The blade of Light pierced through the demonic ranks; several Demon Guards turned to ash under the ashbringer's blade and the Light, and Tirion's body swayed. He quickly used the ashbringer to support himself, preventing himself from falling.
Dozens of demons had already fallen before Highlord Tirion Fordring, but what was despairing was that Balnazzar's troops showed no signs of decreasing; instead, the number of demons pressing forward had increased several times over.
Balnazzar pointed his claw at Tirion, "Capture him alive, and bring me the ashbringer."
He could already tell that Tirion was no longer able to use even a tiny bit of the Light's power. That last sword strike was Tirion's final defiance; now, even the Light on the ashbringer had begun to gradually dim.
Tirion coughed twice and raised the ashbringer again. His expression remained unchanged, even though the movement had torn his wounds, and the fel's potent venom began to pollute his body.
A Demon Guard wielding a great axe charged forward. Tirion gritted his teeth and stepped forward, dodging the descending axe blade, and with a swing, severed the Demon Guard's right leg.
The unbalanced demon fell against Tirion. Tirion tilted his body to the side, sending the demon to the ground, and used the ashbringer to sever its head.
However, after all this, Tirion's strength could no longer support him in wielding the greatsword in his hand. The ashbringer, which had never left his grasp, fell to the ground for the first time, and two fel runic spears seized the opportunity to pierce Tirion's waist and shoulder.
Tirion grunted, pulled out the short sword from his waist, and swept it across the necks of the two Demon Guards in front of him. Just as he tried to take another step forward, he could no longer extract any more strength from his shattered body. His right leg buckled, and he knelt on one knee on the ground.
He pulled out the spear from his shoulder, propped himself up with the sword hilt, trying to stand from the ground, but his injuries were too severe, and he could no longer continue fighting.
"Fording, do you have any more tricks?" Balnazzar rested his hand on his chin, "Wouldn't it have been better to just kneel like this from the beginning? You would have suffered a lot less."
"You… you won't succeed!" Tirion gritted his teeth, gripping the hilt of the longsword, and with his other hand, grasped the ashbringer. With strength from an unknown source, he shakily stood up, "For… Azeroth!"
Hearing Tirion's words, Balnazzar frowned. He felt that the lives on this planet were all stubborn fools. The Legion had already surrounded Azeroth; did they still think they could defeat the Burning Legion?
"Enough, go grab him, the game is over!"
The Demon Guards formed a circle and slowly advanced towards Tirion Fordring. Tirion's gaze was resolute, completely devoid of fear or cowardice. From the moment he stepped onto the shores of the Broken Shore, he had already contemplated this outcome.
The old man picked up the Argent Crusade's battle standard from the ground, tied it to his back, and with his last ounce of strength, shouted,
"Argent Crusade, Charge—!!"
"Bang!"
A massive warhammer forged from Light descended from the sky, directly knocking over the Demon Guards. The hard rocky ground was smashed into a crater several meters wide by the falling Light warhammer.
The demons caught at the hammer's impact point instantly turned to ash, as if swept by the ashbringer's blade.
Tirion turned his head in astonishment to look behind him. A powerful and pure force of Light continuously emanated from behind him. For a moment, he even thought his former comrades were standing behind him again.
However, standing behind him was a mysterious hooded knight. A massive Holy Relic was strapped to his waist, and the warhammer in his hand was glowing brightly.
"This is… armor from the old Lordaeron period?"
Tirion saw the familiar plate armor style and instantly recalled the memories he had long sealed away—the magnificent armor with a blue and gold base, and the equally blue and gold exquisite cape. In his memory, only one person would wear such adornments.
And that person was also the one forgotten by everyone, the cursed one.
"The Light never fades. Your fel might not save your life today, Balnazzar."
A clear voice echoed throughout the entire valley. Balnazzar stared at the suddenly appearing mysterious knight, utterly bewildered—who exactly was this guy? The Argent Crusade in this valley should have been completely annihilated.
Despite his many questions, Balnazzar did not take the knight who suddenly entered the fray seriously.
"Kill this fool who doesn't know his place. I want his head as a decoration."
Tirion, however, was utterly shocked, so much so that he didn't even hear Balnazzar's arrogant declaration. He wondered if his injuries were too severe, causing problems with his hearing. This voice… this voice was—
Arthas Menethil?!
Arthas stepped forward, and The Light's Vengeance ignited with blazing holy flames. Several wings of Light extended from his back, and the Light formed a faceplate, connecting with his hood. In the eyes of the demons and Tirion, they could only see a holy knight wearing a golden faceplate and six wings of Light on his back.
With a flap of his holy wings, Arthas shot forth like lightning. The demon soldiers attempted to surround Arthas, but with a wave of his left hand, a blaze of Light streamed out, adhering to the demons' bodies and instantly bursting into flames.
The flames merged into a single expanse, and Arthas's figure vanished from Balnazzar's sight. The Dreadlords twisted his neck, trying to find Arthas's trace, but the light was too intense, and the demons who couldn't escape immediately became fuel for the Light.
Suddenly, an intense sense of danger came from behind him. Balnazzar turned his body at the fastest speed, but he could only see the head of the warhammer imprinted on his face.
A heart-stopping sound of bones shattering echoed. Balnazzar's skull was directly crushed in half by Arthas's heavy blow. Although the demon's formidable vitality prevented him from dying instantly, it only made his death process more prolonged and painful.
His tall body lost balance under Arthas's fierce strike, and he fell backward. Liquids of various colors splattered from his cracked skull, only to be evaporated by the burning flames.
The other lower-ranking demons had no time to react as their commander was struck again by Arthas. The Light's Vengeance descended like a meteor, tracing a golden arc in the air, making another intimate contact with Balnazzar's head.
Balnazzar's body completely ceased movement, slumping to the ground. His head was utterly pulverized by the immense Light, turning him into a headless corpse lying on the ground, demon blood spilling everywhere.
At the same time, the Dreadlords' soul escaped. He looked at Arthas in terror, screaming, "This is impossible?! Who exactly are you!"