Chapter 71

The Dark Lord, lurking deep within the dark tower of Barad-dûr, finally exhausted his remaining patience. No longer content with the attrition of his minions or the sorcerers' magical barriers, he determined to crush the ants that dared to besiege him. From the tower's summit erupted an unprecedented, soul-shattering pressure. The blood-red light of his evil eye pierced through the swirling clouds of dust! A colossal, horrifying form constructed of pure shadow and molten lava—no longer the beauty of Anata, but a twisted, monstrous, hell-burning nightmare—crashed through the tower like a nemesis. He ignored the battlefield around him, striding with unwavering purpose toward the eternally burning Mount Doom, the heart of Mordor's power. He would draw upon its might to deliver the final blow, enough to destroy the entire Last Alliance.

"Zoron is coming out!" The alarm spread throughout the alliance camp like thunder.

Elendil and Gil-galad, the last of the Supreme Leaders, instantly understood Sauron's intentions. The Dark Lord must not be allowed to reach the volcano, let alone gain greater power. Without hesitation, the two kings, like two bolts of lightning ripping through the darkness, led their finest guards and charged towards the embodiment of destruction. Meereen and Glorfindel followed closely behind, while Maglor commanded the Fëanorian warriors to hold back the tide of enemy forces attempting to support Sauron.

Elendil wielded the sword Narsil, its starlight blazing brighter than ever before. With the last hope and unyielding rage of the Dúnedain, he struck at Sauron's flaming foot. Gil-galad, with the spear of Aegloth raised high, stabbed it into Sauron's chest. Their attacks were fierce, imbued with the will of the entire Alliance, leaving deep wounds on Sauron's massive form. Lava-like blood gushed out, scorching the earth.

Sauron's power was too terrifying. With a roar, he swung forth his vast, flaming claws, bringing with them a hurricane of destruction. Though Narsil severed a portion of Sauron's arm, Elendil was also struck by the dark recoil and the sweep of Sauron's other claw. The High King of Númenor, struck head-on by a battering ram, spat out a mouthful of blood. Narsil flew from his hand, shattered in mid-air, and fell to dust, gleaming with a final gleam of light. Elendil's body slammed to the ground, soundless.

"Father——!" In the distance, Isildur, who witnessed all this, let out a heart-wrenching wail. His eyes were bloodshot and he rushed towards the place where Elendil fell desperately.

"Sauron!" Gil-galad watched his friend fall, his eyes instantly filled with grief, anger, and resoluteness. As the last supreme commander of the Last Alliance, he carried all hope and could not retreat. Like a moth to a flame, he rushed towards Sauron once again, convinced of his own mortality.

Sauron's burning evil eye swept across the battlefield, instantly locking onto Meereen, who was fighting fiercely and attempting to support Gil-galad! "You again!" Sauron's will hissed like a venomous snake. He immediately issued a death order to the surrounding minions of darkness: "Surround the golden-haired human! Trapped him, do not let his blood spill, hold him back."

Instantly, a large number of the fiercest Orcs, Trolls, and even two Ringwraiths, like hyenas smelling blood, madly pounced on Meereen. They had obviously received strict orders, and their attacks were ferocious, but they deliberately avoided Meereen's vital points, mainly using blunt blows, grappling, and weapon blocking. Their goal was to pin him down and prevent him from interfering with Sauron like he had at the Battle of Eregion!

Meereen roared, brandishing the longsword forged for him by Maglor. The blade flashed like a silver storm, slaying one dark minions after another. Relying on his immense healing powers and his invulnerability to ordinary wounds, he forged a bloody path through the hordes of enemies. But the enemy was too numerous, surging forward fearlessly like an endless quagmire, severely slowing his progress. He watched Gil-galad sink to his knees, his heart aching.

Sauron's massive molten claws grasped Gil-galad as he charged. The terrifying strength of his grip caused Gil-galad's mithril armor to groan under the weight, and the sound of bones shattering could be heard. The searing infernal fire instantly enveloped the High King of the Noldor. Gil-galad was severely wounded, and the excruciating pain and suffocation blurred his consciousness, and his vision began to blacken.

At this moment of life and death, a thought flashed through Gil-galad's drowsy mind - the blood vial of Meereen. The crystal vial he wore close to his body, regarded as a blessing and amulet! With his last bit of strength, he tore the chain from his neck, pulled out the cork, and poured the blood within, which shone with a faint golden light and contained the life force of Valinor, fiercely onto Sauron's hideous head.

Like a scalding iron pressed against the foulest flesh, a tooth-grinding, corrosive sound, accompanied by Sauron's earth-shattering wail, resounded through the air. The blood, imbued with the power of pure life and blessing, wrought unprecedented damage upon Sauron's dark nature. A few drops, in particular, struck the One Ring, a shimmering golden ring adorning Sauron's left hand, radiating an untold evil. The Ring's radiance dimmed instantly, and Sauron's power suffered a brief, yet fatal, stagnation and weakening. His grip on Gil-galad involuntarily loosened.

