Chapter 148: 148

The two forces were now in range for their skills to hit. The humans ever eager to strike first blood had their paladins all cast a volley

[Loha's Mace] [Loha's Mace] [Loha's Mace] [Loha's Mace]  ...

Two hundred astral projections of giant holy hammers shot forwards, spinning intensely until impact. The proximity blasts of each individual mace decimated dozens of the elves and along with them their mounts. Any one fortunate enough to survive the impact would however be crushed by their allies as the cavalry charge continued.

The elves now ready with their volley,

[SAINT STRIKE] [SAINT STRIKE] [SAINT STRIKE] [SAINT STRIKE]  ...

Giant silver lances the size of a single train carriage slammed down into the human army. The deafening explosions covered the screams of pain and death. When one particular lance flew towards Prince Victor. The man braced himself for pain, but before it could impact, a golden globe encompassed the man, protecting him. He intuitively knew it was one of his skills, but he didn't know what it was called or the conditions to proc.

The men who were close enough to see the shield, further increased their faith. Believing the prince to be chosen by god.

 

The frontlines of both forces clashed into brutal melee. Now locked in a strange tug of war, the armies were forced into a grand melee. Adrenaline and faith driven, the two slaughtered all that they could before falling themselves.

As the lines shifted, pulling, advancing and retreating. The contradicting lines, the moon and the sun also adjusted their illumination. Becoming an indicator for the races to see which side was losing and winning.

As the lines continued to cut, slash and decapitate one and another. The forces within the middle of their individual armies continued to cast their skills. Further adding to the carnage and destruction of the fields of war.

Prince Victor himself was bravely among the vanguard. His sword was brimming with light, allowing him to cut through the elven blades, armour and torsos like they were butter. A new sensation was blooming within him. He felt stronger with every elf he culled, the little wounds and cuts he endured re-patched themselves. The damage he dealt, healed both himself and the allies within his proximity.

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Two words lingered in the back of his mind.

[Group Euphoria]

 

Truly, he was god's chosen.

...

This clash of metal against metal, faith against faith and human against elf would continue for another couple hours before war trumpets sounded from behind the humans.

The force station within Crea's Workshop had decided to sally forth! Around a couple thousand strong, the elves ran out and fired their arrows into the human backside. It appeared, the lights wouldn't nullify projectiles from within, only from the external. Now forced, the hundreds of levies who were still alive had to charge into their own front.

 

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