Another explosion echoed across the battlefield near the central command of Amazarak's forward line.
Queen Zephyra, drenched in sweat, her hair whipping in the wind, parried a massive axe strike from the Halfling General, whose enchanted dual axes glowed with enchantments.
Clang!
She gritted her teeth.
"Persistent little pest!"
The general's foot slammed forward, cracking the ground as he pushed her back.
"Where's your wicked hero now, Queen of Lies!?" he roared.
"Left you, did he?"
Zephyra's eye twitched, her mana flaring.
She parried the next strike but stumbled—she was fast, elegant, and deadly, but this was a war of attrition now.
And she was alone.
Then came the news.
A halfling horn blew in the distance—its pitch sharp, commanding, triumphant.
From the northern ridge, another halfling force surged over the hills.
100,000 strong.
Rows and rows of elite halfling troops, their banners catching the sunlight, stormed forward with purpose.
