Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Eagle God

More and more trolls emerged from beside the altar, crowding around it, while the shadows of trolls gradually materialized among the surrounding trees as well. Brandishing their weapons, they let out a cacophony of roars, their eyes fixed hungrily on the elven forces, barely restraining their urge to attack.

The troll clad in green at the center was, without a doubt, Marakass. In his "previous life," Patrick had encountered him many times, and from his spiritual perception, Marakass’s power now stood at the seventh tier. Beside him were a bear-headed troll and an eagle-headed troll, who must be Nalorakk and Akil’zon—the trolls who had received the blessings of the Bear Spirit and the Eagle Spirit. Their strength was average at best, barely reaching the sixth tier.

"Good, Zul’jin and the Dragonhawk deity—Janalai—are not here. That’s acceptable," Patrick thought to himself. If Zul’jin, the four high priests, and Marakass the Witch Doctor Lord were all present, today’s expedition might well have ended in disaster. Marakass had already begun siphoning the power of the animal gods. Next to the tightly bound lynx lay a lynx-headed troll; the lynx’s body was marred with green pustules and blisters, and a circle of bottles and jars surrounded it, emitting strange gases that forced the lynx to inhale.

Beside it, the Lynx Spirit—Halazzi—was draining the lynx’s strength, his body wrapped in a fierce gale, his power steadily growing.

Meanwhile, Alleria’s elven forces began to deploy, with several mages preparing group enhancement spells. Rangers nocked their arrows, ready for battle.

Patrick opened his spiritual vision, clearly sensing Marakass channeling the Lynx Spirit’s power into Halazzi—the ritual was at its critical moment.

On the altar, the Eagle Spirit Akil’zon gave the signal to attack. "Now, I am the falcon. And you are the prey!"

"Mua-ha-ha! Forward, warriors! The time for bloodletting has come!"

At his command, a mass of roughly dressed Amani soldiers and the Bear Spirit Nalorakk surged toward the elves like a tidal wave, intent on overwhelming them.

Marakass, however, remained atop the altar, focused on his ritual rather than launching a direct attack on Patrick. The Amani guards formed a tight circle around him.

"Shoot!" With a terse command from Alleria, the battle commenced.

Thanks to magical enhancements, the elves’ enchanted arrows inflicted even greater harm on the trolls. Ithondis and Candiris, both seasoned in such battles, calmly gathered intense flames in their hands, ready to thwart the trolls’ regenerative powers and to incinerate them with direct blasts.

The rangers entered into free-fire mode; with so many trolls, there was no risk of missing. As the troll soldiers closed in, the outermost rangers drew short swords, longswords, and daggers, bracing themselves for the first wave.

Akil’zon, wielding the power of the Eagle Spirit, was the first to reach the elven lines, only to be met by a fireball from Patrick. The eagle god evaded with ease, and Patrick’s form floated into the air. Troll and elf faced off, each gathering their focus, ready to begin their duel.

Nalorakk the Bear Spirit barreled toward Alleria and Sylvanas. The two rangers held an absolute advantage in agility, especially since Patrick had enchanted Alleria’s weapon. Only Sylvanas struggled against the bear god’s ferocious physical assaults; yet with her nimble skills as Ranger-General, she managed to avoid Nalorakk’s rending strikes—dangerous, but not yet fatal.

Alleria and Sylvanas worked together seamlessly, jointly restraining the towering bear god while, on the periphery, Farstrider soldiers and troll warriors clashed.

A bolt of lightning struck where Patrick had just stood, but he retaliated instantly with an explosion spell that shot straight for Akil’zon’s face. The eagle god, equally agile, dodged once more and the spell landed amidst the troll ranks behind him. Akil’zon paid no mind to the deaths of ordinary trolls.

The battle grew ever fiercer. The trolls’ bloodlust was fully awakened, and the elves were equally frenzied. A single misstep saw a Farstrider struck down, surrounded and torn apart by trolls. The first fallen ranger was only the beginning.

Patrick focused all his power on locking onto Akil’zon. Even if he couldn’t strike him, he couldn’t allow the eagle god to unleash his Storm of Enclosure or Thunderstorm. The fight between Alleria, Sylvanas, and Nalorakk was equally intense; as the Bear Spirit, his size and strength far surpassed the dainty elves.

Patrick and Akil’zon fought to a standstill. The eagle god was astonishingly swift, making it difficult for Patrick to lock him down with vector casting. Even when his explosive spells landed, Akil’zon’s divine protection would flash, and he would accelerate away from the blast zone, suffering little harm. Akil’zon’s lightning strikes never found their mark, and his static field was mostly absorbed by Patrick’s magical shield, much to the eagle god’s frustration.

But fate had other plans. Suddenly, Akil’zon soared high into the sky, and storm clouds rapidly gathered overhead. Patrick sensed danger—this was no game with warning prompts.

"A thunderstorm descends upon Zul’Aman!"

Patrick was certain: this was the eagle god’s most powerful skill, the Thunderstorm. Fortunately, no ranger was magnetized and lifted into the air.

The thunderclouds grew denser, blue sparks crackling around Akil’zon. A brilliant bolt of lightning shot into the sky, the clouds converging and pressing downward, flashes of lightning flickering within.

But Patrick noticed, to his relief, that as the clouds gathered, one area was conspicuously thinning—perhaps Akil’zon’s power was not yet fully matured. Seizing the opportunity, Patrick instantly blinked to that spot, expanded his arcane shield with his spirit, and used threads of arcane energy to pull other elves from beneath the thunderclouds to safety, sparing them from the storm’s wrath.

Lightning crashed down as expected, incinerating swathes of trolls below, their dying screams rending the air, while all the elves Patrick protected remained unharmed.

When the storm cleared, Akil’zon saw that the majority of the casualties were his own forces; his eyes blazed with fury.

"Let my beloved eagles feast upon you!"

"Devour the enemy’s flesh to your heart’s content."

As the clouds dispersed, warhawks began to circle overhead. At Akil’zon’s command, two warhawks dove toward the elves. But it was in vain—Patrick had long since readied explosive spells in his hands. Ordinary warhawks, lacking Akil’zon’s divine protection, were instantly locked onto by Patrick’s spatial vector casting and struck down by the fiery blasts.