The greatest drawback of the Twilight Horn, it’s clear, is that its user’s maximum MP capacity is temporarily halved.

Axe-Hand Laut grimaced as he bound the wound on his arm; the arrowheads shot by King Théoden’s knights were vicious, barbed things that required careful handling just to extract them.

“So, those fellows are clearly very dependent on MP.”

Lolit nodded: “In any case, in this world, we aren’t exactly enemies with them. So, see if there’s any possibility of trading for their Twilight Horn. So far, three have dropped. The guys in the Sea Alliance treasure them and would never trade them away. The remaining Horn Knights are all gathered around King Théoden, making them hard to get. Therefore, acquiring one from the Ace Team still holds a glimmer of hope.”

Wade stated seriously: “We need to keep a close eye on the Ace Team’s movements. Now that they’ve split their forces, their pressure must have increased exponentially. This team is rumored to have unfathomable potential, especially since much of the intelligence points toward that Sailor—suggesting he is the actual master controller of the team.”

“That’s impossible!” Lolit exclaimed, astonished. “That Sailor is certainly adept with potions and has a knack for support, but never mind anything else—Reef’s Awakening Skill can solidly suppress him! Based on our team analysis, after casting his Awakening Skill, Reef can grant his allies at least a brief period of invulnerability! It’s hard to believe someone like that would willingly serve under another, though it’s possible that Reef truly defers to Fang Senyan.”

Wade narrowed his eyes: “Regardless, the facts speak louder than words. I truly hope Zeus and the others are lying. But isn't it best to be cautious? Look at the powerful new Two-Headed Cyclops the Ace Team has fielded! It was brought forth by the most inconspicuous member, Three-Kid! With this creature, their team gains several entirely new offensive and defensive tactics, and they are still managing things with ease in this environment. Who can say they don’t have other trump cards?”

Lolit scoffed: “It hardly matters, Boss Wade. If they intend to rescue Aziz, they will likely have to push every ounce of their potential to the limit. The trouble that fellow Aziz stirred up is certainly not minor!”

Hearing Lolit’s words, Wade offered a knowing smile.

Aziz’s expression remained as stern as ever; nothing in his outward appearance betrayed the thoughts churning within. Cold as iron, strong as iron! That was the impression Aziz left on others.

Yet, Aziz knew his own suffering acutely, for he realized clearly that all his life-saving measures were exhausted. Without needing to look back, the killing intent chasing him remained sharp, clinging to him like parasites.

The entire reason for this predicament was that he had brazenly shot the Princess of Rohan.

Logically, attacking such a renowned plot figure should have required the full support of the team, with every contingency considered, inevitably leading to a protracted engagement! No matter how powerful Aziz was, what could a single spear accomplish? A figure like the King of Rohan’s daughter, Éowyn, known as the Shieldmaiden, had even managed to slay the Witch-king of Angmar, the chief of the Ringwraiths!

But Aziz had done it anyway, instantly drawing the hatred of numerous key plot characters onto himself. Such an action might seem foolish, but for a man, there are times when one must possess the courage to do something that appears utterly foolish.

---To challenge the world’s most powerful nation with the strength of one man—was that foolish? Yet, Aziz did it nonetheless.

The one pursuing Aziz now was Éowyn’s brother, a descendant of King Théoden’s sister, the heir to the Rohan royal line, the Marshal of the Mark, Éomer!

He wielded another of Rohan’s mighty legendary weapons: the holy sword Guthwine!

Being hunted by such a figure made Aziz feel as if he had returned to his days as a civilian, that life of rootlessness spent dodging the FBI. During his most intense period, Aziz had fled continuously for four days and four nights, managing to eat, drink, and relieve himself only while constantly on the move!

Any other person would surely have been crushed by such immense pressure, but Aziz managed to grit his teeth and persevere. He even found the pressure to be his motivation; this long-lost feeling of having to burn his very life force just to survive was intoxicating.

Compared to other ordinary knights, Éomer stood out strikingly. His ** warhorse was naturally a head taller than the others. Its massive iron hooves struck the ground, kicking up huge sprays of dirt. The horse was outfitted with the royal family’s specialized trappings; the reddish-copper hue was conspicuous, and the chain mail skirt, forged with Mithril, offered excellent protection to its flanks.

