Andreas spread his hands and said, "How to deploy the pursuit forces is up to the Alliance to decide. I can promise on behalf of the Night Elf Republic that within three days at the latest, we will defeat Orgrim's defenses from the rear. Please be prepared in advance."
"Three days..."
Terenas' eyes flickered. He didn't know why Andreas was so confident that he could defeat the Horde's defenses within three days.
However, if it was true as the Night Elves said, then as long as arrangements were made in advance, it should greatly reduce the Alliance's troop consumption... When Andreas arrived at the Capital City of Lordaeron, Prisim did not enter the city with him, but quietly disappeared outside the city and came to the Night Elf Allied Army camp near the northern coastline.
After conveying Andreas' instructions to Shandris, Prisim quietly disappeared as usual.
Shandris turned to look at the generals in the main tent, "Everyone heard that, right? We need to take down the Horde within three days. Please show your drive."
Laynella scratched her head in distress, "It's not that we're not trying, but the Horde has occupied advantageous defensive terrain, and we lack enough air force to seize positions. It's really not easy to break through their defenses."
A glint flashed in Shandris' eyes, "You don't need to worry about this. Since Andreas personally sent Prisim over, his meaning is actually very clear."
Leticia, who knew Andreas very well, was stunned, then she suddenly realized, "So that's it. Let the elite Rogues disrupt the enemy's rear positions, and then we take the opportunity to launch a surprise attack?"
Shandris nodded, "That's pretty much it. Prisim is well-versed in infiltration. With her taking over command of the Rogue team, the already panicking Horde will definitely make mistakes. That will be the best time for us to launch a general offensive."
...Just as Shandris expected, with the arrival of Stromgarde's cavalry, the Horde's original unified belief in breaking through Lordaeron was severely shaken.
Some high-ranking military generals, led by Orgrim and Varok Saurfang, advocated an immediate retreat, but some hot-headed Orc warlords believed they should take the capital of Lordaeron in one fell swoop.
The division of opinion among the high command gradually affected the ordinary soldiers below. Recently, the Horde's military camps have been restless, and the negative pressure brought by anxiety and worry has led to more and more private brawls among the red-eyed Orcs.
Finally, Orgrim made the decision, "No more arguing! Tomorrow we will launch one last general attack. If we cannot break through Lordaeron, we don't need to return to this camp. We will directly retreat towards Silverpine Forest."
Although many Orc Chieftains left grumbling, the Warchief's authority was still present. Although unwilling, they ultimately chose to obey Orgrim's command.
On the Forest Trolls' side, Zuljin was completely speechless. He felt that he always got the worst hand.
'If I had known this, I wouldn't have joined the Horde in the first place.'
Regret was useless. Zuljin, having lost his homeland, had no other choice but to continue following the Horde.
The Evilbranch Clan didn't want to play with the doomed Horde anymore. They decided to abandon the Horde during the retreat and slip back to the Hinterlands. The Darkspear and Revantusk Clans also harbored similar thoughts.
"Sigh~"
In the main tent, with only a few people left, Orgrim let out a deep sigh.
Varok Saurfang patted his shoulder understandingly, "Warchief, please cheer up. The war isn't over yet. As long as we can retreat to the south successfully, we can still preserve hope and make a comeback in a few years."
Orgrim smiled bitterly and shook his head, "Can it really be that smooth? I have a bad feeling. Ever since entering Quel'Thalas, the situation has completely spiraled out of control, completely deviating from our original plan."
Saurfang was no worse than Orgrim in military command, but he was ultimately only an excellent military leader. In terms of overall strategic vision, there was still a certain gap compared to Orgrim.
Unable to understand Orgrim's anxiety, Saurfang found it difficult to offer too much advice, and walked out of the tent with his elder brother, Broxigar.
Broxigar was a typical Orc warrior, skilled at charging into battle, but military command was not his strength. He asked Varok somewhat unwillingly, "Is there really no hope of victory?"
"Yes."
Varok took a deep breath, "If we continue to drag this out in Tirisfal Glades, we will eventually be encircled by all sides. We must break out before the encirclement is formed."
Broxigar nodded heavily, "I don't understand military matters, but I will do my best to open a path for the Horde."
Varok gazed at the beautiful night sky of Azeroth somewhat lost, 'Where exactly should the future of the Orcs be?'
...Late that night, on the highland watchtower on the east bank of Clearbrook Lake, an Orc scout on duty suddenly saw a flash of light in the nearby woods.
