If even steel can be pierced and melted, what hope does flesh and blood have? Under the Annhilator's fel beam, even the most well-trained body was incredibly fragile; once struck by the beam, even the armor worn would instantly turn to ash.
The Prophet had already foreseen the heavy damage an unopposed Annihilator would inflict on the Allied forces, so he disregarded his own safety and cast his spells at the distant Annihilator, rather than at Rakeesh, who stood before him.
Velen's Holy Light impact precisely destabilized the mech, causing this killing machine to fall to the ground, but even so, the mech had not completely lost its threat. It was still trying to right itself, wanting to sweep its deadly rays across the Draenei and orcs who were entangled in battle with the Demons.
As for the lives of those Demon soldiers? Rakeesh had never cared, nor would any officer of the Burning Legion. As long as they achieved results, any number of ordinary Demon soldiers were merely a number.
With the Titan technology of Argus and Sargeras as its foundation, the Burning Legion could easily field an army far larger than the current one.
As Velen realized that one attack was not enough to defeat the mech and prepared to follow up with a second Holy Light-condensed Retribution Strike, Rakeesh's warhammer was already closing in on Velen.
This time, Velen seemed to have no room to maneuver. Rakeesh had no doubt that after his warhammer came down, it could easily shatter Velen's gradually weakening Holy Light shield and crush his sternum and arm simultaneously.
Bang!
Rakeesh's wild laughter quickly froze on his face. The scene he had envisioned did not happen. A battle-axe, appearing out of nowhere, intercepted the warhammer's trajectory, holding it firmly in mid-air.
"Demon, I am your opponent!"
Dranosh gripped the end of the axe handle with both hands, his arm muscles bulging, clearly exerting all his strength. His physique was absolutely tall among orcs, but he still appeared a size smaller in front of the fel-enhanced Rakeesh.
But even so, he still blocked Rakeesh's attack and slowly pushed the heavy fel warhammer upwards, completely nullifying its threat to Velen.
"Get lost, you ant!"
Seeing Dranosh ruin his good deed, Rakeesh angrily raised his leg and heavily kicked Dranosh's abdominal armor, sending the young Orc warrior flying.
Dranosh coughed up a mouthful of blood. The Eredar's feet were hooves formed of thick chitin, and coupled with Rakeesh's immense strength, that kick to Dranosh's body almost made him think his abdomen had been pierced, and his body trembled uncontrollably.
Fortunately, at that moment, a large hand rested on his back, and warm Holy Light energy flowed through his body, rapidly healing Dranosh's injuries. Soon, the agonizing pain turned into a slight discomfort.
"Thank you, young man." Velen was not stingy with his gratitude towards the Orc before him; he had always been so clear-headed.
Dranosh caught his breath, slowly stood up, leaning on his axe, "I should be thanking you instead—that... Prophet? Is that what I should call you? Sorry, my Common tongue isn't very fluent yet."
"Just call me Velen. For now, let's focus on dealing with this... Demon."
Velen once again focused his attention on the furious Rakeesh. This unfamiliar Eredar always gave him a strange sense of familiarity, which made him vaguely feel something ominous, but the future seemed veiled, preventing him from seeing clearly.
"Annihilator, destroy them for me!"
Rakeesh looked at the surrounding elite guard, who had already reacted and belonged to Velen, and realized that he no longer had a chance to personally take Velen's head. He resignedly prepared to call for the Annihilator's help again.
However, his impotent, enraged cry quickly caught in his throat. He was like a gander with its neck squeezed, angry but helpless.
When the Annihilator's firepower did not destroy Velen and the mortals beside him as he expected, he turned to see what had happened, only to find an Orc pulling his axe from the Annihilator's core armor. The green coolant leaking from the breach indicated that the mech was completely incapacitated, and the fel core, which was gradually ceasing to rotate and whose energy was weakening, further confirmed this.
Rakeesh's heart sank. Without the Annihilator mech's fire support, the Draenei and orcs would quickly defeat his regrouped forces, and more critically, due to his overzealous pursuit of glory, he had now trapped himself deep within the enemy's lines.
Seeing the Draenei Vindicators and Orc warriors, who had already dealt with the Demons in front of them, beginning to surround him, Rakeesh simply abandoned the idea of escaping. His green eyes fixed on Velen, as if he wished he could gouge a piece of flesh from Velen with his gaze.
"He seems to hate you very much, Prophet. Do you know him?"
Dranosh said somewhat familiarly. Velen made him feel like the kind Orc elders from when he lived in the clan. Coupled with Velen healing his injuries, he had developed a considerable fondness for Velen.
If Velen said this Eredar was his enemy, Dranosh would be happy to cut off Rakeesh's head for Velen.
