Chapter 621: Go Steal Their Home!
A desolate, cold wind blew from the pit, tinged with a faint scent of blood.
The Cole Elf warrior at the front grew grim.
Of all the people sent in to scout, not a single one had come back.
That deep, pitch-black hole looked like the maw of some horrific beast, ready to swallow any life without hesitation.
There was no doubt about the danger below, but without information, he couldn't even give accurate battle orders.
Even if it meant sacrificing soldiers, having no solid attack plan would damage his authority.
Just as the Cole Elf commander was caught in this dilemma—
Several blood-soaked figures burst out in panic.
They were the Cole Elf scouts sent down earlier to investigate.
Their condition was dire—each had arrows stuck in their arms or legs.
One scout had a crossbow bolt in his abdomen, blood gushing out uncontrollably.
The other Cole Elf warriors looked on in sympathetic horror.
The commander ordered medics to treat them at once and immediately asked about the situation below.
The worst-injured scout, eyes wide with unspeakable terror, stammered loudly:
"The tunnels below are nothing like the map! There are tons of new passages and traps!"
"Even the flat ground can suddenly give way beneath you."
"And there are cunning enemies in the darkness, always ambushing us with crossbows. Several of our brothers died this way."
The other Cole Elf warriors nodded in fear, quickly adding:
"It's true! There are magical traps too—acid arrow, fireball…"
"They have so many hiding places, and don't even give off a scent. It's nearly impossible to spot them in advance."
"And besides that, they have professionals skilled in ambush and assassination, attacking whenever we're alone…"
"…"
The information left the surrounding Cole Elf warriors both relieved and frightened.
Thank goodness they hadn't gone down, or they could have died too.
The commander frowned—he didn't care much for these details and quietly asked the strongest, least-injured scout:
"Did you see Sparta?"
The high-level scout, eyes flickering with fear, gave a slight nod.
A glint of joy in his eyes, the Cole Elf commander gave the immediate order to "continue the assault."
As long as he could kill Sparta and rack up enough merit, any price was worth escaping this Cantrell Mountain prison.
The Cole Elf soldiers, understanding the stakes, were instantly filled with morale.
With officers shouting "Avenge our comrades!" they charged deeper into the tunnels.
They moved fast, trying to break through the traps as quickly as possible.
Many experienced Cole Elf warriors had already shared their insights:
"Sparta may be strong, but as long as we react fast enough and he hasn't riled up too many slaves, we won't face overwhelming numbers."
"Don't worry too much—Sparta picked a terrible time for this revolt. He ran straight into our defenses."
"Even if he's bought some weapons and equipment, he can't have that many soldiers or professionals fighting for him."
"Who knows, maybe his weapons and gear are from the drow. That's happened before…"
"Don't panic if we hit traps—we have plenty of healing potions and scrolls."
"That's right. Take each area, clear traps and enemies, and with our numbers, we can clean them out piece by piece."
"Now's your chance to prove yourself—if you rack up enough kills fighting Sparta, you might get a chance to leave this place."
"…"
With all sorts of motivations, the Cole Elf warriors swept through the mine tunnels.
At first, they really did find lots of traps—thanks to their rogues and mages, many were disarmed or destroyed.
Some Cole Elf warriors were still killed by traps.
But with their overwhelming numbers, they soon occupied a third of the mine area.
Meeting no attacks from slave soldiers, their guard relaxed.
More than a few started to wonder if Sparta's warriors had already run off.
They'd seen that before—times when Sparta was killed and then turned up alive again.
Some started to worry.
But as it turned out, they were overthinking things!
Just as the Cole Elf army hesitated—
A furious roar echoed from the darkness.
In the lantern light, Sparta appeared before them—clad in gray-black metal armor.
He was enormous, filling two-thirds of the tunnel, blood still wet on his armor.
His ferocity made every Cole Elf warrior frown.
Before they could react, Sparta shouted and gave the signal to attack.
Dense crossbow bolts flew from behind him, striking the Cole Elf warriors in the center.
The bolts, incredibly powerful, punched through both armor and shield.
In the first few rows, over a hundred Cole Elf warriors were skewered like porcupines.
The mix of blood and screams made the Cole Elf soldiers snap to attention, surging toward Sparta in a frenzy.
Sparta roared, charging directly at them.
Towering and powerful, wielding the ghost-headed broadsword gifted by Matthew, he effortlessly cleaved through Cole Elf warriors.
The thick blood fueled his rage, making his long-suppressed bloodlust erupt like a volcano.
"Kill…!"
This leader with a challenge rating over 20+ utterly crushed the mid- and high-level Cole Elf warriors.
None of them could stand up to a single blow—Sparta hacked through their ranks with ease.
