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And that, Elric finally understood, was the only victory that ever mattered.

The battle lasted eleven minutes. Elric didn’t lose a single soldier. Every fallen Rohirrim stood back up. Every broken spear repaired itself. The enemy’s morale shattered like glass. That night, Elric sat alone among the pyres of the dead— their dead, not his. The Uruk-hai had been erased. But the silence felt wrong. There was no glory. No honor. He had not led. He had edited . lotr bfme trainer

And beneath it, in a script that bled like fresh ink: “Victory without cost is a story without meaning.” And that, Elric finally understood, was the only

But Elric wasn’t done. He felt the stone pulsing, hungry. He tapped another rune: Elven Archer Battalion. A forest of Lothlórien bows materialized on the ridge, arrows nocked before they even had lungs to breathe. Every fallen Rohirrim stood back up

The next morning, Elric mustered his real three hundred riders. They were tired. Their swords were chipped. Their horses were lame. And against the next wave of orcs, they would lose. Probably.

Elric’s fingers trembled. He’d lost his brother at the Fords of Isen. He’d watched a warg-riders tear apart his childhood friend. The forces of Mordor were infinite. The Free Peoples were bleeding out.