chance. They lived in a secret realm, hidden by powerful star-forbidden magic. If Roland could find and persuade them to join the war, he could tip the balance.


    As Roland prepared to plunge into the forest, Reynold grabbed his arm. "King! Where are you going? That direction leads to Dogoldo! You can''t be serious about facing Azog head-on!"


    "Don''t be ridiculous," Roland said, kicking Reynold away. "I''m not crazy! I''m not going to Dogoldo! We''re going to find the star elves!"


    Reynold breathed a sigh of relief. "Alright, but we can''t just ride horses into the forest. The hoofprints will give us away, and riding through the woods is asking for trouble."


    Roland paused, realizing the truth in Reynold''s words. "You''re right. We''ll go on foot."


    As they set off, Roland glanced back at Rapid City one last time, then plunged into the dense forest with Reynold by his side.


    ---


    Meanwhile, in the Woodland Realm, Thranduil stared at Carlos in disbelief. "Orcs of Mordor? How could they be in the north?"


    "Yes," Carlos replied, his tone measured. "Our allies were ambushed by them and suffered heavy losses."


    Thranduil''s disbelief turned to anger. "But how? How could they reach the north?"


    Carlos pulled out a totem flag from his coat. "This totem isn''t from the Misty Mountains or Dogoldo. Our allies were ambushed while scouting the south. So, Your Highness, what other orc forces do you think are in the south?"


    Thranduil''s face twisted with fury. The memory of the final battle of the alliance haunted him. His father, Orofel, had led the woodland and golden forest elves against the orcs, only to be ambushed in the Dead Marshes. Orofel had died in that battle, and the old fortress occupied by orcs was once the capital of the woodland elves.


    Carlos could almost hear his thoughts and couldn''t help but think, *Why didn''t you demolish the city when you left? Was magic too expensive to use, or were the elf mages all gone? You left a curse for everyone to deal with...*


    "I understand your message. Tell King Roland that if the orcs of Mordor come, I will bring the army to support him. Light the beacons to show us the way," Thranduil said, his voice filled with determination.


    Carlos shook his head. "No, Your Highness. Once the army of Mordor arrives, the goblin orcs of Gombarda will follow. The defense line in the north needs your stability."


    Thranduil''s eyes darkened as he realized the truth in Carlos''s words. The battle for Middle-earth was far from over, and the coming war would test them all.

 Chapter 44: The Bear in the Woods

    "Reynold, you''re really testing my patience!" Roland grumbled as he dodged another set of thorns that seemed to appear out of nowhere beneath his feet.


    "Injustice, Your Highness! How was I supposed to know there was a giant bear in that cave?" Reynold replied, his voice filled with regret as he followed closely behind Roland.


    "Roar!" The growl of the enraged bear behind them spurred the two men to pick up the pace.


    "I mean, even a fool knows that elves don¡¯t live in caves!" Roland shot back, exasperation dripping from his words.


    "Now that you mention it, we''re probably drawing more attention from the orcs running like this than we would have if we were on horseback!" Roland glanced back at the massive Earth Bear pursuing them.


    The Earth Bear, a formidable beast with the size and strength of a mountain, possessed earth magic that made it even more dangerous. Its thick, dragon-like hide could withstand even the most powerful attacks. Yet, despite this knowledge, Reynold had led them straight into its lair, waking the hibernating male from its deep sleep.


    "This forest has never felt more dangerous," Roland muttered, annoyed, as he launched a burst of energy from his sword, only for the bear to shrug off the attack.


    "Why did you attack it, Your Highness?" Reynold asked, his face pale as he barely avoided another thorny trap.


    "That hide could make excellent armor," Roland said, his tone betraying his longing. "And the bear paw, wrapped in honey and roasted¡­"


    "Your Highness, we''re about to be killed, and you''re thinking about food?" Reynold stared at Roland in disbelief, unable to comprehend his priorities. Lagrandians didn¡¯t share Roland¡¯s peculiar fondness for exotic dishes, something Roland had retained from his past life, where he had only ever seen pictures of bear paws¡ªbears being protected animals back then.


    "How long have we been running from this thing? Isn''t it tired yet?" Roland panted, glancing back at the relentless bear.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "If only Carlos were here," Roland sighed, missing his loyal companion. Carlos was strong, obedient, and most importantly, never got them into this kind of trouble.


    "In this dense forest, even Carlos would have a hard time, even with a dragon," Reynold replied.


    "We can''t seem to shake this beast," Roland said, frustration evident in his voice.


    "Unless we find a river¡­" Reynold suggested weakly.


    "Thanks for stating the obvious," Roland grumbled, his feet still moving at a brisk pace.


    For a moment, it seemed like there would soon be two fewer Paladins in the world.


    "Wait, it¡¯s slowing down," Reynold observed, noticing the bear¡¯s pace dropping from a run to a cautious walk. The bear suddenly stopped after crossing a large tree, sniffing the air nervously. Then, as if sensing danger, it turned and lumbered away, disappearing into the forest.


    "It¡¯s gone?" Roland asked, surprised.


    "We might be in bigger trouble than before," Reynold said, his tone grim.


    "What could be worse than that bear?" Roland was puzzled.


    "Predators only abandon prey for two reasons: either they¡¯re too tired to continue, or they¡¯re afraid of something stronger in the area. That bear wasn¡¯t tired," Reynold explained, swallowing hard.


    "Please, no more bad news," Roland sighed, but deep down, he knew Reynold was right.


    "We¡¯re close to our destination," Roland urged, trying to stay focused. His heart raced from the marathon-like chase, and even though he was a seasoned knight, he felt drained. He wasn''t looking forward to any more surprises.


    "Don''t worry, Your Highness, I''ll be careful," Reynold promised.


    "It¡¯s you I¡¯m most worried about," Roland muttered under his breath.


    As they continued their journey, Roland began murmuring an old incantation under his breath. "The swaying sky star grass, the resurgent Mingchen flower. The shining hexagram, the low-pitched guardian..."


    "Your Highness?" Reynold asked, confused.


    "We need to find the sky star grass first," Roland said, scanning the area.


    "But isn¡¯t that a summer plant? How would it grow in winter?" Reynold questioned, bewildered.


    "It¡¯s the key to finding Singaray. The kingdom is hidden by a barrier, and the star grass will lead us there," Roland explained, moving forward.


    Reynold scratched his head but followed Roland without further question.


    "Don¡¯t worry, the sky star grass is only visible in the dark," Roland added.


    After filling their stomachs with stale bread and water, the two knights climbed into the branches of a thick tree to rest. The sun set, and the moonlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting an eerie glow over the forest.


    "Wake up, Your Highness, it¡¯s night," Reynold whispered, gently shaking Roland awake.


    "Already?" Roland yawned, rubbing his eyes.


    "Time to get to work," he said, jumping down from the tree.


    They moved through the forest in silence, scanning the ground for any sign of the sky star grass. Just when Roland began to doubt its existence, Reynold pointed excitedly to a spot near the base of a large tree.


    There, weak but unmistakable, a few clumps of sky star grass swayed gently, their tiny bodies glowing softly in the moonlight, drawn towards the light of the stars above.


    "It¡¯s real!" Roland whispered in awe. If the sky star grass was here, then the autumn-blooming Mingchen flower might also be nearby.


    He carefully examined the grass, noting that the cores of the plants all faced south.


    "This way!" Roland motioned for Reynold to follow.


    As they moved south, more clumps of sky star grass appeared, all pointing in the same direction.


    "Looks like we¡¯ll have to wait until dawn to pinpoint the entrance to Singaray," Roland said, clapping his hands. The sky star grass had done its job, and now the rest of the journey depended on their own skills and perhaps a bit of luck.

 Chapter 45: The Celestial Bloom

    Reynold squinted at the peculiar plant before him, a faint smirk crossing his face. "Celestial grass? An out-of-season plant... again?" He sighed, more to himself than to Roland. This place was an enigma, where the ordinary mingled with the extraordinary, defying nature''s cycles.


    Roland, standing beside him, seemed lost in thought. He rubbed his chin, eyes scanning the area. "This might be the place, but finding the entrance to the enchantment? That¡¯s up to the guide."


    Reynold nodded, glancing at the trees around them. "These plants are symbiotic with the trees. They blend in perfectly, growing branches and leaves just like their hosts. You''d never notice them unless you knew what to look for. They bloom at dawn, absorbing the last starlight of autumn mornings¡ªa rare magic plant indeed."


    "Their flowering period is brief, half an hour at most," Roland added, his voice tinged with weariness. "We don¡¯t have much time. If we miss them today, we''ll have to wait for another day."


    Reynold yawned, trying to hide his exhaustion. "Forgive me, Your Highness," he muttered, embarrassed by his fatigue.


    Roland waved him off. "It''s fine. I¡¯m just as tired. These star elves certainly keep us on our toes."


    "Sign in by the system," Roland thought to himself, silently initiating his daily ritual. A familiar message popped into his mind:


    "Sign in successful. Congratulations, host, you have received Dovinian Heavy Swordsmen*100."


    Roland froze, his weariness momentarily forgotten. Dovinian Heavy Swordsmen¡ªnow that was a valuable addition. He chuckled quietly, feeling a surge of satisfaction. The Dovinian Heavy Swordsmen, known as Rune Swordsmen, were formidable. Positioned on the west bank of the Inland Sea of Rune, they were tough, well-armored, and fiercely loyal. With five layers of armor and a massive steel tower shield, they were built to withstand almost anything.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Their reputation for strong positional warfare made them ideal for holding the line against even the most relentless foes. Roland''s mind buzzed with possibilities. Could they hold off the orcs with these troops? The thought lingered, tempting him, but he dismissed it with a shake of his head. "Azog himself could probably break them," he muttered, trying to stay realistic.


    His thoughts were interrupted by Reynold¡¯s sudden exclamation. "Your Highness! Over here!"


    Roland snapped back to the present, eyes focusing on the first rays of dawn. An ice-blue flower had bloomed quietly on a nearby branch, its petals catching the soft starlight like dew.


    "That¡¯s it!" Roland exclaimed, scrambling up the tree to inspect the flower. "This is what we¡¯ve been looking for."


    Reynold, still on the ground, squinted up at him. "What did you find, Your Highness?"


    "Look at where the stamens are facing," Roland called down.


    "West, I think," Reynold replied, uncertainty in his voice.


    "Exactly. Let¡¯s head west and see if we can find more." Roland jumped down, landing lightly beside Reynold.


    The two moved quickly, following the flowers¡¯ clues. Each time they found one, it pointed them further west. Their pace quickened, driven by the narrowing window of time.


    "Here¡¯s another!" Roland stopped, excitement in his voice.


    "Stamens facing east this time," Reynold noted, his tone just as eager.


    Roland¡¯s heart raced. "We must be close. Look around for anything with a hexagram pattern."


    They searched frantically, eyes scanning the ground, the trees, every inch of their surroundings. Finally, Reynold stumbled upon a half-buried hexagram, concealed by dense undergrowth. He called out to Roland, who rushed over, eyes wide with anticipation.


    The hexagram was carved into a massive stone slab, weathered but still intact. Roland recognized it immediately¡ªthis was an entrance, one of the star elves¡¯ hidden pathways.


    "Can you speak Elvish?" Roland asked suddenly, realizing the next step.


    Reynold hesitated. "I¡­ I can try."


    "That¡¯ll have to do," Roland muttered, trying to recall the activation chant. He cleared his throat and began, "The forest weeps in flames, and the people tremble in the dark. The king who rides the mighty power of the stars, will come from the shadows. Dispel the fog of the night, leave the wandering loneliness. Carrying the Sacred Heart of Redemption, where the stars shine forever!"


    Reynold stared at him, bewildered. "What was that?"


    "It¡¯s the activation chant! Translate it into Elvish, quickly!" Roland urged.


    Reynold fumbled over the words, his Elvish clumsy but functional. As he spoke, the hexagram began to glow, a soft starlight emanating from its lines, illuminating the forest floor.


    The barrier shimmered before them, revealing a hidden path beyond. Roland felt a surge of triumph as the stars opened their way. The enchantment was finally unlocked.


    "Let¡¯s go," Roland said, his voice steady, but his heart pounding with excitement. Their journey was far from over, but this was a victory, and they would take it.

 Chapter 46: The Star Elves Legacy

    Reynold hesitated, his hand on the hilt of his sword as the shimmering barrier before them slowly opened. The door that formed within the starlit shield revealed a sight that took his breath away¡ªa pathway that seemed to lead into the very heart of the night sky.


    "Stay alert," Roland murmured, his voice steady as he sheathed his sword. "We¡¯re about to meet the legendary Star Elves."


    Reynold nodded, reluctantly sheathing his weapon as well. The two men exchanged a glance before stepping through the doorway. Almost immediately, they were greeted not with welcome, but with hostility.


    "Stop right there!" A voice rang out, sharp and commanding.


    Reynold''s reflexes kicked in as he drew his sword just in time to deflect a blazing arrow. "Your Highness!" he called out, warning Roland as more arrows were nocked and aimed their way.


    "Who are you, and how did you get here?" The voice belonged to an elf, his sky-blue hair flowing like water as he leveled a longbow at them. His pale skin shimmered under the ethereal light, and his expression was cold and wary.


    Roland stepped forward, carefully studying the elf. "I am Roland, King of Lagrand, on the east bank of Long Lake," he said, his voice calm but firm. "We come in peace, to seek an audience with your king."


    The elf did not lower his bow. "The King of Lagrand? How do you know the secret language that grants entry to this place?"


    "My ancestors were once allied with your kind. We are here to rekindle that ancient bond," Roland said, subtly igniting the sacred flames that marked him as a paladin.


    The elf narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the light that surrounded Roland. After a tense moment, he lowered his bow and signaled his companions to stand down. "Wait here. You will be escorted shortly."


    As the elf sent a magical flare shooting into the sky, Reynold kept his hand near his sword, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of further danger. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Before long, another group of elves arrived, led by a figure that was starkly different from the rest. This one wore heavy plate armor, and the air around him seemed to ripple with power.


    Reynold''s grip tightened on his sword. "Dragon Knight," he whispered, recognizing the figure immediately. The title alone was enough to set him on edge, knowing that the man before them commanded the might of a dragon.


    The armored elf stepped forward, his eyes sharp as they took in Roland and Reynold. "Why was the secret door opened? And who are these humans?" he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.


    Reynold instinctively placed himself between the elf and Roland, ready to defend his king. But Roland remained calm, meeting the dragon knight¡¯s gaze with unflinching resolve.


    "We seek an audience with your king," Roland said simply, his voice carrying the weight of his authority.


    The elf¡¯s eyes flickered with curiosity. "And who are you to demand such a thing?"


    "Roland, King of Lagrand," he replied, his voice steady. "We come to seek your aid. Darkness has fallen upon the North, and all who dwell there are in grave danger."


    The dragon knight, Peter Gros, studied Roland for a long moment. Then, without a word, he turned and began leading them deeper into the elven sanctuary. "Come," he said over his shoulder. "The king will decide your fate."


    They passed through a series of elegant tree houses, their warmth in stark contrast to the cold demeanor of their inhabitants. Eventually, they reached a grand palace, its architecture a blend of natural beauty and elven craftsmanship. At its heart sat a slender figure on a throne adorned with countless gemstones, his demeanor one of weary regality.


    "Your Majesty," Peter Gros said, bowing slightly as they entered. "These humans seek an audience."


    The elf king, Novia, raised an eyebrow as he regarded the newcomers. "Humans, in our sacred land? What is it you seek?"


    Roland stepped forward, bowing respectfully. "Your Majesty, darkness has overtaken the North. Dwarves, elves, and humans alike are threatened by this encroaching evil. We have come to ask for your aid in this dire time."


    Novia¡¯s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, placing his wine glass down. "The Star Elves have remained hidden for thousands of years, far from the conflicts of the world. Why should we break that seclusion now?"


    Roland met the king¡¯s gaze, his expression earnest. "Because if the North falls, your people will not be spared. The forces of Sauron will find you eventually, no matter how deep you hide."


    A tense silence filled the room as Novia considered Roland¡¯s words. "The Star Elves have sacrificed much in the past. We bled and died for a world that ultimately betrayed us. Why should we fight again, when we¡¯ve found peace?"


    "Because peace is fleeting when darkness looms," Roland replied. "I understand the pain of betrayal, but turning your back on the world will not save you when the enemy comes to your door."


    Novia sighed deeply, his weariness evident. "You speak truth, but our strength has waned. We are not the warriors we once were."


    Roland¡¯s voice softened, understanding the weight of the king¡¯s burden. "Even so, your presence on the battlefield could turn the tide. The Star Elves are the last hope for many who still fight against the dark. Without you, the North may be lost."


    Novia¡¯s gaze fell to the floor as he pondered the grim reality laid before him. Finally, he looked up, meeting Roland¡¯s eyes with a somber determination. "I will consider your request, King Roland. But know this¡ªif we choose to fight, it will be our last stand. We will not retreat again."


    Roland nodded, understanding the gravity of the decision. "That is all we can ask, Your Majesty. Thank you."


    With a final, solemn nod, Novia dismissed them, leaving Roland and Reynold to reflect on the uncertain future that lay ahead.

 Chapter 47: The Reluctant Alliance

    Roland''s voice was strained with urgency as he tried to persuade King Novia, "But only you can change all this!"


    Novia shook his head, his expression weary. "We''ve already suffered heavy losses. Three thousand years of rebuilding have only allowed us to regain the strength to protect ourselves. Forgive me, but I cannot lead my people into a war we are not prepared for."


    Roland''s frustration bubbled over. "Your Highness, Novia is not invincible. The enchantment that protects your kingdom has its weaknesses. A powerful enough assault could shatter it. I know Sauron commands a demon dragon and wields Grond, the battering ram of doom. Do you think your enchantment can hold against that? You don¡¯t want your people caught in the flames of war, but you can¡¯t retreat forever. Sooner or later, Sauron will set his sights on you. Do you really believe you can stand alone against his forces?"


    The room fell into a heavy silence, Novia''s face tightening in thought. Sensing an opening, Roland pressed on. "When your people are the last left standing, you''ll be forced to face the full might of the orcs alone. Singhry will be consumed by fire! Is that what you want for your people? To hear their cries as everything burns?"


    Peter Gross, Novia''s loyal Dragon Knight, slammed his fist on the table, rising to defend his king. "How dare you speak to His Majesty that way!"


    Roland met his glare with a calm, almost dismissive look. "Am I wrong, Dragon Knight?"


    Peter¡¯s anger flared, but he found himself at a loss for words.


    Roland sighed and turned to leave, calling Reynold to follow. "Let¡¯s go. I only hope King Novia is ready to face the orcs alone after we¡¯re all gone."If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Wait!" Novia''s voice, cold and commanding, stopped Roland in his tracks. "Tell me about your plan."


    Roland smiled to himself before turning back. "Plan? We have none other than to fight. Unless you think we can somehow take Gambada or TogoEldo by force."


    Novia''s face betrayed his concern. "Is it really that serious? Surely the kingdoms outside can muster an army of twenty thousand at least."


    Roland shook his head, the weight of reality heavy in his voice. "Elub, the Woodland Kingdom, Lagrand, River Valley City, Los Saint-Neal, and Iron Hills combined can barely muster eight thousand soldiers. That¡¯s all we have."


    Novia and Peter were both stunned into silence.


    "Our chances of winning are slim," Peter finally admitted.


    "Exactly," Roland said, stepping closer to Peter, his eyes intense. "But if you do nothing, you have no chance at all."


    Iovia sighed deeply, rubbing his temples as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "How many soldiers does Singhry have now?" Roland asked, sensing a crucial detail.


    Peter Gross hesitated before answering, "About three thousand."


    Roland¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief. "Three thousand? That''s all?"


    "But they are all Tier 3 professionals," Peter added, a note of pride in his voice.


    Roland''s skepticism was apparent. "And what kind of professionals are they?"


    "A thousand mid-level rangers, a thousand marksmen, and a thousand elite swordsmen," Iovia answered.


    Roland¡¯s brow furrowed as he realized the limitations. "So, no real front-line fighters?"


    Peter bristled. "Our forces are effective at range. We don¡¯t need a traditional front line."


    Roland sighed, rubbing his temples. "I see. You¡¯re relying on guerrilla tactics, but what happens when the orcs close in? Your rangers and marksmen might be effective at a distance, but without a solid front line, they¡¯ll be overwhelmed."


    Novia¡¯s expression softened, a mix of resignation and determination. "We have no choice. We¡¯ll need to leave enough soldiers to protect the enchantment. Even if we go to battle, we can only spare two thousand."


    Roland nodded, understanding the difficult position they were in. "I understand."


