The battle waged by the paladins had gone remarkably well, at last, the Horde's first wave of attacks had been successfully held off.
However, Lothar had no chance to catch his breath, because the Horde's goal wasn't mere probing.
They intended to crush the Alliance in one decisive blow.
"Another wave of attackers!" a breathless sentinel cried as he reached Alaric and Lothar.
"This time, from the west!"
"Damn it," Lothar growled.
Alaric spurred his warhorse forward, racing toward the new front.
He had to admit, Orgrim was clever.
Even Alaric hadn't foreseen this ambush, and the Alliance was clearly unprepared to respond.
In fact, most had relaxed, even gearing up for a drawn-out siege.
Though Alaric had maintained vigilance due to his knowledge of the original timeline and had issued orders for heightened alertness, many still hadn't taken it seriously.
Some had even removed their armor.
Now, they were paying the price for their complacency.
If the orcs succeeded in weakening the Alliance's defenses with this surprise assault, they might break through and flee into the nearby mountains.
That would set the Alliance back months, possibly years, in tracking them down, giving the Horde ample time to regroup and launch another offensive.
Alaric could not let that happen.
Clearly, Lothar shared the same determination. He led the charge, his warhorse trampling the orcs who failed to scatter in time.
The elite cavalry followed close behind, rallying to their commander.
Alaric didn't hold back either. He knew that in the original timeline, Lothar had perished in this very war.
He had to stay close to the seasoned, if somewhat reckless, general to guard against any fatal surprises.
The assault here was fiercer than the previous one. Hundreds of orcs, perhaps even more, surged forward. Among them were dozens of fearsome ogres.
Their attacks were savage but not mindless like the last wave; they displayed rare coordination, unusual tactical awareness for orcs.
Especially striking was the tall orc among them.
His long hair was braided into ornate plaits that danced as he swung a massive black warhammer, each blow landing squarely on Alliance soldiers.
This giant moved with surprising agility and caution.
He wore a huge suit of black plate armor, formidable and heavy-looking, yet it didn't seem to slow him down in the slightest.
Alaric recognized him instantly.
This was their leader, Orgrim Doomhammer.
Since the start of the Orc Wars, the two sides had clashed countless times, but never before had the leaders of the Horde and the Alliance been this close.
Perhaps this was the inevitable collision of fate.
As Lothar urged his steed back into the fray, the orcish giant raised his head, their eyes meeting in a charged moment.
Orgrim's eyes were not the glowing red common among orcs, they were gray, and gleamed with intelligence. His pupils widened. He had recognized his adversary too.
There!
As Doomhammer spotted the tall human approaching on horseback, a smile crept across his face.
It was him, the man with that shield, that greatsword, and those keen sky-blue eyes.
He was the one.
He was the one Doomhammer had been searching for.
Yet in truth, Doomhammer's first attention hadn't been on Lothar, it had been on Alaric.
Among all the human foes he had encountered, this mage was by far the most troublesome, perhaps even more so than Lothar, or Lordaeron's staunchest supporter, Terenas Menethil.
Alaric held no official command, nor was he a king of any nation. He was simply a human mage with a counselor's title in the Alliance.
And yet, it was his presence that had unraveled Orgrim's strategies time and again, dealing heavy blows to the Horde at every turn.
The cunning and strategy Orgrim once took pride in were rendered almost useless before this man. Not once had he bested him.
At Stormwind, Alaric had held the Horde at bay alone for hours, ensuring a smooth evacuation for the kingdom's citizens and army.
At Grim Batol, he shattered the Dragonmaw Clan's control over the dragons, stripping the Horde of its air superiority.
At Zul'Dare, he led a dragonflight to wipe out the Horde's naval power.
In Arathi Highlands, his cavalry archers thwarted the Horde's farming and resupply efforts.
At Hinterlands, he ambushed the Misty Valley and drove Orgrim into a desperate retreat.
At Alterac, he personally held Kael'thalas, trapping the Horde and cutting off their escape.
Even defectors like Alex Barov from Alterac who had joined the Horde spoke of Alaric as the one who had exposed their movements and caused the failure of the surprise attack on Lordaeron.
And even before the Horde's landing on the continent, Alaric had eradicated the forest trolls, potential allies, months in advance.
That, above all, had shaken Orgrim to his core.
He couldn't help but mutter: a mind like a demon's.
Originally, Orgrim had hoped to take Alaric out with this sudden strike. But he quickly abandoned the notion.
He understood well, no matter how powerful a warrior he was, he couldn't kill a master mage in a reckless frontal assault.
Mages had too many means at their disposal.
Blink. Random teleportation. Ice Barrier for defense. Feather Fall to take to the skies. Invisibility to vanish from sight. Mirror Image to sow confusion…
A mage might struggle to take down a warrior like Orgrim head-on, but evading one? They had a hundred ways to do that.
So, Orgrim shifted his focus to Anduin Lothar.
Though not as frustrating as Alaric, Lothar remained the cornerstone of the Alliance forces.
If Orgrim could take him out, the entire army might crumble.
"Out of my way!" Doomhammer roared, smashing a human soldier in his path and even kicking aside one of his own who had blocked his route.
The fury of battle coursed through him, but his eyes remained locked with grim precision on his true target.
He strode forward, sweeping aside corpses, be they human or orc, with his warhammer.
Everything he did sent a single message to his foe, Come. Face me.
Lothar seemed to receive the message loud and clear. In silent accord, he spurred his horse directly toward the Horde warchief.
He waved off the Alliance soldiers trying to assist him, and cut down one orc after another who dared stand in his way.
At last, no fighters remained between them.
"Anduin Lothar!"
"Orgrim Doomhammer!"
They called out each other's names in unison.
A destined duel was about to begin.
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