Just as he heightened his vigilance and peered out, a hand suddenly reached out from the shadows behind him, covering the Orc scout's mouth, stifling his unuttered scream in his throat. A dagger plunged into his heart and twisted fiercely, completely cutting off the Orc scout's life.
The scent of blood drifting from the watchtower in the wind made a few Orc warriors sitting around a campfire twitch their noses. They cautiously picked up the axes beside them and stood up.
"Scent of blood?"
"You smell it too?"
"Yes, from the watchtower... ugh!"
All the Orc warriors' attention was on the watchtower above, and they did not notice the killing intent suddenly extending from the shadows behind them.
After taking down these Orcs whose necks were twisted, a group of hooded figures emerged from the shadows. The leader in the red hood waved his hand, giving a signal, and everyone silently began to clean up the Orc corpses on the scene.
"Squeak!"
A few minutes later, the Voodoo defense array set up by the Trolls around the watchtower finally broke free from its interfered state, emitting a piercing alarm sound, but by this time, there were no defenders left in the entire watchtower.
"Whoosh~"
A bright signal flare rose into the sky above the hill outpost. Shandris, waiting for news on the north bank of Clearbrook Lake, her eyes lit up.
"The time has come, all troops attack!"
Shandris strode through the camp, which was already prepared for battle. Her command, amplified by the moonlight radiance, spread throughout the entire camp area.
"moonlight radiance bombardment prepared! Target, Horde Hill Outpost!"
"Boom boom boom!"
The continuous sound of cannons woke Orgrim, who was in his sleep.
Due to the anxiety in his heart and the burden of the entire Horde's future, Orgrim went to sleep very late and slept very lightly. He woke up earlier than all the generals.
Orgrim, sleeping in his clothes, rushed out of his tent. The flashes of fire on the east bank of Clearbrook Lake made his heart sink.
Grabbing a hurried guard soldier who was beating a gong, Orgrim asked in a deep voice, "What happened? Why is the hill watchtower on fire?"
"Warchief! It's a Night Elf attack!"
The panicked guard soldier reported anxiously, "Starting from the hill outpost, all outposts on the east bank of Clearbrook Lake are simultaneously under fierce attack. The rear can't hold!"
"Is that so..."
Orgrim, who had a bad premonition, did not panic like others. After letting go of the guard soldier, he calmly turned to his personal guard and said, "Inform everyone, the tide has turned. There's no need to hold the camp anymore. We will retreat to Silverpine Forest tonight."
Andreas and the kings of the Alliance nations personally witnessed the withdrawal of the Horde army from the walls of the Capital City of Lordaeron. Andreas' long elven ears clearly caught Terenas' almost imperceptible sigh of relief.
The speed and determination of the Horde's retreat left Lothar feeling regretful. If they had delayed even one step further, the armies of Stromgarde and Kul Tiras joining the battle would have completely encircled the Horde in the Tirisfal Glades, trapping them like turtles in a jar.
The Stromgarde reinforcements arriving from Hillsbrad Foothills blocked the path beside Lordaeron Lake. Orgrim had anticipated this, and the direction of the withdrawal was chosen to be Silverpine Forest from the start.
Most of the Gilneas Kingdom's army had been handed over to Lothar for unified deployment; the remaining forces were adequate for defense but dared not proactively attack the encroaching Horde army.
Lothar earnestly persuaded King Greymane to dispatch troops to slow the Horde's retreat, arguing that even a delay of a few hours could greatly affect the final outcome of the war.
But seeing that the war in the north was about to conclude, King Genn began focusing more on the post-war situation. He vaguely declined Lothar's proposal, and thus the Horde was able to cross Silverpine Forest and return to Hillsbrad without obstruction.
Coincidentally, the remaining forces of Alterac were also merely holding tightly to Southshore, Dunhollow Keep, and Terenas.
They used the reconstruction of Alterac Castle as an excuse to avoid the Horde's main marching route, and the symbolic defenders left at Thoradins Wall collapsed at the first touch.
During the great retreat, the Horde army gradually formed a Single-File Snake Formation. A long line of the Horde hurried along the main road from Hillsbrad to Hillsbrad Foothills, with the distance between them growing wider and wider.
The once bloodthirsty and savage Orcs were losing the immense power they had gained from the demon blood. Orcs who had drunk less demon blood could already distinctly feel their bodies failing them and a deep, soul-level exhaustion.
Orgrim naturally noticed the Orcs' terrible condition. As one of the few Orcs who hadn't drunk the demon blood, his condition remained good, but many fierce generals, including Varok and Broxigar, showed unprecedented signs of fatigue.
