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(A/N: Chapter 93 will soon be on Patreon!)
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(Now back to the story!)
The sounds of explosions, daemonic and beastly screams, and massive amounts of laser fire rang out as the Alliance forces conducted a successful ambush against an enemy host.
The Alliance had decided on a multi-front counterattack, with their first major objective and destination being Alterac City.
The capital of Alterac was the focal point where most of the enemy's daemonic forces were being summoned to this day.
If they were able to retake Alterac City, then not only would they cut off the enemy's largest source of reinforcements, but they would also weaken the connection between the Realms of Chaos and Azeroth.
After that, their next major objective would be the retaking of Lordaeron City, which was considered the main "base" of the Scourge.
Not that it would be easy. Not only were they fighting against continuous hordes of undead, daemons, and beastkin, but powerful enemies had also begun appearing with increasing frequency.
Most notably, high-ranking daemons such as Daemon Princes—or worse, Greater Daemons.
For a vast majority of the Alliance forces, even approaching them was impossible due to their power.
Thus, only Alliance Heroes were allowed to engage them, and even then they were continuously cautioned to be careful when facing them.
The ones most suited to facing such powerful daemons were the great paladins like Uther, Alexandros, Saidan, and others.
Alonsus was also a highly viable combatant against them, as he was a Saint and the most skilled user of the Holy Light alive.
Then there were the extremely powerful "demigods" on the Alliance's side.
Individuals like Alastor, Tyrande, Malfurion, and Aegwynn—who, even without using a direct counter to fel forces like the Holy Light, were able to use their own demigod-level power and skill to fight and crush them.
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Anduin swung Quel'zaram, cleanly severing the arms of his Death Knight opponent before beheading the former knight.
All around him, Alliance forces battled mutants, undead, and daemons as artillery and firing lines continuously bombarded the enemy.
Armored Core units blitzed and shattered any significant gatherings of enemies.
Aircraft maintained pressure from the air, while armored units provided a literal wall of steel and death—protecting their troops while unleashing hell upon these abominations.
Those enemies that managed to get too close were left to the more melee-oriented fighters and units to handle.
Something Anduin was a master of, as he ruthlessly cut down whatever dared to block his path without hesitation, leaving a trail of blood and entrails behind.
This was his role. When not accompanying Alastor as a bodyguard, he would lead forces from the front, cutting through whole swathes of enemies as he guided his men against them.
Speaking of Alastor—
He looked up to see his student and surrogate son flying through the air, wings of fire spread wide—formed from his recently acquired, unique flames.
Alastor flew and relentlessly bombarded the enemy lines with barrages of fireballs that exploded with tremendous force and heat, obliterating anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in their impact zones.
While beastkin were burned and torn apart by the explosions, daemons and undead seemed particularly susceptible to these unknown flames.
Daemons caught and destroyed by them had their very essence destroyed, while undead burned as easily as dry paper—their souls cleansed and freed.
While most undead did not retain intelligence, they instinctively felt unease toward the flames. Daemons, however, were practically terrified whenever they saw them.
This led to numerous instances where daemons willingly destroyed their physical forms and banished themselves back to the Warp. While they dreaded the punishments awaiting them, it was still better than oblivion.
Seemingly unsatisfied, the airborne Alastor covered his entire body in flames and drew his sword, Dawn which was also now covered in those very same flames.
Then, like a wrathful angel, he dive-bombed the largest concentration of daemons and undead before erupting into a massive fiery dome visible across the entire battlefield!
As the ground shook like an earthquake had just hit the area.
Alastor then burst forth from the inferno at high speeds, wings blazing, cutting down any daemon, beastkin, or undead with his flaming sword and fiery wings.
At the same time, he unleashed powerful blasts and arcs of Holy Light at distant targets—especially ranged enemies—destroying them as well.
Anduin watched all of this from a distance. While he felt immense pride, he couldn't help but feel his lips twitch wryly.
.....At the display that would NOT look out of place from one of the Church's epics.
Lad, with displays like that, you're NOT beating the god allegations.
Flying across the battlefield like an angel of war, bringing down divine fire and Light upon the fel forces, and cutting down countless foes with a flaming blade?
If he didn't know Alastor well, he might have thought him a hypocrite—claiming he was not a god, nor connected to anything divine, yet performing acts that suggested otherwise.
But considering how enthusiastic the soldiers became at such displays—and how much it bolstered morale—well, this was a "sacrifice" Alastor would simply have to endure.
"General!"
Anduin turned to see Gavinrad running up to him while panting, his paladin/knight hybrid armor covered in blood and bearing some damage—thankfully nothing lethal.
"The enemy combatants on our side and the eastern flank have collapsed, and our forces have begun entering the city to begin the systematic cleanse."
Anduin nodded.
"Good. You know Alastor's orders—follow the men into the city and help clear any pockets of resistance or traps left behind. We need to make sure this place is secure before we can use it as a temporary settlement and future outpost."
"Understood, General!"
With a final bow, Gavinrad quickly ran off to rejoin his group and enter the city.
Anduin looked around, seeing that the battle was won and that their forces were already routing the remaining enemies. He sheathed his legendary blade and made his way into the city with his own combat group.
