Archimonde discovered, to his chagrin, that he seemed to have no other choice but to endure.
CRACK—!!! The mace slammed squarely into Archimonde's face!
It wasn't a glancing blow to the cheek; it was a direct hit to the center of that blue visage. The anti-magic metal spikes tore through the Demon Lord's toughened skin, embedding deep into the flesh. Immediately after, violent Life-Lightning surged frantically through the point of contact!
"Ugh... AHHHH—!!!"
Archimonde unleashed his first cry of genuine agony since the start of the battle. It wasn't the booming rage of a superior being; it was a howl of shock mixed with real pain. His body was sent reeling by the blow, his twenty-meter frame stumbling backward, each step cracking the earth like a spiderweb. Dark blue demonic blood sprayed from the torn gash on his face, hissing as it hit the ground and burning small pits that emitted green smoke.
"So, you can get hurt. You can feel pain. You can bleed," Rhodes said with a smirk. "The commander of the Burning Legion is nothing special after all."
Once, during the Battle of Mount Hyjal, he could only look up at this terrifying demon lord, needing the help of Holy Archangels, Cenarius, and a host of others to face him. Back then, it was his strongest Archangel who dealt the finishing blow. But today was different. In just a few short years, he had grown to a point where he could confront this Demon Lord head-on. Without Azeroth's gift—the life energy of the World-Soul—he wouldn't have this power.
Rhodes didn't let up. With a violent whip of his dragon tail, he shadowed Archimonde's retreat. Gripping the mace with both hands, he prepared a second strike. Last time the Archangel took your head; this time, I'm smashing it myself.
But Archimonde was the commander of the Legion, a veteran of countless wars. Spurred by agony and humiliation, his combat instincts exploded.
"I WILL KILL YOU!!!"
Instead of trying to steady himself, Archimonde leaned into his backward momentum. He bucked his massive frame, and his right goat-hoof, wreathed in horrific Fel energy, kicked upward at an unnatural, predatory angle!
The timing was impeccable, catching Rhodes at the split second between the end of his last swing and the start of the next. Rhodes's pupils shrank; he had to abandon the attack and bring the mace down to block.
BOOM!
The massive hoof collided with the mace. The impact sent Rhodes sliding back dozens of meters, his feet plowing deep furrows into the earth.
"Nice move, Archimonde. What do you call that? 'The Backward-Facing Falling Goose'? No, wait—let's call it the 'Rabbit Kicking the Eagle,'" Rhodes joked as he stabilized his stance. It was a bit comical, but effective; Archimonde hadn't just blocked him, he'd used the force to counter. He truly was a warrior of ten thousand years.
The two titans faced off again as a brief silence fell over the battlefield. In the coalition lines, everyone held their breath. What had they just seen? The new Wild God—the one known as "Azure Scale"—had just smashed the Legion's commander! He had drawn blood from Archimonde the Defiler!
"My gods... he did it..." a Night Elf sentry whispered.
"Lord Demigod! Victory!" someone shouted, and a tsunami of cheers followed.
"Lord Azure Scale! Crush that blue monster!" (To the mortals, Rhodes was known only by his title, Azure Scale.)
Even the other Wild Gods were stunned. Agamaggan snorted, his tusks twitching with excitement. "What a blow! Brother Azure Scale... well played! I want to jump in and help him."
"Stay out of it, Agamaggan," the Turtle Ancient, Tortolla, cautioned. "Rhodes can fight that Demon Lord as an equal, but that doesn't mean we can. Aside from Malorne, the rest of us would just be going to our deaths."
Tortolla saw clearly: Rhodes had two to three times the life essence of the other ancients, not to mention his bizarre augmenting magic and that specialized weapon. He was playing on a different level.
Malorne's eyes shone with wisdom. "It's not just strength... it's the timing, the angle, and the mastery of that Life-Lightning. He has fully mastered his new form. This battle rests on his shoulders."
Archimonde slowly stood straight. He wiped his cheek with a Fel-covered palm; green light flickered as the wound closed at a visible rate. But he chose not to heal the scar completely—he wanted it to remind him of this exhilarating fight.
"Very good... very well," Archimonde's voice was eerily calm, though his teeth were gritted.
"Honestly," Rhodes smiled, "if one of the two great commanders of the Legion is only this good, I'm disappointed. Maybe stop the invasion and go back to fixing toilets. I hear the one under Sargeras's throne needs a scrub. Suits you perfectly."
"Arrogant," Archimonde replied. "But your strength earns that arrogance. It has been a long time since I tasted my own blood. You are worthy of being remembered. Give me your name."
"Remember it well: I am Azure Scale, the Wild God." Rhodes gave only his title. He didn't want Archimonde knowing his real name yet—it would ruin the surprise in the future timeline.
"Azure Scale. I shall take your head, strip the flesh, and turn your skull into a Fel artifact. That is my respect to you."
"I'm honored," Rhodes chirped. "But I don't have a hobby of donating my head. I heard you Eredar are quite fond of it, though. Didn't you turn your own teacher's skull into a scepter?"
Archimonde narrowed his eyes. This "human" knew far too much. "You are a talent. This world is doomed, but I can offer you a place in the Burning Legion. You could be a Demon Lord, second only to Kil'jaeden and myself. Kneel to Sargeras, and you and your kin shall be saved."
"A generous offer! Anyone who refused would be a fool," Rhodes patted his thigh. "But I have a bit of a problem. My leg cramped up during our fight. Kneeling is going to be a bit difficult."
"Then don't bother!" Archimonde's voice boomed. "Look around you!"
At the city of Zin-Azshari, the portal over the Well of Eternity swelled! A thicker, more nauseating Fel aura poured out. With deafening roars, a flood of Infernals, Doomguards, and Pit Lords surged forth. The Legion's elite had arrived. The final stage of the war had begun.
The coalition's cheers died. "So many... how can we win?"
Jarod Shadowsong immediately barked orders, resetting the defensive lines. The Wild Gods grew solemn. This was the real war.
"See?" Archimonde sneered. "The tide of the Legion is unstoppable. Your struggle is a mantis trying to stop a carriage."
"Less talk, more head-smashing!" Rhodes charged again.
As the armies collided, the sky was split by a draconic roar. The Five Dragonflights had arrived! At the head, Neltharion the Earth-Warder held a shimmering golden disc—the Dragon Soul—unleashing prismatic light that vaporized entire demonic divisions.
Inside the palace, away from the carnage, Queen Azshara sat peacefully with her handmaidens, listening to music.
Krasus, disguised as Rhodes, sat beside her, sweating bullets. Lord Rhodes is out there fighting Archimonde as a giant... and I'm stuck here at a tea party?
"Relax, Rhodes," Azshara said, assuming his tension was fear. "Archimonde will handle those pests. Once Sargeras arrives, everything will be set in stone."
"My Queen," Krasus said, putting down his wine, "I feel I should observe the portal or perhaps offer support at the front rather than idling here."
"Very well," Azshara waved a hand dismissively. "If it amuses you, go join the fray. Just stay away from the portal itself."