Rhodes could clearly sense the two threads of evil energy behind the doors—Balnazzar and Detheroc—growing frantic, a volatile mix of fury and terror as their plans utterly collapsed.
"The final reckoning is here," Rhodes said, leveling Holy Judgment until the tip pointed directly at the gates. His voice was calm, yet it carried an indisputable weight of authority. The liberation of the capital was no longer in question; now, only the purge of this final filth remained.
"This is it, Lord Rhodes. The final battle begins here," Dathrohan remarked, staring at the Royal Palace.
Rhodes nodded. His intense connection to the Light allowed him to pinpoint the two Dreadlords inside. To be honest, a Dreadlord's direct combat prowess was mediocre within the Legion; they were far more dangerous as architects of subversion and deceit.
"Champions of the Alliance! Today we reclaim our kingdom! Follow me and strike down the Dreadlords!" Rhodes bellowed.
"Charge! Kill the Dreadlords! Reclaim our home!"
With a deafening roar, the heavy palace doors were split asunder by Old Mograine and the Ashbringer! Splinters of wood and twisted metal flew in every direction, revealing a deep, cavernous hall choked with thick fel energy. The Throne Room, once blessed by the Light, had been corrupted; even after its recovery, it would take time to restore its sanctity.
Rhodes's gaze swept toward the primary targets. At the far end of the hall, atop the royal dais, Balnazzar and Detheroc finally showed themselves.
"Arrogant mortals! You think victory is in your grasp?" Balnazzar sneered. Their plan had been perfect: drive Arthas away and take over the human lands. They hadn't expected the humans to rally and strike back with such overwhelming force. Worst of all was the presence of the Draenei—Kil'jaeden took a very personal interest in those "traitors."
"This palace shall be your tomb! Feel the eternal torment of the Nathrezim!"
"Eternal torment? Heh. The only ones being sent back to the Twisting Nether today are you," Rhodes replied, raising Holy Judgment. "You should be glad this isn't the Nether itself, or I would truly enjoy making your deaths permanent. But regardless, I'm going to enjoy this."
Honestly, Rhodes was surprised these cowards hadn't fled already. Usually, when cornered, a Dreadlord's first instinct is to vanish. He had half-expected to find an empty room, but here they were. It didn't matter. Against absolute power, all schemes are futile.
"Show me what you've got. This is your last chance," Rhodes said, thrusting Holy Judgment into the stone floor.
As he entered, he had already signaled Maiev and her Watchers to slip into the shadows. Above the palace, the Sacred Fire Phoenix and various light elementals were weaving a massive Holy Barrier. Rhodes suspected these two intended to "fake" their deaths to hide in the shadows and possess high-ranking Alliance officials later, just as Balnazzar had done to Dathrohan in the original timeline. He wouldn't allow it.
The sword acted as a focus, flooding the hall with a surge of Holy Light that turned the palace into a consecrated zone.
"I will crush you!" Detheroc roared, his massive frame lunging forward, cracking the floorboards. His talons tore through the air, aiming for the brightest target in the room: Rhodes.
Rhodes offered a cold smirk and raised his hand, unleashing his most potent offensive spell.
"Chain Lightning!"
A bolt of brilliant white electricity erupted from thin air, a pillar of divine wrath that struck Detheroc squarely in the back. The Dreadlord stumbled, his thick carapace scorched and blackened, letting out a pained grunt. In that moment of paralysis, two golden blurs struck! The High Archangels swept in, their blades shearing through the joints of his wings.
Detheroc shrieked as his massive bat-like wings were severed. Mograine seized the opening immediately, charging from the flank with the Ashbringer. The blade was a sun of roiling fire as he delivered a heavy diagonal cleave into the Dreadlord's exposed ribs.
"Gah—!" The devastating nature of the Light against demons was on full display. The Ashbringer sliced through armor and flesh like a hot wire through wax. Green fel blood sprayed out, only to be instantly vaporized by the radiance. The villain who had just spoken so boldly was now being systematically dismantled.
Rhodes frowned slightly. This was almost too easy. He was now 100% certain they were trying to "die" quickly to escape. Nice try, but I have a trap waiting for you.
Meanwhile, Balnazzar unleashed his signature Shadow magic. His eyes glowed with an eerie light, and several frontline Alliance soldiers suddenly went slack-jawed and vacant, standing still in a daze.
"Careful! He's manipulating their minds!" Akama warned. The Draenei Vindicators raised their rune-carved shields, linking their holy energy into a mental barrier. The possessed soldiers jerked awake, stumbling back in horror.
"Your petty tricks are useless, Dreadlord!" Rhodes shouted, drawing Balnazzar's focus. He raised Holy Judgment, gathering energy at the tip until it looked like a miniature star. "Accept the judgment of the Light!"
A concentrated beam of gold—a Spear of Judgment—blasted toward Balnazzar. The demon shrieked, layering shadow shields in front of him. The spear and shields collided with a sickening hiss of corrosion as the shadow energy melted under the onslaught.
"Now!" Prince Kael'thas commanded. A barrage of Arcane Missiles and Pyroblasts from the Blood Elves and Dalaran mages rained down on the preoccupied Balnazzar, coupled with Spell Interrupts to lock down his magic.
On the other side, the battered Detheroc was at his limit. Mograine saw a gap in the demon's guard and poured his entire soul into the Ashbringer for the finishing blow.
"In the name of the Light, be purged!"
Blinding radiance consumed Detheroc. The Dreadlord gave one final howl of agony as his body disintegrated into swirling black ash.
But was he dead? No. Simultaneously, Rhodes's holy spear pierced through Balnazzar's chest. "No—! This is impossible..." Balnazzar gasped, looking down at the expanding hole of fire in his chest before his body, too, crumbled into dust.
As the bodies vanished, Rhodes's smirk widened. He felt them—two faint, wispy trails of evil energy trying to merge with the shadows and slip away.
"You two have decent acting skills," Rhodes hummed coldly, "but while you might fool others, you won't fool me."
The Alliance commanders looked at Rhodes, confused. Hadn't the demons just been slain?
"Maiev! Do it!"
"As you wish, Rhodes," a cool female voice echoed from the void.
In the next instant, dozens of silver moon-discs spiraled out from the shadows of every corner. Maiev Shadowsong and her elite Watchers materialized like ghosts. They moved with the speed of the wind, perfectly sealing every possible escape route for the escaping spirits.
"What?!"
"No! Impossible!"
Having watched over Illidan for ten thousand years, the Watchers were experts at tracking fel and shadow traces. Balnazzar and Detheroc shrieked in terror as the Watchers' Blink and Umbral Bind spells yanked them out of the shadow plane, forcing their spirits to reform into two blurred, distorted demonic specters.
They tried to phase through the walls, but—
Vrummm!
The Holy Judgment sword stuck in the floor resonated with a booming hum. The golden barrier Rhodes had prepared earlier flared into solid light. The escaping Dreadlords slammed into the golden walls like ice hitting a furnace. With a series of sizzles and plumes of acrid smoke, they were bounced back into the center of the hall, howling.
"Welcome to your cage, Nathrezim." Rhodes slowly pulled Holy Judgment from the floor and walked toward the two trapped, panicked demons.
"You thought you could run? You didn't ask me for permission."