At the peak of Mount Hyjal, Tyrande, who was unclear about what happened at the first line of defense, also looked worriedly at the sky half-covered by fel clouds.
She stood on the Moon God Temple's lookout, below her were Night Elves civilians being evacuated; many of them were panicking, but even more were at a loss, still unaware of what was happening.
"Priestess, the civilians have been settled. They will leave Nordrassil and be transferred to a safe place."
"Shandris… you should also seek refuge." Tyrande sighed softly. She had long known what Malfurion wanted to do; the area near Nordrassil would not be safe until the war ended.
"What are you saying? I will protect our homeland with the Sentinel Force."
Shandris Feathermoon, a non-commissioned officer in the Sentinel Force, also had another identity: Tyrande's adopted daughter.
As an orphan from the War of the Ancients, her parents, relatives, and friends all died under the demons' blades. It was Tyrande who found this poor girl and raised her.
Shandris showed astonishing combat talent early on. Although she couldn't become a Priestess like Tyrande, she joined the Sentinel Force and became a brave and skilled Sentinel.
Tyrande shook her head, turned, and placed her hand on Shandris's head, just as she did when she was young. "Shandris, Malfurion and I, and that human Prince Arthas, have long discovered that there is an opponent in the Burning Legion that cannot be defeated by numbers.
Facing that fellow, sending out more troops is useless. The Alliance's allies are doing their best to buy us enough time, but when that fellow completely loses patience, we must bear the final responsibility."
"But…"
"There are no 'buts,' Shandris. I know you want to personally avenge your family, but not now," Tyrande's gaze returned to the World Tree. She had watched this giant tree grow with her own eyes, and the elves were also protected by this tree.
But Tyrande reconsidered and said to Shandris, who looked a bit downcast, "If you don't want to leave, then stay here and keep me company."
...
"Tyrande…" Illidan sat on a cliff on Mount Hyjal. From there, he could see the vast demon army charging towards the Alliance's position.
He was indifferent to this, holding a bouquet of light yellow flowers that looked as if they had just been picked. Having been locked in the dungeon for ten thousand years, he used the only magic he could muster to keep the little flower alive.
Being punished by his brother and scorned by his kin had no effect on Illidan. From the moment he entered Azshara's palace, he had clearly defined his purpose. Even if he was abandoned by everyone, Illidan's belief would not waver.
However, during this long imprisonment, Illidan was not without thoughts. Even the darkest dungeon could not stop him from recalling events from ten thousand years ago.
He had already stepped into darkness, but even in the darkest place, there was a little light that belonged to Illidan.
He never complained about why Tyrande chose Malfurion instead of him. Even he himself knew that Tyrande's choice was the more correct one for her.
It was just that Illidan couldn't let go of this matter.
Illidan sighed softly. His face, which had been gentle, became sharp again. Putting away the little flower with precious memories, he picked up the Azzinoth Twinblades and stood on the cliff.
Logically, Illidan, with his absolute egoistic philosophy, would never take risks. After failing to hunt Tichondrius, he should not have chosen to get involved in this mess again.
However, as a Demon Hunter, Illidan knew better than anyone how much power the Burning Legion had invested and how determined they were to flatten Mount Hyjal.
And in the endless ocean of demons, Illidan even felt a terrifying aura that made him tremble uncontrollably.
Intervening in this battle at this time would undoubtedly be very dangerous. The demons would not show mercy to Illidan just because he looked like a demon.
On the contrary, the Legion was always very decisive with traitors who betrayed the Burning Legion, giving them no chance of survival.
It was just Illidan's own reason for having to get involved in this mess.
He knew very well that his brother was not a useless person who had no solution when faced with difficulties. Malfurion definitely had a way to resolve the current situation.
All he had to do was delay for a little while. In Illidan's eyes, the Alliance alone could not stop the Legion's advance.
So he felt he had to do something, otherwise, if the demons attacked the summit of Mount Hyjal before Malfurion made up his mind, Tyrande's safety could not be guaranteed.
Since Tichondrius had also joined this battle, Illidan planned to go find him and settle old scores.
