The Dragon Lord's Aide Wants to Quit [BL] Chapter 451: The Right Choice

Meanwhile, just as Riley’s arms wrapped around his mate’s neck and his feet finally touched the unforgiving ground of Wyrmfall, things back in Silvara had already progressed far beyond the initial destruction of the barrier.

What had started as a single breach had quickly given way to more and more points of contact as the invading forces poured through, turning the once-pristine border into a chaotic battlefield.

Screams echoed across the field as manasteel clashed against claws and flesh, accompanied by the deafening explosions of magic countering magic. The elves moved like lethal ghosts through the chaotic fray, using their familiarity with their own territory to disappear between the trees before emerging where their enemies least expected them.

At their command, the forest itself, or at least what remained of it, seemed to join the fight as colossal vines burst from the ground, whipping through the air to entangle approaching enemies before dragging them down or crushing them outright.

Alongside them, the forces of the MBE and the dragons unleashed equally terrifying displays of power, with some of the latter barely needing to attack before their sheer presence was enough to overwhelm the weaker members of the invading vanguard.

Yet as the battle continued, a strange sense of confusion gradually began rippling through the ranks aligned with the MBE.

Because the longer they fought, the more obvious it became that their enemies didn’t seem to be acting like allies at all.

Sure, merging separate forces was always going to come with difficulties. Even their own side was made up of different races and factions that weren’t exactly accustomed to fighting alongside one another, so some growing pains were inevitable.

But whatever problems they had were nothing compared to this.

At first, they could’ve blamed the chaos on the barrier breaking and everyone rushing into battle at once. But as the fighting dragged on, that excuse became increasingly difficult to believe.

The wyverns clearly didn’t care whether their wild attacks caught the merfolk along with everyone else. And whenever the merfolk were given even the slightest opportunity to choose between supporting their supposed allies and getting as far away from them as possible, they almost invariably chose the latter.

Not that anyone could really blame them.

The wyverns certainly weren’t making it difficult to understand why.

Whenever one of them found themselves in the path of a large-scale attack, particularly anything coming from the likes of the dragon lord, they apparently had no problem grabbing the nearest merfolk and throwing them in front as a convenient meat shield.

Watching yet another one happen right before his eyes, Prince Rowan could only click his tongue in disgust.

He’d just cut down three wyverns stupid enough to come straight for him, and as he wiped the dark and highly corrosive blood from his blade, his eyes swept across the expansive battlefield that had once housed Silvara’s proud barrier.

Parts of the ground had already been charred beyond recognition. Trees that had stood for centuries were either burning or broken, and craters littered what had once been untouched land.

To think that all of this was merely a diversion.

Just as Riley had predicted, the Wyvern Queen hadn’t even bothered to show herself.

And yet, as insulting as that realization was, Rowan couldn’t help being thankful for it.

The wyverns currently attacking them were already proving difficult enough, not necessarily because the allied forces couldn’t overpower them, but because everyone defending Silvara was still trying to preserve the very territory they were fighting for.

They were doing well, yes. But they could’ve used far greater magic, the likes of which were written about in the Codex, and turned the tide of the battle much faster.

The dragons, in particular, could’ve poured considerably more mana into every attack and probably wiped entire sections of the battlefield clean, along with anything unfortunate enough to be standing there.

But that was exactly the problem.

Wars didn’t care whether the land being destroyed belonged to the enemy or the beings trying to defend it. Enough powerful magic thrown around carelessly could turn even the most stable region into another Wyrmfall, leaving behind damaged leylines that might never completely recover.

And they couldn’t possibly sacrifice Silvara like that.

Sitting right at the heart of Eryndra, the elven territory was crossed by several major leylines, making the consequences of damaging them far greater than simply losing the land itself. Even the proud dragons understood that much, enough that they’d deliberately curtailed their own use of mana and relied on brute strength whenever possible.

Still, judging by the pace of the battle, Rowan found himself thinking that they could probably bring this to an end much sooner than expected.

Unfortunately, it seemed he’d thought that far too soon.

Several dragons scattered across the battlefield suddenly stopped almost simultaneously.

Their heads snapped upward.

Rowan noticed the movement immediately, particularly because it wasn’t only one or two of them. Nearly every dragon within sight had reacted at once, their superior senses catching something long before the elves could.

Then came the warning.

"Change formation!"

"Above us! Take cover!"

There was no hesitation.

The allied forces immediately moved, those already familiar with fighting alongside dragons responding before they even understood what they were supposed to be protecting themselves from.

Rowan looked up.

His expression changed.

A massive wave of wyvern reinforcements was descending from the clouds.

They weren’t flying in any normal sense of the word either. The grotesque beings had folded their wings and were plunging toward the battlefield at terrifying speeds, looking less like living creatures and more like projectiles deliberately aimed at everything below.

The dragons, many of whom immediately shifted into their full forms, were the first to react.

Multiple barriers erupted across the battlefield just as the first wave of attacks slammed directly into them.

The impact was deafening.

Mana exploded outward in violent waves as wyvern after wyvern crashed against the hastily erected defenses, leaving the entire battlefield shuddering beneath the sheer force of the assault.

Anyone watching from the sidelines would’ve probably gawked at the sheer impossibility of the battle unfolding before them. Yet somehow, this was their current reality, and seeing exactly what they were up against made one thing painfully clear to Rowan.

He’d made the right decision to swallow his pride and go begging at the MBE.

Because those abominations truly didn’t care where they landed.

They didn’t care who was standing beneath them either.

In fact, the first ones crushed beneath that mindless assault weren’t even the elves or the forces of the MBE.

Once again, they were the merfolk, who didn’t even seem aware that reinforcements were coming.

Their supposed allies.

Then again, as Rowan watched the carnage unfold, he quickly realized that the wyverns didn’t seem to care whether they themselves survived the impact either. They simply threw themselves forward with complete disregard for their own lives, and that more than anything made the Elven Prince want to end this battle as quickly as possible.

There was really nothing good about fighting enemies who already had nothing left to lose.

Several merfolk soldiers barely managed to look up before the descending wyverns smashed straight through their formations. Others screamed and scattered, only to be caught beneath falling bodies, debris, and the violent bursts of mana produced by each impact.

The sound was horrible, and Rowan could only imagine how those with more sensitive hearing were coping with such grating noise.

High-pitched wyvern shrieks mixed with the agonized screams of merfolk soldiers who would probably die hating their own leaders but could only curse them in their hearts.

And with those sounds still reverberating in his ears, Rowan didn’t even need to wait for the end of this war to imagine the bleak future awaiting the merfolks of Thalassyn, regardless of who ultimately emerged victorious from the much larger conflict.

The high elf tightened his grip around his sword before looking across the battlefield again, feeling an entirely inappropriate surge of relief that he’d made his choice before Silvara could end up in the same position.

Goodness.

How glad he was that he wasn’t them.

At this point, if surviving all of this meant having a few more years added to the time he was supposed to spend sealed away, he’d gladly take it.

Hell, he’d even be willing to double the damned sentence.