CHAPTER 165: THE VANGUARD OF GOLD AND SUN

The border where the sun-bleached grasslands of the Solarian Kingdom collided with the dark, jagged bedrock of the Shattered Steppe was marked by ancient, crumbling boundary stones. For centuries, no army had dared to cross this line without triggering a massive regional war.

Today, those stones were ground into dust beneath thousands of marching boots.

Leading the invasion was a grand joint force: the Solarian Royal Army, ten thousand strong, led by King Alden himself. King Alden sat atop a towering white warhorse draped in gilded plate armor, his face set in a cold, triumphant sneer. Beside him marched his heavy infantry, archers, and supply wagons, banners snapping high in the dry plains wind.

Yet, despite King Alden's crown and heavy host, he was not the true commander of this crusade.

Riding at the absolute vanguard was High Lord Lorien of the High Elves. Lorien’s hair flowed like spun silver over armor forged from pure, polished sun-gilded mithril that reflected the midday sun in blinding rays. Surrounding him were five hundred Sun-Gilded Sentinels, the absolute elite shock troops of the High Elven court. Each Sentinel stood over six feet tall, clad in pristine golden plate and wielding glowing solar-enchanted halberds that hummed with concentrated light mana.

"Look at them, High Lord Lorien," King Alden said, gesturing toward the shadowy, misty expanse of the Shattered Steppe ahead. "The barbarian tribes and dark elf fugitives have fled behind their little stone outposts. With your Sentinels leading the charge, we will purge the steppe of Caius Macrae and his orc horde before sunset."

High Lord Lorien did not even glance at the human king, his pale eyes fixed entirely on the horizon with icy disdain. To a noble of the High Elven court, King Alden was merely a useful pawn, a crown-wearing proxy to provide numerical weight while the Sentinels did the real slaughtering.

"Do not mistake numbers for power, King Alden," Lorien spoke, his voice carrying the calm, ringing resonance of a man who viewed victory as an absolute certainty. "Caius Macrae has gathered dark elf renegades and beast-blooded scum. Their dark magic and crude steel are an insult to the light. My five hundred Sentinels alone could tear through ten thousand of their levies."

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Lorien raised his right hand, encased in a sun-gilded gauntlet.

CLANG!

In unison, all five hundred Sun-Gilded Sentinels slammed the butts of their halberds onto the earth. A blinding shockwave of golden solar mana erupted outward, burning away the dry grass for fifty yards in every direction. The atmosphere around the army surged with radiant heat, turning the cool border wind into a scorching furnace.

"Cross the boundary," Lorien commanded, his voice echoing over the marching host. "Leave no dark elf or orc breathing. Bring me the head of Caius Macrae, and we shall burn his wretched fortress to cinders."

King Alden grinned, raising his jewel-encrusted broadsword. "FORWARD! For Solaria and the Sun!"

With a thunderous roar, the human legions surged past the boundary stones, marching alongside the glowing golden tide of High Elves directly into the Shattered Steppe.

High on the outer battlements of the border bastion, Old Bones stood beside the stone crenellations, watching the massive army spill across the horizon like a sea of gold and iron.

Beside him, Caius stepped up to the edge, his dark mantle fluttering softly in the mountain draft. He looked down at the glowing Sun-Gilded Sentinels leading the enemy advance, his violet-gold pupils glowing with cold, calculating precision.

"They've crossed the boundary, My Lord," Old Bones murmured, a thin, dark smile creeping onto his withered face. "High Lord Lorien brings five hundred Sentinels and King Alden's entire royal host. Shall we deploy the frontline vanguards?"

"No," Caius said smoothly, his eyes narrowing as he watched High Lord Lorien's proud silver banner flap in the wind. "A frontal clash plays into their illusion of divine strength. Lorien believes his five hundred golden Sentinels are invincible. I want that arrogance turned into a slow, agonizing hemorrhage."

Caius turned slightly, looking back toward the shadows of the courtyard where the dark elf mercenaries and hunting pack leaders stood waiting in their sleek, obsidian Black Shell armor.

"Deploy the shadowpacks and dark elf assassins," Caius commanded coldly. "Do not engage King Alden’s human levies yet. Target the High Elves exclusively. Hunt their scouts, sever their vanguard patrols, and cut down their officers in the deep woods. Put a bounty on every Sentinel head brought to the Citadel, payable in high-tier Obsidian Beads."

Old Bones’ eyes gleamed with raspy amusement as he realized the psychological slaughter Caius was setting in motion. "Thin down the High Elves before they ever sight our gates, while making their proudest nobles bleed for our mercenaries' advancement."

"Let them march into the dark," Caius whispered, resting his hand on the hilt of his blade. "Unleash the hunters."