novelraw Chapter 559
Chapter 559
"Fall back from the palace. All forces, turn and engage!"
Gothmog abandoned the nearly defeated Maedhros and instead led the Balrog legion and orc armies out to meet the approaching alliance.
Then he saw them.
And froze.
"How are there still this many?"
He had assumed the dragon host would have heavily weakened the allied army, even in defeat.
But their numbers barely looked reduced at all.
Rowan’s battlefield healing had erased most casualties. Even warriors who had only just fallen could sometimes be pulled back from death.
The alliance had suffered almost no real losses.
"Loose!" Fingon commanded.
A storm of radiant arrows filled the sky.
Orcs dropped in waves.
Enchanted elven arrows struggled against dragons.
Against creatures that feared light?
They were execution.
One arrow meant death. A graze meant crippling injury.
"When did elven archery become this deadly?" Gothmog snarled.
Last time he probed their defenses, the bows hadn’t been anywhere near this lethal.
At this rate, his orcs would be wiped out before melee even began.
"Balrogs, forward!"
The towering fire demons surged ahead, conjuring walls of flame to burn incoming arrows and push the line forward.
Then the dwarven arcane cannons fired.
Ice-aspected artillery slammed into the Balrogs, forcing them backward under freezing detonations and shockwaves.
Only then did Gothmog understand.
This was why the dragons had fallen so quickly.
"Retreat!"
Orcs cut down. Balrogs suppressed.
If he fought to the death here, he would lose.
Maybe die with them.
"Fall back to the old Maedhros Line!"
Rowan watched him go.
Clever, he thought.
Fast decision-making. No ego. No hesitation.
But not fast enough.
Today, Gothmog and every Balrog here would die.
A pillar of light crashed down in the retreat path, vaporizing orcs by the hundreds.
Then stone wyvern riders descended from the sky, sealing the escape route.
Earlier, Rowan had warned Fingon to prepare for exactly this scenario.
So Lúthien, Galadriel, Angrod, and Aegnor had already moved ahead with the stone wyvern cavalry, cutting off the retreat.
"Gothmog! Today, you answer for my brothers!"
Maedhros charged from the city gates.
Beside him, Maglor and barely a hundred surviving elven warriors followed.
The siege survivors slammed into Gothmog’s trapped army.
Rowan stood apart, quietly binding the souls of fallen Balrogs into containment.
And waiting.
Watching.
If Morgoth intervened, Rowan was ready.
But Morgoth never came.
Even as Gothmog fell.
Even as the Balrogs were destroyed.
Even as his armies were erased.
Morgoth stayed within Angband.
Angband was saturated with his power. Outside it, he risked facing the Valar directly.
Morgoth was patient.
If every servant died, he would simply create more.
Time meant nothing to him.
Fine, Rowan thought.
That works for me.
Once I finish refining these souls...
Once I master the Devourer Technique...
Once I consume the dragons...
Then I’ll come for you myself.
From the walls of Himring, Rowan stared toward the distant shadow of Angband.
Far away.
In another world.
Rowan opened his eyes from meditation.
Then vanished.
It was time to travel to Nathan Island.
The creator of the Devourer Technique was there.
So was the man who had once bargained for the Rebirth Method.
But more importantly...
Nathan Island itself fascinated him.
A small island in the Mediterranean.
Known among hidden societies as the Island of Awakened.
Anyone born there awakened supernatural abilities.
At the center stood a sacred world-tree that empowered the island’s rulers and guardians.
Nine chosen wardens.
And a king who could observe the entire island and empower his defenders.
The island also sheltered fugitives from across the world.
If you could reach it and swear loyalty, you were protected.
But you could never leave.
Several nations had tried to conquer it before.
They had all failed.
Officially, they wanted criminals.
Unofficially?
They wanted the world-tree.