Batana's planned raid took her opponents completely by surprise, and the Second Family was

  not able to organize an effective defense in the first place. Although the Dark Elves themselves

  were "always on hand" and quickly appeared in the open field in front of the camp, the slave

  warriors of the family who were supposed to be the first layer of protection were not as well

  trained as the Dark Elves, and they were not able to rush to their aid. As it stands, the hordes

  of orcs and goblins driven by the hordes are now facing off against the Dark Elves of the

  Second House.

  The Drow are born fighters, and with constant training and various cruel tests, war has

  become their instinct. Even when the high priests of the family did not direct the battles, the

  Drow guards formed neat units, pulled out their spider crossbows, and began firing at the

  orcs.

  But in their hearts they all felt sorry for the waste of their precious crossbow. In their haste,

  they did not take the opportunity to reach for the ordinary crossbow, but went straight to the

  hardened arrows they had with them. This refined and specially processed arrow has the effect

  of sealing the throat of blood, and the dark elves always carry this valuable crossbow with

  them. The Drow counted on it to kill their enemies and save their own lives at critical times.

  Now they were all aimed at the commonest of low-ranking warriors, the orc slaves.

  The Drow's skill with arrows was extraordinary, and almost every shot hit the enemy's vital

  points: the forehead, the throat, and the unprotected arteries of the thigh. There was no need

  to wait for the poison to take hold. The sheer force of the arrows was enough to wipe out the

  cannon fodder in front of them. But the arrows were originally meant to threaten the same

  dark elves. Unlike these slaves, who had only cloth armor, the Drow wore well-made magic

  armor, and ordinary damage was of no use. But the poison bolt, which could cause death if

  it sliced through the skin, was the most suitable weapon.

  Orcs' carcasses covered the ground, and goblins were not spared. Without their cries, the

  grounds became silent, and the blood of battle gave way to a solemn atmosphere. The bound

  souls slowly moved forward, drawing their machetes from behind them. They trod over pieces

  of flesh, over mutilated bodies, over rivers of blood that had turned deep purple, through the

  foul black smoke of burning corpses, toward the defense of the dark Elves.

  They had no emotions. They were not afraid of their enemies, but neither were they excited

  by the battle. Killing, just an action, just a command, is as common and easy as breathing

  once while they are alive. All they have to do is cut their machetes into the bodies of their

  enemies.

  The dark elves fired arrows again, the sound of flapping can be heard, the bound souls did

  not duck, let these arrows hit them. They had become undead and felt absolutely no pain.

  These tiny arrows could not hurt their internal organs, which had long ceased to work, and

  the bloodletting tanks above could not squeeze a drop of liquid out of their shriveled bodies.

  As for the toxins, they had lost their due function.

  The dark elves had no choice but to draw their swords and rush towards the bound souls.

  The protection of the first wall did not work, and the powerful lightning trap was completely

  shielded; The traps that were meant to slow the first speed were flattened by orcs and goblins,

  and did not allow enough preparation time to cushion; Now, however, the arrows used

  against the invaders' elite army had been fired.

  So far, Batana has taken the lead, and the Second Family has lost time after time.

  As they approached the guard of the Dark Elves, the Wraith suddenly grew faster and

  pounced with incredible speed. They're not zombies, after all, and they still have some of the

  skills they used to have as warriors. Although their movements are slower and their reflexes

  are not as good as they used to be, they will no longer be afraid of death, and defense will

  be meaningless. Their mode of action is to attack, and attack constantly. Even if they lose

  arms and legs, even if they are cut in half with a knife, they still do not stop. They will continue

  to handicap their opponents with their mutilated bodies, tearing the living flesh of the dark

  elves with their teeth and claws. If there was anything in the world that gave them a little thrill,

  it was the sight of the blood of living creatures gushing on all sides, the instant the

  temperature of the bodies of their enemies faded with their souls, turning them into corpses.

  This kind of desperate fighting is a headache for dark elves. The Drow's skill was dexterous

  and lethal in one blow, and their thin swords were always aimed at the throat and heart, or at

  the absolutely unprotected eye to penetrate the fragile brain of an enemy. But the horsemen

  have no fear of this kind of attack, and no precise thrust of these swords can stop their

  movement. Only the kind of attack that a savage can chop his opponent into pieces with a

  single blow can render them incapable of fighting again. On the other hand, their ability to

  attack rather than defend greatly limited the Drow guard's movements, making it doubly

  difficult for them to evade. Although the Dark Elves did little damage for the time being, and

  the number of bound souls dwindled, the undead managed to compress the Drow's range of

  activity. In a few moments, the Dark Elves will be decimated as they have nowhere else to

  hide.

  Vincent has used this time to add layers of protection to himself, from the simplest "mage

  armor" to the practical "mirror art", as well as the ability to protect against mind control spells

  and various elements. The Second Family are not idiots, and the wave of defensive

  counterattacks will soon arrive, and it will turn into a free-for-all. It's not a place where you

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  can't get hurt if you don't want to, and even if you're focused on the enemy in front of you,

  there's no guarantee you'll get hit by a stray bullet.