This trend had actually begun appearing in the later stages of the Siege of Lordaeron. Orgrim subtly rotated these exhausted Orcs off the battlefield, sending out soldiers who still had strength, which was one of the reasons Orgrim decisively ordered the retreat.
The weakened Horde could no longer suppress the well-equipped Humans in battle. Continuing the fight would only expose the Horde's weakness to the Alliance, further igniting the fighting spirit of the Alliance, who saw victory within reach.
Just as Orgrim had feared, the state the Horde displayed during their retreat made Lothar, who was leading the pursuit, increasingly suspicious.
Although the Horde's discipline had been poor before, they certainly wouldn't have displayed such a clumsy Single-File Snake Formation during a retreat or advance. This was clearly inviting the Alliance along the route to launch sneak attacks.
Initially, Lothar thought this was a Feigned Formation deliberately set up by Orgrim to confuse the enemy, but the "stubborn" Night Elves were the first to rush fearlessly into the trailing retreating forces, finally revealing the truth that the Horde was currently strong on the outside but hollow within.
Realizing the truth, Lothar immediately ordered a Messenger to relay this news to the Stromgarde garrison stationed in Hillsbrad Foothills, but acting now was clearly too late.
Although the Alliance army pouring out of Stromgarde City intercepted one-third of the Horde, the main Horde force centered around Orgrim still escaped their pursuit range.
Under the life-threatening pressure of the pursuing forces, the Horde Peons displayed unprecedented focus, taking only three days to preliminarily repair the destroyed Thandol Span.
The Horde's most elite army successfully retreated into The Wetlands and continued south to link up with the Bloodfury Clan, which had completely surrounded Ironforge and Gnomeregan.
The Bloodfury Clan also exhibited signs of power decay. The only reason they were still able to maintain pressure on the Dwarves and Gnomes was purely due to the ingrained impression created by their previously aggressive stance.
The Bronzebeard Dwarves and Gnomes had not broken out of their Capital Cities to attempt a relief effort for a long time, seemingly having resigned themselves to the status quo of being contained within the cities.
Following Andreas' reminder, the Alliance, upon learning the Horde had crossed the Thandol Span, preemptively dispatched Mages to Dun Morogh to inform the Bronzebeard Dwarves and Gnomes of the Horde's weakened state.
When the Bloodfury Clan began retreating, following Warchief Orgrim, the combined armies of the Dwarves and Gnomes charged out of the city simultaneously, scattering the Horde army under the impact of the Steam Tanks.
Kilrogg, the Chieftain of the Bloodfury Clan, voluntarily stayed behind to cover the retreat, delaying for time with the lives of the Bloodfury Warriors, allowing Orgrim to retreat into the Southern Searing Gorge.
The Bloodfury Clan has a very strange custom: when a new Chieftain succeeds to the position, they go to an ancient Cavern to perform a ritual, gouging out one of their eyes in exchange for the Foresight of the Moment of Death.
Kilrogg had once performed this ritual, and he clearly saw the scene of his own death through the Death Foresight.
And the Dun Morogh Snow Mountain was clearly not the location of death he had foreseen, which made him fearless when charging into battle.
The Chieftain's bloody fight encouraged the exhausted Orc Warriors. They desperately held back the pursuit of the Bronzebeard Dwarves and Gnomes, forcing their weak bodies onward.
"Going around in circles, have we actually returned to the Historical Starting Point at a time like this?"
Andreas smiled helplessly upon learning that Orgrim had led his great army to hide and hold out in Blackrock Spire.
When the main force of the Horde retreated from Tirisfal Glades, Daelin immediately led the Kul Tiras Navy to board ships and pursue them by sea. The Night Elf Republic's Third Naval Fleet also accompanied them.
Advancing by the unobstructed sea route was much faster than taking the winding land routes.
By the time Orgrim retreated to Dun Morogh, the navies of both nations had already landed first in Westfall.
The Orcs stationed there were subjected to a sudden naval attack and could only flee in panic. The Marine Corps of both nations advanced all the way into Elwynn Forest.
The sturdy Stormwind City had long ago been burned down by Llane himself. Elwynn Forest offered no natural defenses, and the significantly weakened Horde could not withstand the assault of Kul Tiras and the Night Elves, forcing them to retreat all the way toward Redridge Mountains.
Upon hearing the news, Orgrim let out a long sigh toward the sky.
