Lord of the Rings: Warriors

"Charge!"

Elandor rode astride his Star Dragon, leading the charge.

The icy blue dragon breath, infused with the power of the stars, rampaged through the streets like an unstoppable force.

Several orcs, too slow to evade, were engulfed by the dragon breath. The annihilative effect instantly dissolved their bodies, leaving behind only fragments untouched by the breath.

"Thwack!" A sharp crossbow bolt shot diagonally upward.

"Damn! Dragon-hunting ballista!" Elandor cursed under his breath. He had no choice but to tug on the dragon reins, guiding Skyla into the skies.

"Skyla, watch out for those pests below! They've got dragon-hunting ballistae!" Elandor warned. The current position left the Star Dragon's underbelly exposed to potential attacks.

"Understood!" The massive Star Dragon, Skyla, surprisingly replied in a deep, resonant voice.

"Share your vision with me. I need to sense their movements. My mental perception is suppressed by the evil energy here, and I can't detect too far," Elandor sighed.

"Got it!" With a melodic dragon roar, Skyla instantly linked his draconic energy to Elandor's battle aura.

Elandor's vision suddenly brightened, his mind cleared, and his pupils transformed into dazzling vertical slits. 

Fine dragon scales began to emerge on the skin of his cheeks as he entered the Dragon Transformation state.

Dragon Transformation was a more advanced fusion skill than the knight's traditional man-and-mount unity. 

Anyone bonded to a dragon through a contract could enter this state, but its intensity varied based on the depth of the bond. 

The stronger the bond, the more powerful the transformation. 

At its peak, a person could achieve a fearsome dragonkin form, blending human appearance with draconic combat prowess—a power said to rival the gods.

Surging draconic energy coursed through Elandor, and the dragon's immense mental power exploded outward, sweeping over the ruins before them. 

Suddenly, Skyla's dragon eyes narrowed, and Elandor followed suit.

"I see what you see! Let's wipe them out!" 

The scene before Elandor's eyes mirrored what Skyla observed: deep beneath the rubble, a massive dragon-hunting ballista was being operated by dozens of orcs. 

One of them was carrying a bundle of ominous-looking black arrows toward the weapon.

"An ancient Elven dragon-hunting tower? That thing still works?" Skyla remarked, intrigued. Such relics from a bygone era were long thought to be defunct. 

These towers were defensive mechanisms built by early elves to fend off dragon invasions. 

Usually hidden underground, they would rise when triggered, launching devastating attacks against dragons. 

After firing a volley of five black arrows, the towers would retreat underground for reloading, shielding themselves with defensive and anti-magic wards to prevent dragons from destroying them.

"After all these years, even if it still functions, the defensive and anti-magic wards should have deteriorated. 

Those require a mage to maintain," Elandor responded nonchalantly. To him, the tower was merely an annoyance. 

Once it surfaced, it would be dismantled. Dragon-specific weapons were the bane of dragons and their bonded knights. 

In his Dragon Transformation state, Elandor could feel a visceral hatred for the structure deep in his bloodline.

"Stellar Torrent!" Elandor twirled his dragon lance and aimed it at the rapidly rising tower.

"Boom!" Taking a deep breath, Skyla opened his maw. 

Arcane dragon magic spilled forth as he chanted, and a complex magical circle formed deep in his throat. A moment later, Skyla exhaled with immense force.

"Shhh—" A torrent of draconic energy poured out like a roaring cascade. 

The annihilative power unique to star energy disintegrated the ancient dragon-hunting tower buried beneath the earth. 

Without the protection of its wards, the aged tower was nothing more than a fragile relic, utterly incapable of withstanding the Star Dragon's breath.

"Hey, Peter! If I'm not mistaken, the group down there looks like your unit. They seem to be in trouble!" Skyla's dragon eyes relayed the scene to Elandor.

The last allied battalion was pinned beneath a staircase, while orcs rained down attacks from above—logs, boulders, and arrows bombarded them relentlessly. 

The 800-strong force had no choice but to huddle behind dwarven and human shield walls, their only defense against the onslaught. 

The elves in their ranks fired sporadic arrows in retaliation, trying to suppress the orcs.

"Where's our commander? We need him!" A Riverdale guard groaned, clutching his shield. Blood seeped from a leg wound caused by a stray arrow, but he had no time to tend to it.

"Someone suppress those orcs!"

"Are all the orcs here to fight us? This is insane!" A dwarf cowered behind his shield, glancing at the dented surface. He didn't even want to imagine the condition of the shield's front side.

"Counterattack, elves! Kill them! Don't just sit there taking hits! We can't wait for them to charge us!" An officer began shouting commands.

"Whoosh!" Suddenly, a torrent of searing wind swept through the battlefield. 

To everyone's astonishment, a colossal dragon breath, hundreds of meters long and ten meters in diameter, descended from the heavens. 

The fiery blast carved a trench over a hundred meters long through the orc ranks, instantly silencing their firepower. 

The attack claimed the lives of hundreds of orcs in an instant, showcasing the might of the sky's true ruler. The surviving orcs scattered, abandoning the main road and retreating into the side alleys.

"Bang!" The massive dragon landed atop a stone house, causing the already fragile structure to collapse. Skyla shook off the dust and debris, his massive form dominating the scene.

"What's the situation?" Elandor asked, his voice tinged with concern as he sat in the dragon saddle.

"My lord! You arrived just in time! A little later, and you'd have been collecting our corpses!" The soldiers erupted in relieved laughter.

Elandor smiled but said nothing. It wasn't as dire as they made it sound. 

The allied forces weren't incapable of defeating the orcs—they simply didn't want to suffer heavy losses in a low-ground assault. 

Nobody wanted to trade lives with orcs over such a minor skirmish. 

Besides, the defenses of the Lonely Mountain Alliance were formidable, making direct attacks against dwarves and Riverdale soldiers nearly futile.

"Let's move! Level this place!" Elandor roared, drawing his longsword in anger.

"Whoosh!" Azure dragon energy coursed along his arm, enveloping the blade. 

The oppressive aura condensed into the shape of dragon scales across his body. The Dragon Knight had descended.

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