    Novia looked past Roland, his eyes hardening as he made a decision. "Peter, gather all the shooters and rangers. Bring enough supplies. We¡¯ll head to Long Lake and prepare for the orcs."


    He then addressed his people. "I will seal Singhry after we leave. If the enchantment breaks and you don¡¯t see me return, then I have joined the stars."


    As the doors of the main hall opened, Novia pulled out a blood-stained horn from his cloak. His voice was heavy with emotion. "Father, I will walk your path once more."


    He raised the horn to his lips, and the mournful sound echoed throughout Singhry, signaling the beginning of a grim march toward war.

 Chapter 48: The Call to Arms

    People of the stars, darkness has struck once more. Singhry has no place to retreat! I ask you to take up arms with me, to walk the unfinished path of our fallen king!" Novia¡¯s voice was steady but laced with an undeniable urgency as he addressed the gathered Singhry elves.


    "Move out!" Novia commanded from atop her unicorn, her voice carrying the weight of centuries-old grievances. The star elves, quiet and resolved, let the anger of a three-thousand-year-old betrayal stir within them once again.


    Roland eyed the unicorns with envy. "The local tyrants, riding those majestic creatures," he muttered. A unicorn''s life force rivaled that of a dragon, and though it was a support type, it was loaded with buffs that could turn the tide in battle.


    "Don¡¯t be too jealous, Your Highness," Reynold said with a smirk, having overheard Roland. "When it comes to battle, unicorns are no match for griffins."


    "Still, the unicorns have style," Roland replied, nearly drooling with admiration.


    ---


    In the city of Los Saint-Neil, a few sentries leaned against the wooden walls, lazily watching the dark forest. They stretched and yawned, their minds far from any thoughts of danger.


    But then, a sentinel noticed something unusual. "Wait¡­ what¡¯s that?" he stammered, his eyes widening in disbelief as he pointed toward the forest.


    The other sentries snapped to attention as they followed his gaze. The forest was alive with movement¡ªlarge-scale troops were marching toward them, the bushes swaying and birds scattering in fear. There was no mistaking it: the orcs of Dogordo were on the move.


    "Sound the alarm!" one of the sentries shouted. The bells rang out, echoing through the city and sending the townsfolk into a panic.


    "Get to the walls! Bring everyone inside the city!" James commanded as he rushed out of his post, rallying his soldiers into action. The heavy clatter of dwarven-made armor filled the air as they scrambled to their positions.


    "25 of you to the north wall, 25 to the east! Adriq, take 100 men to the south! The rest with me to the west wall!" James ordered, his voice firm as he raised his weapon, ready to defend the city.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ---


    Meanwhile, Roland struggled to control his moon deer, grimacing as the creature moved beneath him.


    "Having trouble, King Roland?" Novia teased, his own mount responding smoothly to his commands. "The moon deer have their own charm, don¡¯t they?"


    "Why do elves even raise mounts if they don¡¯t have knights?" Roland asked, curiosity getting the better of him. After all, knights were a human institution, a profession not shared by other races.


    "Rangers," Novia answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.


    Roland sighed. Human knights were knights by virtue of their mounts. Elves, on the other hand, were rangers with or without a steed. "Such arrogance," Roland muttered to himself.


    Suddenly, James appeared, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of the elven army emerging from the forest.


    "Elves? Where did they come from?" James wondered aloud. His gaze fell on Roland, recognizing him immediately.


    ---


    "King James, what¡¯s going on?" Roland called out as he noticed the soldiers on the walls of Los Saint-Neil aiming their bows at them.


    "Uh¡­ forgot," James muttered, waving his hand for the soldiers to lower their weapons. He hurried down to meet the group.


    "Who are these?" James asked, eyeing the newcomers suspiciously.


    "They¡¯re star elves from the dark forest, the last reinforcements I could find," Roland explained. "This is Novia, the king of Singhry, and Peter Gros, the star dragon knight."


    "Welcome to Los Saint-Neil, to the Kingdom of Akvia!" James said, extending his hand in greeting.


    "Thank you for your hospitality, King James," the elves replied with a nod.


    ---


    Later, at a dinner gathering, James pulled Roland aside. "So¡­ no other reinforcements?"


    "Correct," Roland said, lowering his voice. "If we¡¯re lucky, the dwarves from Iron Hill might come, but¡­"


    James sighed. The star elves had a history of conflict with the dwarves. The thought of them working together was almost unimaginable.


    "At least the elves brought us something we sorely needed: long-range support. We won¡¯t have to resort to throwing stones at the orcs," Roland said with a sigh of relief.


    Roland¡¯s troops consisted of 100 knights, 100 Batenian shooters, 100 Lagrand city guards, 100 Dovini heavy armored swordsmen, 500 conscripted light infantry, and 10 El Ni?o rangers. They were joined by Temple Priest Ivy, War Mage Ladir, Dragon Knight Carlos, and Paladin Commander Reynold. But of these, only the 100 Batenian shooters were truly skilled at ranged combat.


    James¡¯s forces were in a similar situation, with 500 elite infantry, 200 cavalry, 47 knights, and over 150 hunters¡ªan army cobbled together from the best soldiers 7,000 people could offer.


    "I just expanded my army," James said, explaining that the dwarves had provided weapons, hoping the southern front could hold. "The dwarves are facing the half-orc army from the north," he added.


    "They can¡¯t possibly fight on two fronts," Roland mused, understanding the dwarves¡¯ predicament.


    "Your Highness, this wall¡­ it¡¯s too low, and wood and stone are only used for key supports. It won¡¯t hold against the orcs," Novia remarked, having carefully inspected the defenses of Los Saint-Neil.


    "They¡¯ve only recently migrated from the north and established this kingdom," Roland explained, slightly embarrassed.


    "We¡¯ll need to help you reinforce it," Peter Gros said. The original plan was for the elves to position themselves between Los Saint-Neil and Elub to support both. But given the city¡¯s current state, that plan would have to change.


    "Your Highness, how¡¯s the defense of your own city?" Novia asked, his tone serious.


    Roland nearly choked on his drink. "Well, Swift City¡¯s defenses aren¡¯t that important. The orcs wouldn¡¯t cross the Swift River to attack it."


    "The stars above¡­ don¡¯t tell me it¡¯s as bad as this place?" Novia¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief.


    "Actually¡­ it¡¯s worse," Roland admitted, shrinking under Novia¡¯s gaze.

 Chapter 49: The Encroaching Threat

    Novia let out a deep sigh, her voice heavy with concern. "It looks like we''re in for a lot of trouble."


    "If the orcs cross the river and attack Rapid City... then..." James trailed off, his voice faltering at the grim possibility.


    Roland, standing nearby, shared in the unease. "If they do, the orcs from the south and north could converge on the Gushan battlefield. The coalition forces would be completely cut off, leaving us surrounded."


    "King Roland, what¡¯s the state of Rapid City''s defenses right now?" Novia asked, her tone revealing a mix of frustration and helplessness.


    Roland sighed deeply before responding, "Come with me, and I¡¯ll show you."


    ---


    When they arrived at the city¡¯s fortifications, Novia¡¯s face fell. The sight before her was disheartening. The city''s main wall, enhanced with magic-patterned stone and towering at five meters high, was formidable. But surrounding it were walls less than two meters tall, barely enough to keep out common wildlife, let alone an orc horde.


    "This is it?" Novia exclaimed in disbelief, spreading his hands in frustration. "What could these walls possibly stop? Goblins?"


    Roland¡¯s shoulders slumped as he replied, "Most of our people are still wandering and haven¡¯t returned home. Our mages can only produce so many magic stone bricks each day. This is all we could manage."


    "If the orcs cross the Swift River, how do we stop them? By throwing our lives at them?" Novia was dumbfounded, realizing the precarious situation they were in.


    Roland nodded, his expression grim. "If they cross, I¡¯ll have no choice but to lead our soldiers to hold them off at the riverbank. It¡¯s all we can do."


    Novia looked at Roland with a mixture of pity and frustration. "Let¡¯s just hope they don¡¯t discover this fatal weakness," she said, mounting his unicorn. With a flap of its wings, the creature soared into the sky, leaving Roland to contemplate their dire situation.


    After watching his leave, Roland turned his thoughts inward. "System, show me the territory page details," he commanded.


    A familiar light curtain appeared before him, revealing Rapid City¡¯s current state. The information was not encouraging.


    ---


    **Rapid City Status:**


    - **Area:** One kilometer in radius


    - **Building Units:** Dilapidated lord castle, 80 crumbling dwellings, 20 weak dwellings, broken stone walls (under repair), stone wells, blacksmith shops, military campsStolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    - **Troops:** 913


    - **Population:** 247 (Trainable civilians: 52)


    - **Evaluation:** The lonely king has led the remnants of his people back to their homeland. This fragile refuge offers scant shelter from the elements, with darkness still threatening the new king. The town¡¯s only productive capacity is fishing, and its military might is its sole strength. However, the town lacks any real war potential. A defeat in battle could spell disaster.


    **Abilities:**


    1. As the only territory of the Lagrang Kingdom in Middle-earth, it will attract Lagrang''s remnants. The system will guide a wave of wandering civilians here daily, though their numbers are uncertain.


    2. Civilians can be recruited and trained as Swiftstream infantry.


    ---


    Roland sighed heavily as he reviewed the information. "The population is still too low! We have more troops than civilians. This imbalance is strangling our potential for future growth." Soldiers could be recruited in large numbers with each system sign-in, but the daily influx of refugees was meager and inconsistent. It was a ticking time bomb for their war potential.


    "Carlos!" Roland called out. "Equip the El Nino Rangers with Sharmas and send them to monitor the lower reaches of the Swift River. If the orcs attempt to cross, they are to light the beacons immediately. Move the knights along the river daily to investigate any signs of crossing."


    Carlos nodded gravely. "Understood, my lord."


    "Reynold!" Roland turned to his commander. "Focus on training the light infantry. I don¡¯t expect them to be heroes, but they must be capable of forming a line and holding against the orcs."


    "As you command, my king," Reynold replied, bowing before leaving the tent.


    Roland¡¯s mind raced as he considered the situation. "Time is running out. Azog¡¯s style suggests that the orcs could strike in winter, catching us off guard."


    Suddenly, Carlos burst into the tent, a magic crystal clutched in his hand. "Sir! You need to see this!"


    Roland¡¯s heart sank. "What¡¯s happened?"


    Carlos activated the magic crystal, projecting a scene that filled Roland with dread. A vast army of orcs marched through the wilderness, their numbers staggering. Tens of thousands at least.


    "Where did this come from?" Roland demanded, his voice tight with fear.


    "A group of wandering prairie elves brought it. They recorded it while fleeing from the orcs on the east bank of the Swift River," Carlos explained.


    "Take me to their leader. Now!" Roland ordered.


    ---


    The elf leader, a young patriarch named Vervill, greeted Roland with a respectful bow. "Greetings, King of Lagrand. I am Vervill, leader of this prairie elf tribe."


    Roland wasted no time. "Thank you for the information, but I need details. Where was this recorded?"


    Vervill nodded, his expression serious. "It was recorded on the east bank of the Hong River. We lived under the Iron Hills, but the orcs began gathering there for reasons unknown. For the safety of my people, I led them westward to escape."


    "Did the orcs cross the river?" Roland asked, his anxiety clear.


    "They hadn¡¯t crossed when we left, but they were cutting trees to build rafts," Vervill confirmed.


    "Dammit," Roland muttered under his breath. This wasn¡¯t just Sauron stirring up trouble; it was a full-scale mobilization. The Rune region, which had been under Sauron¡¯s control, was now sending its forces west. Someone powerful was orchestrating this.


    Roland turned back to Vervill. "How many of your people are there? How many can fight?"


    Vervill hesitated before replying, "We have 657 in our tribe. Only 149 are warriors, and most of them are first-order professionals."


    Roland nodded thoughtfully. "You have a choice. You can leave your clan here or cross the river to the city of Los Saint Neil. But I need you to stay and help us stop the orcs."


    Vervill bristled. "You have no right to order me!"


    Roland¡¯s tone remained calm, but his words were sharp. "This isn¡¯t an order. It¡¯s reality. If you want to head south and face the orc army of Togol, or west through the Misty Mountains swarming with orcs, or north to confront the forces of Gondaba, be my guest. But understand this¡ªevery path is surrounded by orcs."


    He pulled out a sheepskin map and drew a circle around the Lonely Mountain. "We¡¯re already surrounded. If you don¡¯t help, we¡¯ll all die."


    Vervill¡¯s face went pale. "By the goddess... this can¡¯t be true!"


    "It is," Roland replied grimly. "I suggest you get your women and children across the river. The city defenses there are more reliable than ours... barely."


    "How long ago did you leave the east bank?" Roland asked, suddenly realizing a crucial detail.


    "Five days," Vervill replied after a moment¡¯s thought.


    "Good. Prepare your people and get ready to meet the enemy," Roland ordered.


    Turning to Carlos and Reynold, Roland continued, "Carlos, investigate the east bank. Reynold, cross the river and inform King Novia and King James of the situation. Request reinforcements if necessary."


    The two men nodded and quickly left to carry out their orders, leaving Roland alone to contemplate the looming threat. The orcs were coming, and Rapid City stood in their path. It would take everything they had to survive the storm.

 Chapter 50: The Gathering Storm

    Carlos squinted against the wind, straining his eyes as he soared high above the landscape. Below, a sprawling camp of half-orcs spread out on the west bank of the Red Water River, their movements slow and deliberate in the fading daylight.


    "What''s going on down there?" Carlos muttered to himself, watching the half-orcs settle in. They weren''t marching like an army on the move, but rather camping, as if waiting for something.


    "Could it be a migration?" Carlos wondered, the idea of a large tribe on the move flitting through his mind. But as he urged Kaldor to descend and hover within the safety of the clouds, the truth became clearer. "No... this is an army. No elders or children among them."


    Through the keen vision granted by his Dragon Eye skill, Carlos could make out the totems on the half-orcs'' banners from a thousand meters in the air. The realization hit him like a blow. "They''re preparing for something. I need to warn Roland."


    ¡­


    "What? They¡¯ve set up camp by the river?" Roland''s voice betrayed his surprise. Orcs, with their usual brutish nature, would typically rush their enemies without much thought.


    "They might be waiting for reinforcements," Reynold speculated, his face grim. "If they''re waiting for other tribes from Gundaba and Dogordo to join them, we could be in serious trouble. Imagine an army of half-orcs hitting us from behind while we''re engaged at the front. Even wasteland orcs with bone clubs could overwhelm us in such a scenario."


    A heavy silence fell over the room as the weight of Reynold¡¯s words sunk in. The implications were dire¡ªif the half-orcs managed to flank them, the alliance¡¯s defense lines could collapse like a row of dominoes.


    "We need to consult with the Allied forces in Los Saint-Neil City," Carlos suggested after a moment''s thought.


    "No," Roland said sharply, rising to his feet. "Assemble the troops. We can¡¯t afford to wait for them to strike first."


    ¡­


    The flapping of giant wings announced the arrival of Peter Gros, who landed in the city atop a massive dragon. Roland couldn¡¯t help but stare in awe. The dragon was magnificent, a 30-meter-long beast covered in dark blue scales that shimmered like starlight. Its underbelly was milky white, and its claws, as deep blue as sapphires, glinted ominously in the sunlight. But there was no dragon armor, only a simple saddle on its back.


    "Knight Peter? What brings you here?" Roland asked, puzzled. Los Saint-Neil was under threat from Togoldo at any moment. Roland hadn¡¯t expected help from them; the eastern front was his responsibility, even if the half-orc horde numbered in the tens of thousands.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    "I came to see if you needed any assistance," Peter Gros replied, eyeing the soldiers nervously assembling. "Looks like you''re preparing to engage the half-orcs."


    "That¡¯s right," Roland confirmed with a tight smile. "We can¡¯t let them come to us. We need to strike first."


    "Agreed. It¡¯s better to maintain the initiative," Peter Gros nodded. "Though I can¡¯t offer you soldiers, I can fight under your command."


    "No, the city of Los Saint-Neil needs its knights," Roland said, shaking his head. "We can¡¯t risk weakening its defenses. We don¡¯t know what tricks Togoldo might have up its sleeve. Your place is there, ready to defend against any sudden attack."


    Peter hesitated. "But your forces are so few."


    "We have no fear," Roland replied, meeting the dragon knight¡¯s gaze with a calm confidence.


    Peter studied Roland for a moment before nodding. "Very well. I¡¯ll inform the two kings of your decision. May fortune favor you."


    With a final salute, Peter Gros mounted his dragon, and in a flash of dark blue scales, the beast took to the sky, vanishing into the clouds.


    "My lord, we¡¯re severely outnumbered," Carlos murmured as he approached Roland.


    "We have no choice, Carlos," Roland said quietly. "We¡¯re stretched too thin. If the orcs from the north and south converge, we won¡¯t stand a chance. We can¡¯t let that happen¡ªnot again."


    ¡­


    "Sir! All 1,047 soldiers are assembled, except for the El Nino Ranger and the Grassland Elves," Carlos reported crisply.


    "Send the knights ahead," Roland ordered Reynold, who nodded and began issuing commands.


    "Lord Ladir, Rapid City is in your hands. Organize a night watch with the youths. If we don¡¯t return¡­" Roland¡¯s voice trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.


    "May the Dragon God protect you, my king," Ivy whispered as she bowed deeply.


    Roland forced a smile and turned away.


    ¡­


    "Are we really doing this?" Vervill asked, his voice tinged with disbelief as he marched beside Roland.


    "What¡¯s this? Are the brave prairie elves feeling nervous?" Roland teased lightly.


    "No, no! I¡¯m just wondering if this is the best strategy. We¡¯re going to charge right into them?" Vervill¡¯s unease was palpable.


    "When you¡¯re this outnumbered, tactics don¡¯t mean much," Roland replied evenly.


    "But we only have enough provisions for three days! What happens if we can¡¯t return in time?" Vervill¡¯s voice rose in panic. The idea of running out of food in the middle of an enemy-infested wasteland was terrifying.


    "Three days is enough. We¡¯ll reach them within that time. If we win, Carlos will ensure we¡¯re resupplied. If we lose¡­ well, there won¡¯t be any need to worry about food then, will there?" Roland¡¯s calm demeanor did nothing to ease Vervill¡¯s nerves.


    "Damn it¡­ You make too much sense!" Vervill groaned. He couldn¡¯t help but feel sorry for the fate of the prairie elves, who had barely escaped one battle only to be thrust into another.


    "Save your strength," Roland said quietly, noticing the worn and mismatched gear the prairie elves were carrying. Despite their best efforts at maintenance, their equipment was far inferior to that of other elves.


    "We fight for our home," Roland thought to himself, steeling his resolve. "We have nothing to fear."


    ¡­


    "What? A prairie elf scout found us and escaped?" Vervill , the orc king of the wasteland, roared in fury. His subordinates cowered before him, trembling as they delivered the bad news.


    "They¡¯ve been gone for days!" Vervill snarled.


    "At least five sunsets, Your Majesty¡­" one of the orcs stammered, shaking in fear.


    With a roar of rage, Vervill swung his massive warhammer, smashing the unfortunate messenger¡¯s skull. Green blood and brain matter splattered across the ground as the orc¡¯s body crumpled.


    "Incompetent fools!" Vervill bellowed, his fury unabated. "Prepare to march! We move to the foot of the Lonely Mountain immediately!"


    The orc king knew they couldn¡¯t afford to wait any longer. The dwarves of the Lonely Mountain had likely been alerted to their presence, and delaying further would only give the allied forces time to prepare.


    "Let¡¯s go! Vervill howled as he mounted his Warg, leading his army into the night.


    The storm was gathering. And soon, it would break.

 Chapter 51: The Weight of Preparation

    "By the way, Vervill, did the orcs see you leave? This is crucial!" Roland asked urgently. The possibility that the orcs had long-range reconnaissance methods troubled him, especially since he had no other advantage except for striking first.


    Vervill hesitated. "I don''t think so. We moved right after our sentinels spotted them. We moved fast¡ªafter all, Prairie Elves are wanderers by nature." His voice dropped at the last sentence, the pain of his people''s endless wandering evident.


    Roland frowned, still uneasy. "I have a bad feeling about this... With so many of you leaving, it''s hard to believe the orcs didn''t notice something."


    Reynold, marching alongside Roland, chimed in. "What did you do with the boats after crossing the river?"


    Vervill froze, his face pale. They hadn''t sunk the canoes¡ªthey''d been too focused on fleeing. Now those boats might have given their position away to the orcs.