Now, even the Road Home was cut off. He had no choice but to lead the exhausted Horde back into the territory of the Dark Iron Dwarves, with whom they had previously cooperated, and set up defenses using the sturdy Blackrock Spire.
Andreas did not follow Lothar to continue the pursuit south. The Night Elves' army stayed in the Dun Morogh Snow Mountain, helping the Bronzebeard Dwarves and Gnomes crush the trailing Bloodfury Clan.
A small number of remaining Bloodfury Stragglers fled into the snow mountains and were never seen again. At the enthusiastic invitation of King Magni Bronzebeard of Khaz Modan, Andreas temporarily stayed as a guest in the majestic Ironforge.
The current situation was very clear: the severely weakened Horde was no match for the Alliance. The armies Closing in from the North and South would surround the Horde forces in Blackrock Mountain, and the final battle would inevitably take place around the Burning Steppes and Searing Gorge.
The overall situation in the Eastern Kingdoms was settled. Andreas began paying more attention to the situation overseas—specifically, the situation at the Tomb of Sargeras.
When Orgrim fled to The Wetlands, Derrick reported back from the sea that they had located the Horde fleet departing from The Wetlands.
Gul'dan and the remnants of the Ravager Clan landed on the southern coast of Azsuna, and the Blacktooth Clan led by Rend arrived shortly after.
Azsuna was a place where the Night Elves' influence was relatively weak in the Broken Isles, especially the extremely barren southern beaches; only The Watcher's Isle, with its harsh environment, lay offshore.
However, The Watcher's Isle was fundamentally just a large prison, and without Maiev present, not many troops were stationed there; most Wardens were busy guarding the prisoners inside the cells and had no time to worry about Gul'dan landing on the east side of The Watcher's Isle.
When Gul'dan led the Orc warlocks to cast spells on the Azsuna beach, raising the Broken Shore, the Night Elf spirits scattered throughout Azsuna and the few Blue Dragons at Blue Wing Roost sensed a powerful surge of Fel Energy.
In the end, the Tomb of Sargeras was indeed raised by Gul'dan, but their reckless actions drew the attention of multiple parties.
Azuregos, who remained at Blue Wing Roost, led several adult Blue Dragons toward the southern beach, and Prince Farodis also convinced the Nar'thalas guards to rush over and investigate the situation.
When the Blacktooth Clan landed, they saw Gul'dan's smug, laughing expression after he finished casting the spell. Rend's blood-red eyes were filled with the fire of hatred, and he immediately ordered the Blacktooth Clan to attack the traitor Gul'dan.
At the same time, the five Alliance warships led by Derrick also arrived and landed in Azsuna.
In Derrick's eyes, both the Blacktooth Clan and the Ravager Clan were enemies. He ordered the Kul Tiras fleet to launch a simultaneous artillery attack on both sides.
The massive three-way melee caused the nearby Blue Dragons and Nar'thalas spirits observing the situation to pause and wait for developments.
The huge commotion at the Broken Shore alerted Elisande. Spellblade Commander Auriel led a reconnaissance unit, riding flying Mana Sabers, rushing from Suramar to investigate the situation.
The report sent back by Auriel caused Elisande's expression to gradually turn serious. The Tomb of Sargeras, which Aegwynn had sealed beneath the sea, had been manually raised again. This was clearly not good news.
The opportunity for apotheosis was close at hand. Gul'dan's mind was completely captivated by the Tomb of Sargeras, which was emitting powerful Fel Energy, and he could no longer focus on other details.
The cunning Gul'dan played a trick, deliberately luring the Blacktooth Clan to obstruct the Kul Tiras pursuit forces. While the two sides fought fiercely, he quietly took a small boat, hid behind the reefs, and headed for the Broken Shore.
When Gul'dan reached his destination, he ran straight into the Scouts who had rushed from Suramar to investigate.
While Gul'dan was fighting and retreating toward the Tomb of Sargeras, Andreas arrived at Ironforge at that exact moment and learned the latest news from the messenger sent by Elisande.
"So, the Tomb of Sargeras was indeed found by Gul'dan?"
Andreas rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. "Tell Elisande that this is likely a trap set by Sargeras for Gul'dan, using Medivh's hand."
"The soldiers of Suramar do not need to pursue them inside the Tomb of Sargeras. They just need to guard the entrance and kill all remaining members of the Ravager Clan and any demons rushing out of the tomb."
Sargeras knew Gul'dan's movements perfectly. A traitor who defied the will of the Burning Legion must be punished.