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Currently, the Alliance offensive force was divided into three armies. Each army took a different route as they advanced toward Alterac City.
These routes were decided by Alastor after extensive deliberation with his generals and the surviving locals who had once lived in the region before evacuating south.
The main reason for choosing these paths was that each route contained large settlements along the way, which could be used as checkpoints and outposts once they entered enemy territory.
Due to rampant corruption—especially in areas saturated with Warp energy—not only were radar and communications severely hindered, reducing early warning capabilities, but the fel forces were also significantly stronger.
This was evident in the increasing number of high-ranking daemons appearing as they approached Alterac's borders.
As a result, it was extremely dangerous for the armies to establish encampments in most areas. The safest options were the larger settlements scattered along their routes—primarily cities.
Even though most of these settlements had suffered varying degrees of damage from prior enemy occupation, they were still the safest—or rather, the only—viable option for allowing soldiers to rest under proper protection.
Additionally, these settlements could serve as checkpoints, temporary garrisons, and supply relays for their logistical lines.
As for potential enemy attacks on these checkpoints from the rear to disrupt them?
That had already been accounted for—in fact, it was one of the reasons these three routes were chosen, along with leaving behind temporary garrisons.
If the enemy attempted to attack one of these checkpoints, they would inadvertently fall into a deliberate trap, effectively announcing their presence and location.
Once that happened, both the preceding and subsequent checkpoints would converge on them, boxing them in and eliminating them through a coordinated multi-front counterattack using their own stationed forces.
As for the armies themselves:
The force taking the western route was led by Alexandros himself.
In addition to advancing toward Alterac City, their objective was to link up with the Scarlet Legion army dispatched from Stratholme, led by the Great Paladin Turalyon, while Abbendis remained behind to guard the Holy City.
The army advancing along the eastern route was led by Belegar Ironhammer, whose mastery of siege warfare would prove invaluable in breaching enemy fortifications laid between his own route.
Finally, the army taking the direct northern route was led by Alastor.
This central force was traveling along the shortest—but also the most dangerous—path, facing multiple layers of enemy resistance.
For that reason, it also had the largest concentration of Heroes accompanying Alastor, particularly to counter enemy champions and high-ranking daemons, beastkin, and undead.
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The battle had mostly ended, and Alastor continued to make several passes through the sky, using his flaming wings to ensure there were no remaining significant groups of hostiles in the immediate area.
Seeing nothing of note, he began flying back toward the newly conquered or rather re-conquered city.
Wings really do make flying much easier.
Alastor thought with a smile as he glanced at his fiery wings—a recent "spell," or more accurately, an application of his newly acquired flame-based abilities.
Honestly, he hadn't expected it to work. He had once attempted something similar using conventional and elemental magic, but even at his mortal size, the energy expenditure and concentration required had been too great for his liking.
That wasn't even accounting for his Primarch form, which only multiplied those requirements.
In truth, the idea of wings had come from his foreknowledge—specifically of one of his future Primarch brothers, Sanguinius.
A Primarch capable of flight due to his wings and latent psychic ability.
Alastor couldn't help have a good feeling about that "brother" of his feeling they would get along well.
Returning to his own flight dilemma, he had previously relied on a combination of levitation and wind-based magic—but even that had proven somewhat cumbersome.
However, when he revisited the idea using his new "divine" flames, he had been pleasantly surprised to find it worked perfectly.
Not only could he maintain the wings with ease for extended periods, but he could also fly with a level of control and comfort he had never previously imagined—almost as if, like his angelic brother, they were a natural part of him.
In fact, Alastor found himself growing increasingly accustomed to using these flames, to the point that they had become one of his primary methods of combat—especially against daemonic, undead, or other fel-corrupted forces.
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Arriving above the city, Alastor looked down and saw that most of the cleanup had already been completed, and the army had begun transforming the city into a functional outpost and checkpoint.
Nodding in satisfaction, he dove down and landed near a newly erected supply depot while his "wings" dispersed, startling the nearby soldiers and personnel for only a brief moment before recognition dawned on their faces.
"My Lord!"
The soldiers and workers either saluted in the Azerothian fashion—placing a hand over their heart—or bowed, showing equal parts respect and reverence in the presence of the Alliance's Supreme Commander and the era's greatest hero.
"Don't mind me—please, carry on with what you were doing."
Alastor waved casually, offering them an easygoing smile.
"Did you enjoy your little detour?"
"Oh, let him have his fun, Alleria. It's good to let loose every once in a while."
Alastor turned and smiled as he saw Jaina and Alleria approaching.
The surrounding personnel bowed to them as well, recognizing not only their status as Alastor's fiancées, but also their own reputations as highly respected and honored heroes of the war.
Alastor chuckled as he walked alongside the two of them toward the temporary command center.
"If you're jealous, I can easily take the two of you on a flight through the sky."
Alleria looked intrigued by the offer, but Jaina froze but only for a split second—something both Alleria and Alastor noticed.
"Jaina, are you perhaps—"
"Pfft! Don't the Proudmoores specialize in ships, whether of sea or air?"