    "It seems we can''t count on surprising the orc camp," Reynold said, exasperation creeping into his voice. The elves had overlooked such a basic tactic.


    "Forget it," Roland waved off Reynold''s frustration. "A surprise attack was just one option."


    "I''m sorry..." Vervill said, his shame palpable. He knew their oversight could lead to heavy casualties in the coming days.


    "Don''t worry about it," Roland tried to console him. "You were all just trying to escape. Who would think about sinking the ferries?"


    As dusk fell, Roland looked up at the sky, noticing the sun dipping into the west, its light casting a blood-red hue on their armor. "Carlos, tell the infantry to stop and rest," he ordered.


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    That night, they camped on a mound, the light infantry''s tower shields planted in the ground to form a semi-circle wall against the wind. The knights huddled close to their warhorses, wary of the dangers lurking in the wasteland night.


    "Why did you equip the light infantry with tower shields?" Roland asked Reynold, noticing the wooden shields bordered with iron instead of the dwarven iron ones.


    Reynold, munching on hard bread, replied, "After training, we found they handle the wooden tower shields better. They weigh the same as the iron cross shields but offer more coverage, which is crucial for their survival."


    "But the defense isn''t as good as iron," Roland remarked, still favoring stronger armor.


    "True, but given their skill level, these crude wooden shields suit them better," Reynold whispered, not wanting to speak ill of the soldiers too loudly.


    Roland sighed, thinking about the soldiers'' initial performance. These men were the backbone of his army; they had to hold the line if they were to have any chance of victory. "Carlos, Reynold, be honest with me¡ªhow ready are they?"


    Reynold hesitated before answering, "At least they won''t desert."


    Roland grimaced. "That''s not exactly reassuring... Can''t we move past the deserter issue?"


    Reynold chuckled dryly, "That''s progress, Roland."


    Roland turned to Vervill. "What about your people? What kind of fighters do you have?"


    "All rangers," Vervill replied with pride.


    Roland groaned internally. The elves had no proper front-line soldiers¡ªjust rangers, mages, and the rare Moon Deer cavalry. "Great, more ranged support..." Roland muttered, rubbing his temples. He lay down on his blanket, resigning himself to the situation.


    ...


    The next morning, Roland''s first thought was to check in with the system. "Sign in."


    "Sign-in successful! Congratulations, you''ve received the elf sword, Manikati!"


    "An elf sword? Really?" Roland groaned. The sword was a powerful artifact for elves, but in his hands, it was just an ordinary blade. Only those with elven power could unleash its true potential. It was a cruel reminder of the limitations he faced.


    Then Roland noticed Vervill¡¯s saber¡ªit was far less sophisticated. He approached Verwey and handed him Manikati. "Take this sword, Lord Vervill. I hope it serves you well."


    Vervill''s eyes widened. "You have a storage space? I didn''t realize you had such resources!" He took the sword and as he channeled his energy into it, the blade ignited with a fierce fire, the rich magic coursing through the weapon.


    "This... this is the elven holy sword?" Vervill looked at Roland in disbelief.


    "Yes, the Fire Sword¡ªManikati. I hope it proves useful." Roland smiled, knowing that in Vervill''s hands, the sword would be more than just a piece of metal.


    "This is too precious..." Vervill hesitated, trying to return the sword.


    "It''s only precious if it''s used well," Roland said firmly. "If you feel indebted, use it to cut down a few more orcs."


    ...


    "We''re a day and a half from the Red Water River," Vervill reported, studying the map as he led the way.


    "Let everyone rest. Have the knights stop their scouting and take a break," Roland instructed.


    Suddenly, a plume of smoke appeared in the distance, and Reynold''s Paladins rode in fast. Reynold, breathless, shouted, "The orc army... they''re coming!"


    Roland''s heart sank. In this nameless wasteland, the fate of the North would soon be decided.

 Chapter 52: The Turning Point

    The vast expanse between the Red River and the Swift River had once been an inhospitable wasteland. Now, it was known as the Lagrand Plain, named after the pivotal battle that would forever change the course of the war in the north of Middle-earth¡ªThe Battle of Lagrand Plains.


    Roland''s heart raced as he stared at the oncoming horde of orcs. They had stumbled upon the enemy sooner than expected, and the sheer number of orcs was overwhelming. But Roland''s eyes locked onto a small hill in the distance. Instinctively, he knew this hill could be their salvation.


    "All infantry, take that hill! Vervill, you''re in command!" Roland shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.


    Vervill, stunned by the responsibility suddenly thrust upon him, hesitated. "Wait... I¡¯ve never commanded an army this large," he stammered.


    Roland turned to him, eyes fierce with determination. "Believe in yourself, as you would in the sword you wield." He tossed a space ring to Vervill. "There are 100,000 arrows in there. Don¡¯t hold back¡ªuse them all!"


    The paladins gathered around Roland, their crimson armor glinting with the flames of battle. The Ring of Glory on Roland''s hand pulsed with power as he barked out his next command.


    "Form up! Arrowhead formation!"


    The knights swiftly assembled into a charging wedge, with Roland and Reynold leading the front. Their horses¡¯ hooves pounded the ground in unison, the sound resonating like a drumbeat of war.


    Meanwhile, the infantry scrambled up the hill, planting their steel tower shields into the earth and forming an impenetrable wall. The archers, led by the veteran Batenian bowmen, positioned themselves behind the shield wall, ready to unleash a barrage of arrows. Vervill, steeling himself, began distributing the arrows from the space ring, ensuring every archer was well-supplied.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    At the rear, the light infantry and the guards of Lagrand City fortified their flanks, bracing for the inevitable clash. The hill, now bristling with shields and arrows, stood as a defiant stronghold against the oncoming tide.


    Across the plain, Onaville, the orc commander, observed the human forces from atop his warg. His sharp eyes, inherited from his elven mother, scanned the battlefield. These humans were better equipped and more organized than he had anticipated. But Onaville¡¯s loyalty to Sauron and the promise of untold riches hardened his resolve.


    "Crush them! Show no mercy!" Onaville bellowed, rallying his troops.


    The ground trembled as over 7,000 orcs charged forward, their collective roar echoing across the plains. Despite their ragtag appearance, the sheer number of orcs created a terrifying spectacle.


    Suddenly, a shadow passed overhead. Carlos, astride the mighty dragon Kaldor, had been waiting for this moment. The dragon swooped down, targeting the orc archers who had lagged behind the main force. Kaldor¡¯s breath unleashed a torrent of wind blades, slicing through the orcs like a scythe through wheat. Blood sprayed into the air as the archers fell in droves.


    Onaville cursed under his breath, "Sauron never said anything about dragons!" He watched in horror as Kaldor decimated his archers. Seething with rage, he snatched a massive iron bow from one of his soldiers and notched an enchanted armor-piercing arrow.


    "Bring that beast down!" Onaville growled as he aimed at the soaring dragon. With a snap, the arrow flew true, striking Kaldor squarely.


    Roland¡¯s heart sank as he saw Kaldor falter in the air. "No...!" he whispered, fearing the worst.


    But Kaldor, despite the injury, managed to stabilize and pull back into the sky. The dragon¡¯s armor had absorbed most of the impact, saving it from a fatal blow. Furious, Kaldor roared, summoning a massive blue tornado that tore through the ranks of orcs, scattering them like leaves in a storm.


    "For the glory of the knights!" Roland shouted, spurring his horse forward. The knights began their charge, the ground shaking beneath the thunder of their hooves.


    As they closed in on the orcs, Roland and his knights invoked the sacred virtues of their order¡ªGlory, Pity, Justice, Loyalty, Brotherhood, Guard, Bravery, and Humility. Their armor and weapons blazed with holy fire, a fearsome sight that sent terror through the orc ranks.


    "For the homeland! For the people! For Lagrand!" the knights cried as they crashed into the orc lines, their lances and swords cutting through the enemy like a knife through butter.


    The orcs, caught in disarray, offered little resistance. The initial shock of the knights'' charge broke their formation, and panic spread like wildfire. Onaville, caught in the chaos, could only watch as his army crumbled before his eyes.


    In the midst of the melee, Roland¡¯s resolve hardened. This was more than just a battle; it was a fight for the survival of his people. With every strike, he carved a path through the orcs, leading his knights deeper into the enemy''s heart.


    The Battle of Lagrand Plains would be remembered as the day when a small force, united by their courage and the indomitable will of their leader, turned the tide against overwhelming odds.

 Chapter 53: The Breaking Point

    The clash of steel and the crack of bones echoed through the battlefield as the knights descended upon the half-beast orcs. Lances struck with deadly precision, cutting through the enemy ranks as the knights pushed forward, their hooves thundering like a relentless storm.


    ¡°Stop them!¡± Onaville roared, emerging from the remnants of a tornado, his once-pristine armor now in tatters, cut by the wind blades. Blood seeped from multiple wounds, but they were superficial, more of a testament to his resilience than a sign of weakness.


    ¡°Cut through them!¡± Roland¡¯s voice boomed over the chaos as he spurred his horse forward.


    The knights, relentless in their advance, carved a path through the orcs, trampling them underfoot as they charged. But despite their momentum, the orc horde began to encircle them, threatening to cut off their escape.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get surrounded! We can¡¯t afford to lose speed!¡± Raynor shouted, his lance sweeping aside orcs as he fought to keep the formation intact.


    ¡°We¡¯re breaking out to the side!¡± Roland commanded, leading his knights in a daring maneuver to avoid being overwhelmed.


    ---


    ¡°The orcs are here! Prepare for battle!¡± Vervill¡¯s calm voice cut through the air as he observed the approaching enemy. He raised his hand, signaling the archers to ready their bows.


    ¡°Release!¡± Vervill shouted, and a rain of arrows descended upon the orc vanguard, thinning their numbers in an instant.


    ---


    ¡°King! The orcs are hitting the infantry!¡± Reynold¡¯s alarmed voice reached Roland as he turned to see the enemy abandoning their pursuit of the knights to encircle the foot soldiers instead.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Carlos?¡± Roland¡¯s eyes scanned the sky, searching for the dragon that was supposed to be their aerial support. The sky was empty; the dragon had vanished.


    ¡°Your Highness! We need to disrupt their attack, or our infantry won¡¯t hold!¡± Reynold urged, anxiety evident in his tone.


    ---


    ¡°Kaldor! Hold on!¡± Carlos, having pulled back from the battlefield, worked to remove an armor-piercing arrow embedded in Kaldor¡¯s abdomen.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Lucky bastard,¡± Carlos muttered as he yanked the arrow free, dragon blood splattering his hands. The arrow was enchanted, designed to pierce through even the toughest scales.


    Kaldor let out a low growl, but the wound was not deep. Dragons were hardy creatures, and this injury would heal quickly. Carlos dusted some healing powder on the wound, then climbed back onto the dragon¡¯s saddle.


    With a mighty flap of his wings, Kaldor returned to the sky.


    ¡°Carlos is back!¡± Reynold shouted, relief evident in his voice as the dragon began to rain destruction upon the orcs once more.


    ¡°Push through! For our brothers!¡± Roland called out, rallying his knights. The earlier charge had been successful, but it had also drained their strength. The knights were beginning to tire, their fighting spirit waning.


    ---


    ¡°Hold the line!¡± Vervill barked orders as the orcs closed in on the infantry. The heavily armored Dovinian swordsmen were the backbone of the defense, their massive tower shields forming an impenetrable wall.


    ¡°The epee has no edge!¡± the Dovinian swordsmen chanted as one, their voices rising above the din. Their swords glowed with battle energy, flames licking along the edges.


    With a collective roar, the swordsmen swung their flaming blades, cleaving through orc after orc. The impact was devastating; the orcs crumpled under the assault, their bodies broken and burned.


    But the orcs kept coming, their numbers seemingly endless. The light infantry on the flanks struggled to hold their ground, their wooden shields buckling under the relentless pressure.


    ¡°Kill!¡± Two rows of spears jabbed out from behind the shields, piercing the oncoming orcs. The soldiers fought with grim determination, but the strain was beginning to show.


    ¡°For the glory of the knights!¡± Reynold led his men in another charge, striking at the orc flanks and then retreating before they could be surrounded. But Roland knew their numbers were too few. The enemy was closing in.


    ¡°Our soldiers¡­ they won¡¯t last much longer,¡± Roland murmured, his voice filled with the grim realization that they were being overwhelmed.


    ¡°Caslow is held back by Onaville¡¯s archers,¡± Reynold pointed out, gesturing to the dragon that was limited to defensive maneuvers. The fear of friendly fire prevented Kaldor from unleashing his full power.


    ¡°Hold on!¡± Vervill shouted, as he slashed through an orc who had broken through the line, pulling a wounded light infantryman back to safety.


    ¡°Young man, fall back and regroup!¡± Vervill ordered the soldier, seeing the bloodied state of his arms and shoulders.


    A cry of pain drew his attention¡ªa light infantryman fell, struck down by an orc¡¯s blade. The first casualty among the infantry.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± A nearby Batanian archer quickly dispatched the orc, but another one was already bearing down on him, swinging a massive battle axe.


    ¡°Clang!¡± The archer barely blocked the blow, the force of it shocking him to his core.


    ¡°Elite orcs!¡± the archer gasped, recognizing the armored warriors bearing down on them.


    ¡°Stop them!¡± Vervill roared, driving Manikati into the chest of an approaching orc, the blade crackling with energy as it sliced through flesh and bone.


    ---


    Roland, exhausted and low on energy, resorted to leading his knights in harrying the orcs with arrows from a distance. Their training had been rushed, but it was better than nothing.


    The knights fired volley after volley, the orcs falling under their arrows, but it wasn¡¯t enough to turn the tide.


    ¡°Your Highness! We need to charge again!¡± Reynold urged, seeing the infantry struggling to hold the line.


    ---


    Vervill faced his greatest challenge yet. The Dovinian swordsmen noticed a sudden retreat by the orcs in front of them, leaving them puzzled until they heard a roar.


    ¡°Boom!¡± The battlefield shook as Onaville, clad in heavy armor and wielding a massive warhammer, charged with a thunderous strike. The hammer collided with the tower shields of the Dovinian swordsmen, smashing through their defensive line.


    The impact sent several swordsmen flying, their bodies hitting the ground with bone-jarring force. The shield wall was shattered, and the once-impenetrable defense was breached.


    ¡°Orc warrior!¡± Vervill¡¯s eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. The line had broken, and if they couldn¡¯t regroup, the infantry would be slaughtered.


    ¡°For the goddess of nature!¡± Vervill cried out, leaping high into the air, Manikati glowing with elven power as he brought it down upon the orc warrior.


    The holy sword, imbued with divine fury, descended like a judgment from the heavens.

 Chapter 54: A Battle for Heritage

    "Roar!" The rounded warhammer crashed hard into Vervill, who staggered as he absorbed the incredible impact, finding his footing again and rolling deftly to the ground.


    "Damn elf!" Onaville snarled, examining the deep gouges left on his warhammer. The steel was warped and melted around the impact, and the magical runes etched on its surface flickered ominously before going dark.


    "Mixed-blood wretch!" Vervill shot back, taking in Onaville''s sharp ears and distinct features that betrayed his elven ancestry.


    "I''ll tear your fragile limbs apart!"


    "You vile brute, you''ve desecrated the elven kin!" Vervill spat back, anger coursing through him.


    Every elven king was a formidable sixth-tier champion, but the chief of the prairie elf tribe¡ªVervill¡ªwas not among them. Lacking the nourishing pull of a magic well or the spiritual backing of their people, he had stagnated at fourth-tier senior ranger. Facing Onaville, a fifth-tier warrior, Vervill felt the weight of his disadvantage keenly.


    "Stop the knights! I want to wipe out these human infantry!" Onaville shouted, watching Roland''s resilient knights rally for another charge. He saw their strength waning, and their desperate bravery was palpable among the smoke and chaos of battle. As long as those human infantry held out, the knights stood resilient, and Onaville''s plans to decimate them would prove fruitful¡ªfor every soldier lost was a step toward his promise of wealth and elite fighters from Sauron.


    "You think your little band can hold this line? Your isolation is your doom!" the Wasteland Orc King taunted with a cruel laugh, swaggering forward with a worsening glint in his eye.


    "The prairie elves will never yield! The brilliance of our legacy guides us!" Vervill barked defiantly.


    "Long live Lagrand!" shouted the ranks of Lagrand soldiers, their voices merging into a powerful anthem fueled by pride and desperation.


    "King! Listen!" Reynold roared, wrenching his sword free from the orc''s lifeless body. A flicker of hope ignited within him as he caught the familiar cheers echoing from the troops, the spirit of their unity reviving their strength.


    "We shall not falter! Knights! For Lagrand!" Roland''s battle cry surged through the air.


    "Kill! Long live Lagrand!" the soldiers shouted with renewed vigor. Their camaraderie coursed through their veins like fire.


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    "Chase!" Vervill yelled, a surge of determination propelling him forward. In a blink, he was beside Onaville, Manikati poised to strike.


    "Clang!" Onaville moved with practiced reflex, clashing his warhammer against Vervill''s weapon, sparks flying from the impact.


    "Roar!" The ground reverberated as Onaville brought the warhammer crashing down, a shockwave rippling outward.


    Vervill deftly leapt back into the air just in time to evade the deadly force. "You underestimate me!" he retorted, gathering energy as visible torrents of war essence surged into his weapon, aiming for Onaville with a mighty roar.


    "Boom!" Manikati bent impossibly under the force of this clash, sending Vervill tumbling backwards, blood erupting from his mouth as he hit the ground hard.


    "You! Just a pitiful outcast! A discarded relic of a lost race! Hahaha!" Onaville''s laughter echoed across the battlefield.


    "Pfft~" Vervill knelt on one knee, anguish etched on his face, blood trickling from his lips. In his weary state, memories flooded back¡ªvisions of his deceased parents, his fallen kin, the desolate remnants of their home. Yes, the prairie elves lived a forsaken existence¡­ without a place to call theirs.


    "I''m tired! Father!" Vervill''s gaze locked onto the figure of his father, seeming to step out from the shadows of his memory.


    "I tried so hard! King Roland..." he mumbled, the weight of his injuries too great as darkness closed in around him.


    "Tsk tsk tsk! What will you do now?" Onaville sneered, licking the dark red stains from his warhammer, grim satisfaction etched on his features.


    Suddenly, a dragon lance descended from above, slamming into the ground right in front of Onaville, forcing him to step back.


    "Sin! Punishment!" Carlos, the dragon knight, leaped from his mount. Having witnessed Vervill''s plight, he rushed to provide support, shouting as flames and wind spiraled around him.


    Onaville ducked and rolled to avoid the fierce torrent of dragon breath that Kaldor, Carlos''s dragon, unleashed, but the orcs behind him suffered immense casualties as the ground erupted beneath them.


    "Dragon Knight!" Onaville growled, irritation flashing in his eyes.


    "May the Dragon God have mercy on your soul," Carlos replied coldly, gesturing for his dragon to retreat. "The ground is no place for a dragon''s might!"


    "You think you''ll stop me with such a little knight?" Onaville bellowed, anger lacing his words as he swung his hammer wildly.


    "I''ll not stand alone!" Carlos shot back, surveying the stricken knights struggling under Onaville''s onslaught and calling out to them as they pressed on, unwavering.


    "The wrath of the dragon itself will consume you!" Carlos declared, thrusting his sword forward, a surge of power crashing into Onaville. The orc felt the crushing weight of power as it infringed upon his dominion.


    "Roar!" Onaville swung his warhammer, deflecting the metallic jab with brute force, causing Carlos to stagger back.


    "You''re weak and powerless!" Onaville taunted, pressing his advantage, hammer swinging mercilessly.


    But Carlos refused to yield. With determination, he activated the secret skill passed down through generations of dragon knights. "Gale Knight Cut!"


    As the wind blades formed, vibrating on the edges of his sword, they coalesced into a whirling vortex that captured the attention of everyone around. "Ang!" the sound roared as the wind dragon unleashed its fury, slicing through the enemies.


    Onaville, sensing the imminent danger, grasped the arm of a nearby orc soldier, using him as a shield against the winds. The flurry of blades tore through the unfortunate orc, sending blood spraying into the air as Onaville slipped into the unruly throng of his warriors.


    Just then, amidst the chaos, Carlos felt a surge of energy as the wind dragon descended, wreaking havoc across a wide radius. Shouts and screams filled the battlefield, chaos breaking out as the orc ranks fell into disarray.


    "Die!" Onaville hurled a battle axe at Carlos while his defenses were down. The impact sent a shockwave through him, knocking him off balance.


    "Boom!" Carlos staggered, just managing to raise his sword in feeble defense, but it was no match for the torrid strength behind Onaville''s attack.


