The space around the beleaguered elven ships boiled with malice as the demon armada, sixty vessels strong, bore down on them with relentless fury. Anariel, ever calm in the face of adversity, surveyed the rapidly evolving situation with a commander's eye. Her fleet, though outnumbered, was not yet defeated.
"Into the asteroid belt," she commanded, her voice resolute over the comm system. "Use the field to our advantage. It will level the playing field."
Her orders disseminated through the fleet with lightning speed, each of her captains responding with the precision and discipline that had been drilled into them over centuries. The eight elven ships, graceful and lethal even in retreat, angled towards the nearby asteroid belt, a dense and treacherous field of rock and ice that had claimed many a vessel unwise enough to navigate its confines without caution.