Hearing Dranosh's words, Velen's ominous premonition suddenly grew stronger, but he could not recall any impression of Rakeesh. He was certain he had never seen Rakeesh before, nor did he understand the source of Rakeesh's almost palpable hatred for him.
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In the end, he could only attribute it to Kil'jaeden's brainwashing of these Eredar, which made them indiscriminately hate every Draenei. The surrounding soldiers had already surrounded Rakeesh and were besieging the powerful Eredar general.
Rakeesh was a "special agent" meticulously trained by the Burning Legion, already proficient in the use of fel and adept at deadly killing techniques. Even though the orcs and Draenei present were all battle-hardened veterans, none of them could defeat Rakeesh in a one-on-one fight.
But that was only in one-on-one combat. As the Demon Guards around Rakeesh gradually fell, he found himself increasingly overwhelmed by the relentless waves of attacks.
Realizing that if he continued to be besieged, he would die a worthless death, Rakeesh suddenly had an idea. He shouted at the Orc formation, "Let your strongest warrior step forward and duel me, otherwise you will have no honor!"
While the orcs valued honor, when facing a cunning Demon like Rakeesh, they showed quite flexible principles—at least they did not relax their guard because of Rakeesh's few words, and some were even considering delivering a fatal blow to Rakeesh when he was unprepared.
But Dranosh heard Rakeesh's provocation. He looked at Rakeesh, who already had many new scars on him, and spat, "Bah, Demon scum... You want a dignified death?! Then let me personally chop off your head!"
Just as Dranosh was about to accept Rakeesh's challenge, another voice rang out behind Rakeesh.
"Dranosh, stand down. Let me send this Demon to hell."
The crowd parted, creating an opening. With the Demons in front mostly dead or wounded, Saurfang, carrying a Demon's head, slowly walked up to Rakeesh. He casually tossed the Demon's head aside and stood silently before Rakeesh.
Rakeesh narrowed his eyes. He recognized Saurfang as the Orc who had completely destroyed the Annihilator earlier—it seemed this guy also held a very high position among the orcs... Good, then he would use this Orc's life to help himself escape the encirclement!
"You want a one-on-one, demon? This is a battlefield; I can cut off your head right now."
Saurfang actually didn't want to agree to Rakeesh's terms, but Rakeesh had already anticipated this.
The Eredar's face was filled with a mocking smile, "You took care of that mech… very good, but you are just a short-sighted, crude Orc—the Annihilator's core is still under my control. With just one signal, 'bang,' the fel corruption will rapidly spread. How do you think you mortals will die in agony from the fel?"
Rakeesh's voice was neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for everyone present to hear. They looked in astonishment at the Annihilator, which seemed to have lost its threat, not realizing that even lying on the ground, this mech still posed a fatal danger.
Saurfang remained impassive, only gripping the axe handle more tightly. "If you could do it, you would have done it already, demon."
"Of course I can do it, but I just don't think the lives of you ants are worth my own."
Rakeesh was not lying; he could indeed detonate the fel Annihilator's core. However, there was one thing he concealed: the Annihilator's explosion would not only threaten the mortals on the ship. The danger from a mech's detonation was not just fel radiation; the sheer explosive force could even damage the battleship.
In the past, Rakeesh certainly wouldn't have cared about a battleship's destruction, as long as he could capture Velen.
But the situation was different now. This ship was one of the few vessels the Burning Legion could still use. Before shooting down these mortals' battleships, Kil'jaeden's order was to protect the battleship.
But Saurfang and his companions were unaware of these matters. Saurfang and the others had just eliminated the blocking demon guard. Before finding Kil'jaeden and completely ending that demon's conspiracy, they did not want to be forced into a mutual destruction by this demon's dying struggle.
"Father, let me go!"
Dranosh tried to request to fight his father, but Saurfang waved him off, stopping his son.
"You were injured just now; don't fall for this demon's trick… Help me keep a close eye on this demon. If he makes any small moves, take him down with the Draenei."
After Saurfang whispered a few words into Dranosh's ear, he said no more to Dranosh and, wielding his battle-axe, moved to confront Rakeesh.
With Saurfang's instructions, Dranosh temporarily suppressed his thoughts and began organizing members to clear the deck, explaining the situation to the Draenei.
Maraad watched Saurfang clashing with Rakeesh, his brow slightly furrowed. But Dranosh's words, and Velen's perpetually inscrutable expression, still made him abandon the idea of directly taking Rakeesh's life.
He finally returned silently to Velen's side, awaiting the moment the victor would be revealed—he didn't believe Saurfang would lose to Rakeesh. Although he loathed this infamous executioner, Maraad had to admit that Saurfang was possibly one of the most valiant and skilled orcs he knew.
