The Silver Elf Commander took off his golden pointed helmet. He shook his head, letting his beautiful silver hair flow down like a waterfall, and then exhaled deeply. His pale silver eyes looked coldly at the chaotic battlefield, where Lizardman corpses lay scattered among the ruins, and blood flowed like small streams, trickling along the ground. The air was filled with the pungent smell of blood, enough to make most normal people nauseous, but to the blood-soaked Elf Warriors, it was the scent of victory wafting through the air.
No, it was far from victory.
Yohkel had fled, and his subordinates wanted to pursue him, but Namenis stopped them. The Silver Elf Commander sheathed his gilded and intricately carved Command Sword and then signaled to the others to gather up and prepare for the next action. His orders were decisive and precise, leaving no room for hesitation.
