Having once been defeated by this blade, even the forces of nature retained a deep, instinctive memory of Narsil, the Holy Sword.
This sword carried immense sanctified power, capable of suppressing and erasing evil itself. Even in its shattered state, Narsil had been enough to restrain Sauron, weaken his essence, and leave him gravely wounded.
Otherwise, the final battle of the Last Alliance would never have been possible.
It was impossible that Sauron's physical form vanished merely because a finger had been severed and the Ring removed. The true cause was Narsil itself.
This holy blade did not merely restrain Sauron, it posed a fatal threat to the very spiritual core of his existence.
Once struck by it, soul and spirit would be utterly annihilated.
No resurrection.
No return.
Not even Sauron himself could escape such destruction.
Overwhelmed by the presence of Narsil, the corrupted spirit recoiled in terror and fled.
Aragorn did not pursue it.
Instead, he raised the holy sword high and drove it down with all his strength into the head of the Dragon beneath his feet.
The dragon's skull, hard as iron, was pierced as easily as parchment.
Narsil plunged deep into its head.
The Dragon did not even have time to scream.
Its massive body froze instantly. Its eyes went dark.
The evil spirit dwelling within the dragon erupted outward, exploding into a dense cloud of black smoke that shot into the sky before dispersing completely.
The Dragon's corpse rapidly decayed.
Foul, blackened blood seeped into the ground, poisoning the soil and killing all nearby vegetation. Its flesh collapsed into rot, leaving behind only a colossal skeletal frame.
This creature was unlike the lesser drakes and demi-dragons.
It had been fed vast quantities of rotting filth by Sauron and thoroughly saturated with dark power, a fully demonized Dragon of Corruption.
Where it died, the land itself would wither.
For centuries, nothing would grow there.
Before the corpse finished collapsing, Aragorn withdrew Narsil and turned, pointing the blade toward the Ringwraith
"Who are you?"
"Why does Narsil's Holy Sword rest in your hands?"
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," he declared calmly.
"A direct descendant of Isildur. The rightful bearer of Narsil."
Though the Ringwraith feared the blade, they still sneered bitterly.
"Heh. Even if you wield Narsil, you cannot prevent Gondor's destruction."
Aragorn's grip tightened on the sword.
His expression did not waver.
Seemingly unaffected by the terrifying aura emanating from the spirits, Aragorn declared coldly,
"Gondor will not fall. Today, only you will."
As his words fell, a bone-chilling wind swept in from the western battlefield, a wind that pierced straight into the soul. Every living being shuddered.
The fierce clash on the battlefield faltered. All eyes turned westward in shock.
Amid swirling mist and howling wind, hundreds of thousands of undead warriors surged forward at terrifying speed. Their overwhelming aura of death rose skyward, darkening the heavens themselves. They were like heralds of annihilation, pouring forth from the underworld to reap souls.
Even the soldiers of Mordor were seized by terror at the sight.
At the forefront strode the King of the Dead, wielding the Sword of the Dead, leading the vast Army of the Dead into battle.
Both armies recoiled instinctively from the undead tide, but the Gondorian soldiers quickly realized something astonishing.
The undead ignored Gondor entirely.
They attacked only the forces of Mordor.
Understanding dawned instantly. These spirits had come as allies.
At Aragorn's roar, the soldiers of Gondor raised their weapons and charged, following the Army of the Dead straight into the enemy ranks.
The soldiers of Mordor desperately tried to resist, but it was hopeless.
The Army of the Dead was immune to physical attacks.
Swords passed harmlessly through them. Arrows were meaningless.
Steel and flesh were utterly ineffective.
Yet every strike from the undead was fatal.
Though the bodies of the Mordor soldiers showed no wounds, they collapsed lifelessly, their souls extinguished by the cursed blades of the dead.
Even massive war beasts, demon dragons and mammoths, were swarmed by crawling spirits. No matter how they thrashed or roared, they soon collapsed, unable to rise again. The evil spirits bound within them were forcibly torn apart, shredded into nothingness.
Under the combined assault of the Army of the Dead and the Gondorian forces, the demon army fell into complete disarray.
Surrounded by countless undead, the Ringwraith commander was forcibly torn apart, its dark form shredded by the grasp of the dead. Under the combined assault of the Army of the Dead and the armies of Gondor, the forces of Mordor were driven into a complete rout, retreating in disorder.
Against the unreasonable power of the undead, the demon army had absolutely no means of resistance. Panic spread rapidly, formations collapsed, and defeat followed defeat in quick succession.
Seeing the tide turn so completely, the Ringwraiths were shocked and enraged. Abandoning all restraint, the commander turned his killing intent toward the King of the Dead, attempting to strike down the source of this impossible reversal.
But before he could advance, Aragorn, Legolas, Faramir, and the other Dúnedain wizards struck as one.
Aragorn charged first, wielding the holy sword Narsil, a blade that carried a natural and absolute suppression against wraiths and evil spirits. Its presence alone caused the Ringwraith's form to distort and recoil.
Realizing the situation had turned completely against him, the Ringwraith commander began to consider retreat.
Aragorn did not allow it.
"Expecto Patronum."
The command rang out, and the Dúnedain wizards cast their spells in unison.
Aragorn summoned a lion of light.
Legolas called forth a gigantic spectral stag.
Faramir summoned a wild bull.
Others summoned wolves, horses, hounds, and birds of light.
Dozens of guardian spirits gathered together, radiating brilliance, hope, and purification. Individually, such spirits posed little threat to a Ringwraith, but united, they forced the wraith to unleash its full power.
Dark energy erupted violently as the Ringwraith attempted to break free.
The guardian spirits responded by merging into a sacred barrier of light, sealing the Ringwraith within and cutting off all paths of escape.
Under the suppression of the barrier, Aragorn stepped inside alone.
Trained by Elrond, hardened by decades of travel, and strengthened further by magic, Aragorn faced the Ringwraith without fear. Steel and shadow clashed violently as holy light and dark sorcery tore through the confined space.
At last, with the aid of his companions holding the barrier steady, Aragorn drove Narsil straight into the Ringwraith's chest.
A piercing, agonized scream echoed across the battlefield.
The dark power sustaining the Ringwraith collapsed instantly. Its armor twisted inward, shattered, and imploded as a violent surge of corrupted energy exploded outward.
The blast hurled Aragorn, Legolas, and the others backward. A shockwave rippled across the battlefield, knocking soldiers and undead alike to the ground.
When the light faded, the Ringwraith commander was gone.
Only a dark ring clattered to the earth.
With their commander destroyed, the demon army's morale completely collapsed. They scattered in all directions, but escape was impossible. The undead pursued them relentlessly, cutting them down with terrifying speed until no resistance remained.
Aragorn did not join the chase.
He bent down and picked up the ring.
The instant his fingers touched it, a powerful pull surged into his mind. Relying on sheer will, Aragorn resisted, swiftly wrapping the ring in black cloth and sealing it within his spatial pouch. He would deliver it to Lord Elrond once the battle was fully concluded.
When the last of the soldiers fell, both the battlefield and Minas Tirith erupted in thunderous cheers.
What had seemed certain destruction had become total victory.
The soldiers and citizens of Gondor looked upon the Army of the Dead with awe, fear, and deep gratitude.
As the undead gathered and advanced toward Aragorn, he stepped forward and bowed slightly.
"Thank you. You have fulfilled your oath. Gondor is saved. You are free."