Rakeesh, however, was unaware of this. His understanding of orcs was far inferior to Kil'jaeden's, and he had no idea of Saurfang's true capabilities. His contempt for mortal races led to a fatal flaw in his plan from the very beginning.
He thought he could easily defeat this old Orc, then use his life as leverage to return to Kil'jaeden's side and report the situation.
But the truth was, after Saurfang's battle-axe swung a few times with steady yet swift movements, Rakeesh stared in horror at his warhammer, which had been knocked away. Before his brain could even react, the next blow had already cut into his shoulder.
The demon-blood-stained axe was deeply embedded in Rakeesh's flesh. His fel-enhanced physique prevented him from being cleaved in half by Saurfang's powerful downward strike, but the physical injury was far less devastating than the blow of losing this duel.
The gushing blood brought a wave of dizziness. Rakeesh's legs buckled, and he fell to his knees, no longer showing any trace of arrogance. His face, covered in scars and boils, paled in shock, utterly unable to believe his defeat.
"I… I lost? This is impossible…"
Saurfang had no intention of pitying a demon. He smoothly pulled out his axe, shook off the foul blood, and began to slowly pace around Rakeesh. Saurfang's hair was already gray, but his gaze remained sharp. Even though Rakeesh seemed to be at his wit's end, he did not relax his guard.
These Eredar were particularly cunning and dangerous even among demons. Saurfang continued to regard Rakeesh as a formidable opponent until he was certain Rakeesh was completely neutralized.
This was a lesson learned from countless battles. If he hadn't thought that this demon officer might be useful, Saurfang's axe strike just now wouldn't have landed on Rakeesh's shoulder, but would have aimed for his neck.
Dranosh said coldly from the side, "Demon, you are utterly defeated. Tell us where that scoundrel Kil'jaeden is, and perhaps we can grant you a quick death."
"Heh heh…"
"Lose?"
As Rakeesh lowered his head, his expression hidden from everyone, a sinister laugh emerged.
In an instant, almost before anyone could react, a long-planned fel blast came from an angle Saurfang completely unexpected. Yet, even so, Saurfang narrowly dodged Rakeesh's spell.
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However, the wall of flames raised by the fel blast blocked Saurfang's vision. The veteran Orc warily looked around, only to find that the warhammer he had knocked away had vanished at some point.
He immediately realized the possibility of Rakeesh attempting a surprise attack amidst the chaos. However, Saurfang did not wait for Rakeesh's ambush.
After retrieving his weapon, the insidious Eredar's first action was not to attack Saurfang, but to turn and strike at the careless Dranosh—because he wanted to press for useful information, Dranosh had inadvertently stepped into the danger zone.
But Dranosh was no pushover. When he reacted, he instantly erupted in fury, with no thought of dodging. He gripped his axe, stomped his right foot on the ground, and charged out like a lion from the Barrens.
Dranosh's axe precisely found a gap in Rakeesh's defense and deeply embedded itself in the demon's chest. But to his shock, Rakeesh, despite suffering such a fatal wound, did not stop moving. Instead, the warhammer in his hand swung even more fiercely towards Dranosh's head.
"No! Dranosh!" Saurfang finally broke free from the spell's entanglement at this moment, but when he saw this scene, he roared, his eyes bloodshot.
Knowing he was no match for Saurfang, Rakeesh unhesitatingly switched his target, setting his sights on the young Dranosh.
"Bang!"
Rakeesh's smile froze on his face. The scene he imagined of Dranosh's brains splattering did not occur. A warhammer forged from purple crystal instantly shattered his arm.
Maraad watched with a cold expression as Rakeesh's arm twisted at a grotesque angle. The Hammer of the Naaru in his hand was retracted and then swung out again, directly sending the demon flying.
Dranosh had not yet recovered from the life-or-death situation, but Saurfang had already stepped to Rakeesh's side. The old Orc was like a wounded beast, his eyes blood-red. He lifted the tall Rakeesh with one hand, pressing the axe blade almost into his neck.
"You, how dare you, harm a son in front of his father?!"
Rakeesh suffered successive heavy blows. Even his robust demonic body could not withstand them. His consciousness was hazy, foul blood overflowed from his mouth and nose, and he was unable to respond to Saurfang's words.
But just as Saurfang's axe was about to cleave off Rakeesh's head, something completely unexpected happened.
A flash of Holy Light pushed Saurfang away from Rakeesh. Although Saurfang was not harmed, he genuinely staggered back several steps before steadying himself.
He angrily turned his head, only to see another old face filled with disbelief.