Chapter 711 A Sudden Attack ? ?
"R-right!" Nori stammered, her hands trembling as she attempted to untie the magical rope.
After a moment, tears welled up in her eyes, and she admitted, "I . . . I can't seem to untie it."
"What do you mean you can't?" Evie asked urgently, though her face was the epitome of calmness.
Lorelai was blunter, "Hoi! Brat, I swear I'll squeeze your little cheeks once I get out of here, so don't mess with me right now!"
"Waagh! This is a magical rope crafted by the Elder! No magic or weapon could untie this; only the Elder has that power!"
"WHAT?!"
Ren and the others exclaimed simultaneously, their expressions a mix of surprise and frustration.
Nori wiped her tears and declared, "Don't worry, I'll bring the Elder back here!"
"Hoi, Nori!" Ren called, but she had already dashed upstairs, leaving them to contemplate their predicament.
Elena turned to Ren with a worried expression. "What are we going to do now?"
Lorelai, still grappling with the effects of whatever potion they had consumed, growled, "What on earth did that old man make us drink? If he doesn't die of old age, I might just take care of it myself."
"There's nothing left for us to do but wait, either for Nori to bring Morgrimm here or for the effects of whatever potion he made us drink to wear off," Evie remarked with a sigh.
"Where's Azazel?" Elena questioned, noting the absence of the mischievous demon. "Don't tell me he escaped again?"
She clenched her teeth, eyes glinting with the intent to kill. "That little demon always flees when trouble brews. The nerve of him declaring he's the demon Lord when he's nothing but a coward!"
"Who cares about that brat?!" Lorelai spat. "Our priority is to get out of here and join the fight upstairs!"
Ren and the others couldn't quite decipher the princess's motivations — whether she sought revenge against Azazel, harbored resentment toward the elder and the villagers for tying them up, or genuinely aimed to save the village.
It seemed a complex blend of motives fueled her determination to break free.
As the villagers mobilized for battle outside, panic and fear charged the air within the square. When Nori darted away, Ren and the others went unnoticed as everyone's focus shifted to the impending confrontation.
Ren and his companions exchanged uneasy glances, realizing that no one in the square paid them any mind.
The villagers hurriedly sought refuge in their house, concealing themselves while those capable of fighting prepared for the impending battle.
Ren and his group felt the weight of the magical restraints. The bonds defied conventional means of escape, leaving them at the mercy of an unknown force.
Ren's mind raced, exploring potential solutions, but without access to his skills, he felt powerless. He was reduced to a normal human right now, or rather, a powerless sprite.
"What do we do now? We can't just wait here," Lorelai complained, biting her lip. She strained against her magical bindings with sheer strength alone, a futile attempt to break free from the enchanted ropes.
"Perhaps Nori will locate the Elder and return swiftly. We just need to exercise a bit of patience," Evie suggested.
"You sound quite unbelievable with that lethargic expression of yours," Elena sighed.
Lorelai was ever impatience, and grumbled, "Patience won't be the solution here. We should have known better than to trust that little troublemaker and these demons and devils!"
The others fixed her with dead set gazes and thought, 'Who was it that challenged everyone to a drinking contest in the first place?'
Meanwhile, Elena scrutinized the magical bonds, frustration evident in the narrowing of her eyes. "There has to be a way to break this spell. We can't afford to wait for the Elder. Voraxa's soldiers could descend upon us at any moment. I won't let myself be taken down with a rope tied behind my back."
The once-united square, defiant against Voraxa, now grappled with internal strife. Villagers scurried to retrieve hidden weapons, fortify vulnerable points, and hastily organized into a makeshift defensive formation.
The village now stood on the brink of a pivotal moment. The clash between the forces of Voraxa and the rallying inhabitants of Obsidianreach was inevitable, and the square, once divided by dissent, was now united by a shared purpose — to stand against the encroaching darkness and, if fate allowed, emerge victorious in the name of survival and freedom.
Meanwhile, Ren and the others remained bound and helpless, desperately seeking a means of liberation before the imminent clash unfolded.
The urgency of the situation pressed heavily upon them, dominating their thoughts and overshadowing any other thing in their minds.
Meanwhile, in a frenzied rush, Nori ascended the steep stairs of Obsidianreach, each step a frantic heartbeat echoing the turmoil within.
The distant sounds of cries shouts, and the unmistakable clash of metal greeted her ears, intensifying with each upward stride.
As she neared the surface, a palpable sense of dread clung to the air.
Emerging from the shadowed depths, Nori was met with a scene of sheer horror. The desert was transformed into a chaotic battleground.
Hundreds of Voraxa's soldiers, clad in ominous armor, clashed mercilessly with the scrawny and outnumbered villagers.
The air crackled with magic, and the metallic symphony of blades met resistance.
"S-stop . . ." she intended to shout aloud, but her voice emerged feeble as the villagers were mercilessly cut and defeated, left and right.
"S-stop . . ." she stammered, but her voice was drowned out by the cacophony of battle.
Realizing the futility of words, she quickly pulled herself together.
This was no time for tears; it was a time for action.
She steeled herself, suppressing the rising tide of fear, and tears, and scanned the tumultuous scene for Elder Morgrimm.
Nori pushed forward, her eyes darting through the chaotic tableau of the conflict.
Amidst the clashes and clashes, she sought the elder, fearing that time was slipping away.
Ren and the others, she believed, possessed the strength to turn the tide of this battle.
Nori navigated the chaos with a singular focus, dodging skirmishes and weaving through the battlefield like a shadow seeking its sanctuary.
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