No matter what kind of cavalry—light cavalry, heavy cavalry, or mounted archers—every brilliant tactician leading them understands one fundamental truth:
When cavalry loses its speed, it loses all its advantages.
This was precisely the case for the Amani bear cavalry at that moment.
Forced into a positional battle against human infantry, locked in a grinding war of attrition, they could no longer rely on any of their traditional strengths as cavalry.
On the contrary, their inherent weaknesses as mounted units were now their greatest liabilities.
Difficulties in maneuvering, large turning radii, slow retreat speeds, and their considerable size all worked against them.
As a result, the mighty war bears became living targets on the battlefield.
Though their sharp claws and fangs could tear apart any man before them, they were powerless against the wall of steel shields.
Skilled shield-bearers absorbed the impact of their heavy blows, staggering but refusing to fall.
Meanwhile, from the gaps in the shield wall, sword blades darted out like venomous snakes, inflicting wound after wound upon the war bears.
No matter how strong and resilient these creatures were, excessive blood loss would still lead to their deaths.
And this was before the high elven rangers had even begun their assault.
Although archery was less effective in the rain, the moment these cavalrymen were forced to halt, the rangers regained their deadly edge.
Against these stationary targets, they easily found the gaps in armor and struck at vulnerable spots.
Under the relentless rain of arrows, many bear riders collapsed in the mud, lifeless. Some were pierced by so many arrows that they couldn't even fall flat to the ground.
Yet the savage trolls continued their relentless advance. Even though the vanguard of the bear cavalry had failed to break through, the trolls behind them charged toward the Alliance camp without hesitation.
Leading the assault were the troll hunters and headhunters. As they sprinted forward, they hurled throwing spears and axes into the Alliance ranks, with no concern for the allies caught in the melee ahead.
Their ruthless tactics immediately spelled disaster for the soldiers on the front lines, who had never anticipated such indiscriminate attacks.
Many brave warriors fell, impaled by spears or struck down by flying axes—of course, some unfortunate bear riders also perished alongside them.
Perhaps the cruel trolls could tolerate such collateral damage, but the Alliance could not.
"Damn it, pull all front-line soldiers back! Raise shields!" Alaric ordered in frustration. At the same time, he swung his wand, casting spells upon the chaotic battlefield.
His Transfiguration spell took effect—dozens of bear riders, locked in combat with soldiers, suddenly found their armor morphing into enormous spiders. The newly-formed arachnids immediately turned against their former masters.
In an instant, panic spread among the bear cavalry.
Some war bears instinctively reared up, furiously swiping at the spiders crawling over them, even tossing their riders from the saddle in the process.
Others resorted to rolling on the ground, crushing both the spiders and their unfortunate riders beneath them.
The bear cavalry's front ranks fell into complete disarray, finally giving the Alliance soldiers a chance to regroup and fortify their defenses.
Seeing that their spears and axes had lost their effectiveness, the trolls grew impatient and abandoned their probing attacks.
Leading the charge were the massive troll berserkers.
Far larger than ordinary trolls, these muscular giants wore no armor. With their hulking physiques, they brandished twin axes and charged headlong into the shield wall.
Behind them, troll hunters and headhunters followed closely, armed with spears, daggers, throwing weapons, and axes.
They waited for the berserkers to suppress the enemy, forcing openings in their defenses, so they could deliver lethal strikes.
Meanwhile, shamanic priests lurked at the rear, clutching wooden staffs adorned with charms and skulls, performing eerie rituals. Their magic sent the trolls into a frenzied state, stripping away reason and leaving only a singular desire: to kill.
Before the trolls clashed with the Alliance soldiers, the rangers and mages struck first.
The rangers' arrows rained down upon the charging berserkers. Towering above the battlefield, they were the most obvious targets.
However, their vitality was monstrous—pierced by countless arrows, they still howled in bloodthirsty fury, seemingly oblivious to pain.
Several mages cast Blizzard. In the rainy weather, this spell was even more potent—no need to gather water elements, as the falling rain readily transformed into ice and snow.
Yet the spell's effect was far weaker than expected. The trolls' resistance to cold was astonishing, and the icy barrage barely slowed them down.
"Damn it! Didn't anyone tell you that trolls have high resistance to cold?" Alaric cursed. Raising his staff high, he channeled arcane energy into the sky.
A moment later, a bolt of lightning streaked down, striking a troll berserker and reducing him to a charred husk.
The rainwater amplified the residual electricity, spreading it to nearby trolls, electrocuting some and paralyzing others.
Chaos erupted among the trolls.
"Not bad," Alaric nodded approvingly, then summoned another bolt of lightning.
Seeing this, the high elven mages followed his example. With the storm overhead teeming with latent electricity, they unleashed a series of lightning strikes upon the trolls.
A miniature thunderstorm raged above their ranks, and with the rain acting as a conduit, each lightning bolt inflicted devastating area-of-effect damage.
The trolls' momentum faltered instantly—even the berserkers ran about like headless chickens. Despite their commanders' frantic shouting from the rear, they couldn't reorganize their ranks.
Satisfied, Alaric turned to Sylvanas.
On the battlefield, Sylvanas had shed her usual playful demeanor, her expression cold and commanding. At Alaric's signal, she raised a horn to her lips and blew.
A deep rumble echoed across the battlefield as the ground trembled.
The high elven cavalry had arrived.
Clad in ornate golden-red armor, their warhorses similarly armored, they wielded elegant yet deadly elven blades and charged into the fray.
Behind them, high elven swordsmen advanced. Though fewer in number compared to human infantry, they were far superior in skill.
Their swords, crafted with exquisite craftsmanship, and their lightweight yet durable armor gave them a distinct edge.
But above all, their unparalleled swordsmanship made them vastly superior to human foot soldiers.
These elite warriors had remained hidden throughout the battle. Even when facing enemy cavalry, Alaric had not deployed them.
They had been lying in wait on the flanks, biding their time until the enemy fell into disarray. Only then did Alaric give the order for a full-scale assault.
As the cavalry charged in from both flanks, the mages ceased their lightning barrage, shifting their focus to targeting the most powerful enemies among the trolls.
The human infantry, maintaining formation, steadily advanced.
Once the cavalry plunged into the chaos-stricken troll ranks, their fate was sealed.
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