Mage Legend

The undead army's steps have never slowed. After losing their lives, they no longer feel fatigue. At the same time, the pain of unrest and jealousy and hatred toward all remaining vibrant lives will accompany them forever.

As for the Elf Clan warriors who have already become corpses, the undead will absolutely pay no extra attention. Whether it's Vampires or Ghosts, they silently drift past those battle lines, continuing in the direction of the Erutalon River. Although heading straight for Heather Holy Mountain would save more distance, the undead seemingly don't care about wasting that bit of time. To them, time is as insignificant as pity and conscience.

However, Lynch believed that to avoid the layers of obstruction from the Elf archers in the forest, flying over the Erutalon River would be a good choice. It offered enough cover and wouldn't lead them into ambushes due to blocked vision in the woods.

Due to the appearance of the Undead Banshee, many areas were lost, and the fragile bodies of the elves proved vulnerable when facing this powerful curse. The warning horn sounded, and the frontline archers immediately retreated. They had never expected to repel the attacks of the Undead at the front line.

In the Elf Forest, many tall wooden towers had been built, made from local materials like willow, yang, beech, or other tall tree branches. When the Mage Lynch asked the elves to put down their melodious flutes and pick up axes, no elf opposed such an act.

"This isn't just chopping down our trees; it's cutting down our lives!" the elves said. "This is practically a crime."

In Elf Language, the word crime is terrifying, representing almost "an unforgivable mistake." Mage Lynch had foreseen this, and calmly told the elves on the brink of anger:

"We only need some sturdy branches, not to completely cut down those trees," he said. "On this point, I stand with you."

The elves were finally persuaded (with the Elf Queen's trust and support in Lynch playing an important role). After all, the threat of the Undead had not vanished, and compared to the land being forever tainted by that black death power, the trees' damage, which could be restored in years, was an acceptable loss. However, the construction of these towers was very slow, with almost no elf voluntarily participating in such "work."

Until the Great Druid spoke, accelerating the progress: "Since these trees have already contributed their forms to our Holy Land, should we watch as the branches that have shielded us for past, present, and future, rot on the ground? Will you let down these trees' good intentions, even rejecting their wish to form protective towers for us?"

Thus, in the Elf Forest, these towers stood like firm nails, piercing the path of the Undead army. The Elf archers, upon hearing the horns, immediately advanced to the nearest tower from their defensive position. There, they would receive the best care.

Because the Priest of the Elf Clan, and the Priest of the Moon Goddess, were stationed in these "small fortresses." They were conserving energy, their hands already prepared with healing potions, alongside a large supply of Holy Water and Divine Scrolls specifically for combating the undead.

As long as the Elf God had not abandoned his followers, everything was within Lynch's considerations—at least within the pre-chaos plan. So when the undead pressed to these towers, hymns echoed over the Elf Forest.

The Priests loudly chanted praises to the Moon Goddess of life and goodness, and at that moment, they radiated silver light, like flowing mercury waterfalls spreading over the land beneath the towers, mist drifting in the forest. The undead's bodies reacted as if splashed with corrosive acid, burning before they even realized it.

"This is the battle it should be!" The Elf archers regained their fighting spirit, drawing their arrows and mercilessly shooting the troubled undead monsters, knocking their bodies into the waters of the Erutalon River.