While Alastor, being the lovable demigod he was tried to be tactful, Alleria offered no such courtesy to her friend/co-wife.
To her credit, Jaina flushed slightly, scowling at Alleria.
"I just feel more comfortable in an aircraft, which I'm used to—STOP LAUGHING!"
Unfortunately, that only made Alleria laugh harder, much to Jaina's chagrin. Alastor quickly stepped in to mediate between his future wives...again.
It was, admittedly, quite an amusing sight—a towering, three-meter-tall armored giant trying to gently calm both a High Elf and an Archmage.
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Night had fallen. Aside from those assigned to watch duty—keeping an eye out for any surprise enemy movements—the rest of the army was either resting or asleep after the recent battle.
Priests had set up sacred sigils along the city's perimeter and at key locations to defend against daemonic and fel influences, while mages established their own defenses and wards to guard against scrying and fel sorcery.
Alastor had just finished a meeting with his commanders. They had all left, leaving only him and Anduin in the room.
"Well, lad, I'll be off too. We've all had a long day. Best you get some rest as well—wouldn't want to keep your wives waiting, haha."
Anduin rose from his seat, stretching lightly as he prepared to retire to his own temporary quarters.
They would need all the rest they could get. The Alterac border was drawing ever closer—and with it, the capital they would soon need to seize.
"Very funny, Anduin."
Alastor gave a wry smile at his surrogate uncle—father figure—before something came to mind.
"Uncle, wait!"
Anduin paused and turned, giving him an inquisitive look. It wasn't unusual for Alastor to call him "uncle," but the hesitation in his expression made it clear this was something more serious.
"What is it, Alastor? You know you can ask me anything, lad."
Alastor hesitated, but seeing the encouraging look, he decided to push forward.
"Anduin… why wasn't I ever told about Medivh?"
The atmosphere instantly turned somber, and Alastor immediately regretted asking as Anduin's expression darkened, as though recalling a painful memory.
"Uncle, I'm sorry—just forget I asked."
"No… no. Just… where did you hear about him?"
Alastor explained how he had questioned his master Antonidas back in Dalaran about his father's killer—Marcus Grave, now known as Malak—when Medivh's name had come up.
Anduin sighed, sitting back down as he ran a hand through his brown hair.
"I should have known you would find out one day… but I never expected it to happen like this."
Amid a continent-spanning war that would decide the fate of their world… with Llane dead, Taria in a coma, and every other piece of crap that these light forsaken times had seen fit to throw at them—it was hardly ideal timing.
He listened as Alastor recounted what he knew of Medivh from his conversations with Antonidas, nodding occasionally.
"Yes… Llane, Medivh, and I were the closest of friends—more like brothers, even if we weren't related by blood."
"Medivh was one of the best men I ever knew. Noble, protective, and kind."
"He was never arrogant, despite his monstrous aptitude for magic, believe me he had the right to be arrogant but no, the kind hearted fool was too noble for it."
"He genuinely wished to protect the people he cared about—and Azeroth itself."
Anduin smiled faintly as he reminisced about his dear friend—his brother—before the expression faded into something more somber.
"More than a decade ago, shortly after you were found by Llane and me, we received news of his death following a devastating battle in the Redridge Mountain range."
"That battle scarred the land—collapsed over a dozen mountains and severely weakened the veil between reality and the Aether across the entire region."
Alastor went still at that. The sheer scale of destruction far exceeded what he'd initially imagined.
An event like that should have shaken the other kingdoms… and who could possibly have been powerful enough to face Medivh?
"Uncle… were scouts sent to investigate? Stormwind was the closest kingdom—we should have been the first to know, right?"
"There was no need." Anduin shook his head. "His killer came to the castle personally, only days after the battle, to deliver the news."
"What!?"
Now Alastor was even more confused—especially when he didn't see the anger he expected on Anduin's face.
Since aside from him, his elder brother Varian and Anduin himself held immense hatred for Malak due to his part in Llane's death and like him would want nothing more than to see Malak dead.
Just like that he expected to see a similar anger or at least part of it in Anduin's eyes when mentioning his other best friend's killer.
But instead, he only had a stoic look to his face.
"Uncle… who was it?"
But before Anduin could answer—
"It was me."
Both turned toward the voice to see Aegwynn standing at the entrance, as if she had just walked in.
Alastor stared at her, dumbfounded.
Because if he remembered correctly…...
Wasn't Medivh her son!?
"Aegwynn… what?"
Still struggling to process it, Alastor tried to get her to clarify, convinced he must have misheard.
Because in the time he'd known her, Aegwynn had been nothing but helpful—serving as an advisor, impromptu bodyguard and a demigod-class Archmage.
And while she could appear distant, stoic, and even somewhat arrogant at first glance…
She took the defense of Azeroth with absolute seriousness and had proven more than willing to fight alongside others in the Alliance.
….....Even if she only truly listened to a select few—Alastor being one of them.
"It is as I said, Alastor."
Aegwynn's voice remained steady, without the slightest tremor. She glanced briefly at the stoic Anduin before meeting Alastor's eyes.
"I am the one who killed Medivh."
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