Subsequent intelligence confirmed Andreas' prediction: Gul'dan's final screams echoed throughout Saldanas. He was torn to shreds by the demons inside the tomb, and not even his soul managed to escape.
The Ravager Clan members who fled in panic after leaving the Tomb of Sargeras also met a terrible end. They were all killed by the Spellblade troops guarding the entrance, and not a single warlock escaped the Broken Shore.
Meanwhile, the battle between the Blacktooth Clan and Kul Tiras also reached a conclusion.
Although Daelin had not assigned many ships to Derrick, they were more than enough to deal with the Blacktooth Clan.
Rend abandoned his Clan warriors to cover his retreat, frantically fleeing back toward the coast where the ships were docked. While Derrick was busy clearing out the remaining Orcs, Rend quietly used the favorable wind to sail away.
By the time Derrick discovered Rend's movements, the last remaining Horde ship had already escaped far away. An angry Derrick could only order the destruction of the remaining Orc warships and the killing of all Blacktooth Orcs in Azsuna.
Although Gul'dan was dead, the impact he caused still lingered.
The Tomb of Sargeras, having reappeared, completely lacked the sacred solemnity of the Moon Temple of Saldanas. Powerful Fel Energy shot into the sky, and the sickly green pillar of light could be seen from a great distance.
After tearing Gul'dan apart, the demons inside the tomb began to surge outward. The Scout unit led by Auriel was blocking their advance at the entrance.
Elisande urgently gathered her advisors to discuss countermeasures and once again sent someone to consult Andreas for his opinion.
The Tomb of Sargeras had been activated by Gul'dan, and the Fel Energy inside was erupting violently. Merely sinking the island back into the sea was now meaningless.
To understand the situation up close, Andreas and Celeste personally rushed to Suramar to investigate.
When the two arrived at the top floor of the Nightborne Citadel, Elisande and several advisors were anxiously gazing at the conspicuous green pillar of light in the distance.
Elisande politely bowed to the hastily arriving Andreas, saying, "Speaker."
"No need for formalities. Tell me the current situation."
"Yes. Thalyssra, please explain."
As the Chief Arcanist explained, Andreas and Celeste's brows gradually furrowed.
The demons who had attacked Northrend alongside the Avatar of Sargeras were completely annihilated by the Wyrmrest Temple and the Night Elves army led by Tyrande.
To prevent their Fel Energy-infused blood from polluting the land, Aegwynn, with the assistance of the Blue Dragons, sealed all the demon corpses within Saldanas.
But perhaps the accumulated blood and the Fel Energy naturally leaking from the Avatar of Sargeras attracted the attention of demons in the Twisting Nether. When the Tomb of Sargeras rose from the seabed again, it inexplicably contained many previously unseen demons.
Furthermore, judging by Gul'dan's death, these demons were quite powerful. The Scout unit led by Auriel surprisingly couldn't withstand their attack, forcing Elisande to send reinforcements to the Broken Shore twice in succession.
'This must be Sargeras' doing, right? His Avatar's descent was a huge conspiracy to begin with, and the situation inside the tomb must just be one part of it.'
Andreas asked thoughtfully, "Archmage, I won't ask for the Tomb of Sargeras to be sunk back into the sea, but can it be resealed from the outside? At least we must prevent this large-scale spread of Fel Energy from affecting the residents of Suramar."
"It is possible."
Elisande sighed. "But with the current mages in Suramar, I fear the power is insufficient. We will require the Speaker to send support."
"That's no problem, Celeste."
"Understood, I'll leave right away."
Carrying Andreas' orders, Celeste teleported to the Arcane Association headquarters in Moonshadow's Rest and brought back most of the idle Highborne Mages.
While Auriel, with the help of Thalyssra, Melandus, and other advisors, drove the demons back inside the tomb, over two thousand Arcanists, presided over by Elisande, activated a large sealing magic array.
The blue-purple Arcane array enveloped the massive Tomb of Sargeras. The complex runic patterns of the array began to rotate slowly, and when the five-fold magic array finally synchronized, the pillar of Fel Energy shooting from the top of the Tomb of Sargeras immediately dimmed.
"Phew. We managed to fulfill the mission." Elisande let out a small sigh of relief. "As long as no one stimulates it with Fel Energy from the outside, the demons inside won't be able to rush out of the tomb again."
"External stimulation..."
Andreas thought of a certain blind, lovesick individual still locked in a dark room. 'I wonder if it will still come to that point in the future.'
Ten thousand years had passed since Illidan was imprisoned, and Andreas had considered freeing the Demon Hunter. Yet the most resolute opposition came not from Maiev, but from the very person Illidan still yearned for—Tyrande.