Isildur, driven almost mad by his father's death, rushed to Elendil's body. He saw his father's broken sword, Narsil, Sauron's left hand stiffened in pain, and the One Ring, stained with the blood of Meereen and temporarily losing its brilliance. The flames of revenge instantly overwhelmed his reason.

"For Elendil!" Isildur roared like a beast, bent down to pick up the sharpest and largest piece of Narsil on the ground, and holding it like a dagger of revenge, he used all his strength to slash at the finger of Sauron wearing the ring.

Sauron's huge, flaming hand broke with a sound, and fell to the charred and hot ground along with the One Ring that symbolized most of his power and will.

"No—!" Zoro let out a scream beyond pain, filled with endless fear and despair. His massive molten body, forcibly held together by the dark will, instantly lost its support like a punctured balloon. The shadows that formed it crumbled, the molten rock disintegrated, transforming into countless burning rubble and foul black smoke before collapsing with a thunderous roar. His formless, evil soul uttered a sharp howl of unwillingness, dragged by an invisible force, and dissipated into the sulfur-filled air, plunging into unprecedented weakness and silence! The Dark Lord's physical body was gone.

Isildur stood there, breathing heavily, staring at the severed finger on the ground and the One Ring on it, which still emitted a faint and attractive golden light in the ashes. Great sorrow, the pleasure of revenge, and an indescribable sense of emptiness hit him.

At this moment, a bewitching, familiar, and kind voice sounded in his mind, as if it were the whisper of Elendil himself:

"Isildur..."

"Behold... the One Ring... it contains supreme power..."

"Take it... use it... and you will restore the glory of Númenor! Restore what Ar-Pharazon never achieved! Make Gondor and Arnor the eternal kingdom of the gods!"

"Take it... This is your destiny... Your father's unfinished work..."

The voice was so real, so alluring, it struck at the deepest longings and wounds within Isildur's heart. His eyes instantly became confused, struggling, and filled with a hint of morbid enthusiasm. He leaned forward involuntarily, his hand trembling as he reached for the ring. He seemed to see a kingdom more glorious than Númenor being built in his own hands.

"Isildur! Do not look! Do not listen!" Gil-galad, who had just fallen from Sauron's claws and was seriously injured, struggled to raise his head and screamed with his last strength, trying to regain the young prince's sanity.

"It's over!" In the distance, Meereen, who had just fought his way out of the encirclement, happened to see Isildur's dazed and longing eyes. He instantly understood - the Ring was tempting Isildur. Once Isildur picked up the Ring, all his sacrifices would be in vain.

Meereen burst out with unprecedented speed, like a golden arrow from a bow, and before Isildur could bend down, he flew over. He pulled the cold, heavy, and endlessly evil One Ring from Sauron's severed hand and held it tightly in his palm.

Isildur was awakened by this sudden change. He looked dazed and a little angry at having his "hope" taken away, and subconsciously wanted to chase after him.

"Stop him! Protect Meereen!" Gil-galad shouted sternly, and several elven warriors who reacted immediately stopped Isildur.

As soon as the Ring was in his hand, an icy evil will filled with greed, arrogance, and endless desire for domination instantly penetrated Meereen's mind like millions of poisonous needles! The whisper of temptation sounded:

"Mighty mortal...you possess immortality..."

"Wear me! You will gain power beyond your imagination! Become a true immortal God-King! Enslave the elves, rule over humans, and make all of Middle-earth prostrate at your feet!"

"You are more worthy of me than that cowardly Isildur! Wear me! Realize your true worth!"

But Meereen merely snorted. He possessed a natural resistance to the forces of darkness, his soul forged pure and strong by the thousand-year-old light of the Two Trees of Valinor. He had no interest in power or slavery. Celebrimbor's warning at Lindon echoed in his mind: only the lava of Orodruin could completely destroy the One Ring.

He ignored the crazy temptations and vicious curses in his mind, put Maglor's sword back into the scabbard, tightly grasped the ring that was beating wildly in his palm and trying to escape, and rushed towards the crater of Doom, which was so close yet seemed out of reach.

Driven by the Ringwraiths' screams, the remaining dark minions rushed towards Meereen. Meereen's eyes were cold, and he drew his longsword with his right hand. With a flash of lightning, he cut the Orcs blocking his way in two without hesitation! He had only one goal - the crater.

When he finally stepped onto the hot rocks on the edge of the crater, the Lord of the Rings realized that this human was determined to destroy it, and temptation completely turned into the most vicious curse and final struggle.

"Foolish! Stubborn! You will regret this! You will be cursed by Sauron forever!"