  Mother Batana waved, and the elite soldiers of the First Family immediately marched in force.

  Their target was the Dark elf compound itself. At last the slave soldiers of the Second Family

  arrived on the battlefield. They did not even put on their full armor, but rushed forward with

  their simple weapons. There were fresh red stripes on their bare bodies, which showed how

  hard the dark elves of the Second House had tried to drive these soldiers away.

  The troops of the First family sprang to their feet and performed their feats of buoyancy. They

  quickly reached a height beyond the reach of the slave troops and avoided the attack. The

  army of ogres and trolls barely had time to wear their armor, let alone their well-equipped

  crossbows. A few arrows flew into the air, but not enough to inflict damage against the Dark

  Elves' masterful defensive sword.

  The First Family, however, did not give up the opportunity to take a high shot, and they were

  fully armed, with all their equipment in order. They took out their crossbows and began to

  shoot.

  Their target, however, was not the slaves, but the Dark Elf guards who were fighting the dead.

  They had been squeezed into a narrow area, making them the most valuable targets of all.

  The legions of slaves were little more than cannon fodder, lacking the ability to float and to

  make much of an impact on the course of the war. Besides, when the battle was over, these

  slaves were generally spoils of war for the victorious side, and it was not worth firing at them

  now.

  Another reason Vincent had in mind was that the poison from the crossbow was not cheap.

  It might have cost more than the life of a slave.

  The dead are not afraid of poisoned arrows, whether from the enemy or from the Allies, and

  the movement of their hands has not slowed down for a moment, and by this time the guards

  have suffered heavy losses under the fire.

  Ogres and trolls pounced on the Fetters, finally easing the pressure on the Drow warriors.

  They took to the air at this moment, gliding along after the First family. But in order to avoid

  the unceasing crossbow fire, their speed is obviously extremely slow.

  Vincent uses flight, not Drow floatation, and has a dexterity and speed that other dark elves

  lack. Since Shelley had to stay with her mother in the battle, Vincent, who did not want to

  enter the camp, had to stay close to the troops with all his energy. The armies of the ogre

  slaves were at their feet, and weapons, axes and spears, were thrown into the air one after

  another. With the help of their brute strength, they used all moving objects around them as

  ammunition, and threw them high into the air to stop the invaders.

  The dark elves simply had to raise their height again to ward off the attacks of these weapons.

  The axes will eventually fall. They'll have the same impact as when they left the hand, but they

  can go anywhere. For a moment, the ogres at Vincent's feet wailed as they were attacked by

  the weapons of their companions, the hatchets leaving horrific wounds and the spears

  bleeding flesh holes.

  Vincent, by this time, was no longer worried about the influence of the slave army. He thought

  of the two monsters that had been lurking at the entrance of the First Family. With their

  regional anti-magic abilities overridden by this effect, the levitation would absolutely lose its

  effect, and the First Family would fall through the air, surrounded by ogres below.

  If this happens, Vincent will also fall irresistibly. He has tested his ability in the anti-magic field

  before, and although it is extremely difficult, he can still release magic, but the spell that has

  been attached to his body will definitely disappear. If this were to happen, the mage who

  didn't think he had melee power would be the first to be torn to pieces by the ogre.

  Vincent quickened his flight as he thought of this. He passed all the Drow elves and headed

  for the Second House. Now he had two choices: to eliminate this danger while he was invisible,

  or to turn around and leave. But Shelley must stay in the fight all the way, and Vincent cannot

  leave without her, so the path before the Master is clear.

  He was the first to land at the home of the Dark Elf family, standing on the second floor

  platform. Originally, there was no connecting passage between the first and second floors of

  the compound, in order to keep those inferior slaves from entering the core area of the Dark

  Elf family, but this construction method now makes it impossible for the slave army of the

  Second Family to support the sacrifice and elite warrior guards in the compound. The

  intruders who needed to break through the cannon ash now landed safely in front of the

  compound's gates, with little or no damage.

  For all non-Dark Elves, whether they were ill-equipped slave warriors or painstakingly crafted

  horn-bound corpses, were mere consumables, meant to be stepping stones on the Drow's

  path to victory, and did not fall under the "loss" category.

  Vincent's penetrating eye scanned the Second House's lair, free of traps and ambushes. He

  couldn't help but wonder at the sight. Even if the raid had been unexpected, it was not

  possible that the Second family had not reacted to it by now? Where was the sacrifice? Where

  are the elite warriors and masters of martial arts? Where are their family's fighting beasts?

  And, above all, what is their mistress doing?

  Without complicated analysis and speculation, Vincent simply relied on his own nose to detect

  the smell of conspiracy. He glanced at the advancing Batana army and ducked aside.

  "You have orcs as cannon fodder to pave the way, and I will walk the path you have paved."

  Vincent felt the fierce war spirit and killing spirit of the dark elves, but gently leaned on his

  staff of power, watching the battle with a cold eye.