Tyrande had grown up with Illidan as childhood sweethearts, and she understood him even better than his own brother, Malfurion.
After all, Illidan's relationship with his brother had soured for certain reasons; he would rather confide his innermost thoughts to Tyrande, whom he had long admired.
In Tyrande's words, Illidan was a fanatic who recognized neither good nor evil.
Once he fixed his mind on a goal, no matter the cost or devastation, he would charge headlong to the finish, heedless of anyone trying to stop him.
Although even Tyrande could not say what Illidan's true objective might be now, releasing that utterly self-absorbed oddball would surely jolt the established order of the Night Elf Republic.
"Unless we're so short of troops that there's no alternative, it's best not to let him out."
That was the unanimous view of Tyrande, Maiev, and Malfurion. Andreas had never felt strongly about freeing Illidan; with all three against it, he merely shrugged and acquiesced.
The last vestige of Gul'dan's lingering power was cleanly resolved. Elissande obliQuel'y shared some information with Andreas.
Certain members of the Council were growing dissatisfied with Andreas' prolonged stay in the Eastern Kingdoms.
Tyrande believed the orc uprising was nothing the Night Elves needed to trouble themselves over; with their ship-building skills, the orcs could never cross the Endless Sea to reach Kalimdor.
Fandral disagreed. Laynella's reports through the Cenarion Circle mentioned the orcs hiring goblins to build vessels.
The goblins of Kezan rivaled the Gnomes in engineering talent. While their ships still fell far short of Night Elf craft, they were more than seaworthy enough for the crossing.
Maiev also understood Andreas' actions. The true power behind the orcs had been confirmed as the Burning Legion—evident from the Fel Energy wielded by Gul'dan and other warlocks.
Since crushing the Horde would simultaneously weaken the Burning Legion, Andreas' campaign could hardly be called pointless.
As for Malfurion, he had paid scant attention to worldly affairs in recent years.
Though Xavius had hidden the main host of the Nightmare, he still sent avatars to taunt Malfurion. To track down Xavius' true soul, Malfurion had not left the Emerald Dream for years.
Tyrande had long complained about this. In her view, Xavius was merely one of the Old Gods' hounds; there was no need for Malfurion to devote so much effort—simply ordering the Cenarion Circle to stay vigilant was enough.
With age, Tyrande's fiery temper had indeed cooled, but her poor grasp of the bigger picture remained largely unchanged.
Andreas admired Malfurion's sharp instincts. Xavius was indeed the core of the Nightmare; eliminating him would sever at least two-thirds of N'Zoth's tendrils into the Emerald Dream.
Though Tyrande's personal opinion carried little weight, Andreas realized that, counting the days he had been away from Astranaar, it was indeed time to bring the war to a close.
After tying up loose ends at the Tomb of Sargeras, Andreas and Celeste bade Elissande farewell and returned once more to Ironforge.
By now, Lothar's Alliance host had encircled Blackrock Mountain. The Bronzebeard Dwarves and the Gnomes had joined the Alliance under Lothar's banner, sending troops and materiel to the Blackrock front.
"Here."
Magni slapped a finely wrought firearm into Andreas' hand.
"I forged the materials myself, but Gelbin built the gun. The barrel's rifled by hand, just as you described. You trust Gelbin's workmanship, right?"
Gelbin Mekkatorque, High Tinker of Gnomeregan, was famed for his craftsmanship. Andreas had casually mentioned rifling for guns and cannon some time ago; he hadn't expected the Gnome to hand-rifle one so quickly.
Andreas knew this was Magni and Gelbin's way of thanking the Night Elves for crushing the Bloodfury Clan. He accepted the weapon without demur.
"I'll take it. My thanks to you both."
"Hah! Glad you like it. Hope it suits your fancy."
Dwarves are blunt by nature; even King Magni, more cunning than most, liked people who spoke straight.
The Night Elves had long since developed guns, but the Sentinels and rangers still preferred bows out of habit and practicality.
Today's Sentinels commonly wielded arcane longbows: as an arrow was loosed, enchanted mechanisms within the bow infused it with the bearer's own magical essence, increasing its power.
A Sentinel skilled with an arcane bow could match the output of a magi-rifle.
Yet mechanical firearms had their own edge—rate of fire, for one.
High officers like Shandris and Daelin could, with dexterous hands, rain arrows faster than a machine gun, but ordinary Sentinels could not.
Every Night Elf company fielded arcane heavy machine guns and portable arcane mortars.
