Lord of the Rings: Warriors

"Stay alert to any movement around us!" Rynar raised his lance, issuing a sharp reminder. 

No one dared underestimate the lurking Orcs hiding in the shadows. 

In this land shrouded in darkness and evil for millennia, their senses were dulled to the lowest point, and an ambush could happen at any moment.

"Your Majesty! This path isn't suitable for knights to lead anymore!" the captain of the Royal Guard warned.

"Agreed. We've advanced too quickly. There's a real risk of being surrounded by Orcs. We need to clear the streets and buildings along the way one by one. 

Most importantly, we must ensure the knights keep their battle energy replenished. It's unrealistic to maintain the state of glory continuously," Omsk nodded in agreement.

"Then the knights will stay behind to provide support. The Royal Guard will take the front, and the Elaris Woods Rangers will secure the middle," Rynar adapted swiftly.

"Watch out!" A ten-man squad of Royal Guards moved cautiously along the wall, approaching a dark doorway. 

The leading guard was about to step inside when someone behind him yanked him back.

"Thrust!" A sharp spear extended from the rear, its surging battle energy forming a three-meter-long spear light that shot straight into the darkness.

"Argh!" A series of anguished howls echoed, followed by purple-black blood seeping through the stone cracks.

"Orcs! Torches!" As the warning was shouted, several torches were thrown into the darkness, illuminating the stone house.

Inside, a group of fully armed Orcs lay in ambush. However, two unlucky ones had been hit by the Royal Guard's lightning-fast thrust. 

One had its chest and abdomen pierced through, leaving a gaping half-meter-long wound in its torso—its insides completely hollowed out. 

Another had its left leg severed by the sharp spear light, its previous screams clearly coming from it.

"Slash!"

"Stab!"

The Royal Guards surged into the room, their weapons turning the Orcs into riddled carcasses and leaving the blood-soaked remains to tell a tale of Zaltarion brutality.

"Roar!" 

A massive stone slab by the roadside was suddenly lifted, and a squad of Orcs leaped out. 

Their sudden appearance froze everyone momentarily, but the Zaltarion soldiers, with their exceptional combat training, quickly recovered.

An Elaris Woods Ranger swiftly abandoned his bow, drew his runic blade, and decapitated an Orc in a single motion. 

The headless body staggered forward a few steps before collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

"Kill them all!" 

The Elaris Woods Rangers roared as they reacted, discarding their cumbersome longbows that were ill-suited for close combat. 

These dragon-slaying bows became liabilities at close range, but the reliable runic blades strapped to their backs became their most trusted allies.

"Protect the King!" The Royal Guards had a different focus. 

While the Elaris Woods Rangers were solely intent on slaughtering the attackers, the Royal Guards immediately formed a protective barrier in front of Rynar.

"Don't block me! Fight!" 

Rynar shouted in exasperation, watching as the Royal Guards formed a giant turtle-shell formation that inadvertently locked the fearless Elaris Woods Rangers outside their shield wall.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" The Royal Guards, realizing the situation, charged with their large shields, the sound of bones cracking sending chills down Rynar's spine. 

The sight resembled a train hitting the Orcs. By the time the guards passed Rynar, the ground was littered with mangled, unrecognizable corpses.

"Damn!" Rynar couldn't help but curse. He had finally witnessed the absurd close-combat prowess of the Elaris Woods Rangers firsthand. 

No wonder they were feared as a force that nearly exterminated the dragon race. 

Their melee capabilities were even more terrifying than the Battanian Archers 

(Battanian Archers: "Excuse me?! Are you saying my title as the strongest close-combat ranged unit is in jeopardy?").

The Elaris Woods Rangers moved with an agility that seemed almost inhuman, executing high-difficulty maneuvers that mocked the Orcs. 

To Rynar, every one of the fifty Rangers seemed like a master of acrobatics. 

They dodged incoming attacks with incredible ease, performing splits, backbends, and even spinning mid-air within the trajectory of the Orcs' blades. 

Some even had the audacity to close their eyes during these maneuvers, as if mocking their opponents.

"Slash!" 

Blood sprayed as the sharp, heavy runic blades severed throats and necks without mercy.

"Thud! Thud!" 

Bloodied spearheads emerged from the backs of Orcs, carrying fountains of blood as they withdrew, leaving lifeless bodies in their wake.

The Royal Guards pressed forward with their superior defenses, advancing despite the slashes and stabs from the Orcs. 

In moments, they reached the Orcs' rear lines, where the so-called "ranged units" were supposed to be vulnerable. 

However, the Elaris Woods Rangers hardly fit the definition of vulnerable.

The desperate Orcs found themselves relentlessly pursued by the Rangers, their deadly runic blades cutting them down one after another. 

It finally dawned on the Orcs that these seemingly lightly armored Rangers didn't need helmets—not because they couldn't afford them, but because their terrifying combat skills rendered defense unnecessary. 

Their swift and lethal strikes ensured that any attack against them was futile.

"Push them back!" Omsk shouted, his eyes wide with fury. 

As a light and shadow hero, his perception was already limited in this dark, sinister environment. 

The oppressive atmosphere and pervasive evil energy severely hampered the coalition's ability to detect threats, leaving Omsk deeply frustrated. 

The fact that the Orcs had nearly reached Rynar was a humiliation he struggled to bear.

"I should have brought the priests," Rynar muttered, longing for the priests' collective detection arrays. Those could dispel the darkness and drag the hidden Orcs out of the shadows.

"Your Highness…" Omsk said apologetically. 

If the attackers had been Nazgûl instead of mere Orcs, even a moment's lapse could have led to devastating consequences, with Rynar being the primary target.

"It's not your fault. Accidents are inevitable here. We can only do our best to minimize them, but we can't prevent them all. Don't dwell on it," Rynar consoled him.

In truth, even Rynar was impressed by the Orcs' guerilla tactics. But against the elite Zaltarion forces, their efforts were ultimately futile. 

Without battle energy, the Orcs posed no real threat to the soldiers, not even managing to wear them down. Their sacrifices were nothing more than a grotesque display of futility.

The Elaris Woods Rangers treated them as mere practice dummies, and the heavily armored Royal Guards were even more merciless. 

With their towering shields and precise thrusts, the Royal Guards left a trail of dismembered Orcs, spraying dark blood everywhere.

"Is it cleaned up?" Rynar asked Omsk as he emerged from the underground tunnel.

"Of course, not a single one left breathing," Omsk replied, giving a thumbs-up.

"Move forward!" Rynar commanded, raising his shield to chest height, wary of any more Orcs suddenly charging at him.

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