    "Wow! Ow!" Onaville''s roar resonated as he leaped, hammer raised high, ready to crush Carlos beneath him.


    "Clang!" The sound of steel meeting steel echoed. A long sword, wreathed in fierce flames, came down and intercepted Onaville''s strike, the force of it pushing the warhammer off-course.


    "Abomination of nature, your opponent is me!" Vervill rasped, blood staining his lips as he stepped forward, eyes wild with defiance.

 Chapter 55: The Battles Toll

    "How are you still standing?" Onaville''s incredulous gaze fell upon the weakened Vervill, the aftermath of their intense clash defying all expectations.


    "Hehe, you''re right! We are wandering elves... We have no home! But we still have something worth fighting for!" Vervill''s voice was hoarse, yet resolute.


    The history of the prairie elves traced back to the gondolin elves, fleeing the ruins of Gondolin to find refuge in the harsh wastelands. Scattered in tribal families, survival became a daily struggle, their displacement leaving them with no place to call their own.


    Vervill''s laughter rang out, a touch of madness creeping into his demeanor as the wood-type fighting spirit within him began to transform under the influence of Manikati.


    "You''re insane! Altering your own attributes like this is suicidal!" Onaville recoiled in fear at the sight of Vervill''s transformation.


    "Since nature''s power failed to protect us, let the fire of our resolve ignite the world!" Vervill''s entire being blazed with newfound intensity, the wood-type battle aura giving way to a fiery manifestation.


    "Embrace the flames!" Vervill advanced, flames licking at his form, a towering inferno engulfing him as he pressed forward.


    "Don''t come any closer, you madman!" Onaville''s voice trembled as he witnessed Vervill''s fiery metamorphosis, the flames reaching heights that dwarfed them both.


    "Yes, I am but a wretched soul... a forsaken outcast unable to shield his kin. Will you grant me the release I seek?" Vervill''s chilling words cut through the crackling flames.


    "Boom!" The unstable fire element within Vervill erupted, a wave of power surging forth and scattering the half-orcs before him, awakening the blood of the elf king within him.


    "Death!" Manikati descended, unleashing the full force of a sixth-order stalker''s prowess.


    "Impossible!" Onaville''s disbelief was palpable as Vervill''s sudden transformation defied all logic, elevating him from a fourth-order ranger to a sixth-order elf king in an instant.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "Roland, you were right! I am worthy of the crown!" Vervill''s gaze shifted to the Paladin, who stood at a distance, battling the orcs that threatened to overwhelm them.


    "The Hunting Moon!" Vervill invoked a signature move reminiscent of Thranduil, a crescent moon materializing behind him.


    "Bang!" The crescent moon cleaved through the orcs in a deadly arc, leaving a trail of carnage in its wake.


    "Die!" Manikati descended upon Onaville with lethal intent.


    "Clang!" Onaville''s warhammer clashed with Manikati, but the sword''s scorching edge found its mark, piercing through armor and flesh alike.


    "Ow!" Onaville cried out in pain as Vervill''s blade cut through his defenses, sending him reeling back into the throng of half-beasts.


    "Hunt!" Vervill''s battle aura marked Onaville, revealing his vulnerability amidst the chaos.


    "Flee if you dare, but know that the hunt is on!" Vervill''s grin was feral as he unleashed a whirlwind of blades, carving a path through the enemy ranks.


    "Kill!" A steel lance pierced through the chaos, the Paladin rejoining the fray as the Knights regrouped to push back the orcs.


    "What has come over you, Vervill?" Roland''s voice cut through the chaos, his gaze falling upon the flame-wreathed warrior.


    "Where is Carlos? Why is he not on the dragon''s back?" Reynold inquired, concern etched on his face.


    "He was injured, shielded by our comrades in the midst of battle," Vervill''s voice was strained as he relayed the news.


    "Are you now a Tier 6? What sorcery is this?" Roland''s astonishment was evident as he realized Vervill''s newfound power.


    "Thank you, Manikati... She has forged me into what I am now," Vervill acknowledged, a sense of gratitude in his voice.


    "But there is one more task at hand," Vervill''s eyes gleamed with determination.


    "Is this the one you seek?" Roland held up the battered form of Onaville, defeated and broken amidst the chaos.


    "Who is this? He bears no resemblance to an orc," Roland observed, puzzled by the captive''s appearance.


    "I am Onaville, the great king of the wasteland orcs! Despicable elf! Filthy humans..." Onaville''s defiant words were cut short as Roland swiftly ended his tirade.


    "Haha, a mere nuisance," Roland dismissed the fallen foe with a casual wave.


    "Attend to the wounded! Pursue the fleeing orcs! We cannot allow them to regroup in these lands!" Roland''s command rang out, the aftermath of battle demanding swift action.


    ...


    "His Royal Highness! We have upheld our oath, though at great cost... Our fallen comrades shall be remembered," a soldier''s final words echoed in Roland''s ears, a somber reminder of the sacrifices made in battle.


    "No!" Roland''s grief was palpable as he attempted to revive the fallen soldier, his efforts in vain against the cruel hand of fate.


    "This...," Roland''s gaze swept over the battlefield, the fallen comrades a stark reminder of the price of war.


    "You have fought valiantly," Roland addressed the remaining soldiers, his respect evident in his words.


    ...


    "My people! My brothers! My soldiers! You have proven your mettle and valor! I offer my sincerest apologies for any past misjudgments. You are the pride of Lagrand! May the swift river guide your souls," Roland''s words carried a weight of gratitude and remorse as he addressed the assembled soldiers.


    "It is done! Let us return our fallen brethren to their resting place," Roland''s voice held a note of finality as he bid farewell to the fallen soldiers.


    "It is over?" Carlos, lying on a stretcher, questioned Vervill, seeking confirmation amidst the aftermath of battle.


    "Yes, it is over," Vervill''s voice was soft, his gaze lingering on Manikati, a silent testament to the trials they had endured.


    "But the true test lies ahead... Congratulations, Lord Vervill. By elven tradition, you are now the king of the prairie elves," Reynold''s words marked a new chapter in Vervill''s journey, his destiny forever altered by the events of the battlefield.

 Chapter 56: "The Return and the Cost of Victory"

    Congratulations, host, on your epic victory! Your name has spread across the north, and everyone knows it! Reward: Fourth-Order Commander Marcus *1! The number of refugees attracted by Rapid City daily ¡Á2, and ordinary Lagrand residents +500,"** echoed the system''s voice, finally breaking the silence after the battle.


    "Marcus? Wait... is it the same Marcus I know?" Roland froze at the mention of the name. Could this be the same Marcus, the city defense officer from Lagrand?


    **"Please explore on your own, host!"** the system responded curtly, offering no further explanation.


    "...Useless system," Roland muttered, frustration creeping into his voice.


    He didn¡¯t know if this Marcus was indeed the one from his memory, but a fourth-order commander was nothing to scoff at. If such a leader had been present during the battle, things might not have been so dire. Roland had been forced to put the elves, skilled in guerrilla tactics, in charge of positional warfare¡ªa role they weren¡¯t suited for. He could have used someone like Marcus.


    The other rewards were equally valuable. Doubling the number of refugees and adding 500 residents to Rapid City would significantly boost the city''s population. Roland planned to use this influx to raise a new infantry force. His current situation was dire¡ªof the 200 light infantry who had fought, 300 were either killed or wounded, leaving his already thin ranks stretched to the breaking point.


    "Wait, I forgot to sign in today!" Roland suddenly remembered amidst the ongoing work around him.


    "System, sign in!" he commanded, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.


    **"Sign-in successful! Congratulations to the host for obtaining the magic card - Magic Weave Fortification (Intermediate)!"**


    "Magic Weave Fortification? What''s that?" Roland examined the purple-gold card that appeared in his hand, its surface shimmering with a mysterious light. The card''s back displayed a magical hexagram, while the front depicted a city enveloped in a glowing white halo.


    As Roland delved into the system''s description of the magic card, his heart raced. The card could be used to instantly create an intermediate-level magic-woven city wall around any territory¡ªa structure 10 meters high and 5 meters wide.


    "So much for Ladir¡¯s hard work¡­" Roland mused, calculating that only about one-fifth of Rapid City''s walls had been laid so far. Yet, this single card could solve the problem instantly.


    "Let''s head back to Rapid City!" Roland shook his head, deciding to set aside his gripes with the system. At least now, the city¡¯s defenses were secured.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Stop right there!" came the sudden shout of the Lagrand city guards, breaking Roland''s thoughts.


    He turned to see a heavily armored figure approaching¡ªan imposing presence carrying a tower shield as tall as himself and a heavy spear with a conical head.


    "A fourth-order commander?" Reynold, with his Paladin''s sharp perception, recognized the warrior immediately.


    "Let him come closer; he¡¯s one of ours!" Roland called out, recognizing the figure instantly. The distinctive infantry plate armor was unmistakable¡ªthick adamantine shoulder plates adorned with sharp spikes, a dragon-shaped magic pattern glowing faintly across the armor, and a barrel helmet topped with a roaring dragon.


    "I request an audience with Your Highness!" Marcus declared as he drew nearer.


    "I am King Roland of Lagrand," Roland replied, stepping forward and dusting off his armor.


    With a resounding clang, Marcus knelt down, his heavy armor making contact with the ground.


    "Your Highness!" Marcus saluted.


    "Rise. You will lead the infantry of Rapid City. I expect great things from you," Roland said, his tone firm and commanding.


    "I will not disappoint! I will train an unstoppable infantry corps!" Marcus promised, his voice filled with determination as he beat his chest in a salute.


    "Our population can''t support large-scale conscription yet. For now, focus on these light infantry." Roland gestured towards the weary and battle-worn soldiers.


    "Understood!" Marcus responded with a grin, his simple and honest nature shining through.


    Roland had full confidence in Marcus'' abilities. After all, you didn¡¯t become a city defense officer in a capital without serious skills. However, Roland¡¯s memories also recalled Marcus as the last defender of Lagrand City¡ªsacrificed in a desperate final stand against the dark forces. He had risen to the rank of sixth-order tyrant, only to fall in the face of overwhelming odds.


    But this time, Roland vowed, the tragedy of the Lagrand Empire would not be repeated.


    As if mocking his resolve, the system chimed in with a snide remark: **"Please don''t daydream, host. Rebuilding the Lagrand Empire won''t be easy. With winter approaching, it¡¯s recommended that you build more shelters."**


    "To hell with you!" Roland snapped back, cursing the system under his breath. In the stories of others, their systems were powerful allies, showering them with blessings. In his case, the system seemed intent on making his life difficult at every turn.


    **"Don''t insult this system. We are one, host! To scold me is to scold yourself,"** the system retorted, its tone dripping with self-righteousness.


    Roland fell silent, unwilling to continue the futile argument with the annoying system.


    "Let¡¯s go! I¡¯m ready to head home!" Roland declared, spotting the urn carried by a group of light infantrymen. The sight brought a lump to his throat.


    ...


    "King Roland has been gone for a few days now... I wonder how they¡¯re faring?" James mused, standing atop the walls of Los Saint Neil, looking eastward.


    "I don¡¯t know, but our situation is definitely not good," Novia replied, pointing to the dark forest ahead. Over the past few days, half-orc wolf cavalry had begun appearing at the forest''s edge.


    "I just hope King Roland and the others are safe. Otherwise, we might find ourselves trapped between two fronts," James said, worry etched on his face as he watched the soldiers patrolling the walls. Their numbers were too few, and the defense of the city largely rested on the elves. He had even begun training ordinary men to fight¡ªcivilians who would be their last line of defense if it came to that.


    "Report! King Roland and his forces have returned!" a soldier shouted as he rode in from the other side of the river, urging his horse towards the city gate.


    "Open the gate and let him in," James ordered.


    The gate creaked open, allowing just enough space for the rider to slip through before it slammed shut again.


    "Quick! How are they?" James asked, his voice tight with concern.


    "This is a letter from King Roland," the soldier replied, pulling a letter from his chest and handing it to James. Novia leaned in, curious to see what it said.


    "Respected King of Akvia and King of Singhry, thank you for your concern and for taking care of Rapid City during my absence. The battle..." The letter detailed the battle on the Lagrand Plains and the heavy losses they had suffered. A third of their forces had been wiped out in the first encounter¡ªa loss that would sting for a long time. For the elves, such a defeat would have led to immediate retreat.


    "King Roland and his men won, but at a steep cost... Our strength is now diminished," James sighed as he finished reading.


    "And don¡¯t forget, the main threat hasn¡¯t even shown itself yet..." Novia added, his tone laced with dread.


    ...

 Chapter 57: Fortifications and Foreboding

    Roland reclined in his tent, nestled within the makeshift encampment of Rapid City, and accessed the system with a heavy sigh.


    ¡°Let¡¯s check the territory page,¡± he muttered, hoping for some relief. His hopes were dashed when he noticed the state of his castle.


    ¡°Damn it, Reynold and Carlos!¡± Roland fumed. ¡°How could they treat my castle as a storage shed?¡± His irritation grew as he stared up at the tent¡¯s canvas, resenting the fact that his kingdom¡¯s symbol had been relegated to a mere storeroom, while he was left sleeping in a tent.


    Frustration simmered within him. ¡°Time to use the Rune Fortification card,¡± he thought, retrieving the magical artifact from the system space.


    ¡°Please choose the territory where the card will be used!¡± The system¡¯s cold, clinical voice echoed in his mind as a light curtain projected Rapid City as the sole option.


    ¡°Rapid City¡­¡± Roland mumbled, feeling as though the system¡¯s voice was mocking him. He couldn''t shake the feeling that the system was subtly criticizing his leadership.


    ¡°Successful use! Please wait a moment for the host. The magic will take effect soon!¡± the system announced.


    Meanwhile, outside Roland¡¯s tent, the soldiers and workers toiled away, completely unaware of the impending transformation. Suddenly, the city wall they were reinforcing began to glow with a pale white light. Waves of powerful magic emanated from the wall, catching everyone by surprise.


    ¡°By the gods! It¡¯s a forbidden spell!¡± Ladir, who had been happily crafting magic-infused stone bricks, was alarmed. The shock of seeing such a powerful magic forced him to act.


    ¡°Everyone, get out of the city! Now!¡± Ladir shouted, his voice filled with urgency. Without hesitation, he teleported directly into Roland¡¯s tent and grabbed the king, dragging him out of the city as fast as his magic could carry them.


    ¡°Mage Ladir! What¡¯s happening?¡± Roland tried to shout over the wind whipping past his face as Ladir whisked him away from the city.


    Back in the city, Marcus, one of the soldiers, noticed something strange. ¡°Is the city wall¡­ growing?¡± he muttered in disbelief.


    The city¡¯s defenders and residents stared in awe as the wall rapidly expanded, climbing higher and higher. Intricate magic patterns appeared on the surface, surpassing even the quality of Ladir¡¯s best work.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be real¡­¡±


    ¡°The wall¡¯s over ten meters tall now!¡±


    ¡°This wall will protect us from almost anything!¡±


    The crowd marveled at the miraculous transformation. A ten-meter-high wall would make Rapid City nearly impregnable. All they needed now was enough manpower to hold the line.


    Minutes later, Ladir returned with Roland, his face still darkened by embarrassment. Without a word, Ladir hurried back to his residence, feeling humiliated. The dignified war mage had just been forced to flee with the king, all because of a magical misunderstanding. This would likely haunt him for years to come.


    Roland, still catching his breath, chose not to reprimand Ladir. He knew the mage had acted out of genuine concern for his safety. After all, when a city suddenly erupts with magical energy strong enough to be mistaken for a forbidden spell, any mage worth his salt would do the same¡ªevacuating important individuals is standard protocol.


    ¡°This is strong!¡± Roland muttered as he examined the battlements, slashing at them with the Dragon Slayer Sword. He was pleased to find only a few faint white marks on the wall.


    ¡°Of course it¡¯s strong! This wall was created by a forbidden spell, after all,¡± Ladir said, still catching his breath. ¡°I never thought such magic would still exist within the empire¡­¡± There was a wistful note in his voice, a longing for the days when the Lagrand Empire was at its peak.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Ladir. I¡¯ll bring back Lagrand¡¯s glory,¡± Roland said, clenching his fists as he gazed southward, determination burning in his eyes.


    Suddenly, a shadow loomed over them. A figure descended from the sky, mounted on a dragon. It was Peter Gros, the Star Dragon Knight.


    ¡°I bring you greetings from King Novia,¡± Peter announced as he dismounted, performing a graceful elf noble salute.


    ¡°Thank Novia for his concern,¡± Roland replied. ¡°Where are the others? Shouldn''t James and Novia be here too?¡±


    ¡°James and Novia have gone to investigate the Dark Forest,¡± Peter explained, his expression serious. ¡°Our cavalry was just attacked by orcs again.¡±


    ¡°This is troubling news,¡± Roland sighed. James, despite his prowess, was in the most precarious position among the three kings. While the star elves had a deep history and Roland had his system, James had to navigate these challenges with much less. One misstep could lead to disaster.


    ¡°How bad were the losses?¡± Roland asked, his voice tinged with concern.


    ¡°The knights are fine, but we lost over a dozen cavalrymen,¡± Peter replied after a moment of thought.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± Roland cursed internally. ¡°James only has 200 cavalry, and now he¡¯s lost a twentieth of them. Azog¡¯s tactics are working. These small, relentless attacks are bleeding us dry.¡±


    ¡°I wonder how things are in the north¡­¡± Roland murmured, his gaze shifting toward Lonely Mountain.


    ¡°I¡¯m more worried about the Woodland Elves,¡± Peter added, his voice hesitant.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not concerned about Thranduil. It¡¯s Erebor and the Lonely Mountain that worry me,¡± Roland said solemnly. ¡°The orcs wouldn¡¯t want to fight the forest rangers in the jungle. They¡¯ll attack where they can use their numbers to full effect¡ªplains and cities. If they hit Lonely Mountain and Thranduil¡¯s forces don¡¯t arrive in time, our southern defenses will be pointless.¡±


    Peter nodded grimly. The situation was dire.


    ¡°You know the history between the Woodland Elves and the dwarves,¡± Peter said, making a gesture of conflict.


    ¡°That¡¯s what makes this so complicated,¡± Roland sighed.


    ¡°Let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves, King,¡± Reynold interrupted, climbing the newly fortified city wall. ¡°We can barely manage the southern front. Worrying about the north might be a bit much.¡±


    ¡°Reinforcements from Mordor are already pressing us hard,¡± Peter added, glaring in the direction of Mordor as if his gaze could level the dark land.


    ¡°We¡¯re short on soldiers,¡± Roland lamented as he surveyed the sparse forces within the city.


    ¡°A lot of our people are still scattered,¡± Carlos mused. ¡°It would be great if a wandering army arrived right about now.¡±


    Roland shot a glance at Reynold. The so-called wandering troops were a resource given to him by the system, but for now, they remained an uncertain hope rather than a tangible asset.


    As the tension in the city grew, Roland knew the road ahead would be long and fraught with danger. But with the new fortifications in place, at least they were better prepared for what was to come.

 Chapter 58: Allies and Decisions

    Roland paced around his tent, deep in thought. He had been struggling with the growing threat of orcs and the increasing demands of maintaining his forces. Suddenly, a realization hit him.


    "Huh? I seem to have another way to get soldiers!" Roland muttered to himself. It had been a while since he thought about the system''s store. The items there were always so expensive that he hardly bothered to check, knowing he couldn''t afford much. But now, he had no other choice.


    "Check the mall," he quietly instructed the system.


    A light screen appeared before his eyes, visible only to him. Roland''s eyes widened as he scrolled through the available options.


    "Commodity 1: Flame Dragon Rider - Level 5, Rank 5. Quantity: 1. Price: 1 million wealth points," the screen displayed.


    "Commodity 2: Light Sage - Quantity: 2. Price: 800,000 wealth points."


    "Commodity 3: Time and Space Falling Forbidden Curse Scroll - Great Forbidden Curse! Use this time: 2. Quantity: 1. Price: 1 million wealth points."


    Roland''s excitement quickly turned to dismay. "These are all amazing, but what can I buy with just 400,000 wealth points?" he groaned, feeling the familiar frustration of limited resources.


    He continued browsing until his eyes landed on something more affordable, albeit not exactly cheap.


    "Commodity 12: Half-Disabled Swift Stream Corps. Originally a full-scale infantry corps, now reduced to 1,500 soldiers due to natural and man-made disasters. Discounted price: 30 million wealth points."


    Roland''s heart sank. "Thirty million? That''s daylight robbery!" he exclaimed. "But I guess it''s better than nothing."