That insidious fellow had pinned the blame on Illidan and even dealt him a blow. Illidan remembered this grudge clearly.
The Demon Hunter's wings on his back suddenly flapped, and he soared into the sky again.
A qualified hunter had long remembered the scent of his prey. Now, it was his hunting time.
Tichondrius did not know that Illidan, whom he had tricked, was once again targeting him. He stood on the ruins of the Alliance's first line of defense, with a very unpleasant expression.
The place was already deserted. Before the demons completely broke through the gate, the people had already been teleported away. Although a lot of supplies that were difficult to take away were still left behind, it was clear that this did not satisfy Tichondrius.
Archimonde crushed a depleted mana crystal with his foot, scratching his chin and sneering, "Is this what you call a charge? Is it against this pile of rubble, or these glass-fragile mana crystals?"
Archimonde's questioning made it difficult for Tichondrius to answer, but it did not prevent him from having a grudge against Archimonde. He was originally Kil'jaeden's adjutant, but now he was sent to assist Archimonde.
This fellow constantly wanted to show off his power and didn't care about anything else. To be honest, although he was much easier to get along with than Kil'jaeden, it made Tichondrius very unhappy.
However, despite his displeasure, Tichondrius did not dare to openly slander Archimonde, otherwise, he might very well be crushed by the other party like an insect.
The pile of ruins beneath their feet was the best proof of Archimonde's power. Destroying a camp equipped with hundreds of mages was merely a wave of his hand to him.
Seeing that Tichondrius did not respond, Archimonde did not want to talk to him anymore. He waved his hand, and two massive figures crushed the city wall and walked over. "Next, you will go and guard the portal in the rear. The attack will be left to Kaz'Rogal and Azgalor."
"Yes, Lord Archimonde."
Tichondrius suppressed the unhappiness in his heart. The hierarchy among demons was stricter than any ordinary civilization. No matter how unwilling he was, he could only choose to obey.
Archimonde led the demon Legion, crushing their way along the mountain path. He did not care about the Alliance's obstruction; instead, he had a certain interest in trampling these insects.
After dealing with the first position, he wanted to see how the Alliance could still stop the Burning Legion's advance.
Tichondrius himself flew back to the Burning Legion's camp. There, two Dreadlords were monitoring the status of the portals.
One of them was Detheroc, and the other was Anetheron, a Dreadlord whose status was second only to Tichondrius, responsible for the stability of the portals between the Twisting Nether and Azeroth.
"Tichondrius?" Anetheron looked at his kin. "Why are you here?"
"I was sent to monitor the camp's situation," Tichondrius replied expressionlessly.
The two Dreadlords immediately understood. Given Tichondrius's deadpan expression and tone, he had clearly been disliked by Archimonde and relegated here.
Anetheron and Detheroc did not dwell on Tichondrius's wound too much. After all, he was still the nominal leader of the Dreadlords. If they wanted to laugh, it wouldn't be too late to do so after his title was stripped away.
"Then I'll leave this camp to the two of you. I'll return to Felwood Forest. The portal there was summoned by me, and I'll go see if it's still functioning normally."
Detheroc glanced at the situation, feeling it best not to be caught between the two top Nathrezim, and decided to return to Felwood Forest.
It was he who, while Tichondrius was spreading fel, secretly established multiple portals and ultimately summoned Archimonde's arrival.
The attention of the Night Elves and Arthas was drawn by Tichondrius. They did not realize that Tichondrius was not acting alone. Detheroc, who had been missing since the fall of Naxxramas, had been secretly assisting Tichondrius in completing his evil plan.
Tichondrius glanced at Detheroc. "You stay at the front line. I will go to Felwood Forest to check. If there are no problems there, I will return after Lord Archimonde deals with these stubbornly resisting mortals."
He really didn't want to work with Archimonde anymore. Since the other party didn't want him to participate in the war either, he might as well go a bit further, back to Felwood Forest.
Before leaving, Tichondrius suddenly remembered something. He instructed Anetheron and Detheroc, "The Lich King is an unstable factor. I don't know what his purpose is, but, never be careless."
