The next day, Arthas led the Blackrock Orcs towards the Redridge Mountains, marching along the scorching ground. He didn't wait for Onyxia; she would naturally appear after she finished her business.
It took a day to reach a suitable Ley Line area for Teleportation. Near the front lines, Azuka of the Burning Blade Clan was waiting with a portion of her Orc soldiers. They had returned from the Swamp of Sorrows to rendezvous with this force.
"I'll leave this to you. I'm going to check the front lines." After giving Azuka her instructions, Arthas left. Staying with the Orcs was not a very pleasant experience. Most Orcs didn't bathe and stank, and although it was related to the environment of the Burning Steppes, the smell was truly unbearable.
"Yes, Master." Azuka respectfully watched Arthas and her mistress teleport away. Only after they were gone did she straighten up.
Her gaze swept over the several overlords before her. "I am Azuka, chieftain of the Burning Blade Clan, temporarily managing the Orc clans on behalf of the Master. I will explain the rules to you. Under the Master's command, you must obey order. Without order, there are no principles."
In the Blasted Lands, the Alliance and the Horde had already formed up. Arthas's departure did not affect the final battle between the two sides. The final showdown was about to begin.
On the vast, yellow land, the soil had lost its nutrients, becoming barren and crimson. Not a single plant could be seen here. Under the corrosion of Fel Energy, all living things had lost their vitality. Fel Energy was modeled on the primordial force of destruction; it was unique in its destructive power but had almost no constructive use.
The sky was dark and gloomy, with lightning snakes slithering through the clouds. A repressive atmosphere had persisted ever since stepping onto this land.
The Alliance and the Horde arranged their formations, their soldiers spread across the vast plain. The two commanders, Lothar and Orgrim, faced each other from a distance, their eyes filled with complex emotions: hatred, admiration, anger, and more.
As opponents, they were worthy of respect. From the perspective of their opposing races, the invaders had to be eliminated—that was hatred. There was also the anger of having their homes destroyed, the anger of strategic failures, and so on.
Arthas happened to be returning to the battlefield on his Wyvern Mount, bringing Alleria and Vereesa with him. His troops were on the left flank, facing the most warlike and troublesome of the clans: the Warsong clan, led by the fierce Grom Hellscream, a man who could cleave a pit lord in two with a single axe swing!
The Warsong clan shouldn't have been there. They were too frenzied, the most deeply affected by the Demon Blood. Their eyes were crimson, and when they went berserk, they would often even cut down other Orcs. Their minds were filled with nothing but endless, destructive Fury.
Alleria joined her sister, Sylvanas, while Arthas met up with Marlene.
"Your Highness, our opponents are the Warsong clan. Their chieftain, Hellscream, is incredibly strong and has already slain many renowned champions. Even Kul Tiras has lost quite a few warriors to him. If possible, it would be best to use magic against him," Marlene said, worried that Arthas might try to show off.
She voiced the threat beforehand, following the principle that a wise man does not stand by a crumbling wall. Although this saying didn't exist in Azeroth, there were similar adages.
Arthas narrowed his eyes without answering, instead gazing at the distant Orc warrior who resembled a humanoid gorilla. He was bare-chested, wearing only a set of pauldrons, his hair tied back, exuding a wild appearance.
The man was somehow able to generate Rage constantly, keeping his warrior's Rage within an optimal range, ready to launch a fatal attack at any moment! One had to understand that it was difficult for a warrior to build Rage when not in combat. This level of control, in a sense, violated the basic principles of common sense!
"Ding! Quest triggered: The Warchief's Hostility (II)."
"The Warchief's Hostility (II): Orgrim is displeased that you ruined his plans. He attempted to assassinate you but failed. This goes against Orc tradition, and thanks to Azuka's propaganda, the Horde is already aware of this and has grown suspicious of him.
Now, he will dispatch his most skilled warriors, the Warsong clan, to deal with you. Content: Defeat the Warsong clan. Reward: Three random skill advancements."
"There can be no retreat when facing Grom Hellscream. The mage corps will be most effective under your command. I will deal with Grom; otherwise, it might take the lives of several hundred soldiers to stop him," Arthas said.
He was well aware of his opponent's combat prowess. If he threw lives at him, he could certainly overwhelm him. Even Archimonde could be killed by a massive number of wisps detonating the World Tree, so what was Hellscream?
However, Arthas had very few human soldiers at his disposal at the moment, so he was even less willing to sacrifice them. Most of the work still required human supervision; the other races could only provide support.
Besides, and most importantly, Grom had already declared war on him. If he backed down, it would damage his reputation. The medieval customs of king versus king and general versus general were still popular in Azeroth.
The death of a leader had a huge impact on morale, and killing the enemy leader provided a great morale boost. Most importantly, a leader had to be a warrior, not a coward cowering in his shell. Unless, of course, their strength did not lie in combat, in which case it was a different matter.
"Arthas, come out and die! Samuro, you utter lapdog! You will pay for the blood debt of the entire Horde with your own blood!" Grom roared in fury, holding a rust-stained battle axe that glinted with a layer of blood—a strange sight that only appeared after it had drunk its fill of blood.
Arthas drew his longsword and shield and walked onto the battlefield, pointing his sword at the legendary Orc warrior before him. "Shut your mouth, you invader! You slaughtered the arakkoa, the saberon, and the draenei on Draenor.
Now you invade my home, killing my people and countless of my compatriots. It is their blood debt that you will repay with your own! You demon's lapdog!
From the moment you drank the Demon Blood, you have been controlled by demons. You filthy lapdogs aren't even worthy of so-called honor! You are traitors to the Orcs, traitors to your people! You should go to hell!"
"Nonsense! I didn't! I am not a demon's lapdog! Die!" With that, Grom erupted with tangible Rage. After taking two steps, he leaped into the air, using the warrior's most standard skill, Heroic Leap, to cut down his enemy with a downward chop amplified by his jump and his own weight!