    He quickly did the math. "At 200 wealth points per soldier, it¡¯s still incredibly expensive, but I need more troops."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    He decided to purchase the weakened Swift Stream Corps. It wasn¡¯t the best option, but he was desperate. His wealth points rapidly dwindled, leaving him with just 100,000 remaining. He sighed, resigned to his situation.


    "Well, it¡¯s better than nothing," Roland muttered. "Marcus will be happy at least."


    Marcus, the commander of Lagrand¡¯s city defenses, had always been known for his mastery of infantry tactics. Roland hoped that with these additional soldiers, Marcus could better defend against the impending orc attacks. The war in the south seemed likely to be dominated by urban combat, and the extra infantry could make all the difference.


    Roland walked over to a simple sand table in the corner of the tent. The model depicted the terrain surrounding Rapid City, showing the heights of mountains, the flow of rivers, and other details that a regular map couldn''t convey. He stared at the representation of the two cities near Changhu Lake, feeling the weight of the looming conflict.


    "I''ve gathered all the allies I could find, summoned all the soldiers I could¡­ and it still might not be enough," Roland murmured, rubbing his temples in frustration.


    "My lord! Knight Peter has left," Carlos announced as he entered the tent.


    Roland waved dismissively. "He¡¯s needed elsewhere."


    "My lord, I didn¡¯t expect you to have a Forbidden Curse Scroll! Why didn¡¯t you use it earlier? I saw Mage Ladir muttering to himself with a rather dark expression," Carlos said with a chuckle.


    Roland quickly improvised. "Oh, that old thing? It¡¯s been buried at the bottom of my belongings for so long, I¡¯d almost forgotten about it."


    Carlos nodded. "That makes sense. It¡¯s easy to lose track of things passed down from generation to generation."


    Roland forced a smile, though internally, he was lamenting the ridiculousness of the system. "If only he knew," he thought.


    "By the way, are you feeling better?" Roland asked, concerned. Carlos had recently fought a fifth-tier warrior head-on, and Roland knew it had taken a toll on him.


    "Just a minor injury. I¡¯ll be fine with a day¡¯s rest," Carlos replied nonchalantly.


    Roland couldn¡¯t help but envy him. The knight''s rapid recovery reminded him of the benefits of having a bond with the Dragon Clan.


    "King Roland! Carlos, you¡¯re here too?" Vervill poked his head into the tent, surprised to see Carlos up and about.


    "Yes, Lord Vervill, my injury is nothing serious," Carlos said respectfully. As a sixth-tier warrior and the future Elf King, Vervill commanded immense respect.


    Roland addressed Vervill with a nod. "What brings you here, Your Excellency?"


    Vervill bowed slightly. "I wanted to thank you for your help, Roland. Without the elf holy sword Manikati, I wouldn¡¯t have survived, nor would Carlos."


    Roland waved off the thanks. "I¡¯m just glad it was of use. Manikati was gathering dust in my possession. I never imagined it would help spawn an elf king."


    "But I must still thank you," Vervill insisted, bowing deeply once more.


    Roland smiled warmly. "You¡¯re welcome. We¡¯re all in this together."


    "Have you decided what you¡¯ll do next?" Roland asked, curious about the prairie elves'' plans. With Vervill now at sixth-tier strength, the elves could easily relocate to safer regions like the Misty Mountains or the Gray Mountains.


    Vervill was silent for a moment before responding. "I plan to stay and help you."


    Roland was surprised but pleased. "Then you¡¯re most welcome. If we survive this war, I¡¯ll be there to witness your coronation as the prairie Elf King."


    The two leaders exchanged a sincere smile, both understanding the simplicity and gravity of their bond in these trying times.

 Chapter 59: Reinforcements and Responsibilities

    "By the Dragon God''s mercy!" Reynold¡¯s exclamation cut through the air as he stood by the tent''s entrance."Your Highness! You need to see this!" Reynold urged, half his body still outside the tent.


    "What¡¯s going on?" Vervill asked, poking his head out in curiosity. His expression quickly shifted from confusion to shock.


    The previously spacious street outside was now filled with soldiers clad in cyan chainmail, barrel helmets, and holding five-meter-long cavalry spears.


    These were the Swiftstream Infantry, their tower shields and maces strapped to their backs."Who are they? When did they arrive?" Vervill turned to Reynold, his voice tinged with awe."They''re Lagrand''s finest, the Rapid Stream Infantry Corps.


    They¡¯ve just arrived to support us!" Reynold responded proudly, his eyes fixed on the dragon emblem on the soldiers'' chests.


    Your men?" Vervill asked, still trying to grasp the situation. He could see the seemingly endless line of infantry¡ªthere were at least a thousand of them."I thought we weren¡¯t expecting any reinforcements," Vervill turned to Roland, puzzled."We weren¡¯t," Roland replied, shrugging.


    "But sometimes, unexpected things happen, like this.""So... does this mean our chances of victory just improved?" Vervill¡¯s voice was tinged with excitement."Are there any other reinforcements coming?" Vervill pressed, looking at Roland with hope in his eyes."I honestly don¡¯t know," Roland admitted.


    "Our people are scattered across the continent. It¡¯s hard to coordinate, and not everyone can make it here.


    ""Your Highness! Your loyal servant Lance requests an audience!" A voice called out from the mass of soldiers.


    A man stepped forward, distinct from the others.Roland studied the newcomer carefully. Unlike the other infantrymen, this man was a second-order warrior, his armor clearly crafted from rare metals.


    The carbine in his hand shimmered with magical energy, and his tower shield, despite its plain appearance, bore the unmistakable signs of adamantine reinforcement.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "Who are you, warrior?" Roland asked, intrigued."I am Lord Lance, former lord of Aklie in the Lagrand Empire," Lance responded, giving a respectful bow."A noble from Lagrand? How is that possible?" Roland thought, surprised.


    "Why have you come here?" Roland questioned, curious about the sudden appearance of this nobleman."I heard that the king was here, and I came to offer my service," Lance replied with a humble bow.


    And what about this Swift Stream Infantry Corps?" Roland inquired."I command this legion. We''ve been wandering in the extreme north, losing nearly half our men.


    When we learned that you had raised the banner of Lagrand once more, we came to defend your honor and the glory of the Empire!" Lance declared proudly.


    The story seemed plausible enough, thanks to the system¡¯s implanted memories.


    But Roland couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the absurdity. How could a minor lord with a small town''s resources command a 3,000-strong legion? The thought of having more such lords under his command in the future was tempting.


    So, you¡¯ve ruled a territory before?" Roland asked, recognizing the potential in Lance."Yes, Your Highness, but my experience is limited to managing small towns," Lance responded modestly."That¡¯s more than enough. Rapid City isn¡¯t very large right now, so from today onwards, you¡¯re its administrative officer!" Roland declared, handing over the responsibility for the city''s governance to Lance.


    Lance bowed deeply, accepting his new role with gratitude.


    Roland quickly opened the city¡¯s status page, eager to see how these changes had affected Rapid City. The evaluation had improved, a sign that things were finally moving in the right direction.Rapid City:Area: One-kilometer radius.Construction Units: Dilapidated lord''s castle, 80 crumbling dwellings, 20 weak dwellings, mid-level magic-patterned city walls, stone wells, blacksmith shops, military camps.Generals: Carlos (Tier 3), Reynold (Tier 4), Ladir (Tier 4).Special Personnel: Ivy (Tier 3).


    City Defense Officer: Marcus (Tier 4).Administrative Officer: Lance (Second Order).Troops: 2,110.Population: 894 (Trainable civilians: 183).


    Evaluation: The once lonely king has led his people back to their homeland, establishing a city with tall walls. Though the population is small, progress is being made. The military is strong enough to defend the city, but not against greater threats.


    The arrival of a city defense officer and an administrative officer has improved the situation. Note: A tribe of prairie elves is stationed in the city, and their skills may prove invaluable.Abilities:As the only territory of the Lagrand Kingdom in Middle-earth, it attracts remnants of Lagrand. The system will guide a wave of wandering Lagrand civilians here daily.


    Allows the recruitment of civilians to train as Swiftstream infantry."


    Finally, the city''s status isn¡¯t so dismal anymore," Roland sighed with relief. Being a king was difficult; being the king of Lagrand was even harder. But being a capable king of Lagrand? That was the real challenge."Your Highness, I would like to rebuild the lord''s castle," Lance suggested quietly."


    It¡¯s long overdue," Roland agreed. He shot a glance at Reynold, who quickly turned away, pretending not to notice."I¡¯ll leave all governmental affairs to you, Lance," Roland said, clapping his hands and handing off the responsibility."And these houses need repairs as well," Lance added, already drafting plans on a piece of parchment. "If they collapse, they could seriously injure someone.


    ""Whatever you think needs fixing or improving, go to Reynold for assistance. You can also hire the town¡¯s residents to help. As for payment..." Roland dragged out a chest full of gold coins, a reserve he had kept for emergencies."I can¡¯t let my people work for free, can I?" Roland smiled, feeling a sense of relief as he handed over the reins.

 Chapter 60: The Looming Threat

    The horn of the dwarves echoed through the city of Elub, a deep, resonant sound that sent shivers down the spines of all who heard it.


    "War is coming," muttered King Bard of River Valley City, his brow furrowing in concern. Bard knew all too well the fragile state of his forces¡ªhis city could muster only 300 soldiers, a paltry defense against the looming threat. War was the last thing his people needed.


    "Bain!" Bard called to his son. "Stay in the city and take care of your mother. I''m going to Elub."


    Bard quickly mounted his horse and set off toward the dwarven city.


    ---


    "Thorin! What¡¯s happening? Why has the horn of the Lonely Mountain sounded?" Bard demanded as he was led to Thorin Oakenshield, who stood atop the city wall, peering into the distance.


    "The Orcs are coming," Thorin replied, his voice heavy with dread.


    "Orcs from the north?" Bard asked, puzzled.


    "We''re not sure yet," Thorin admitted, rubbing his temples. "Our scouts detected a massive orc army moving south from the Grey Mountains. We don''t know if they''re from Gombarda or some other northern tribe."


    "Did your scouts see their totems?" Bard pressed.


    "They''ve hidden their banners and symbols," Thorin said, frustration evident in his voice. "It''s impossible to identify which tribe they belong to. And with Roland and the others just having fought the eastern orcs, we can''t rule out that this might be a separate group."


    Bard frowned, the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders. "What are we going to do?"


    "I''ve sent word to Dain in the Iron Hills. He should arrive with reinforcements before the orcs reach us," Thorin said, though there was little comfort in his voice.


    "And the Woodland Elves?" Bard asked.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    "Bard, you know the enmity between the Woodland Elves and the Lonely Mountain Dwarves," Thorin replied, his voice tinged with regret.


    "My god, Thorin! You''re risking everything by refusing to ask for their help! If you won''t go, then I will!" Bard exclaimed, his frustration boiling over. Without waiting for Thorin''s response, Bard turned on his heel and made for his horse, intent on reaching the elves before it was too late.


    "Bard! Wait!" Thorin called after him, but Bard was already gone. Thorin sighed, turning back to the horizon. "Go to Roland and explain the situation," he ordered one of his men.


    "We might not need to, Your Highness," Bard called out from below. Thorin looked down, confused.


    "What do you mean?"


    Bard pointed to the sky. "He''s already here."


    A roar echoed across the sky as Carlos, mounted on the now-recovered Kaldor, descended upon Iruba with Roland in tow.


    "Thorin! Bard!" Roland called out even before the dragon had fully landed. With reckless abandon, Roland leaped from Kaldor''s back.


    "It''s good to see you, King Roland," Thorin said, smiling as he opened his arms in greeting.


    "King Lagrand," Bard bowed respectfully, "it is an honor."


    "Good to see you both," Roland said, returning Thorin''s embrace and helping Bard up from his bow. "Now, what¡¯s going on? That horn sounded like the end of the world. Are we under attack by orcs?"


    "Yes," Thorin confirmed. "We¡¯ve begun preparing for battle."


    Roland''s face grew serious as he was led to a map spread out on a nearby table. "Here," Thorin pointed, "in the Grey Mountains. An orc army is moving south, but they''ve hidden their banners. We can''t tell if they''re from Gombarda."


    Roland studied the map intently. "What about their weapons and armor?"


    "They¡¯re well-equipped," Thorin replied, though he knew it didn¡¯t narrow down much. Northern orcs were known for their superior equipment compared to their southern counterparts.


    "Then we prepare for the worst," Roland said grimly.


    "Agreed," Thorin said, his frustration mounting. He slammed his fist into the city wall. "I hate this uncertainty."


    Roland placed a reassuring hand on Thorin''s shoulder. "I¡¯m sorry, Thorin. But we may have to rely on you more than we¡¯d like. We can''t afford to fight on two fronts."


    "I understand, my friend," Thorin sighed. "The situation in the south is likely worse. Azog, the Pale Orc, is not someone to be underestimated."


    Roland nodded solemnly. "I¡¯ll return to Rapid City to prepare my defenses. This battle won''t be easy."


    Thorin watched as Roland mounted Kaldor once more. "Take care, Roland. This fight will test us all," he murmured as the dragon soared away.


    ---


    Back at Rapid City, Roland sat with his advisors, the weight of their decisions pressing down on them.


    "So, we¡¯re not joining the northern fight?" James asked, his tone betraying his frustration.


    "We will," Novia answered, his expression thoughtful. "But we can''t commit our full forces."


    "It seems we''re in agreement," Roland said, glancing at Novia with a faint smile.


    "What are you two plotting now?" Vervill grumbled, lounging in a chair.


    "Novia and I think we should send our air knights," Roland explained. "They can engage in the north but return quickly if things heat up in the south. Right, Novia?"


    "Exactly," Novia nodded. "It¡¯s unreasonable to leave them unaided, but we can''t afford to stretch ourselves too thin. The dragon knights can fight and provide quick support where needed."


    "Fine," James sighed. "I can¡¯t order my soldiers to abandon our people to fight in the north. If I did, they''d probably overthrow me."


    "Whatever you say," Vervill shrugged. "I don''t have dragon knights. I''m just a country lord with rangers and a few archers. You all have the high-end troops."


    "Then it''s settled," Roland said, rising from his seat. "Keep a close watch on the northern battlefield, especially the orcs at Dolgordo Fortress."


    "Don¡¯t worry," James said with a grin. "I won''t let those orcs lay a hand on Rapid City."

 Chapter 61: Preparing for War

    Roland glanced up as Carlos entered the tent, dust clinging to his armor after the long ride back. "Carlos! How''s the situation in the north?" Roland asked, leaning forward with concern.


    Carlos wiped the sweat from his brow before replying, "The orcs have set up a camp about a hundred miles north of Elub City. It looks like they''re digging in for the long haul."


    "A camp? That close?" Roland asked, surprised.


    Carlos nodded. "It''s more than just a temporary stop. From what I saw, it¡¯s semi-permanent. There are more than 10,000 of them, maybe more. And they¡¯re well-equipped this time, not like the ragtag groups we¡¯ve faced before. These orcs are armed to the teeth."


    Roland frowned. "A semi-permanent camp¡­ Why would they establish one? Are they waiting for something?"


    Carlos hesitated, then said, "Could be. Maybe they¡¯re expecting reinforcements. If they¡¯re planning to wipe us out, they¡¯d want to be sure of success."


    Roland tapped his finger on the map laid out on the table, deep in thought. "It makes sense. The orcs know about Los Saint Neil and its importance. Rapid City¡¯s location has kept it hidden so far, but they must have learned from their failures in the wastelands. They won¡¯t strike unless they¡¯re certain they can win."


    Carlos stopped mid-sip of his water. "So, you think they''re gathering forces for a massive attack?"


    "Exactly. These orcs likely came from the northern wastelands, but they''re not alone. They¡¯re waiting for reinforcements from Togoldo and Gombada. When they join forces, they¡¯ll launch a coordinated assault."


    Carlos¡¯s face paled at the thought. "Should we warn the others?"This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Roland shook his head. "We can¡¯t afford to waste time sending warnings. Besides, they probably already know or will soon enough. What we need to do is prepare our soldiers and fortify our defenses. We must be ready for whatever comes our way."


    He stood up, his expression resolute. "I¡¯m going to check on the progress with the crossbows. We¡¯ll need every advantage we can get."


    ¡­


    Roland walked into the armory, where Lance was supervising the final assembly of a massive crossbow. "Is this the finished product?" Roland asked, circling the weapon with curiosity.


    Lance nodded proudly. "Yes, Your Highness. This is the heavy city defense crossbow. It¡¯s designed for long-range defense¡ªcapable of firing a 3-meter bolt up to 2,000 meters."


    Roland whistled in admiration. "That¡¯s impressive. But can it really use standard Lagrand spears as bolts?"


    "Absolutely," Lance confirmed. "The crossbow was designed with versatility in mind. If we run out of specialized bolts, our soldiers¡¯ spears will work just as well."


    Roland patted the crossbow, impressed. "How many of these can we produce?"


    Lance¡¯s face grew serious. "Only twelve. We only have enough dragon tendons for that many crossbow strings. Crafting more would take years."


    "Right¡­" Roland muttered, his earlier excitement tempered by the reality of their limited resources. "We¡¯ll need to make the most of what we have. Get those twelve crossbows ready and positioned. We¡¯re going to need them soon."


    "As you command, Your Highness," Lance replied, understanding the urgency.


    Just then, Reynold and Marcus entered, fresh from their patrols. Reynold¡¯s eyes widened at the sight of the crossbow. "Now, this is what we need! How many do we have?"


    "Just twelve," Lance answered. "We¡¯re working as fast as we can."


    Marcus grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I have an idea, Your Highness. We could enhance these crossbows with magic. It would give us a significant edge."


    Roland raised an eyebrow. "Magic? How?"


    "Dragon blood," Marcus replied, his grin widening. "We can temper the steel with it, making the crossbows even deadlier."


    Lance frowned, clearly hesitant. "It¡¯s not the most efficient use of dragon blood. Normally, an alchemist would fuse it with rare metals to create powerful magical materials. But¡­ we don¡¯t have an alchemist."


    Roland considered this for a moment, his mind racing with possibilities. "We do have the lava forge, though."


    Reynold shook his head. "We¡¯re not dwarves, Your Highness. We lack the rare metals needed to fully utilize the forge¡¯s capabilities. Unless we melt down our existing weapons, we don¡¯t have the resources."


    A heavy silence fell over the room. Finally, Marcus spoke up again, his voice steady. "The war is coming, and we need every advantage we can get. If we don¡¯t protect Rapid City, none of this will matter."


    Roland looked around at the faces of his closest advisors. They were right. Wealth and resources meant nothing if they couldn¡¯t defend their home. "You¡¯re right," he said at last. "Do what needs to be done. I¡¯ll support you fully."


    The decision was made. They would do whatever it took to prepare for the impending battle¡ªno matter the cost.

 Chapter 62: Winters Edge

    "After a single bucket of dragon blood has powered ten crossbows , the energy within it will be depleted," Ladir explained to Roland, gripping the spear-like crossbow in his hand. Intricate, blood-red lines pulsed along the weapon¡¯s frame, reminiscent of sinewy veins interwoven with magic. The sight could chill even the most seasoned warrior.


    "So, what''s the payoff for all this effort?" Roland queried. After all, a price this steep really ought to come with significant returns.


    "The effects are substantial! This weapon carries tearing magic, burning magic, and penetrating magic!" A proud smile spread across Ladir¡¯s face as he stroked his beard thoughtfully.


    ¡°Tearing magic can shred anything it strikes, be it creature or structure. The burning magic ignites targets upon impact¡ªparticularly lethal against siege equipment. Penetrating magic targets heavy defenses, making it effective against even the most fortified structures. In truth, even seasoned fourth-tier heavy equipment specialists would think twice before taking a hit from it directly,¡± Ladir elaborated, his eyes gleaming with excitement.


    "Not too shabby!" Roland nodded, impressed. Though he had once wielded a similar heavy city defense crossbow in his past as a game lord, nothing compared to witnessing its intimidating capabilities in person.


    "Let¡¯s proceed with the crafting. I want a hundred of these," Roland declared, a twinge of regret in his voice as he contemplated the cost.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "What a waste!" Ladir sighed dramatically. The thought of using pure dragon blood for such a straightforward purpose would send a true alchemist into a rage.


    ---


    **Woodland Kingdom, Western Frontier¡­**


    ¡°It¡¯s ridiculous that we¡¯re out patrolling in winter,¡± a group of elves muttered amongst themselves, their voices heavy with complaint.


    ¡°With this kind of weather, I doubt the orcs would dare venture out across the heavy snow,¡± another added, shaking his head.


