Magic? My Iron Torrent will sweep it all away!

"Pass on my orders!"

Elari's voice echoed through the royal palace, carrying supreme authority.

"Summon all artisans! Immediately drop everything and begin mass production of this bow and crossbow!"

She spread the rolled-up parchment drawings out on the imperial desk with a "whoosh".

"Every detail on the blueprints must be copied flawlessly!"

"Your Majesty, please reconsider!"

Elder Archimonde finally regained his voice from the savage power of the composite bow. He stepped forward, his meticulously woven beard trembling.

"This...this is completely against our tribe's traditions! If this delays normal logistical support to the front lines, the consequences would be unimaginable!"

"Tradition?"

Ella slowly turned around, her moon-white dress tracing a cold arc.

Her gaze, like two icy blades, pierced straight at Archimonde.

"Elder, I ask you, is our tradition to stand by and watch our cities fall one after another, and our people die in battle one after another?!"

The Queen's voice suddenly turned sharp, each word like a heavy hammer striking everyone's heart.

Akmond's face turned deathly pale instantly.

"Times have changed, Elder."

Alari's gaze swept over every elven noble present, his voice regaining its calmness, yet carrying an even heavier weight.

"The best traditions are those that allow us to survive!"

Akmond opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word. In the end, he could only bow down in shame and retreat.

The Queen's decision set the entire massive machine of the city of Avenor in a frenzy of activity.

Countless precious purple wood, ironwood, and flexible metals were transported from the treasury to the enormous workshop inside the mountain.

For the first time, the elven artisans abandoned their prized artistic carvings and inscriptions.

They began to stare blankly at the cold "tolerances," "lever arms," ​​and "pulley systems" on the blueprints.

These words were more obscure and difficult for them to understand than the language of the demons of the abyss.

They were like children learning to walk, clumsily trying to understand a new and savage aesthetic called "industry".

However, just as the entire city was immersed in the excitement of about acquiring new weapons, a terrible piece of news, like a doomsday meteorite falling from the sky, shattered the tranquility of the royal city.

"Report—!!!"

A piercing roar tore through the sky.

Before a griffin could even land, the knight on its back leaped from a height of ten meters, using the roll to dissipate the force as he rushed into the palace.

His helmet flew off, revealing a young face contorted with fear.

"Your Majesty! Urgent military situation!"

Ella was reviewing the trial production report of the first batch of composite bows when she heard the sound and looked up, her heart sinking.

The knight knelt on the ground, his voice trembling with sorrow.

"The demons...the demons have deployed giant earth-moving serpents, which have torn through the ley lines of the city of Lostia!"

"Their army has already appeared in the heart of the World Tree!!!"

"What?!"

With a loud "boom," Elarry abruptly stood up from the throne, the report in his hand fluttering to the ground.

The entire magnificent royal palace was completely silent.

The next second, a chilling fear spread like a plague.

The heart of the World Tree!

That's the home of Lostia!

Once that place is breached, hundreds of thousands of elves in the entire city of Lostia will be doomed!

"Archimund!"

Ellary's voice trembled slightly with extreme shock.

"Immediately assemble the Royal Guard, excluding the city's garrison! We'll depart immediately to aid Lostia!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

Elder Archimonde no longer cared about tradition; his face was paler than the Queen's, and he stumbled and rushed out.

A tragic and desolate war horn sounded over the city of Avenor.

The flame of hope that had just been ignited in the entire city was instantly extinguished by a bucket of ice water from hell.

Countless elven soldiers quickly assembled from workshops, homes, and training grounds.

However, when they gathered in the square, everyone fell silent.

A mere 20,000.

This is the last remaining fighting force of the Elf Kingdom.

An atmosphere of despair and tragedy enveloped each elf.

Elari quickly stepped down from the throne, and a maid draped her in mithril armor.

She was prepared to personally lead the expedition.

Even if it means death, she wants to die alongside her people.

But just as she took the helmet and was about to put it on, another urgent cry came from the sky.

Yet another messenger!

He rode his hippogriff and quickly landed in the center of the square.

His face was covered with a mixture of tears, dirt, and ecstatic excitement.

He jumped off his mount and shouted excitedly:

"A great victory—!!!"

The noise in the entire square instantly stopped.

All the elves who were preparing to die were as if they had been petrified, remaining motionless in various poses.

Alarie was also stunned, her action of putting on the helmet frozen in mid-air.

What did she just hear?

Hallucination?

"Your Majesty! The city of Lostia...a great victory!!!"

"We...we won!!!"

Won?

Didn't you just say that the demons had betrayed you to your hometown and that the city was about to be destroyed?

How long has it been?

From the arrival of the first messenger until now, only a few hours have passed!

Even if the demon army lined up to have the elves behead them, it wouldn't be that fast, would it?

"What did you say?!"

Ellari threw off his helmet, rushed down the steps, grabbed the messenger by the collar, lifted him off the ground, and asked urgently.

"Explain yourself! What's the situation?! Where's Fendona?!"

"The demons...the demons have been driven back!" The messenger was so excited he was incoherent, waving his arms wildly as he tried to describe the shocking scene.

"Corpses! Corpses piled higher than mountains! Green blood flowed like rivers!"

"Princess Fendona said it was Lord Lin Mo... that visitor from another world! He was the one who commanded us!"

"With composite bows and repeating crossbows! We achieved a miraculous victory!"

"Our casualties... Your Majesty, our casualties are less than three thousand!"

.......

Lostia.

The strong smell of burning and the pungent smell of blood fermented together, creating a nauseating odor.

However, what enveloped the entire city was a kind of post-disaster, almost manic excitement.

Under the moonlight, countless elves spontaneously cleaned up the battlefield.

Their faces no longer bore the somber, deathly silence of past defeats; instead, they were filled with an irrepressible exhilaration.

As the elves threw the twisted corpses of the demons off the city walls, they talked and laughed loudly. The scene didn't resemble a brutal post-war cleanup, but rather a grand celebration.

An elf squad leader strode up to Fendona. He took off his helmet, his face still stained with dried green blood, but his voice was louder than ever before.

"Your Highness! The battlefield has been cleaned up. The fallen members of our clansmen have been laid to rest beneath the World Tree, returning to the embrace of nature!"