Andreas held no prejudice against guns, but at his level their power was, frankly, underwhelming.
Noticing Andreas' indifferent expression, Magni grinned and clapped his arm. "Don't scoff. Gelbin packed in plenty of new tricks. Try it when you have time—you won't be disappointed."
"Uh… all right."
Andreas hefted the heavy gun, examining it. Apart from its exquisite, almost artistic finish, he saw nothing special for the moment.
Muradin, Magni's second brother, led the Bronzebeard army to Blackrock Mountain, while the third brother, the notorious pull-addict Brian, was off excavating relics across the world.
When Andreas and Celeste reached the Blackrock front, Alliance and Horde had already clashed repeatedly around the mountain.
Even with the orcs greatly weakened, their thirst for a glorious death meant Orgrim's counsel for retreat was flatly rejected.
The result was a string of crushing defeats that now trapped the Horde inside Blackrock Mountain.
The Second War was drawing to a close; the Horde's rout was plain for all to see. A chain of victories had left many Alliance commanders inevitably complacent.
Watching from within Blackrock Spire, Orgrim noted their laxity, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes.
'One last throw of the dice. As they say: a true orc dies on the battlefield!'
As one of the Horde's rare strategists, Orgrim saw the current situation very clearly.
The Horde was beyond saving; it was only a matter of time before they were completely defeated by the Alliance.
Looking out from the window of the Blackrock Mountain fortress built by the Dark Iron Dwarves, Orgrim sighed softly.
'Gul'dan, it is a pity I cannot fulfill my promise to teach you. I hope you can become a competent Frostwolf Chieftain under DrekThar's tutelage. Do not let the Frostwolf Clan walk the same mistaken path we have already proven wrong.'
...As the Alterac army arrived under the leadership of General Hath, Lothar finally issued the order for the final decisive battle to the entire army.
The Night Elves and High Elves, trailing at the very back, watched as the high-spirited Alliance launched their charge. While marveling at human progress, they calmly began providing long-range fire support.
Since the Alliance soldiers were using their bodies of flesh and blood at the very front, Andreas did not bring out the Night Elves' usual arcane golems to'show off.'
The Night Elves followed the High Elves' example, pretending to be capable only of long-range combat, providing high-quality support for the Alliance soldiers charging ahead.
Like the kings of the Alliance nations, Andreas also began to consider the aftermath of the war.
There were still over a hundred thousand Orc soldiers in Blackrock Spire, and with the peons, the number was even higher. How to handle these Orcs was a difficult problem the Alliance had to solve.
'Because of the changes I caused, Terenas' prestige isn't as high as it was in history. Will he still act according to his original plans?'
Due to King Llane's survival, Prince Varian naturally couldn't look up to another king like a father figure.
Although Varian still established a good friendship with Arthas, who was close to him in age, the relationship between them remained that of a normal interaction between two princes. Unlike in the original history, where under Terenas' subtle influence, he regarded Arthas as his own brother.
The existence of the Kingdom of Gilneas undoubtedly weakened Lordaeron's authority. To this day, Terenas still views this neighboring country ruled by a woman as a thorn in his side.
However, due to the wild style their ancestors developed in the extreme climate of Northrend, the Kingdom of Gilneas was stronger than Lordaeron in terms of fighting spirit and individual combat power.
If not for Lordaeron's superior national strength and larger army, given the Gilnean temperament of never backing down from outsiders, Terenas probably wouldn't sleep soundly at night.
"Ohhh!!"
A sudden clamor on the battlefield interrupted Andreas' thoughts. An Orc clad in black plate armor, holding a square warhammer in one hand, charged straight toward Lothar's central army under the desperate escort of a large number of Orcs.
Seeing the very familiar doomhammer in the other's hand, Andreas raised an eyebrow. "Orgrim?"
Anduin Lothar was no longer young; compared to Orgrim who was in his prime, he had already entered his twilight years.
But Lothar's warrior soul had not faded with age. Seeing that Orgrim was clearly charging straight for him, Lothar immediately understood the other's intention.
Turalyon stood before Lothar, gripping a two-handed sword. "Commander! Leave this guy to me. Please retreat!"
"No need."
Lothar drew the great royal sword from his waist, his eyes burning with fighting spirit.
"The Horde is no longer able to turn the tide; the outcome of this battle doesn't matter. Since his target is me, let me face him and deliver the final fatal blow to the Horde."
"But..."
"Enough, Turalyon. Step back."
