Liam stood inside the Light Shield, looking at the rippling shield with a face full of disbelief.
He asked Valeera blankly, "Is this Arthas's true strength…?"
Unexpectedly, Valeera shook her head calmly, put her dagger back into its sheath, found a place to sit cross-legged, and said, "No, absolutely not."
"This isn't it?!" Rona was almost going crazy; she thought the Arthas she was seeing now was already absurd and unrealistic enough, but this cold and aloof Elf Miss actually said this wasn't all of Arthas's power?
"Yes, although I don't know how strong His Highness truly is, I know this is definitely not all of his power."
Valeera said, turning her gaze towards Liadrin, who also noticed Valeera's intention. She re-slung her kite shield and longsword, "In my training and sparring with this Prince over the past few months, I have never gained the upper hand in combat—not even when I used the power of the Light and he only used swordsmanship and brute force."
Liadrin's expression was somewhat complex. "Sometimes I even thought my opponent was not human, but a hero who had stepped out of legends."
Tulani temporarily stopped continuously infusing energy into the Light Shield. The spectacle on Arthas's side looked exaggerated, but Tulani wouldn't let the aftershocks of their battle blow away the shield.
Blocking the worgen earlier was what truly consumed some of Tulani's physical and mental energy, so she took this time to rest for a while, to avoid any unexpected situations.
…However, she also truly believed in Arthas. Although that white-furred worgen was indeed fierce, perhaps even stronger than the most formidable centurion Tulani had ever seen, Arthas, well, Tulani naturally excluded him from the ranks of "ordinary people."
If Liadrin and Valeera had seen Arthas's public facade, then Tulani was someone who had seen the hidden iceberg of Arthas.
It was true that the worgen named Lyral was strong, but Tulani didn't feel he was more dangerous than Katrana, or Onyxia—not even after he had the moon god scythe.
Even Velinde quietly put down her blood-stained twin swords. She had thought of going to help, but when she saw the intense battle—or rather, Lyral being unilaterally trampled by Arthas—she suddenly felt as if she couldn't intervene.
Perhaps going in at this time would truly just cause trouble.
Velinde thought so. She was not a reckless person who acted on temporary courage, otherwise she would not have been assigned as the Sentinel Commander of the Ashenvale region.
But she was still amazed and shocked by the power Arthas displayed. This was different from all the battles she had seen; there was no strategic play, no intertwining of magic, but the most primitive form of combat, relying solely on physical strength, like the Wild Gods who had fallen long ago.
Lyral was a druid before, and now he was the Alpha Worgen. He might know how to fight, but after adapting to his new form and body, those fighting techniques might not apply.
So Lyral's attacks had no discernible pattern, but with the wildness of the wolf spirit, each of his attacks was as sharp and deadly as a wild wolf that had hunted for many years.
In contrast, Arthas held a shield in one hand and a sword in the other, a very conservative and common defensive stance. And he indeed remained on the defensive, only striking Lyral with his longsword in the brief pauses after Lyral's frantic barrages ended and before new offensives could form.
The blade of Frostmourne could easily penetrate Lyral's fur, which was already tougher than typical chainmail, leaving a bloody mark on his body.
However, most of these wounds were not deep, and compared to Lyral's massive size, they were not fatal at all. Yet, Arthas seemed unfazed, continuing his offense-defense battle with Lyral in a methodical manner.
Their exchange looked unremarkable, but any single blow could instantly crush a strong man.
Arthas's shield wasn't just for defense; sometimes he'd strike Lyral's head, and seeing the worgen's tall figure stumble violently, coupled with the crisp sound, Liam felt his own head ache.
"Maybe we can do something else now?" Liam thought, casting his gaze elsewhere, finally settling on the moon god scythe.
"Lady Velinde, the scythe, can we retrieve the scythe?"
Liam's words immediately drew Velinde's attention away from Arthas and Lyral's struggle and back to the moon god scythe.
Lyral's own strength wasn't that great; a large part of his current power came from the blessing of Goldrinn's wolf spirit within the scythe.
If they could retrieve the scythe, then Arthas, who was already evenly matched with Lyral, should be able to easily deal with Lyral, and with the scythe, the remaining worgen would no longer be a problem.
Although there were still many worgen around the scythe, under Lyral's command, they dared not move rashly, otherwise they wouldn't have stopped attacking.
"I'll try." Velinde stared at the scythe. The crescent moon in the sky made her feel as if something bad was happening, perhaps not as simple as Lyral's increased strength.
The Night Elves Priestess did not hesitate. Like a nimble Night Blade Panther, she swiftly rushed towards the open ground where the scythe lay. The worgen noticed Velinde's movement, but due to Lyral's furious command, they could only watch helplessly from where they stood.
Liadrin and Tulani immediately summoned the Light and bestowed a blessing of the Light upon Velinde. With the infusion of Light energy, the Night Elves' speed increased by several points.
Valeera, who had been sitting cross-legged, rolled her eyes helplessly: "Arthas alone can solve this, why not just sit here and wait? Why do I have to exert myself?"—Forget it, since she's already rushed out, I'll help her too.
A very strange sensation enveloped Velinde. She found her figure becoming blurry, as if she had put on camouflage, and when she darted through the night, even the worgen barely noticed her movements.
Under several layers of blessings, Velinde almost instantly closed most of the distance between herself and the scythe. However, Lyral, who was fighting Arthas, immediately sensed that something was wrong with his terrifying perception.
He sneered, his massive claw smashing down fiercely, striking the shield, which Arthas steadily held. Only the deeply sunken mud beneath the Prince's feet indicated the immense power of that blow.
"Is this your plan? To hold me back, then let that priestess steal the scythe? Ridiculous, it seems I overestimated—"
"My plan was never this." Arthas's expression was as usual, only his hand wielding Frostmourne sped up slightly. "However, those words can be returned to you verbatim—I overestimated you."
Lyral was somewhat stunned after hearing this, but his body movements remained swift. However, what happened next astonished Lyral even more.
Arthas did not swing his longsword at Lyral, but instead threw it. The sharp blade spun in the air, tracing a trajectory.
"Are you crazy?!"
"No, you lost."
A warhammer forged from condensed Light fell like thunder. Lyral didn't even have time to react before he was slammed to the ground by the massive hammer.