This time, Tichondrius no longer confidently believed that the Lich King and the Scourge would not cause any trouble. Arthas was almost like a madman, acting without any method, never considering the consequences or gains and losses.
The Lich King?" Anatheron thought of the original invasion plan. The Undead Scourge was supposed to assist the Burning Legion in invading Azeroth, but now they had lost contact. "Did the Lich King betray the Legion?"
Tichondrius and Detheroc exchanged glances. "It's not as simple as betrayal. I always feel that guy might be the most dangerous factor in this world."
Anatheron didn't react much. "When Archimonde finishes up here, Azeroth will cease to exist, and the Lich King's fate won't matter."
"Let's hope so."
…
At the second line of defense, only Arthas was in command. There were no fortresses here, but rather Alliance ambushes set up on the mountain peaks on both sides.
This was an extremely narrow pass, with a canyon hundreds of meters deep on the side of the mountain path. Building defensive works in such a place wasn't about being easy to defend and hard to attack, but rather about preparing to perish with the enemy.
After all, demons weren't idiots who only used cold weapons. Even without Archimonde, an Pit Lord would be enough to shatter the mountain wall and bury the defensive line established at the pass.
"Prince Arthas," a First Legion soldier standing beside Arthas gripped the hilt of his longsword nervously. The lining of his armor was already soaked with sweat. "Can we… can we really win this battle?"
Normally, a soldier's words would make a general think he was disrupting morale, but Arthas looked around and saw that most people's expressions were very downcast. They had already learned that the first line of defense was breached by the demons in just a few tens of minutes. The difference between the two sides was like heaven and earth, which truly made people despair.
Clearly, even the most well-trained soldiers would doubt themselves. Could they really deal with such enemies?
Arthas did not scold the soldier, but instead said, "Look up, look at me."
Hearing the Prince Arthas's tone, the soldier immediately realized he had spoken out of turn. He quickly straightened his body, holding his helmet under one arm, and looked directly into Arthas's face.
It was his shifty eyes that betrayed his inner thoughts.
However, Arthas did not scold him as he expected. "Soldier, did you participate in the Orcish Wars?"
The young soldier replied, "I did not, but my father joined Sir Lothar's forces."
"Very good, soldier, now, listen," Arthas's voice rose, deliberately making sure all the soldiers present could hear his words, "Just as you think, our enemy is very powerful, so powerful that our hope of victory is very slim, even to the point that we cannot win at all.
But, think carefully, fifteen years ago, when the orcs invaded in force, when they destroyed Alterac and pressed towards Lordaeron, our fathers faced such a desperate situation, did they give up?
They did not. They chose to pick up their weapons, join Sir Lothar's army, and fight to the death with these invaders of our homeland. Why? Because if they did not pick up their weapons and fight, the enemy would also show us no mercy. They would kill our relatives, friends, and destroy our homes.
Today, fifteen years later, the enemy we face is even more cruel and powerful than the orcs. Are we to give up just because of this? Will those ugly monsters not destroy everything we cherish just because we lay down our swords and shields?
Soldiers, like you, I do not have absolute confidence in victory, but this cannot shake our determination to protect our cherished relatives, loved ones, and friends. We can die here, but we will never surrender to the demons, because if we surrender, it means we are personally allowing them to trample everything we cherish!
They are monsters, demons born from the Twisting Nether who only know slaughter and destruction. They are devils without humanity. From the very beginning, they came with the goal of destroying our homeland. We must also fight with the determination to kill every demon, regardless of honor, regardless of victory or defeat, but rather for survival."
Arthas raised his warhammer above his head, and warm holy light flowed into every soldier present, igniting the most steadfast and powerful fire of courage in their hearts. "So, we don't care about victory or defeat, because from the very beginning, we have no room for defeat."
When mortals face the Burning Legion, they will fear, shrink back, and wail under the Legion's unstoppable destruction and slaughter, but as demons born in the Twisting Nether, whose very nature is destruction and slaughter, they have no mercy. This is a war with no choice and no retreat.
If the proud Night Elves could sacrifice the World Tree and the Well of Eternity to repel the Burning Legion, then Arthas was also prepared to give his life to defeat him.