Embedded in the center of the warhorse’s brow was a white crystal that shimmered with a black mist. Through this enchanted crystal, the horse could directly sense its master’s will and instantly execute emergency evasion maneuvers. Furthermore, plumes of blood-red mist billowed from the stallion’s nostrils, indicating it possessed the bloodline of a magical beast whose instinct was pure rage.

As for Éomer himself, this strapping man was almost entirely encased in reddish-copper armor, etched with a dense array of secret runes. These runes not only solidified several powerful spells but also provided superb defense against both ranged and close-quarters attacks.

Gandalf had once said that Bilbo Baggins’s Mithril shirt was precious enough to buy all of The Shire, but the value of the armor Éomer wore was certainly no less when calculated precisely!

The helms of Rohan were also very distinctive, almost entirely enclosed visors, revealing only the eyes and mouth. Even most of the nose bridge was protected under droplet-shaped flanges, suggesting the crafting skill of the legendary mountain dwarves of Rohan was not merely rumor.

Éomer’s primary weapon was an incredibly heavy war spear. While ordinary in appearance, its sheer weight of sixty kilograms made it irresistible to all in its path. Only when facing a truly worthy opponent would Guthwine be drawn.

At this moment, Éomer spurred his horse onward, shouting as he swung the heavy spear, smashing aside Orc warriors one by one. Humans in Middle-earth are inherently much hardier than those in the real world—Aragorn living to around two hundred years old is considered relatively short-lived—and Éomer’s physical prowess was certainly of the elite warrior type. Thus, the terrifying lance, when wielded, was truly unstoppable.

Even though Éomer was accompanied by only two or three attendants and was mired in a sea of Orc warriors, the speed of his pursuit of Aziz did not slow in the slightest; rather, he drew closer and closer!

However, a man like Aziz, who could obtain a Legendary Spear, surely possessed more than one way to survive. Amidst the chaos of the battlefield, he suddenly vanished from sight. When he reappeared, he was already hundreds of meters away.

Seeing the well-cooked duck slip away just as it was about to be seized, Éomer, the fierce warrior, roared. Suddenly, he urged his horse forward, a bestial cry faintly emanating from his body. The ** warhorse’s muscles swelled visibly, taut as if ready to burst through the skin. It lunged forward powerfully, covering more than twenty meters in a single leap. The Orc soldiers trampled beneath its landing were invariably ripped open, their guts spilling out, some even vomiting blood and bile from their mouths—a truly agonizing sight!

Éomer leaped four consecutive times, drawing back the distance on Aziz, even closing the gap from when Aziz had used his ability to escape. Seeing that even his ultimate trump cards were insufficient to flee, Aziz abruptly stopped, turned, raised the Legendary Spear in his hand—Courage of Rían—and took aim!

Even in death, one must face it head-on! Even if defeated, one must resist!

This was Aziz’s philosophy of life, a life lived like a wolf!

The trigger was pulled.

The hot shell casing ejected, whipping past his cheek. Éomer neither dodged nor parried; he merely ducked his head, supremely confident in the protection of his full suit of Mithril armor!

But fire and thick smoke instantly engulfed his head. Éomer let out a long, piercing scream, like a wounded beast. His right eye socket was a bloody mess—Aziz had managed to blast it out!

However, Éomer’s arm swung out violently, and the massive war spear swept across. Aziz spat out a mouthful of blood and was sent flying, the blow nearly plunging him into a deathlike state! Immediately afterward, Éomer urged his horse, which bounded forward, preparing to stomp down upon the nearly collapsed Aziz with its powerful hooves. If that stomp connected solidly, it carried the force of tons—even the strong Orcs could not withstand such a blow, let alone the swaying Aziz?

But just then, Aziz was grasped by a huge, transparent golden hand that appeared from nowhere and yanked him violently thirty meters away! Recognizing the familiar sensation of being pulled, Aziz felt a surge of hope in his despair. He turned his head and saw Reef, unable to help but exclaim: “How did you get here?”

“Because I came, he came too,” Fang Senyan, standing beside Reef, replied. He looked at Aziz and smiled faintly: “What a coincidence, meeting again. Where’s Zeus?”

Aziz saw Fang Senyan and gave a cold snort, but what he did next surprised even Fang Senyan: the man swiftly withdrew from the Radiant Team and immediately sent an application to join Reef.