"Even if you destroy me, you will fall into the abyss with me! Let's die together!"

The Ring suddenly gained weight. It was no longer just a ring, but instantly became a thousand-pound boulder. Meereen's left hand, clutching the Ring, was caught off guard and yanked to the ground by the terrifying weight. The bones in his wrist groaned under the weight, his entire left arm pinned to the ground. The back of his hand was rubbed raw and bloody by the hot, rough volcanic rock.

"Ugh!" Meereen groaned, barely able to move. The Ring screamed wildly in his mind, full of malicious pleasure.

Meereen looked up at the nearby crater, seething with lava and molten lava. Then he glanced down at his blood-soaked left hand, pinned to the ground, and the evil golden ring. Time was short. Sauron's minions were closing in, and Gil-galad and Isildur were in imminent danger.

A gleam of determination flashed in Milin's eyes! He suddenly drew out the dagger from his waist with his right hand—the dagger that Maglor had made for him in case of "emergency".

A flash of cold light, accompanied by the clear sound of bones breaking and an uncontrollable, heart-wrenching scream from Meereen, he swung the dagger with all his strength and cut off his left hand at the wrist.

Blood gushed out from the severed palm, and the blood, sparkling with golden light, soaked the severed palm and the Supreme Magic Ring tightly grasped on it.

"Sizzle!" Like cold water poured into boiling oil, the Ring uttered an unprecedented, sharp whine of pain and fear in Meereen's mind. The golden light on its surface dimmed instantly, and the terrifying weight and power that corroded his will receded like the tide.

Milin endured the severe pain of his broken wrist and the dizziness from blood loss, and used his only remaining right hand to grab the broken hand that was still tightly holding the ring. He used all his last strength to throw it towards the lava below that was churning with flames of destruction.

The Broken Hand, carrying the One Ring that symbolized darkness and slavery, drew an arc and fell into the red core of the Doomsday Volcano.

All of Middle-earth seemed to tremble as an indescribable blast of energy, a mixture of deliverance, destruction, and untold agony, surged from the crater. The One Ring, along with much of Sauron's power and will, was instantly torn apart, incinerated, and consumed by the molten lava of Orodruin. The Ring's voice, full of seduction and curse, vanished from the world.

With the destruction of the Ring, a pure and powerful wind, as if blowing from the distant West of Valinor, carrying the fresh scent of the Two Trees, instantly swept across the entire battlefield of Mordor. This wind swept over the huge pile of ash left by the disintegration of Sauron's body, and as if purifying, it completely blew it away, leaving no trace.

Without the support of Sauron's dark power, the very ground of Mordor began to crumble. Vast chasms opened like the maw of the abyss, swallowing up the orcs, trolls, and corrupted men who had no time to escape. The Dark Tower of Barad-dûr uttered its final wail, and its cracked tower began to crumble. The dark fortress of Mordor was crumbling from within.

"Meereen!" Gandalf's voice came, and he rode on the giant eagle, swooping down like white lightning, passing over the crater. The giant eagle's claws carefully grabbed Meereen, who collapsed on the edge of the volcano due to severe pain and blood loss, and brought him away from this devastating place.

When the giant eagle landed on the Alliance headquarters, everyone gathered around. Meereen's severed wrist was visible as flesh and blood began to wriggle and grow at a visible speed! Bones were reshaped, tendons were connected, and skin was covering it... Before everyone's astonishment, in just a few moments, a brand new, intact left hand had regenerated.

"Meereen!" Maglor was the first to rush forward, completely ignoring the blood and sulfur stains on Meereen's body as he embraced him tightly. The embrace was filled with ecstasy, endless fear, and deep emotion. His eyes swept across Meereen's new left hand, then looked back at the crumbling Mordor. His voice choked with sobs: "You did it... You did it."

Meereen leaned on Maglor's shoulder, smiling tiredly but relieved. He raised his new left hand and gently patted Maglor's back, then looked into the distance with his best friend.

The dark clouds of Mordor are being dispersed by the winds of the west. The crumbling Dark Tower raises a cloud of dust that obscures the sky, symbolizing the final elegy of the Dark Age. After many years, the sun finally pierces the eternal haze of Mordor, shedding light on the scorched land that will eventually be reborn.

Isildur knelt beside the body of his father, Elendil, and gazed upon the crumbling Mordor, then upon Meereen and Maglor bathed in the new sunlight. His eyes were filled with grief, regret, and a hint of bewilderment at having survived a catastrophe. Supported by the elves, Gil-galad gazed upon the receding darkness, closing his eyes in a state of tired relief.

The Second Age drew to a close with the utter demise of Sauron and the destruction of the One Ring, amidst the severance and rebirth of Mount Doom. An era had ended, but the future of Middle-earth, still woven from the ashes of blood and fire, held new hopes and challenges.