The civilization of Azeroth can be defeated and destroyed, but the instinct to survive cannot be broken by demons.
Arthas could not ask everyone to be like him, not to fear the power of the Burning Legion, because he knew that no matter how much he tried to integrate into this world, he would always be an anomaly. It was precisely because of this that he could pursue power that was feared and despised by others without any psychological burden.
But Azeroth was not his world alone, nor could he protect it by himself. He could strengthen the Alliance's ties, make Lordaeron's national power strong again, and use the power of the Undead Scourge, but these were not things one person could do. Therefore, he had to lead others to face the threat to Azeroth.
If humanity retreated from the Burning Legion today, they would forever fear the power of demons.
And Arthas was going to turn "forever" into "temporarily." We can temporarily fear, temporarily retreat, but one day, we will overcome fear itself, and that day will be the day we defeat the Burning Legion.
The imprint of courage had been carved into the hearts of the Alliance soldiers by Arthas, and it remained to be seen when this imprint would truly enable them to face the "Invincible Legion" that rampaged across the universe.
However… for now, let's focus on the present.
…
The Alliance's defensive lines and the Horde's camps were all turned into ruins after the Burning Legion's advance. However, due to Arthas's prior preparations, although their defensive works were completely destroyed, the actual loss of personnel was not significant.
When the main forces of the Alliance and Horde retreated to the highest peak of Mount Hyjal, they were merely a bit disheveled, but they had not suffered any substantial injuries that would render them unable to fight.
However, when they retreated to the summit of Mount Hyjal, guarding the World Tree, everyone's expression was extremely solemn. They had no retreat. Although they could still escape danger by relying on the mages' teleportation abilities, once they left, if Archimonde absorbed the power of the World Tree and the Well of Eternity, then they would truly be unable to resist Archimonde.
As everyone felt anxious and nervous about this final moment, in a secluded forest on Mount Hyjal, Malfurion walked with heavy steps to a wooden platform that held a large horn.
"Teacher, for the survival of the world, I must do this."
This horn was called the "Horn of Cenarius." This horn, blessed by Cenarius, did not possess any particularly miraculous abilities, nor did it have powerful strength to defeat Archimonde.
But it could summon the ancient spirits of the Night Elves' ancestors, and Malfurion could only think of one thing that could defeat Archimonde.
His gaze passed through the forest, landing on the still lush and vibrant World Tree Nordrassil. This World Tree, blessed by the Dragon Legion and nourished by the Well of Eternity, contained an unimaginable amount of energy. Next, Malfurion's plan was to detonate the World Tree's energy when Archimonde approached it.
"Have you made your decision?"
A ethereal voice sounded behind Malfurion. The Arch Druid gripped the Horn of Cenarius with a resolute expression. "This is no longer a question… If we don't, we and our world will perish; if we do, we might gain a slim chance of survival."
"Isn't that the meaning of our existence?" Malfurion turned with a faint smile. There was no one behind him, only rustling leaves, and the seemingly unchanging breeze and flowing water.
He spent a long time re-establishing contact with the ancient spirits. Since they were all willing to sacrifice themselves for the future of the Night Elves, what Malfurion had to do was to gamble with the present of the Night Elves.
Ten thousand years of life was truly too long. Although he had wandered in the Emerald Dream for many years, he could still glimpse terrifying nightmares in the peaceful and harmonious nature. If not for the Dragon Legion's blessings, Nordrassil might have been eroded by terrifying forces long ago. It would not have been a sanctuary for the elves, but rather their death warrant.
The Dragon Legion used their power to clean up the mess made by the elves' unauthorized actions, and Malfurion believed that it was now time to return this power to Azeroth, because the Dragon Legion's inherent duty was to protect the planet beneath their feet.
The Arch Druid took a deep breath. This was indeed a huge gamble with the fate of the entire Night Elf race, but at least, in this war, the Night Elves realized that they were not fighting the Burning Legion alone. There were other heroes in this world fighting for the survival of Azeroth.
The Night Elves, who had slept for ten thousand years, should not just huddle on Mount Hyjal anymore.