Chapter 142: Battle with the Tribe (Part II)

Higgins El Cabolon, the most agile of the group, had already charged forward with his blade. Relying on his nimble movements, he began carving through the orc warriors. Ever since receiving the arcane empowerment from the great cat, Higgins felt himself gradually evolving into something akin to a rogue—a rare sight indeed: a warrior whose grace surpassed even that of a professional thief.

Lorn Liuge, the head observer of the Intelligence Bureau, had received even greater boons. As one of Patrick’s first followers, he trusted his lord implicitly and had begun to forge a bond with the Lynx Spirit. Once the Spirit acknowledged him, Lorn was granted an arcane sigil that boosted his attack speed, a massive increase in power that left him overjoyed.

After all, having followed Patrick for many years, he had watched his master grow from an ordinary mid-tier mage into the Council member he was today, and soon after, into a ninth-rank Archmage. Though this news had not yet been made public, Quel'Thalas would surely know soon enough.

*Have I been left that far behind?* Lorn wondered to himself. *I didn't even notice.*

As time passed, Lorn grew increasingly anxious. While his strength had not exactly stagnated, his rate of progress fell far short of the other elves. He feared that his insufficient power would cause him to fade from his lord's sight, eventually leading to the loss of his seat on the Council.

Lorn was born into a fallen noble family; the Liuge house had long since existed in name only in Silvermoon City. He had once been reduced to working as an adventurer, hoping to find some stroke of fortune abroad to revive his family’s prestige. After meeting Patrick, Lorn had thrown his lot in with him without hesitation. As Patrick’s status soared, so did Lorn’s own fortunes. Now living comfortably in the floating city, Lorn had even managed to gather some of his long-lost kin, slowly restoring the Liuge name and preserving the stalker techniques passed down through his family.

Driven by a clear thirst for power and status, Lorn constantly feared that his own mediocrity would render him obsolete, costing him the authority he currently wielded. It was this fear that drove him to seek any means to grow stronger.

The Lynx Spirit, Rehgar, had also spent years in the floating city and had come to consider the City of Daylight his true home. While this life lacked the absolute indulgence he once knew among the trolls, it was at least leisurely and comfortable, freeing him from the constant dread of danger.

Rehgar could be considered a core commander of the City of Daylight. As a loa, now enhanced by Patrick’s arcane energy, his voodoo and hex powers had been transmuted into pure arcane force. Though he did not cast spells like a mage, he could channel his arcane power just as he once did his voodoo.

Arcane energy crackled from the great cat’s eyes and claws. With the effects of arcane sharpness and energy cutting imbued into his strikes, his enchanted claws could now tear through metal armor and rend the flesh beneath.

Alleria, acting as a warlord, possessed a keen tactical mind and was a rare military talent. She saw through the orcs' overwhelming physical strength at a glance. Relying on the agility of her rangers and their ranged attacks, she directed the first volley of arcane shots exclusively at the front line of the charging orcs.

The exploding arrows successfully felled the first rank, creating a significant obstacle for the orcs charging behind them. Alleria then commanded the mages to focus on ranged attrition. By leveraging their familiarity with the surrounding terrain, the elven forces were fully capable of holding their own against the Horde's massive army.

Alleria glanced toward the front, where Patrick was locked in combat with Orgrim Doomhammer and Gul'dan. *You must return safely,* she thought.

Judging by the progress of the battle, even if the City of Daylight’s garrison were to be surrounded and begin to falter, Alleria was confident she could retreat the vast majority of her elves back into the floating city. The orcs had no way to reach the city as it hovered above.

*As long as Patrick can overcome their core threats, the scales of victory will eventually tip in our favor. Even if the battle is difficult, the floating city ensures we are in an invincible position. The orcs outside are no threat at all.*

In the distance, Orgrim had been sent flying and was now shakily pulling himself up from the ground, the dust cloud from his impact still hanging in the air.

Patrick, with his acute mental perception, sensed a projectile attack coming from the other side of the dust. He immediately erected an arcane shield. Two shadow bolts pierced the haze, streaking toward him. Gul'dan, seizing the moment when Orgrim was blasted back by the Arcane Explosion, had used the cover of the swirling dust to prepare two rapid-fire bolts, intending to assassinate Patrick while his guard was down.

However, both bolts shattered against the outer perimeter of the arcane shield, sending ripples across its surface. Before the waves could subside, another shadow bolt whistled through the air.

Unlike the first two, this bolt was more refined, glowing with a sickly green light against its purple-black form—it was laced with the highly corrosive nature of fel energy.

As the azure shield made contact with the bolt, Patrick caught a whiff of a foul stench. The projectile was blocked, but the corrosive fel energy began to eat away at his shield.

Feeling his mana rapidly depleting—for the corruption of fel was far more potent than simple acid or alkali—Patrick had no choice but to manipulate his dissociation energy to slowly break down the fel. If he remained tainted by fel energy during the fight, it would put him at a disadvantage, and the corrosive effect would accelerate his mana consumption, making defeat only a matter of time.

*Utilize spell amplification to bolster the mana supply to your dissociation energy. Forcefully disperse the fel erosion.* Alan appeared in his mind at the critical moment.

Following Alan’s guidance, Patrick increased his mana output, slowly breaking down and stripping away the fel energy that was corroding his shield.

Gul'dan, in the distance, remained active, firing a shadow bolt every so often. Patrick dared not linger, constantly blinking to dodge while focusing entirely on purging the leech-like fel energy.

Gul'dan, for his part, seemed to tacitly agree not to launch a large-scale mental attack, content to occasionally fire a bolt. Patrick surmised that his goal was simple: to buy enough time for the Warchief, Orgrim Doomhammer.