The Cole Elf warriors swarmed him, ignoring the crossbow bolts from afar, determined to bring him down at any cost.
Watching Sparta rampage, Chris couldn't help but smack his lips and nodded at Trist:
"Tell the grey elf modified warriors—they can start the attack."
Gazing at the furious Cole Elves, feeling the swelling hatred, Trist grinned savagely:
"Yes, sir!"
Hundreds of figures slipped through hidden tunnels, heading for various tunnel combat zones.
While the Cole Elves besieged Sparta, all sorts of weapons were already quietly aimed at them.
The Cole Elf commander rallied his elite troops to encircle Sparta and excitedly ordered a full assault.
The hidden grey elf modified warriors pulled their triggers without hesitation.
Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!
Crack!
Boom!
Bang!
All kinds of weapons bombarded the Cole Elves.
Caught off guard, the Cole Elf warriors suffered heavy losses in an instant.
What had just been a "safe zone" now became a deadly trap—no wonder panic set in.
Especially as black mist crept from the tunnels, swallowing the light spells in their hands, plunging them back into darkness.
Terror and fear swept through them—countless Cole Elves started shouting in panic.
The commander ignored the screams, staring at the surrounded Sparta and continuing the attack orders.
He could see Sparta slowing down, his attacks a half-beat slower.
The mighty Slave King was running out of strength.
The commander had to seize this rare chance—to kill or capture Sparta and erase the rebellion's impact.
If he succeeded, he could finally leave Cantrell Mountain.
Maybe even climb higher in the Cole Elf hierarchy.
As for the mounting deaths, the commander didn't care at all.
Such disregard for life was standard among Cole Elves in Cantrell Mountain.
Cole Elf warriors poured into the deadly tunnel battlefield.
Many died in traps.
Others, under orders, attacked every tunnel and hiding place.
The brutal, chaotic battle only drew the Cole Elf army in deeper.
Without realizing it, all they cared about was killing Sparta—forgetting the other dangers.
The mine battle, of course, caught the attention of Glory Fortress's ruler.
But when he heard that Sparta was surrounded and being hunted down, he ignored the warnings about massive casualties.
Lark read the reports, his eyes flashing with excitement, recalling all the times Sparta had infuriated him, and roared:
"No matter what it takes—Sparta must die!"
The irritable Lark didn't mobilize the last 5,000 Cole Elf soldiers in Glory Fortress, but sent his personal guard instead.
Along with them went a hidden Cole Elf elite force.
Clearly, Lark was absolutely determined to see Sparta dead.
"Kill…!"
The sharp voice drilled into the Cole Elf warriors' ears.
Startled, one instinctively swung his sword at the sound.
Clang!
The blade struck rock, the jolt making the warrior's heart skip.
The sparks lit up a blur speeding toward him.
The Cole Elf warrior had no time to shout or dodge—
A deadly arrow buried itself in his chest.
His whole body tumbled to the ground.
The noisy chaos instantly became meaningless; a wave of unspeakable pain swept over him from his chest.
His mind went blank, his strength leaving him, cold creeping from the stone floor through his whole body.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came—only a torrent of blood spilling from his stomach and flooding his lungs.
He died!
Drowned in his own blood!
He was not alone—even well-prepared, the Cole Elf warriors simply couldn't defend against attacks from every direction.
Their morale shattered, and as the chaos grew, terror and fear spread fast.
The commanders' orders grew ever more confused; the din made it impossible to tell friend from foe.
That's when the grey elf modified warriors made their move.
Using the smoke for cover, they mercilessly targeted the panicked Cole Elf warriors.
As they killed, they shouted in Cole Elf tongue:
"Enemies have infiltrated—ahhh…!"
"Watch out—they're ambushing us from behind…!"
"Ahhh! Help!"
"There are so many of them—they're disguised as us!"
"The voices—they sound just like us!"
"They're everywhere!"
After several hundred Cole Elf warriors had fallen—
The rest in the tunnels fell into chaos and fear, every man for himself.
Terror and death spread like wildfire, and before the commanders even realized, the troops had fallen into utter confusion.
Riled up by the grey elves, Cole Elf warriors started attacking their own.
The chaos spread, unstoppable.
Seeing the Cole Elves killing each other, the grey elf modified warriors turned their attention to the commanders trying to restore order.
First they herded the blood-crazed warriors over, then, playing scared, drew closer.
Their act of bravely defending themselves reassured the Cole Elf officers.
The instant the commanders let down their guard, poisoned blades stabbed their hearts, slit their throats, or even chopped off their heads.
After killing them, the grey elf modified warriors made sure word of their deaths spread—fueling the chaos.