    ¡°I still can¡¯t fathom why we bother to worry about those avaricious dwarves,¡± a third elf chimed in, allowing frustration to seep into his tone.


    The patrol team trudged through the fresh snow flurries, barely visible treetops jutting out like sentinels in the distance. They were stationed at the fringe of the Woodland Kingdom, tasked with guarding its eastern border.


    ¡°Even the river''s frozen over,¡± one remarked as they crossed the icy stream. A chill ran through them all.


    ¡°Let¡¯s keep our spirits up. We can sip some fruit wine when the shift ends," the elf ranger leading the group suggested, trying to encourage his comrades while tightening his grip on a crooked machete.


    ¡°This snow is particularly deep!¡± protested one of them as the group began to turn back.


    What they didn¡¯t realize was that heavy snow could both obscure the enemies¡¯ movements and shroud them in deadly secrecy.


    Suddenly, a ferocious roar erupted from the drifts beside a clump of bushes. The ground trembled as dark shapes surged forth, the energy pulsating through the snow as if it were alive. A gleaming tomahawk flew out, spiraling menacingly before embedding itself in one elf¡¯s chest, lifting him off the ground and tearing him apart midair.


    Blood splattered across the snow, shocking the remaining elves into frantic action¡ªbut before they could rally their wits, more snow erupted with the ferocity of a blizzard as more axes hurtled toward them.


    ¡°Enemy attack!¡± the ranger shouted, his voice piercing the cold air. He drew his scimitar, eyes wide with horror.


    The chilling wail of a hexagonal war hammer resonated through the forest, slamming toward them like a tempest, signaling the onset of an ambush that would pit life against death in the heart of winter.

 Chapter 63: The Gathering Storm

    The sharp crack of a battle axe echoed through the snowy woods as it cleaved through the body of an elf ranger, who had been desperately trying to hold the line. The elf¡¯s lifeless body crumpled to the ground, the cold winter air mingling with the warmth of his blood.


    "Move quickly!" Polge, a brutal half-orc commander, barked at his men. His eyes gleamed with a fierce and bloodthirsty light. This was the fourth elf outpost they had obliterated, leaving a trail of devastation behind them. So far, Polge''s commandos had claimed the lives of 48 elves, and the main half-orc army was advancing steadily behind them.


    "My lord, why are we sneaking around like this?" a half-orc berserker grumbled, his voice rough against the biting cold. "Why not just storm the Lonely Mountain and tear those dwarves to pieces? How sweet it would be to drink their blood!"


    "Shut up!" Polge snarled, his voice low but dripping with menace. "We need the dwarves to lower their guard. When they think they''re safe, that''s when we''ll crush them!"


    Winter¡¯s cold grip had driven most elves back into their kingdom, leaving only a few outposts manned. Polge''s strategy was simple but effective: eliminate these isolated outposts and slip past the elven patrols, avoiding the woodland kingdom¡¯s main forces on their way to the Lonely Mountain.


    "Move faster!" Polge urged, casting a wary glance at the surrounding trees. He knew too well that the elf rangers, though outnumbered, could easily decimate his forces if they managed to draw them into the dense forest. His current success was due more to overwhelming numbers than to any tactical brilliance.


    ---


    "Have there been any changes in the orc army to the north?" Thorin Oakenshield asked, his gaze fixed on the map spread across the table before him.


    "No, they¡¯re still holding their position, Your Highness," Bard replied, sipping his drink, though the tense atmosphere had dulled his appetite for it.


    Suddenly, a scout burst into the room, breathless and wide-eyed. "Your Highness! The orcs are moving south!"


    "Finally, they¡¯re on the move," Thorin muttered, his eyes narrowing.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Have we received any word from the elves?" Thorin asked, a hint of concern creeping into his voice.


    "No news from them," Bard, Lord of Lake-town, responded with a shrug.


    Thorin frowned but quickly masked his worry. "No news is better than bad news," he said, trying to reassure himself.


    "How long until the Iron Hills army arrives?" Thorin pressed, his thoughts turning to the reinforcements they desperately needed.


    "They¡¯ll be here by tomorrow at the latest!" Fili responded with a confident tone.


    "It might be too late by then. But if it¡¯s just orcs, we can handle them ourselves," Thorin declared, pounding the table with a renewed sense of purpose. The dwarven king in him, resolute and unyielding, had returned.


    "Fili, send word to Bard. We need to gather the leaders to discuss our strategy," Thorin commanded.


    With the dwarves of Erebor and Iron Hills combined, Thorin could muster nearly 3,000 warriors. The men of Lake-town could contribute another 500, bringing their total force to over 4,000 soldiers.


    "Four thousand against ten thousand," Thorin muttered, clenching his fists. "We can take them!"


    Fili paused, a sudden thought crossing his mind. "What about the elves? Shouldn¡¯t we inform them?"


    Thorin¡¯s face hardened. "Let them fend for themselves," he replied, his longstanding prejudice against elves seeping through. But then, as an afterthought, he added, "Notify King Roland and his Dragon Knights. We¡¯ll need their support."


    ---


    Meanwhile, in the elven camp, King Novia listened with surprise as Peter Gros, one of his scouts, relayed the orc movement.


    "They¡¯re not even trying to hide their numbers," Novia remarked, astonished. "And they¡¯re not worried about being spotted by our Dragon Knights? Strange..."


    "Your Highness, I was this close to unleashing some dragon magic on them," Peter Gros said, a note of regret in his voice.


    "Patience, Peter," Novia replied with a sigh. "The time for action will come. Soon, you¡¯ll have your chance to cut down more orcs than you can count."


    Peter grinned, but then his expression turned serious. "I did see some dragon-hunting crossbows among the orcs."


    "What?" Novia¡¯s eyes widened in alarm. "Were you spotted?"


    Peter shook his head. "No, I kept my distance. But those crossbows could be a real threat to our flying beasts."


    "Even so, they¡¯re not powerful enough to pierce the scales of a true dragon," Peter reassured, though Novia remained troubled by the news.


    "Next time, don¡¯t leave out important details," Novia scolded lightly, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "Go inform King Roland immediately. His Dragon Knight must be prepared for those crossbows."


    Before Peter could leave, the door to the tent swung open, revealing Roland.


    "The orcs from the north are heading south!" Roland announced before Novia could say a word.


    Novia sighed heavily. "We were just about to find you. The southern orcs have already begun moving north."


    "So, it¡¯s a coordinated assault," Roland mused, a note of admiration in his voice. "But how are they communicating across the entire Dark Forest? Magic, perhaps?"


    "More importantly," Peter Gros interjected, "those dragon-hunting crossbows in Azog''s army are no joke. We need to be cautious."


    Roland nodded, appreciating the warning. "We¡¯ll be ready. Thanks for the heads-up, Peter."


    "I just hope Azog doesn¡¯t break down in tears when he sees a real Dragon Knight," Roland chuckled, a hint of dark humor in his voice.


    The group exchanged knowing looks, their resolve hardening. The coming battle would be fierce, but they were ready. Azog, on the other hand, had no idea what awaited him.


    As the leaders of men, dwarves, and elves prepared for the storm gathering on the horizon, the fate of Middle-earth hung in the balance.

 Chapter 64: Forgotten Rangers

    Roland leaned against the cold stone parapet of the city wall, his eyes glazing over as he counted the bushes scattered below. He sighed, feeling the weight of anticipation pressing down on him. "It''s so boring, just sitting here every day, waiting for the orcs to attack," he muttered to himself. The city was alive with tension, each night filled with the bright glow of torches¡ªconstant vigilance against a sudden onslaught from the orcish horde.


    Despite the ever-present threat, boredom gnawed at him. "Sign in to the system," he said listlessly. The daily rewards had been underwhelming lately, mostly just mundane necessities. Winter firewood for Rapid City was useful, sure, but hardly exciting.


    "Sign-in successful! Congratulations to the host for obtaining the Archer Skill Inheritance Statue!"


    Roland''s heart skipped a beat. "Finally, something good!" He quickly delved into his system interface, eager to see what treasure he''d uncovered.


    The statue granted two skills:


    Multiple Arrows:This skill would allow an archer to generate three arrows from one, effectively tripling their firepower with a minimal expenditure of energy.


    Wild Shot:This passive skill increased bow draw speed by 25%, stamina by 25%, and stamina recovery speed by 10%.


    Roland''s eyes widened as he examined the details. "This is amazing! The archers could become a real force with these skills." He thought about the Batanian shooters currently under his command. Their existing skills¡ªlike Projectile, Rush, and Charge Shot¡ªwere useful but limited. The new inheritance skills could turn them into formidable warriors.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    His mind raced with possibilities. "Looks like it''s time to build an Archer''s Temple," he mused, scanning Rapid City for a suitable location. The statue needed to be placed in a specific environment to function, and a temple was the easiest solution¡ªan empty hall with a magic array would do.


    Roland summoned Carlos, his personal bodyguard, and asked him to fetch Mage Ladir. The earth mage could easily handle the construction and enchantment needed for the temple.


    As Carlos left, Roland''s gaze drifted over the tents crowded within the city walls. Something nagged at the back of his mind. "Did I forget something?" he wondered aloud, before shaking his head and bringing up the city¡¯s status page.


    Rapid City:


    - Area:One kilometer in radius


    - Population:894 (Trainable civilians: 183)


    - Troops: 2110


    - Notable Structures:Dilapidated Lord''s Castle, Crumbling Dwellings, Blacksmith Shop, Military Camp, Mid-Level Magic-Patterned City Walls


    Generals:


    - Carlos:Tier 3


    - Reynold:Tier 4


    - Ladir:Tier 4


    - Ivy:Tier 3 (Special Personnel)


    City Defense Officer:Marcus (Tier 4)


    Administrative Officer: Lance (Second Order)


    Roland''s eyes skimmed the list, but then he froze. "Oh no, the El Nino Rangers!" he exclaimed, slapping his forehead. The rangers had been deployed to monitor the southern river crossing for orc movements, and he had completely forgotten about them in the chaos of preparing for war.


    Roland hurriedly sent for Reynold, trying to hide his embarrassment. When Reynold arrived, Roland awkwardly admitted, "I, uh... I kind of forgot about the rangers."


    Reynold couldn''t help but smile, though he kept it in check. "I''ll send word for them to return immediately, Your Highness," he said, trying to sound serious.


    Meanwhile, Vervill, standing nearby, burst out laughing. "You forgot about an entire unit! That¡¯s a first!" He doubled over, unable to contain himself.


    Roland''s face flushed red embarrassment, "Alright, alright, laugh it up," he said, waving them off. Even he had to admit it was a bit ridiculous.


    Once the laughter died down, Roland refocused on the task at hand. He turned to Mage Ladir, who had just entered the tent. "Ladir, I need you to construct an Archer''s Temple. Our shooters need to learn these new skills before the orcs attack."


    Ladir nodded, already mentally planning the structure. "It will be done, Your Highness."


    As Ladir left to begin his work, Roland sat back, his mind already racing ahead. The forgotten rangers were a mistake, but he couldn''t afford any more slip-ups. The orcs could strike at any moment, and Rapid City had to be ready.


    In the dim light of the tent, Roland''s resolve hardened. He wouldn''t let his people down¡ªnot now, not ever. The preparations would continue, and when the time came, they would be ready.

 Chapter 65: Rising to the Challenge

    "At your service, my lord," Ladir entered the tent, bowing with a deep respect that reflected in his eyes. Roland, having earned the loyalty of other nobles, had grown into a more charismatic leader. The admiration from those around him was evident, and his transformation into a true lord was undeniable.


    Roland had begun his journey as a protector of his people, ready to shield them with one hand and wield a sword to expand his territory with the other.


    "I need you to construct an Archer Temple," Roland said softly, revealing a statue¡ªan heirloom of archery skills¡ªbefore Ladir.


    "This... is the Archer Inheritance Statue?" Ladir gasped, surprised by the sight of the statue. The power to inherit such skills could greatly enhance their combat effectiveness.


    "Yes, I acquired it by chance," Roland replied with a smile.


    "If I may ask, what are the inheritance skills contained within?" Ladir inquired, carefully inspecting the statue.


    "Multiple arrows and wild shooting," Roland answered casually.


    "That''s incredible! Multiple arrows are a game-changer for archers. It will bring out the full potential of our Battanian archers," Ladir exclaimed, stroking his beard with joy.


    "Exactly. One Battanian archer will soon be able to fire three arrows at once," Roland said with satisfaction.


    "Then we must hurry. We don''t know how much time we have before the orcs attack," Roland added, his tone turning serious.


    "You''re right, my lord, but I''ll need sufficient manpower. You wouldn''t want this old body to be lugging heavy stones," Ladir said, blinking mischievously.


    "Of course not. All the guards of Lagrand City are at your disposal," Roland responded, pulling out a piece of parchment from the table. He dipped a quill in ink and wrote a warrant with a steady hand.


    "Mage Ladir, take this to mobilize the necessary manpower," Roland said, handing the signed order to Ladir.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "My lord, you are truly becoming a king," Ladir remarked as he reached the door, a look of relief on his face.


    "Is that so?" Roland murmured to himself, realizing how much he had grown. From his initial panic and retreat in battle to establishing the city, he now carried the bearing of a king. His actions were becoming more deliberate and calculated. A month ago, he might have just sent Ladir off without thinking about the implications of deploying his troops.


    Ladir''s remark about Roland''s maturity was well-founded. In the turbulent world of Middle-earth, a strong and disciplined army was the foundation of any ruler''s power. Roland had begun to understand the importance of controlling his forces, ensuring that they followed his commands.


    Even though the Lagrandian soldiers summoned by the system were loyal, they were not mindless. They had their own thoughts and could potentially betray him. For example, Reynold had once disobeyed Roland''s retreat order, driven by his paladin spirit. While Roland, with his modern mindset of equality, had been able to overlook this at the time, such insubordination would be intolerable for any other superior.


    The fact that Reynold had been able to rally nearly all the soldiers despite Roland''s orders showed how tenuous Roland''s control had been. But now, after countless challenges, Roland had started to embody the power and mentality of a true king. He was learning to be a leader who could command respect and loyalty.


    "The winter is so cold... How long before the orcs are upon us?" Roland muttered as he wrapped himself in a cloak and stepped out of the tent. The cold air hit him like a wall, making him shiver and tightening the knot of worry in his chest.


    "Hu~" His breath formed a cloud in front of him as he climbed to the top of the city wall.


    "Your Highness!" A Dovinian heavy swordsman stood at the top of the wall, covered in snow. Though few people were in the city, the swordsman dutifully guarded the stone steps leading to the wall.


    "Thank you for your hard work. Have some hot soup to warm up after your shift," Roland nodded, mindful of the need for strict discipline. He knew enough to understand that while soldiers should avoid alcohol when on duty, a hot broth could still keep them warm.


    "Thank you, Your Highness, for your concern," the Dovinian heavy swordsman replied gratefully.


    "I''ll patrol on my own. There''s no need to follow me," Roland said, stopping the swordsman from accompanying him. If there was any danger in Rapid City, Roland figured he could handle it himself. If there was an internal threat, he would face it head-on.


    "Your Highness!" A squad of ten Battanian archers passed by on patrol. Roland admired these archers, clad in heavy armor, for their dual role as archers and frontline infantry. They were a versatile and invaluable asset to his forces.


    "It''s a pity... I''ve only managed to recruit a hundred of you so far. No matter how many times I sign in, I can''t seem to get more," Roland lamented. The Battanian archers were the first and only established ranged unit under his command.


    "We''ll have the Archer Temple soon. I hope you can master the inheritance skills of multiple arrows and wild shooting before the next battle," Roland encouraged them.


    "Thank you for the opportunity, Your Highness!" The Battanian archers knelt on one knee, grateful for the chance to learn skills that were usually out of reach for ordinary professionals. The ability to fire multiple arrows at once could completely change their effectiveness in battle.


    "Hahaha, I look forward to seeing your arrows rain down on those damned orcs in the next battle!" Roland said with a grin. He knew that an archer with the ability to fire multiple arrows was in a class of their own.


    Where one arrow had been enough, now there would be three, and they wouldn''t need to carry as many heavy arrows. Without access to a space quiver, archers often struggled with carrying enough ammunition. Wild shooting would also increase their ability to sustain an attack, transforming them from mere support units into formidable killing machines on the battlefield.


    "Haha," Roland chuckled to himself, his anticipation growing for the coming battle and the deadly storm of arrows that would soon rain down on their enemies.

 Chapter 66: The Inheritance of the Archer鈥檚 Temple

    ¡°So fast?¡± Roland exclaimed as he stood before the newly built temple, a mix of surprise and admiration on his face. The structure before him, covering nearly 1,000 square meters, had been completed in just a day. It seemed impossible, even for Ladir.


    Ladir chuckled, stroking his beard. ¡°Your Highness, it''s not all me. The city guards were quite the help. The key areas of the temple, where the magic lines are engraved, are solid, but the rest... well, it''s just simple stone. I provided the materials and worked on the core, but the guards did most of the heavy lifting.¡±


    Roland eyed the modest temple. It was far from grand, lacking any of the intricate details or grandeur he remembered from other temples. ¡°And it works? The inheritance process... it¡¯ll function properly?¡±


    Ladir nodded confidently. ¡°It¡¯s basic, but it will serve its purpose. The core magic is intact. The temple¡¯s simplicity won¡¯t affect its effectiveness.¡±


    Roland turned to the knights standing guard nearby. ¡°Gather all the Batanian archers here.¡±


    The knight saluted. ¡°At once, Your Highness.¡±


    Before long, the Batanian archers arrived and bowed before Roland. "Your Highness!" they called out in unison.


    "At ease," Roland said. ¡°This is the Archer Inheritance Temple. You must quickly master the skills you¡¯ll gain here. Our city¡¯s survival depends on it.¡±


    The archers exchanged uncertain glances, but marched forward, ready to accept their fate.


    "Wait! Only six at a time," Ladir interrupted. ¡°There isn¡¯t enough room for all of you to awaken together.¡±


    Roland frowned. "A limit on the number of people?"


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Ladir sighed. "Yes, Your Highness. This temple is just a rough draft. In a fully developed temple, there would be room for all, but this... well, we¡¯re working with what we have. Only six can use the hexagram at a time, and without proper materials, the magic only stretches so far."


    Roland nodded in understanding. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but it would have to do. ¡°And no mentor, I assume?¡±


    Ladir winced. "Right, no inheritance mentor. They¡¯ll have to figure out everything on their own."


    Roland sighed. In a perfect world, a skilled professional would guide the archers through the process, helping them master the skills more quickly. But they didn¡¯t have that luxury. This was war, and they were making do with what they had.


    The first group of six archers sat cross-legged within the hexagram, releasing their fighting spirits. The stone statue at the center of the temple began to glow softly, emitting waves of energy that spread through the room. But, as Ladir had warned, the energy dissipated just beyond the hexagram, barely reaching the outer edges of the temple.


    After half an hour, the archers remained in their trance, unmoved. Roland watched with a mix of hope and frustration. He turned to Ladir. ¡°I¡¯ll wait outside. Send them to me when they finish.¡±


    Ladir nodded, understanding Roland¡¯s impatience. ¡°Of course, Your Highness.¡±


    As Roland stepped outside, he spotted Carlos sprinting toward him, urgency written all over his face. Roland¡¯s heart sank. If Carlos was rushing like this, it could only mean one thing: the orcs.


    ¡°What¡¯s happened?¡± Roland asked, dreading the answer.


    ¡°The orcs in the north have suddenly increased their speed,¡± Carlos reported. ¡°They¡¯re trying to cross the Lonely Mountain to attack Elub. The dwarven cavalry has already begun intercepting their vanguard.¡±


    Roland¡¯s jaw tightened. "So, they aren¡¯t giving us the time we need.¡±


    Carlos shook his head grimly. ¡°No, Your Highness. They plan to strike before winter¡¯s end.¡±


    Roland took a deep breath, his mind racing. ¡°Then we¡¯ll fight. Better to face them now, so that come spring, we can focus on rebuilding and farming. Prepare the soldiers. We¡¯ll be ready.¡±


    ---


    Inside the command tent, Vervill lounged in a chair, casually sipping coffee. ¡°The half-orc army is on the move, I take it?¡±


    Roland shot him a look of disapproval. ¡°You¡¯re an elf king, try to act like it.¡±


    Vervill shrugged, unfazed by Roland¡¯s admonition. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan?¡±


    Roland didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°We defend the city. Rapid City¡¯s walls are our greatest asset. The orcs won¡¯t expect us to stay put, but that¡¯s exactly what we¡¯ll do.¡±


    Vervill raised an eyebrow. ¡°Defensive strategies may work for now, but knights belong on the battlefield, not cowering behind walls. You know that as well as I do.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Roland admitted. ¡°But we¡¯re short on archers and rangers. Even with your elves, we don¡¯t have enough long-range support. The knights will need to plug any gaps in our defenses.¡±


    Vervill frowned. ¡°We lost 14 elves in the last battle. We¡¯re down to 135.¡±


    Roland¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°We can¡¯t afford any more losses. Tell your elves to protect themselves. Every archer we lose leaves a hole in our defenses.¡±


    Vervill nodded solemnly. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure they know. But what about the future? We need more archers¡ªmore long-range fighters.¡±


    Roland stared out at the horizon, his frustration mounting. ¡°I know. After this war, we¡¯ll find a way to increase our numbers. We¡¯ll train new units if we have to.¡±


    For now, though, they had to work with what they had. The orcs were coming, and Rapid City would stand¡ªbecause it had to.

