Corbin's consciousness bobbed in chaos. Twisted flames flickered before his eyes, and his body felt like lead. Trying desperately to see everything before him, he struggled to grasp something, to recall the fight and confirm the final state of the figure with the ring. Sensory information became sparse. Finally, he only felt a familiar figure blocking the way between him and Uncle Owen—it was Elder Lysander. Then came a dizzying swirl and an uncontrollable weakness.
The figure with the dagger walked towards the figure with the ring. With a low incantation, a layer of white frost carrying icy wind extinguished the flames, instantly enveloping the burning black-cloaked figure. The fierce flames let out a mournful cry, forcefully put out, leaving a white mist rising. The figure with the ring struggled to stand up.
Elder Lysander breathed heavily, his voice hoarse but carrying a certain gravitas, looking directly at the Night Elf with the dagger.
"Good evening, Night Elf. Are you planning to repeat the Moonfall Conflict once more?"
The Night Elf with the dagger's eyes were cold and grim. His gaze was like a knife, examining the suddenly appearing old man from head to toe. He clearly had not expected to encounter so much trouble in this unnoticed borderland. A hint of annoyance was unavoidable.
A dangerous aura began to condense around him, accompanying his voice. He responded coldly, his tone devoid of emotion:
"The Moonfall Conflict? That's just a self-deceiving phrase of you humans. Two hundred years of peace, you humans have occupied this land for too long. Have you already forgotten that this is our homeland?"
Just as he prepared to take further action, magical energy beginning to condense in his palm, the cavalry from Windbreath Town appeared in their sight. In the distance, the dense sound of horses' hooves rolled like muffled thunder, the ground shaking. Under the night sky, the light converged from their torches like a ball of flame, rapidly approaching. In the blink of an eye, the knights were less than a hundred yards away, each of them glowing with Combat Aura! Even their warhorses were amplified by Combat Aura, their speed astonishing! Reinforcements! And they had come in full force, sparing no expense!
The figure with the dagger's face changed abruptly. They were completely exposed, their companion severely wounded, and the enemy reinforcements' speed exceeded their expectations. If they continued to engage, they would be annihilated. He gritted his teeth, no longer hesitating. He helped his companion, who was unsteady on his feet, and quickly turned, retreating towards the depths of the dark woods.
In the instant they retreated, the Windbreath Town Knight contingent had entered the recent battleground. By the moonlight and torchlight, Boone saw the tragic state of the battlefield at a glance—Owen on the ground, Corbin covered in blood, and the two black-cloaked figures attempting to escape. His eyes instantly turned bloodshot, and an uncontrollable fury erupted like a volcano! He abruptly drew his longsword, letting out a roar that shook the night sky:
"Knight contingent, charge!"
"YES—!" Over twenty knights roared in unison, their longswords drawn. Their Combat Aura instantly flared, as if turning them into burning torches. With an unstoppable momentum, they spurred their horses directly towards the two fleeing figures!
Simultaneously, a figure leaped from a horse and immediately rushed towards Corbin and Owen on the ground. It was Lianna, her face showing sorrow and self-reproach.
The Night Elves knew they could not withstand this enraged charge. The figure with the dagger raised a hand again. Several scattered, massive ice walls abruptly rose in front of them, attempting to slow the knights' assault.
But Knight Boone, in his current rage, would not deviate even a step! Overwhelmed by fury, Combat Aura condensed wildly around him, the golden light dazzling. He roared, his longsword, wrapped in all his Combat Aura, struck fiercely at the ice wall in a resolute posture, horse and rider combined! Boom! With a deafening crash, the ice wall shattered instantly, turning into a sky full of flying ice crystals and mist!
Knight Boone, like a golden lightning bolt, burst forth from the exploding mist. However, when he emerged from the ice mist, the two Night Elves had already used the brief time gained by the ice walls. Their figures blurred, disappearing at the edge of the distant woods, their speed astonishing.
Knight Boone did not pursue. He quickly changed direction, charging towards Owen and Corbin on the ground. Simultaneously, the remaining dozen-plus knights, like reapers, charged into the smugglers and rabble who had collapsed in morale and were fleeing for their lives. Screams rose one after another as the knights carried out a one-sided purge.
By now, half of the moon had hidden behind the mountain ridge.
Behind the Knight contingent, Matthew, Rhodes, and Lyra also arrived, breathing heavily, witnessing this shocking scene.
Elder Lysander watched the two Night Elves escape, his tense body like a deflated balloon. He breathed heavily, and the magical fluctuations throughout his body retreated like a tide. He had overdrawn too much power trying to stop the enemy earlier. He smiled bitterly and shook his head, his legs giving out, and he sank weakly to the ground.
The knights quickly controlled the battlefield, clearing out the remaining enemies. The shouts of killing gradually subsided, leaving only the sounds of searching and aftermath. Knight Boone rushed to Owen's side. Looking at his charred face and severe injuries, seeing the tragic state of Corbin and Owen, he let out a worried exclamation.
Matthew and Rhodes rushed to Corbin and Owen's side. Lyra, however, first saw Elder Lysander sitting on the ground in the center of the clearing. She cried out and ran towards him in surprise:
"Grandpa! Are you alright?!"
Elder Lysander looked at his granddaughter rushing towards him, a relieved smile on his tired face, but his eyes could not hide his weakness. He gently patted Lyra's hand, his voice hoarse and low:
"Lyra... I'm fine... just... getting old, my strength has declined significantly... not like it used to be..." He looked at Owen and Corbin who had fallen not far away and pointed to them. "Quick, Lyra... in my magic bag... there are a few potions... give... give them to Knight Owen and Corbin..."
Lyra's face changed abruptly when she heard that Corbin and Owen were also injured. She immediately quickly found a few potions that shimmered with soft light from the inconspicuous pouch at Elder Lysander's waist. Without hesitation, she took the potion bottles and ran towards Corbin and Owen.
Corbin was submerged in deep weakness and confusion, everything around him blurred, as if seen through a thick mist. He couldn't perceive specific figures or sounds, only vaguely felt someone approaching, auras surrounding him. It was a pure, muddled state, without clear sensory information, only a drifting sense of existence.
He vaguely felt he heard Lianna's crying, Uncle Boone's urgent shouts... his other companions' voices, and finally heard "potions"... Owen is okay... Next moment, exhaustion and darkness completely engulfed him like a tide. His consciousness fully succumbed, and he completely lost consciousness.
After providing emergency treatment to the two of them, the moon had hidden behind the Solon Mountains, only the morning star still hung in the sky.
The knights only returned then. Under Boone's command, they settled the prisoners, processed the battlefield, inventoried enemy corpses, and checked for any captives or important items.
While organizing the group to return, Elder Lysander, though still weak, forced himself to walk beside Knight Boone. He took an ancient, exquisite metal token from his chest and placed it into Boone's hand. His voice was low and serious:
"Knight Boone… take this back to town… give it to the lord… he… he will understand…" His eyes were complex, seeming to hold some unsaid words.
Knight Boone nodded gravely and accepted the token.
The group, carrying the wounded and a heavy truth, began the journey back. The severely injured Owen was placed on a makeshift stretcher, and Corbin also lay across a horse's back. Elder Lysander was supported by Lyra. The return journey was quiet, fatigue and worry permeating the air.
Accompanied by the hazy morning light, the gradually rising cooking smoke from the town, and the faint sounds of human voices, the group arrived at Windbreath Town. The town had awakened from its slumber and begun a busy day.
The guards in the town square looked at the group, which carried wounded and a heavy atmosphere, their faces showing surprise and tension. The gates of the Viscount's Castle also opened shortly after.