"Retreat! Retreat!"
The Horde's retreat horn forced the Alliance to immediately withdraw from this cursed island; without the Horde's assistance, the Alliance fighting alone would only face total annihilation.
SI:7's intelligence had a major error; from the moment they entered the island, they stepped into a trap the demons had prepared for them.
Though they fought with all their might and courage, the enemy's numbers seemed endless, and when they pushed to the gates of Sargeras' Tomb, they couldn't advance even a single step further.
Demons poured out of the portal in Sargeras' Tomb, and the entire battlefield was filled with the sounds of slaughter; tall Demon Guards were brought down by the combined might of Alliance cannons, arrows, and blades, while Alliance soldiers were burned to ashes by Hellfire's flames.
This was truly a slaughterhouse of life, a complete and utter scene of hell.
What made the Alliance high command most despair was that, for unknown reasons, the Horde, who should have advanced and retreated with them, blew the horn of retreat without any warning.
This also meant that, without the Horde's cover, their flanks were completely exposed to the demon assault, and without the high ground advantage the Horde had occupied, they would lose air superiority over the open ground in front of Sargeras' Tomb!
After Dark Lady Sylvanas and her Dark Rangers withdrew, large numbers of Netherwings swooped down from the sky, doubling the pressure on the Alliance.
"Varian!" The tall Worgen with silver mane called out to Varian, "We cannot fight any longer; without the Horde, the Burning Legion can easily crush our lines!"
Varian was still reeling from the Horde's unannounced retreat; hearing Greymane's call, the High King of the Alliance seemed to awaken from a dream, gritting his teeth and making a decision, "High Tinker Mekkatorque! Call for air support, we must retreat!"
The Gnome The Great Tinker Mekkatorque's mech automatically raised its right arm, blasting the demon on the right to pieces. He himself operated the intercom system on the mech, "Received, Your Majesty. Calling for air support now—Lads, we need reinforcements! Do your best to secure air superiority!"
After the Alliance airships received Mekkatorque's message, their captains immediately ordered all cannons into position; they had to open a gap in the sky covered by Netherwings to buy time for the Alliance's retreat!
The few minutes waiting for the airships felt incredibly long; almost every second, Varian could hear the wails of Alliance soldiers being slaughtered by demon blades.
The Alliance line was constantly compressed, and finally, after this extremely long wait, the Alliance airships finally broke through the Netherwing encirclement, cutting a bloody path.
Watching the endless stream of demon armies emerging from the portal, Varian's face was grim. He slung Saramaine onto his back and grabbed the rope ladder lowered by the airship, "Get everyone on board!"
With the gunship's support, the Netherwing encirclement was briefly torn open, and the surviving Alliance forces struggled to board the gunship. But just as they thought they could escape the demon encirclement, a hunched figure among the demon army gestured towards the sky.
With Sargeras' Tomb as a beacon, the Burning Legion's forces could be deployed to Azeroth with almost no resistance. And this time, it was a green meteor, tens of meters in diameter, that the Alliance had never seen before!
The shockwave from the meteor's impact with the ground made the gunship sway uncontrollably. Varian tightly gripped the rope ladder, staring at the terrifying sight before him, until a large, steel-covered hand emerged from the green smoke and violently grabbed the gunship's deck.
The wooden, iron-clad deck was easily crushed by the brute force of the gigantic steel Hellfire. Under the Hellfire's pull, no matter how the gunship's propellers spun, it could not break free from the Hellfire's grip.
And with a slight pull from the Hellfire, the entire gunship began to tilt, countless soldiers, cannons, and equipment slid off the deck, falling hundreds of meters to the ground, with almost no chance of survival.
Mekkatork's mech tightly gripped the railing on the other side of the deck, also hooking onto a few lucky individuals, saving them from the fate of falling.
Greymane leaned against the side of the gunship, extending his right hand towards Varian, who was still on the rope ladder, "Varian, give me your hand!"
Varian heard Greymane's call, but he knew deeply that if this behemoth wasn't eliminated, no one on the gunship would be able to escape. If the gunship crashed, this unit would suffer a devastating blow.
The Alliance could not be buried here today!
This thought flashed through Varian's mind, and in an instant, he made his decision.
Varian wiped his hand across his lower back, handing a wax-sealed letter to Greymane, "Take this… to my son."
Greymane caught the letter, but Varian took that moment to leap, drawing Saramaine again, and plunged it fiercely into the Hellfire's head.
The heavily struck Hellfire lost control of the gunship. It staggered and fell to the ground. Varian tightly gripped Saramaine's hilt but was also violently thrown back by the impact.
Taking advantage of this gap, the gunship finally managed to escape, but Varian could no longer board the retreating gunship. Greymane hadn't even recovered from everything that had happened; he held the letter Varian had given him, staring at the gradually receding Broken Shore as if his soul had left him.
Varian, recovering from the impact, stood up. He glared at the hunched figure within the demon army before him. Although there were no longer any Alliance soldiers behind him, the High King would never fear.
Varian resolutely split Saramaine into two; he held the elven twin swords in his hands, and alone, he walked towards the hundreds of Demon Guards.
The hunched Orc leaned on his staff, sneering as he waved his hand, and dozens of Demon Guards, wielding long spears, surrounded Varian.
A demon charged at Varian. He parried the attack with Saramaine and cleanly ended the demon's life with a single sword stroke.
However, demons are not knights; they do not fight one-on-one. No matter how strong Varian was, there would always be moments of exhaustion and vulnerability. Just as Varian cut down another Demon Guard, a huge opening appeared behind him.
A demon's long spear slashed diagonally at Varian's wide-open back. The Orc revealed a look of certainty; this strike would be the beginning of this stubborn human's downfall…
However, the script did not unfold as he had imagined. Just as Varian was about to be ambushed and wounded, a holy light blade soared into the sky, sweeping past the demon behind Varian. When the light blade disappeared, more than a dozen Demon Guards turned to ash.
A demon in front of Varian was also affected, ignited into a torch by the scorching holy light. Varian kicked the demon away, rolled backward, and created distance from the demons.
As he crouched, he saw it: a blue and gold cape appeared before his eyes, and the Ashbringer, glowing with a flame-like holy light, radiating a brilliance more dazzling than ever before.