 Chapter 67: Escape Through the Woods

    ¡°Damn it! Get out of here!¡± A cavalryman from Los Saint-Neil shouted, raising his spear in desperation. Behind him, a faint but menacing roar echoed through the dense forest. The orcs were on their tail, and they weren¡¯t far.


    ¡°The orcs are definitely pushing north faster than we thought!¡± spat the cavalry captain, riding hard through the woods. His face was set in a grim expression.


    ¡°Stick together! If we scatter, they¡¯ll pick us off one by one!¡± The captain knew his men weren¡¯t seasoned warriors, just simple cavalry. On their own, they stood no chance against the disciplined orc scouts hidden in the trees.


    ¡°The north is already fighting! I knew there¡¯d be no peace in the south either!¡± one of the men shouted angrily. The frustration was palpable.


    The orcs from Dogordo had successfully deceived them. Hiding deep in the woods by day, they made it look like their forces were still heading north. If it hadn¡¯t been for King James and King Novia sending out this scouting cavalry, the orcs might have pulled off the ruse entirely.


    ¡°We are the light cavalry of the Cardan tribe! Don¡¯t give up hope! Stay loyal to the king!¡± The leaders shouted, trying to rally the scattered troops. Gradually, the cavalrymen regrouped, their heavy breaths visible in the cold winter air.


    ¡°Keep moving! Don¡¯t let them separate us¡ª¡± A sudden scream cut off as a throwing axe embedded itself in a rider¡¯s chest.


    ¡°Damn it! They¡¯re in the trees!¡± shouted another rider, spotting an orc scout high in the evergreen canopy.


    ¡°Kill them!¡± roared the lead cavalryman, hurling his short spear toward the trees. A sharp, high-pitched hiss followed as the orc deflected the spear with its steel blade, snarling viciously. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Orc scouts¡ª" The warning was cut short as an orc leapt from the branches, ripping a cavalryman from his horse. His death was enough to wake the others to the danger.


    ¡°Go! Use your horses!¡± Another cavalryman urged, opting to let his warhorse do the fighting. With a powerful charge, the horse crashed into an orc, the satisfying crunch of breaking bones ringing out through the forest.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be alone! There are more in the trees!¡± someone called out, and the cavalrymen began firing arrows into the canopy, picking off any orcs hiding there.


    Anger and frustration mounted as they saw their comrades falling. Bloodied hands gripped reins, and jaws clenched with determination. ¡°The king needs us! Our families are waiting!¡± one of the captains shouted, pushing them on.


    Suddenly, a distant howl pierced the air.


    ¡°Wargs! They¡¯ve sent the wolf riders after us!¡±


    The wolf cavalry appeared from behind the trees, leaping out with deadly speed. These orcs were determined to wipe them out before they could escape.


    ¡°Form a spear line!¡± ordered the cavalry captain. The men reacted quickly, raising their spears just in time. The Wargs, snarling and frothing, crashed into the spear wall. Several fell, impaled by the sharp points, but not all.


    ¡°Keep moving forward! We¡¯re almost out of the forest!¡± The city of Los Saint-Neil loomed just a few miles ahead, its walls barely visible through the trees.


    A mace swung down suddenly, crushing a rider¡¯s armor and body in one brutal blow. The clang of steel and the crunch of bone were sickening.


    ¡°Push through!¡± shouted another cavalryman, thrusting his spear into an orc and sending it crashing to the ground. But the battle was growing more chaotic, with Wargs attacking from all sides.


    ¡°No!¡± A rider screamed as a Warg took down his horse, throwing him hard to the ground. His bloodied dagger plunged into the eye socket of an orc just before his vision faded to black.


    The wolf riders were relentless, their howls mixing with the desperate cries of the remaining cavalry.


    ¡°Charge through!¡± The survivors broke through the treeline at last, the sun blinding them momentarily as they galloped into the open. There it was¡ªthe city of Los Saint-Neil, their salvation.


    ¡°Home! We¡¯re almost home!¡± cried the cavalry captain, clutching a wound at his side. His vision blurred as he fell forward onto his horse''s neck, blood soaking his clothes.


    ¡°Roar! Kill them all!¡± The wolf riders hadn¡¯t given up. Their leader, a hulking figure, raised his blood-soaked sword and roared orders.


    Arrows whistled through the air as the orcs fired crude hunting bows. ¡°Dodge the arrows!¡± the cavalrymen shouted. Most arrows missed, but a few struck true, felling more riders.


    ¡°The gates are open!¡± someone yelled.


    Out of the city, a flood of knights in plate armor poured forth, their polished helmets glinting in the sunlight.


    ¡°Kill every last one of them!¡± King James bellowed from atop the city walls, watching as the knights charged toward the remaining wolf riders.


    The battle wasn¡¯t over yet, but the cavalrymen knew one thing for sure¡ªthey had made it home.

 Chapter 68: The Clash at Los Saint Neil

    "Charge!" The knights of Los Saint Neil raised their lances and galloped forward to meet the oncoming half-orc wolf cavalry. Their lances, made from sturdy wood, splintered on impact¡ªa necessity born from the poor resources of the Akvia Kingdom. Though inferior to steel, these one-use weapons were designed to shatter upon hitting their target, allowing knights to quickly switch to swords in the heat of battle.


    Despite lacking the full armor and formations of more advanced knight orders, the charging Akvian knights were still a force to be reckoned with. The speed and weight of their charge were enough to crush the half-orcs in front of them, their lances splintering as wolf cavalry were sent tumbling underfoot.


    "Boom!" The clash of wood against metal and the sickening crunch of bodies under iron hooves echoed across the battlefield. Half-orcs fell in waves, some trampled into the mud, their cries silenced as they were flattened by the charging knights.


    If Roland had witnessed this, he might have scorned the knights'' rudimentary equipment. The wooden lances, while effective in the first charge, left the knights vulnerable afterward. With no option to reload, they were forced to draw swords and continue the fight on foot. Steel lances, though expensive, allowed for more sustained combat. But such luxuries were beyond the means of the Akvia Kingdom.


    "Keep formation and pursue, but don¡¯t stray too far!" commanded Maple, the leading knight under King James, his voice calm amidst the chaos.


    The knights charged with no regard for anything but the enemy in front of them. The battlefield was a whirlwind of flashing blades and blood. A knight''s longsword sliced cleanly through the neck of a wolf cavalryman, blood spurting as the rider fell. The wolf itself snarled and leapt at the knight, but a quick sword thrust from another cut it down.


    "Heavy slash!" one of the knights bellowed, his sword cleaving both rider and beast in one brutal stroke.


    "Stop the pursuit!" Maple raised his blood-soaked sword, signaling the knights to halt. They had reached the edge of the dark forest¡ªa place no wise knight would venture. The dense trees would limit their movements, making them easy prey for ambushes.


    "Clean the battlefield and return!" Maple ordered, his eyes fixed on the ominous forest ahead, as though expecting it to swallow them whole at any moment.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Around them, the battlefield was littered with dying orcs and wolves, some still writhing in their death throes. Knights moved among the fallen, finishing off the wounded with swift, merciless thrusts.


    A young apprentice knight, narrowly avoiding death from a wounded wolf''s desperate lunge, stood frozen as Maple swiftly decapitated the beast.


    "Never let your guard down on the battlefield," Maple chastised as he flicked the blood from his sword.


    "Thank you, sir!" the young knight stammered, drenched in sweat from his close call.


    "Next time, be more careful. You won''t always have someone to save you," Maple said coldly, turning away to inspect the field.


    ---


    Back in the city, King James''s mood was grim as he received news from the sole surviving cavalry captain.


    "My entire cavalry... gone?" James''s voice was low, his face dark with anger.


    "They made it to the edge of the city unnoticed? How?" asked Novia, his hand resting on the hilt of his elven scimitar, eyes scanning the distant battlefield with the sharp vision of his kind.


    "Azog is here," James said abruptly, turning to descend the city walls, preparing to ride out with what remained of his cavalry.


    ---


    Outside the city, the great knight Maple approached James, his expression as solemn as ever. "Your Highness, those who can still fight are here. I refused to enter the forest to avoid ambush."


    James kicked an orc corpse lying nearby. "What did you observe?"


    "They''re well-equipped. Stronger than expected," Maple replied, showing the dented shield on his arm, a sign of how hard the orcs fought.


    "They¡¯ve already started wiping out our scouts," James said, his tone darkening.


    "Then it''s only a matter of time before they come to the city," Maple agreed.


    As Novia approached, taking in the grisly scene, he asked, "What''s the situation, James?"


    "The orcs are silencing our scouts. They don¡¯t want us to know where they are. They¡¯ll attack soon," James responded, mounting his horse.


    "We need to notify King Roland. His support will be crucial," James said, looking across the river toward where Roland¡¯s forces lay.


    "Damn them!" Novia cursed. "They¡¯re starting a war in the dead of winter?"


    "It''s not unexpected," James replied. "The north has already engaged in skirmishes with the orc forces, but they¡¯re holding back, waiting for something."


    "They¡¯re waiting for the orcs of Dogordo to strike," James spat, frustration in his voice. His cavalry had been decimated¡ªonly forty out of one hundred remained. The loss weighed heavily on him, knowing they had only encountered a vanguard force.


    Meanwhile, deeper within the dark forest, a massive army of orcs from Gombada, armed to the teeth, was silently advancing towards the Lonely Mountain. Their presence went unnoticed, bypassing elven defenses in the shadow of the trees.


    ---


    Back in Roland''s camp, the young king stood before Peter Gros, sighing as he heard the news.


    "Heavy casualties?" Roland asked, though he already knew the answer. This was the reality for small kingdoms like theirs¡ªthey had no room for error. One lost battle could spell their end.


    "King James was reckless, sending light cavalry into a forest. That was a fatal mistake," Roland muttered, knowing full well the consequences of such a blunder.


    "That¡¯s why we need your help, King Roland," Peter said, bowing humbly. He could already envision the fall of the coalition and the desolation that awaited his people without Roland¡¯s aid.


    "Keep an eye on the orcs. If they attack, the Lagrand Kingdom will stand with you," Roland reassured him, though his thoughts were clouded with the growing threat on all fronts. The real war had only just begun.

 Chapter 69: The Shadow of War

    Thorin Oakenshield sat heavily beside Bard, holding a letter from King James. The news wasn''t good.


    ¡°The city of Los Saint Neil in the south has also come under attack by the half-orc wolf cavalry. The battlefield has spread to the outskirts of the city,¡± Thorin said grimly.


    Bard sighed, his gaze distant. "So, the orcs are attacking from both the north and south? This conspiracy is stretching our already thin forces even thinner."


    Thorin shifted the topic, not wanting to dwell on the grim prospects. ¡°Have the people of Long Lake been evacuated?¡±


    Bard nodded. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve arranged for them to take refuge in Iruba. I¡¯ll owe you a debt of thanks later, Thorin. The dwarves didn¡¯t have to offer us shelter in this crisis.¡±


    Thorin waved it off. ¡°You¡¯ve done what you can. Dwarin faced the orc vanguard yesterday. It was a stalemate, but I don¡¯t understand why the orcs are holding back. They''ve stayed north of the Lonely Mountain, but they should be pressing their advantage.¡±


    Bard frowned. ¡°Perhaps the memory of the last war makes them cautious. They fear the Lonely Mountain.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Thorin said, though unease gnawed at him. ¡°But I can¡¯t shake the feeling that something worse is coming.¡±


    Just then, Dain, Thorin¡¯s cousin, strode into the hall, his voice booming. ¡°The southern situation isn¡¯t any better than ours, Thorin! Their army is a ragtag bunch!¡±


    Thorin turned to him. ¡°Did you find anything of use in Los Saint Neil?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ve got an elf army helping them, but the rest of their troops... it¡¯s concerning,¡± Dain replied with a shake of his head.


    ¡°Elves?¡± Thorin asked, his brow furrowed. ¡°Woodland elves?¡±


    ¡°No, they¡¯re different. Sky-blue hair, strange flags and armor. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it,¡± Dain said, still puzzled by their appearance.


    ¡°Forget about them for now. Our priority is the orc army pressing us here,¡± Thorin said, focusing on the task at hand. The elf army, though strange, wasn¡¯t their immediate problem.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ---


    Outside Los Saint Neil, the rumble of approaching footsteps filled the air, sending waves of unease through the city. The half-orc army advanced like a dark tide from the south.


    ¡°Sound the alarm!¡± shouted one of the militia guards, panic seizing him as he watched the orc horde approach, seemingly endless in number.


    The bell rang out, sharp and clear, shattering the pre-dawn quiet. The entire city stirred into motion as the people rushed to their positions.


    ¡°What''s happening?¡± Sir Maple, the knight in charge of the city¡¯s defense, grabbed a fleeing militiaman.


    ¡°The orcs... they''re here!¡± the man stammered, terror in his eyes. The sight of the orc horde chilled him to the bone.


    ¡°Get a hold of yourself! Are you not a soldier of the kingdom? A child of the wasteland? We are the last line of defense!¡± Maple¡¯s stern voice snapped the militia out of their fear. His calm command, combined with the sight of their knight standing tall, helped rally the men.


    By the time James arrived at the city walls, Maple had restored order. The militia was preparing for the coming battle.


    ¡°The orcs are here,¡± Maple said, pointing toward the advancing army.


    ¡°Finally,¡± James muttered. He glanced at Novia, the battle-hardened warrior by his side. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡±


    ¡°The walls of Los Saint Neil are too low. If they reach the top, we¡¯ll be overwhelmed. We can¡¯t afford to lose troops in a prolonged fight with them,¡± Novia replied, her eyes scanning the horde.


    ¡°So we rely on the elf army?¡± James asked, watching Novia¡¯s calm demeanor.


    ¡°Hold Peter and the dragon riders back. They¡¯re our reserve. The elves and their arrows should be enough for now,¡± Novia said, eyeing the massive trolls mixed into the orc army.


    James nodded, trusting Novia¡¯s judgment. ¡°Then you take command.¡±


    ---


    Across the river in Rapid City, Roland watched the rising smoke from Los Saint Neil. His gut churned with anxiety.


    ¡°They¡¯ve come already?¡± he muttered. Turning, he called to his men. ¡°Carlos! Gather everyone for an urgent meeting!¡±


    As Roland descended from the city walls, his system suddenly chimed, sending a flurry of notifications:


    **Main Quest Released: The Second Lonely Mountain War**


    *Victory Conditions: Defend Rapid City, prevent more than 50% civilian casualties.*


    *Rewards: 500 random troops, 1,000 civilians, 5 additional rewards.*


    **Bonus Quests:**


    1. *Kill Azog (Reward: 100 Raglan Heavy Cavalry)*


    2. *Kill Polge (Reward: 10 El Nino Rangers)*


    3. *Ensure no allied forces are destroyed (Reward: 5 Priests).*


    **Killing Rewards:**


    - *25% of total orc forces: Steel-sword equipped recruitment package*


    - *50% of total orc forces: Human Sacred Shield, Elia Er*


    - *75% of total orc forces: Second Holy Knight¡¯s Ring, Ring of Mercy.*


    Roland groaned as he read through the system¡¯s rewards. ¡°Azog and Polge, eh? Just what I needed. Looks like I¡¯ll be adding some more trophies to my collection,¡± he muttered to himself, already imagining the cavalry and rangers fighting under his banner.


    ---


    Meanwhile, ten miles from Los Saint Neil, Azog, the pale orc leader, rode his white warg. He surveyed the human defenses with disdain.


    ¡°They built a city here?¡± Azog sneered. ¡°Let the darkness swallow them. Warriors, this is your chance! Drink the blood of the dwarves and crush these humans beneath your feet!¡±


    A guttural roar rose from the 10,000-strong orc army as they surged toward the city.


    Back at the walls of Los Saint Neil, Novia stood at the ready, her elf machete gleaming in the morning light.


    ¡°Two miles! Release the arrows!¡± Novia shouted, her voice cutting through the tense air.


    The elf archers responded instantly, their bowstrings thrumming as they loosed a barrage of arrows. The arrows soared high into the sky, catching the first rays of dawn before descending like deadly rain upon the orcs.


    Azog¡¯s eyes widened as the hail of arrows came crashing down. "Elf shooters!" he growled, knowing the battle had just begun.

 Chapter 70: The Siege of Los Saint-Neil

    "Borg failed? And now the elves are here?!" Azog''s eyes widened in disbelief. It was bad enough that a city suddenly appeared before him, but it was defended by elves? That was a nightmare come to life. Taking down a city guarded by elven archers was nearly impossible, and Azog knew it.


    "Raise your shields! Hold formation! Don¡¯t scatter!" Azog bellowed, swinging his dark red warhammer furiously. He watched as the orcs in the front ranks fell to a relentless storm of elven arrows, his frustration building.


    The orcs hurried to obey, raising their crude wooden shields to defend against the hail of arrows from above.


    "Do they really think that will work?" Novia, the elven commander, muttered under his breath. His cold eyes scanned the battlefield. "They underestimate us."


    "Aim for the center," Novia commanded with a voice laced with resolve. "Break their ranks."


    In an instant, an armor-piercing arrow, beautifully crafted and deadly, tore through an orc¡¯s shield as if it were made of paper. It pierced straight through the shield and into the orc¡¯s throat, sending the creature crumpling to the ground. Another arrow struck the neck of a nearby orc, spilling blood across the battlefield.


    "Loose!" Novia ordered. Another volley of arrows arced through the sky, striking orcs as they attempted to push forward.


    Below the walls, the once formidable horde of orcs had become scattered remnants, struggling to advance through the deadly rain of arrows. Those who managed to escape the onslaught carried their ladders toward the city walls, only to find an insurmountable obstacle ahead¡ªa wide moat.


    The moat, nearly 20 meters across, surrounded Los Saint-Neil like a fortress. It had been James and Novia¡¯s brilliant idea to use the natural terrain to their advantage. With the city¡¯s wooden walls barely reaching six meters in height, they knew they needed something more. And thanks to Mage Ladir''s magic, they had transformed the nearby Swift River into a wide defensive barrier.


    "Release!" James shouted, as human archers unleashed their own barrage of arrows. The elves had done their part; now it was the humans'' turn to take up the defense.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    "Pfft!" The sounds of arrows piercing armor and flesh mixed with the groans of dying orcs. Bodies toppled into the moat, their blood staining the water.


    Novia smiled grimly, watching the devastation unfold. "Beautiful," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with cold satisfaction.


    James, standing nearby, glanced at Novia uneasily. There was something unsettling about the elven commander¡¯s smile. "What''s with him?" he muttered to himself.


    Peter Gross, the human commander, sidled up to James and whispered, "His father was killed by orcs. That¡¯s why he''s like this."


    James nodded in understanding. "I see¡­"


    Peter sighed. "Look at our troops. The orcs are relentless, but our soldiers are exhausted."


    "Stop shooting!" Novia suddenly commanded, leaning over the wall to inspect the battlefield. The elves ceased their fire, retreating from view.


    "The elf arrows are too deadly; we can''t break through..." The orc vanguard commander knelt before Azog, trembling as he delivered the bad news.


    "Damn them! Where is Borg?!" Azog roared, his frustration boiling over. Borg was supposed to be delaying the elves, not allowing them to reinforce this city. What was going on?


    Meanwhile, far away, Borg, leading his army through the dark forest toward the Lonely Mountain, sneezed as the cold wind whipped through the trees. He pulled his cloak tighter around him, oblivious to Azog''s anger.


    ---


    Back at Rapid City, Roland stood on the walls, watching the distant riverbank. "How¡¯s the battle going at Los Saint-Neil?" he asked Carlos, his trusted advisor.


    "It''s a stalemate. The elves¡¯ arrows are cutting the orcs down before they can get close," Carlos replied. "Their archers are unmatched."


    Roland clicked his tongue in envy. "I¡¯d kill for a few of those archers."


