Valen watched the battle between the massive Orc and Aurelius out of the corner of his eye. Despite the chaos unfolding around them, Valen couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the intense duel between the two Chosens. Valen had read countless first-hand accounts and experiences of fights between the Chosen of old, yet none of them seemed to live up to the sight Valen watched unfold before his very eyes.
Valen continued to watch as the Orc swung his axe in a blur, moving the weapon at an impossible speed. Valen likewise watched as Aurelius seemed to disappear for a moment and then reappear in a different area.
And to think that was my academy roommate.
His heart raced as he saw Aurelius barely dodge the brutal blows of the Orc Chosen, his every movement a dance of life and death. Valen wanted to rush to his friend's aid, but he knew that he couldn’t hope to last a moment in the duel between Chosen. He would certainly be no help if he ended up dead. Many other members of both armies seemed to agree with Valen sentiment as well. Neither army dared to move too close to the clashing titans, forming a perimeter ring around the fight.
"Move! Quickly!" Valen shouted, his voice hoarse with urgency. He ushered the last of the mages through the narrow streets, their faces pale with exhaustion and fear. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning oil, the fires still blazing from the defenders' desperate measures.
Their retreat was a desperate dash, but it was also organized chaos, each mage and archer knowing exactly where they needed to be. They were positioning themselves for the final stand within the heart of Alerial, where the narrow streets and alleys would serve as natural choke points against the overwhelming horde.
He glanced back at the walls, his heart sinking at the sight of the possessed soldiers swarming over. The High Elven melee fighters were doing their best to hold the line, but the sheer number of enemies was overwhelming. Valen knew they had to fall back to the inner city, where the narrow streets and fortified buildings would give them a better chance of holding out.
Valen caught a glimpse of General Farsen directing the deployment of additional barricades and traps, his stern face a mask of determination. Despite the dire circumstances, the High Elves held onto their hope and their will to fight.
The sound of the Orc Chosen’s laughter cut through the air, drawing Valen’s attention back to Aurelius. He saw his friend standing defiantly, his sword glowing with mana, ready for the next round against the seemingly invincible Orc.
"Valen, we need to get those barricades up faster!" one of the soldiers called out, pulling him back to the immediate task at hand.
"On it!" Valen replied, pushing his worries for Aurelius to the back of his mind. He turned his focus to the logistics of their defense, directing the placement of additional barriers and reinforcing weak points.
As the defenses took shape, Valen couldn’t help but steal glances at Aurelius. He saw the Orc Chosen swing his great axe with terrifying power, and Aurelius narrowly evading each deadly blow. The ground shook with the force of their clash, and Valen felt each impact as if it were a hammer striking his own heart.
The High Elven warriors around Valen moved with urgent efficiency, creating makeshift defenses out of anything they could find. Debris from broken buildings overturned carts, and even fallen statues were repurposed into barricades. The sound of metal clanging, wood splintering, and orders being shouted filled the air, blending with the cries of battle and the constant roar of flames.
Valen wiped the sweat from his brow, his mind racing with strategies to slow the enemy's advance. They needed more time. Every second counted in fortifying their position. He saw a group of young elves struggling with a particularly heavy beam and rushed to help them, his strength enhanced by the adrenaline pumping through his veins.
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Together, they managed to hoist the beam into place, reinforcing a critical section of the barricade. Valen nodded in approval, wiping his hands on his tunic.
Suddenly, a series of explosions rocked the inner city, and Valen turned to see a section of the wall crumbling under the relentless assault of the possessed army. Panic surged through the defenders as the breach widened, and Valen knew they had to act quickly to contain the enemy.
"Fall back to the second line of defense!" Valen heard Lord Gavrel shout, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Hold the choke points and don't let them through!"
The High Elves fell back in an orderly fashion, covering each other's retreat with well-placed arrows and spells. But Valen knew they couldn't hold out forever. Their best chance was to slow the enemy's advance and hope for a miracle.
As the defenders repositioned themselves, Valen turned his attention back to Aurelius. The duel between the two Chosen was a spectacle of raw power and skill, a dance of death that held the entire battlefield in a thrall. Aurelius moved with grace and precision, his every strike aimed at exploiting the smallest of weaknesses in the Orc's formidable defenses. Yet, the Orc Chosen's sheer strength and regenerative abilities seemed too overwhelming
Valen clenched his fists, feeling the frustration of being unable to help his friend directly. He had to trust in Aurelius's abilities and focus on his role in the defense of Alerial. The barricades were holding for now, but the pressure was immense. The possessed soldiers were relentless, their eyes glowing with a malevolent light that sent shivers down Valen's spine.
"Valen!" a voice called out, snapping him back to the present. It was General Farsen, his expression as stern and unyielding as ever. "We need more archers on the rooftops. They have a better vantage point there."
"Understood, General," Valen replied, immediately moving to relay the orders. Valen wasn’t sure when he had been placed in charge of relaying orders, but in the din of the battle he knew that they needed the help of every single High Elf soul possible. As a result, he quickly directed several squads to take up positions on the higher ground, knowing that their elevated positions would allow them to pick off the enemy more effectively. The High Elven archers moved swiftly, their longbows at the ready, each arrow fired with deadly accuracy.
A sudden roar drew his attention back to the battlefield. The Orc Chosen had recovered from Aurelius's latest assault and was advancing once more, his great axe raised high. Aurelius stood his ground, his new sword glowing with a fierce light as he prepared to meet the attack. The two Chosen clashed again, the sound of their weapons ringing out like a ginormous church bell.
Valen's breath caught in his throat as he watched the titanic struggle. He couldn't afford to let his focus waver, not even for a moment, but the sight of his friend battling against such overwhelming odds was both inspiring and terrifying.
Despite the efforts of the High Elves, the tide of the battle was turning against them. The possessed soldiers kept coming, wave after wave, their numbers seemingly endless. Valen knew they couldn't hold out much longer. They needed a miracle.
Suddenly, another large boom rang out throughout the city and Valen watched in horror as he turned to look and saw Aurelius 10 feet in the air, flying backward at the speed of a cannonball. Valen cringed as he saw Aurelius crash into several buildings, slowly arresting Aurelius’ momentum.
Aurelius' crash sent debris flying as he tumbled through the walls, his body hitting the ground hard with a bone-jarring impact. For a moment, everything seemed to go silent for Valen. The sight of Aurelius being flung through the air filled Valen with dread. He knew that his friend was tough, but even the strongest of warriors had their limits. Valen's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Aurelius slowly rise from the rubble, his body battered and bruised but still standing.
"Aurelius!" Valen shouted, his voice barely audible over the din of battle. Once again, he desperately wanted to rush to his friend's aid, but he knew that he couldn't afford to leave his post. The defense of Alerial depended on every one of them holding their ground.
Aurelius staggered to his feet, his sword clutched tightly in his hand. Despite his injuries, there was a fierce determination in his eyes that made Valen's heart swell with pride. Aurelius was a fighter to the core, and Valen knew that as long as his friend still stood, there was hope for victory.
The Orc Chosen lumbered towards Aurelius, his great axe dripping with blood and gore. Valen watched in horror as the massive creature raised its weapon high, ready to deliver the killing blow. He felt a surge of panic, knowing that Aurelius was in mortal danger.
To his relief, Aurelius once again disappeared. Valen quickly scanned the battlefield, hoping to catch sight of his friend.
Aurelius reappeared several yards away, staggering but still upright. His teleportation had saved him once again, but he was visibly drained. The battle had taken a heavy toll on him, and the Orc Chosen seemed as strong as ever, his wounds regenerating at an alarming rate.