The Lord of the Rings: Lords of Middle-earth.

Chapter 22 The Battle of the Five Armies (2)
"Retreat!" Thranduil shouted angrily as he watched his people perish at the hands of the orcs.

A massive amount of wood-attribute battle energy gathered around him, and a crescent moon of cyan rose behind him...

With a whoosh, Thranduil flung the crescent moon away. As if it possessed a spirit, the crescent moon danced around the battlefield, slicing all the orcs within a 50-meter radius of Thranduil in half.

"Holy crap! An elven hunter? A top-tier ranger?" Even Roland and his group, who were watching the battle from the hillside, noticed the exceptionally beautiful crescent moon.

“Hunting Moon! A unique combat skill of the Hunters. That crescent moon will automatically attack marked enemies within a 50-radius radius of the caster.” Caslo glanced at it and explained the details.

"This Woodland Kingdom has quite a foundation; it's not as bad as I thought," Roland said, somewhat surprised.

Thanks to the elves' long lifespans, almost all of them can become professionals. They have ample time and experience to hone their magic and combat skills. Thranduil leading nearly 5000 elven professionals truly surprised Roland, but the elves' pitiful population and low fertility rate...

"Awooo!" The enormous ogres emerged from the cave carrying a crude little catapult. They slammed their arms into the ground to firmly support the catapult, and the orcs standing on their shoulders and behind them worked together to load a huge rock into the catapult.

"Boom!" Several boulders streaked across the sky and crashed heavily onto River Valley City.

"Ah~" Several elven archers who were shooting from a stone pile were violently thrown away by a boulder.

"Ugh!" A flying piece of gravel struck the head of a human soldier running below. The soldier let out a painful cry and collapsed limply to the ground.

"Kill! For the Forest Goddess!" An elven ranger, seeing several elven archers providing cover surrounded by a few ugly orcs, gritted his teeth and turned back to fight, having just withdrawn from the battlefield...

"Hold on!" Several human defenders, armed with spears, struggled to push the orcs who had climbed up the dilapidated ramparts back down.

"Roar!" A giant ogre with a stone battering ram on its head roared, took a few running starts, and then slammed its head down hard into the outermost city wall of River Valley City.

"Crash!" With the sound of the ogre falling to the ground, the already dilapidated city wall could no longer bear the weight and collapsed, leaving a gap more than ten meters wide.

"Abandon the city walls! Prepare for street fighting!" Bard said painfully to his soldiers as the city walls were breached.

"Barn! Take the women and children to church!" Barn pulled his panicked son away.

……

"Ha!" Beneath the walls of Irubor, Ironfoot Dain was leading his Ironfoot Army, which numbered only a little over a thousand, in a desperate resistance against the orcish advance.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" The excellent dwarven crossbows played a crucial role, and a volley of arrows successfully suppressed the orcs' offensive.

"Roar!" The berserker dwarf, now in a frenzy, wielded his weapon and swiftly killed the orc who lunged at him.

"Thorin! Where are you? We need you!" Ironfoot Dain cried out the name of the dwarf king in anguish.

Thorin stood before the mountain of wealth, laughing and stroking the riches belonging to the king below... while his followers stood on the high walls of Irubor, watching in anguish as their kin were slaughtered by the orcs...

……

"Whoosh!" Thranduil rode his moon stag, rampaging through the crowd of orcs blocking the stone bridge leading into the city gate, hacking and smashing them to death.

"Aow..." The moon stag beneath him howled in agony, its hooves buckling as it threw Thranduil to the ground. Only then did Thranduil notice several rough iron swords embedded in the moon stag's chest. The area had been overrun by orcs! Thranduil was the last elf to retreat from the battlefield... the other elves either fled into the city or perished outside...

He looked around and a dozen or so ordinary orcs surrounded him.

"Heh~" He sneered. When did even lowly orcs dare to approach him? Thranduil couldn't help but feel angry.

"Whoosh!" The sharp elven twin blades drew a beautiful arc in the air, instantly disemboweling more than a dozen orcs. "This..." He wielded his twin blades and quickly weaved through the city. Facing the corpses of elves lying everywhere along the way, he couldn't help but vent his anger on the orcs he encountered.

Finally, he encountered a group of elves putting up a fierce resistance. He roared and swung his weapon, swiftly, accurately, and mercilessly severing the orcs' necks.

"Assemble our forces!" Thranduil ordered his elves.

"Let's get out of this hellhole!" Thranduil roared. He had come to take the elves' most prized treasure—the sacred white gem—but before he could even give the dwarves a chance, he was soundly defeated by the orcs. In just a short while, at least a thousand elves had died in this damned place.

"You can't do this! You can't leave!" Tollier appeared in front of Thranduil in a flash.

“My people have already shed enough blood for this land!” Thranduil said coldly, unwilling to sacrifice the lives of his people for the dwarves and humans.

"The dwarves and humans still need us!" Tao Lie'er pleaded desperately.

……

"Forget it, let's retreat..." Roland sighed and shook his head. It was too chaotic. Humans, elves, dwarves, and orcs had almost driven each other crazy. Roland hesitated. He was unwilling to put his troops in danger. Joining a group battle for wealth at the risk of total annihilation would most likely result in everyone being left behind.

"Why, sir? Aren't we supposed to be staying here looking for an opportunity to strike?" Renault looked up in surprise.

"Why retreat? They need us..." Renault persisted.

As expected, Renault was still as mischievous as ever. Roland sighed and rubbed his head in exasperation. Renault, known as the Dawn of the North, was recognized by everyone precisely because of his chivalrous spirit: drawing his sword for the weak! Wielding his sword against the strong! Fighting for unarmed civilians! Fighting for his allies!

“We have almost no chance of winning, even with our dragon riders, it’s far from enough! The orc reinforcements from Gombak are on their way, and we have no ability to turn the tide of the battle!” Roland patiently explained to his men.

No one spoke; hundreds of people were completely silent. Everyone understood the reasoning, but simply walking away was something none of them could do.

Roland glanced at the silent crowd, frowning helplessly. Perhaps his deep understanding of the nature of it all deprived him of the opportunity to empathize with them; he might never truly comprehend the Lagrange Empire's knights' pursuit of honor…

“I’m sorry, my king! This may be the first and last time I disobey your orders! The honor of a knight does not allow us to abandon our allies!” Renault suddenly raised his head and gave Roland a standard knightly salute before speaking.

“Don’t forget that you are also a noble paladin!” Renault bowed slightly.

"Lagrange warriors! The glory of our forefathers still flows in our blood! The waters of the Swift River still nourish our homeland! Perhaps we will fail today! Perhaps we will die! But the will of the Empire will never perish! We! Join! the! War!" Renault roared, mounting his horse and raising his dragon lance.

"For the glory of the empire!"

"Long live Lagrange!"

"The swift-flowing river shelters us!"

"Let my longbow show you the way forward!"

Immediately, everyone's emotions surged. The mark of Lagrange's glory had long been deeply engraved in the depths of their souls by the system. For their homeland and glory, they were willing to be enemies of the world!
“Perhaps you are right, I am a knight too.” Roland gazed quietly at each face before him, smiled gently, and placed his hand on the hilt of the Dragon Slayer Sword.

After a long while, Roland raised his head and looked at the battlefield on Lonely Mountain where the fighting was taking place in the distance.

"Then, let us join the battle! For the glory of knights! For the glory of Lagrange!" Roland drew his Dragonslayer sword and mounted his horse.

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(End of this chapter)