    "By the way, how¡¯s the moat working out for them?" Roland asked with a smirk.


    Peter Gross, who had just arrived, laughed. "It¡¯s working wonders. The orcs lost nearly 2,000 men trying to cross it today."


    "Welcome to Rapid City, Knight Peter," Roland said, nodding respectfully. A dragon knight was a rare and prestigious ally.


    Peter bowed slightly. "I¡¯m here on behalf of King James and King Novia to request aid. The orcs will likely intensify their attack tomorrow. We need Carlos and his dragon to help us."


    Roland considered the request for a moment before nodding. "You¡¯ll have your support. But I think the fiercest fighting will come the day after tomorrow."


    Carlos chimed in, "The orcs have started cutting down trees in the dark forest. They¡¯re probably building large shields to protect themselves from arrows. They might even be planning to cross the river."


    Peter nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you for the information. I¡¯ll inform the kings." He bowed again before leaving.


    "Give them my regards," Roland said with a smile. As Peter departed, Roland turned his gaze to the river. Despite the winter cold, the river hadn¡¯t frozen yet. Large chunks of ice floated in the water, but it was still a formidable barrier.


    "We need to stay vigilant," Roland warned Marcus, his captain of the guard. "If the river freezes, the orcs could cross it and attack us directly."


    "I''ll make sure the sentries stay alert," Marcus replied, already moving to carry out the order.


    Roland sighed. "Let¡¯s just hope the orcs don¡¯t discover Rapid City before we¡¯re ready for them."


    ---


    In the growing cold of the north, both men and elves braced themselves for the next phase of the war.

 Chapter 71: The Dire Defense

    ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± Novia shouted, standing atop the city wall, a machete raised in her hand. His red eyes, bloodshot and weary, betrayed the fact that he hadn''t rested for two days.


    ¡°King Novia! The orcs are attacking the western wall!¡± Maple shouted breathlessly. He gripped the long sword at his waist, a reminder of the ongoing chaos. ¡°The King has already led his troops to reinforce it. We¡¯ll need you here!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Novia replied, casting a quick glance at the exhausted Maple. ¡°The elves are tougher than you think.¡±


    The din of battle echoed from the western wall. Defenders clad in dwarven-crafted iron armor struggled to rain arrows down upon the invading horde.


    An alarmed cry shattered the air as a half-orc, weighed down by a sack of dirt, was struck through the chest by an armor-piercing arrow. It staggered two steps forward before collapsing, the sack tumbling to the ground beside it.


    ¡°Boom!¡± The arrowhead split the orc''s skull, spattering brain matter across the muddy ground, a gruesome reminder of the brutal reality of war.


    ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± Chaos erupted as a half-orc¡¯s flying axe soared through the air, embedding itself in the body of a nearby soldier. The dark energy radiating from the impact sent the unfortunate man crashing to the earth, his body torn apart by the violence of combat.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Orc warriors! The professionals are here!¡± White Wing¡¯s voice trembled with a mix of dread and alertness as he surveyed the fray. The flying axe had turned his stomach.


    ¡°Do they think us mere soft persimmons?¡± James¡¯s face darkened as he gritted his teeth in frustration.


    ¡°Keep firing! We can¡¯t let the orcs breach the moat!¡± Maple shouted, his voice firm as he intercepted another axe aimed at James.


    ¡°Shu~¡± At Maple''s command, the barrage of arrows intensified, raining down with renewed vigor.


    Suddenly, Maple¡¯s heart sank. The moat below had been breached, revealing a ¡°path¡± spanning less than ten meters.


    ¡°Suppress them! Don¡¯t let them get through!¡± James too noticed the dangerous gap, urgency surging in his voice.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fear sacrifice! Push forward! We must hold the city!¡± the half-orc commander roared, sensing the relentless drive of his men as they clawed their way toward the widening breach, blood staining the river a dark green.


    ¡°Damn it! Maple, we need to disrupt their advance!¡± James shouted, horror creeping into his voice as the orc ranks edged ever closer.


    With every frantic heartbeat, the gap widened and deepened, the orcs pressing forward relentlessly.


    ¡°Ha!¡± James let out a war cry, unleashing a sword-like beam toward the encroaching orcs, but it was Maple¡¯s determination that shone through the chaos. Realizing that arrows alone couldn¡¯t hold back the tide, he made a fateful decision.


    With resolve etched upon his face, he leaped down from the city wall, his intent to block the advancing horde.


    ¡°Flame slash!¡± Maple called out. His long sword arced through the air, a wave of scorching flames bursting forth, forming a blade of fire nearly three meters long that cleaved through the orcish ranks.


    ¡°Knights! Follow me! We must suppress them!¡± James commanded, pain and doubt fighting in his heart as he summoned the knights from the depths of the city.


    ¡°Boom!¡± The heavy sound of shields and swords clanging filled the air as the knights of Los Saint Neil City descended, ready to fight.


    ¡°For the glory of the knights! Charge!¡± they rang out, their voices a chorus of determination amidst the carnage that threatened to consume them all.


    In that moment, under the impending threat, the fate of the city hung by a thread, and the soldiers prepared to face their destiny, united in their stand against the encroaching darkness.

 Chapter 72: The Last Stand

    Novia leaned against the cold stone wall, panting heavily, his eyes filled with sorrow and exhaustion. The orcs had attacked relentlessly¡ªmore than a dozen waves¡ªand yet, despite their best efforts, the defenders of Los Saint-Neil had barely scratched the enemy¡¯s numbers. The Star Elves had shot down the Orc Vanguard, but the bulk of the half-orcs had cleverly feigned retreat, keeping their casualties low.


    "What about King James?" Novia asked, turning to a nearby guard.


    The guard hesitated before answering, "Not good, Your Highness. Their knights are taking heavy casualties..." He trailed off, his face grim. Even the noble knights were bleeding on the battlefield, and the common soldiers were faring even worse.


    Novia clenched his jaw. "What about our own forces?"


    "Your Highness... our soldiers are exhausted. They can barely draw their bows. One more attack and they might collapse."


    Novia exhaled slowly. He knew Azog, the enemy commander, was cunning. The half-orcs weren¡¯t just attacking¡ªthey were wearing down the elves'' stamina and morale, waiting for the right moment to strike a killing blow. One slip, one moment of weakness, and their feigned assaults would turn deadly real.


    "Do you need me to intervene?" Peter Gro, one of Novia¡¯s trusted commanders, asked as they both glanced at the west wall, where Carlos was struggling to fend off yet another wave of attackers.


    "Not yet," Novia replied. "We can¡¯t reveal our trump card until we¡¯re certain it will make a difference. We can''t trade our best for a mere gamble."


    Novia¡¯s eyes darkened. The battlefield was a delicate balance of attrition and strategy¡ªhe couldn¡¯t afford to lose it now.


    "Prepare for melee combat!" Novia commanded, his voice steel, as he steeled himself for what was to come.


    Peter flinched at the order, knowing full well that elves were not famed for their melee prowess. But Novia shot him a look that cut through any hesitation.


    "People say elves are weak in close combat..." Novia muttered, surveying the warriors around him, many still wielding their fine mail and chain armor, some trembling from fatigue. "But how did we win the Last Alliance War if that were true? We just don''t like to sacrifice unless absolutely necessary."Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Peter  shut his eyes in pain, knowing the truth of his words. The elves had learned the cost of war during the Battle of the Black Gate, where they had faced a nightmare they never wished to relive.


    "Your Highness, I won¡¯t leave you," Peter  finally said, his voice unwavering. "We didn¡¯t betray our allies then, and we won¡¯t betray them now."


    Novia nodded solemnly. "Good. Let¡¯s give them everything we¡¯ve got."


    Peter Gros knelt on one knee, drawing his sword. "My blade is yours, my king. My body and soul will fight until the very end!"


    Novia¡¯s eyes softened, just for a moment, as he rested a hand on the knight¡¯s shoulder. "Stand tall, Knight. We need you now more than ever."


    With a smooth motion, Novia unsheathed his curved elven blade, its edge glinting under the morning sun. He raised it high.


    "For our ancestors! For our homeland! For the people of Singhry, we will never surrender!"


    "Kill!"


    A fresh volley of arrows rained down from behind them, but Novia could already feel the weight of the oncoming horde.


    ---


    Meanwhile, at Rapid City, Roland stood before his advisors, the grim reality of war sinking in.


    "Have you made up your mind?" Lord Lance asked him, though the answer was already clear.


    "Yes," Roland said firmly. "Our allies are fighting for their lives. If we let them fall, we¡¯re next."


    Lance bowed his head, the weight of the king¡¯s words heavy on his shoulders. "Then go. Fight with everything you have. I swear on my life that I will protect Rapid City until you return, whether you succeed or not."


    Marcus, the City Defense Officer, stepped forward. "And I, too, will hold this city for you, my lord."


    Roland looked at his men, pride swelling in his chest. "What do you need to defend the city, Marcus?"


    "We¡¯ll need the Dovinian heavy swordsmen, the Lagrand city guards, Batenian archers, and the light infantry we¡¯ve conscripted. But we¡¯re short on manpower. In open battle, they¡¯ll be difficult to command."


    Lord Lance slammed his fist against his chest. "As a noble of Lagrand, I will lead my troops and clear every obstacle in your path. Only death can end my promise."


    "May the Light guide you," Roland said, nodding gravely.


    "Reynold, gather the knights and prepare Ladir and Ivy," Roland commanded. "We¡¯ll need their magic for this."


    Armored and ready for battle, Roland mounted his warhorse and rode to the west gate, where his army began to assemble. The river to the west had frozen over from the northern cold winds, creating a natural bridge for the orcs to invade. Rapid City was vulnerable.


    Roland stared out at the ice-covered horizon, the tension thick in the air. He knew waiting for the orcs to reach them was a mistake. They had to strike first. The time for defense was over¡ªit was time for action.


    ---


    Back at Los Saint-Neil, Novia exhaled, exhaustion taking hold. He had just fired his first arrow at the orcs, a shot that was meant to hit an orc¡¯s eye but had missed and grazed its neck. His hands trembled.


    "Roland... I don¡¯t think I can hold them any longer..." he whispered to himself.


    "Your Highness! The orcs are charging again!" a ranger shouted.


    "Can any of you still draw a bow?" Novia asked, already knowing the answer.


    "We will fight until the last moment!" The elf archers and rangers, arms trembling, drew their blades. They had no strength left for ranged combat, but their loyalty was unquestionable.


    "Then prepare for melee!" Novia roared, his own anger rising. The orcs had pushed them too far, and now it was time to show them what the elves were truly capable of.


    The orcs stormed the walls, their crude ladders propped against the stone battlements. They thought victory was within their grasp.


    "For the dignity of our people!" Novia yelled, charging at the first orc to climb over the wall. With a swift arc of his blade, he decapitated the beast, blood spraying across the stones.


    His warriors followed suit, their swords dancing like silver flames under the pale dawn light.


    The battle raged on, but the elves of Singhry would not yield¡ªnot today.

 Chapter 73: The Siege of Los Saint-Neil

    The rangers¡¯ machetes sliced through the air, their blades spinning in fluid arcs, and in an instant, the sky was ablaze with the brilliant light of their core technique ¨C Blade Dance. The flash of the sun on their steel illuminated the terrified faces of the orcs just as the swords tore through them.


    With a sickening thud, over a hundred orc bodies dropped to the ground from the city walls, their final, desperate screams still echoing. The dead orcs¡¯ descent dampened the morale of the advancing horde, halting their attack.


    "Damn them! Cowardly elves!" Azog bellowed, his voice filled with frustration as he watched the elves stubbornly defend their city. He hadn''t expected such resistance. These elves were different from the weaklings he''d imagined. They were veterans of the Last Alliance, warriors who had fought at Mordor and faced the Black Gate. The elves of Los Saint-Neil fought with the legacy of their ancestors burning in their hearts.


    "Why aren¡¯t they tiring?" Azog snarled, watching helplessly as the elf rangers, like reapers, methodically cut down the orcs attempting to scale the walls.


    Azog had never fought against a proper elven army before, and he was now witnessing their disciplined tactics. If Roland were here, he would have scoffed at Azog''s naivety. The elf army was relentless, and their strategy simple but effective. First, they wore down their enemies with volleys of arrows. When the battle moved to melee range, their spearmen and rangers took over, showing no sign of exhaustion. Even when the elves seemed spent, they had reserves of magic and determination that made them lethal to the end.


    Azog cursed his bad luck. His second-tier orc warriors had been cut down as easily as grass by the elves'' blades. In a desperate bid to stop the bleeding, he waved his hand, signaling a retreat of his elite troops.


    "Let the cannon fodder deal with them!" he ordered.


    The trained warriors pulled back, and in their place, hordes of ordinary orcs surged forward, driven by fear and bloodlust. Novia, the elf commander, gritted her teeth. Killing professional soldiers had taken enough effort, but wasting precious strength on ordinary orcs was a frustrating prospect.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    At that moment, trolls lumbered toward the city gate, carrying massive logs to batter down the defenses. The elf archers, who had been resting behind the lines, saw the approaching behemoths and immediately nocked their arrows.


    "Take them down!" the commanders ordered.


    A volley of arrows flew through the air, piercing the trolls and sending them crashing to the ground, their bodies riddled with elven arrows. But the orcs were not done. A new threat emerged as trebuchets, carried by even larger trolls, appeared on the battlefield. They stopped just beyond the elves¡¯ shooting range and began to launch boulders at the city.


    "Prepare the exploding arrows!" Novia shouted.


    Another barrage of arrows, this time tipped with explosive magic, streaked through the sky and hit their targets with devastating force. The trebuchets and their troll operators were obliterated, leaving nothing but smoldering remains in the field below.


    Azog roared in frustration, unable to match the elves'' precision and firepower. He called for his troops to regroup, realizing that brute force wasn¡¯t enough to overcome the defenses of Los Saint-Neil.


    From the west, the sound of orc horns blared, a deep, ominous wail that echoed across the battlefield. James, locked in combat with orc soldiers, looked up and felt a chill in his bones. Reinforcements had arrived.


    "God of Light, help us," Carlos muttered as he watched the horizon darken with the advancing orc horde. It was a wave of bodies, banners, and steel. The half-orc army had successfully bypassed the Woodland Kingdom¡¯s defenses, and they were now circling the city, cutting off any hope of retreat.


    Azog grinned. With the Polge army at his back, he no longer feared the elven reinforcements or the Holy Glory Knights rumored to be hiding in the city. Now, he had enough forces to surround and crush Los Saint-Neil.


    As Azog bellowed orders for the final assault, Roland and his army reached the west bank of the frozen river. They had been delayed by the ice, forced to march north to find a safe crossing. From atop a nearby hill, Roland surveyed the battlefield. His heart sank as he realized the scale of the orc reinforcements.


    ¡°The Woodland Kingdom failed,¡± Roland muttered grimly, recalling Thorin¡¯s warning not to trust the elves to hold the line.


    "Your Highness, we should retreat," Reynold said, his voice laced with urgency.


    But Roland shook his head. ¡°No, we still have a chance. The star elves have a Dragon Knight, and a Dragon Knight means at least one forbidden spell.¡±


    His words sparked hope in the weary soldiers around him. A Dragon Knight could turn the tide of the battle, and if they were lucky, the orc horde could be obliterated with a single magical strike.


    Suddenly, a deafening roar filled the sky. A majestic blue dragon, its scales glittering like stars, burst from the city. Novia, realizing that Azog¡¯s reinforcements were overwhelming her forces, had called upon the full might of the Dragon Knights. As the dragon soared above the battlefield, the tide of the war was about to change.

 Chapter 75: The Battles Turning Point

    "Damn it! How long does Novia''s Dragon Knight Forbidden Spell last?" James gritted his teeth, eyes glued to the streaks of starlight flashing across the sky.


    "Did you think a forbidden spell ends with a single strike? These spells often cause continuous damage," Novia muttered, leaning against the city wall, clearly drained. He rolled his eyes at James''s impatience.


    ---


    Azog and his son Polge, sensing the magical storm that came with the spell, had quickly burrowed underground to escape the devastation. As the dust settled, a hand broke through the dirt, followed by Azog''s battered form. Gasping for air, he scanned the battlefield, taking in the bodies of his fallen troops.


    "Roar!"Azog let out an enraged howl, raising his warhammer into the air, furious at the sight of so much death.


    ---


    "The Dragon Knights vanished ages ago..." Polge, still hidden, stared at the chaotic starlight. Shock lined his face as he processed what was happening. In his mind, Dragon Knights were relics of a past era, long forgotten when dragons retreated to isolation. The very idea that one could appear now seemed impossible.


    ---


    The spell ended, leaving the battlefield in an eerie silence. Sky, still hovering above, swayed, disoriented but refocused on the enemy. With a mighty beat of his wings, the dragon breathed deeply, preparing to release a devastating attack.


    "Unforgivable!" Azog, trembling with fury, hefted a massive dragon-hunting crossbow, something normally requiring a team of orcs to operate. With a powerful pull, he loaded the weapon singlehandedly and fired a black arrow straight at Peter Gross and his dragon, Skye.


    "Sky! Black arrow!" Peter''s voice cut through their psychic link, warning the dragon of the incoming threat.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    With a sharp twist of its tail, Sky veered sharply to the side. The black arrow narrowly missed, its scorching heat searing through the air just inches away. But the danger wasn''t over¡ªanother black arrow, the one lodged in Skye¡¯s flank, was taking its toll.


    "There!" Sky''s pupils locked onto Azog, now reloading another arrow. Rage flashed in the dragon''s eyes as it prepared to strike back. With a powerful inhalation, fire danced at the dragon¡¯s maw, building for a lethal breath attack.


    Azog knew what was coming. He dropped the crossbow and sprinted away, leaping over debris in desperation. Despite his speed, Sky followed, redirecting its flame to chase the orc leader.


    But the whistle of another black arrow came¡ªthis time aimed at the dragon''s flank. Unable to dodge in time, the arrow tore through the membrane of Sky¡¯s right wing, eliciting a pained roar.


    Azog grinned savagely. He hadn''t even needed the crossbow this time; his sheer strength was enough to hurl the deadly projectile.


    ---


    "What kind of Dragon Knight is that?" Reynold muttered in disbelief, watching Peter  struggle with Sky¡¯s injuries.


    "Well, the elves don¡¯t have knights, after all. He¡¯s doing the best he can," Lance replied, though even he winced at the awkwardness of Peter¡¯s control over the dragon.


    "It¡¯s less like a Dragon Knight and more like a ranger hitching a ride on a dragon¡¯s back," Roland observed thoughtfully. He knew Peter was powerful, but centuries of peace among the star elves had dulled their combat readiness. Without the trial of battle, Peter was more title than tactician.


    "Not a knight, not yet. More like a dragon-borne fighter," Ladir, the mage, concluded, dismissing the last of his defensive spells with a sigh.


    "The path of a pioneer is always tough," Priestess Ivy remarked, gripping her scepter tightly. She recognized that Peter was on a path similar to her own¡ªa path of forging a new way forward in the ancient art of dragon mastery.


    "They¡¯re retreating," Lance noted, watching the orc forces scatter in the distance. The once-disciplined ranks of half-orcs had been thrown into chaos, their formations shattered by dragon fire and forbidden spells.


    "They¡¯ve lost their command structure," Reynold said, surveying the battlefield. Orcs were fleeing in all directions, unable to regroup under the relentless onslaught. The time to strike had arrived.


    "It¡¯s time to end this madness," Lance said, his hand tightening around his carbine.


    Roland¡¯s gaze swept over the crumbling orc forces, his eyes cold. "Assemble my army. Let¡¯s finish this."


    Reynold spurred his horse into motion, his lance held high. " Knights, assemble!" The flag of the red-backed gold dragon flew high in the wind.


    "The Rapids Legion, assemble!" Lance called, hoisting the blue-striped banner of his legion.


    Roland noticed the distinct battle flag. "The Grip of Rapid Flow?" he mused. It was a powerful war artifact, boosting the speed and morale of the Rapid Stream infantry. He nodded in approval¡ªit would be crucial in what came next.


    With the blast of a war horn, Roland''s forces appeared on the horizon, the glint of their armor catching the light as they advanced.


    "In the name of Rapid Stream! Charge! For His Highness, for our homes, and for our allies!" Lance shouted, leading his infantry forward. In perfect synchronization, five phalanxes of 300 infantry surged across the battlefield, forming a wall of spears as they advanced.


    "Let the orcs tremble! The Rapid Stream infantry is back!" Roland bellowed, his voice carrying over the field.


    As they charged, Roland''s army was ready to deliver the final blow, bringing the chaos of the battlefield to a decisive end.