Lothar took a deep breath. As he aged, he could feel his physical functions rapidly declining. This battle would likely be the last time in his life he personally stepped onto the battlefield.
'I hope to end my battlefield career without regrets. After this, I'm afraid I'll only be able to sit in the back and command.'
Seeing Lothar's stubborn behavior from afar, Andreas curled his lip. "As expected, people become stubborn as they get older. Even Lothar can't avoid this cycle."
Celeste asked with some concern, "Is it really okay? If Commander Lothar is defeated on the battlefield, the Horde's morale will surely soar, and then..."
"Heh~"
Andreas pointed toward Turalyon, who had taken over command on the spot. "Do you think Lothar wouldn't prepare for such a situation? His disciple Turalyon, whom he personally taught, has matured rapidly during this war and is already capable of standing on his own."
"Moreover, the Horde is indeed weakened to the extreme. He believes that even if he unfortunately falls, Turalyon can lead the Alliance army to final victory. He'd rather follow his heart and be willful one last time."
"However..."
Andreas smiled and rubbed his chin. "He won't die that easily. Let's just wait and see how things develop."
..."Hah!"
Under the cover of countless Orcs, Orgrim finally charged in front of Lothar. Carrying the momentum of his charge, he used the Heroic Leap technique to jump high, gripping the doomhammer with both hands and smashing it heavily toward Lothar.
In this battle, Lothar did not carry a shield as usual. Locked on by Orgrim's sharp aura, Lothar remained unmoved and performed a flexible side-step. While dodging Orgrim's attack, he swung his sword at the opponent's side.
"Clang!"
The hurried attack lacked sufficient power and was blocked by the plate armor on Orgrim's body, leaving a deep sword mark on the side of the breastplate. After landing, Orgrim reached out to touch the scar on his armor, his expression becoming even more serious.
"Human commander, you are strong, but the victory of this battle will surely belong to me!"
"Roar!"
The robust leg muscles beneath Orgrim's greaves suddenly exploded with immense force, and he charged in front of Lothar almost in the blink of an eye.
"Bang!"
The warhammer and the greatsword collided with a dull metallic crash. The aged and weakened Lothar was inferior to Orgrim in strength and was forced back three steps by the Warchief's wild power.
However, after this strike, Lothar had basically gauged Orgrim's strength. Using clever leverage to deflect Orgrim's hammer, the two-handed greatsword in Lothar's hands moved like a nimble dagger, slashing at various parts of Orgrim's body from tricky angles.
The Orcs, who had always been straightforward, had never seen this way of using a weapon. Orgrim parried and dodged in a panic, only managing to adapt to the other's technical fighting style after several rounds of aggressive attacks.
A round of aggressive attacks consumed a lot of Lothar's stamina. Although it was a pity he couldn't take down the enemy in one go, Lothar could only temporarily withdraw his offensive. Both sides separated by a distance, re-entering a state of mutual confrontation.
'I've grown old...'
Lothar sighed softly in his heart. If he were ten years younger, he was confident he could have completely slain Orgrim in that round of attacks just now. Unfortunately, time spares no one, and his physical functions were starting to fail to keep up with his thoughts.
"Whew~"
Orgrim let out a long breath of turbid air. The thrilling defense just now had left him somewhat shaken.
For a moment, he thought he was going to be dragged down by the opponent's storm-like combos, but at the final critical moment, the enemy suddenly withdrew the offensive.
A flash of inspiration hit Orgrim's mind. 'His body can't keep up? This is my chance.'
In Orcish customs, most warriors would actively step onto the battlefield when they were about to grow old, allowing themselves to die in a glorious battle rather than dying of old age in a sickbed. Therefore, there were very few elderly warriors among the Orcs.
Human customs differed from those of Orcs. Even if the elderly Lothar could no longer kill enemies on the battlefield, with his seasoned experience in commanding armies, he remained an indispensable pillar of the Alliance.
Under Turalyon's excellent art of command, the Horde's defeat was evident, but at this moment, Turalyon was looking at the center of the battle circle with great concern.
"Commander..."
Lothar's stubborn choice left Turalyon powerless to stop him. All he could do was try his best to crush the Horde in the shortest time possible, ending the significance of this duel and indirectly halting its continuation.
Orgrim was not as single-minded as Grom. After noticing Lothar's aging state, he didn't immediately launch an airtight assault. Instead, he consciously began to wear down Lothar's stamina.
"Hoo~ Hoo~"
After more than a dozen rounds of offense and defense, Lothar's heavy panting was audible to everyone nearby. Orgrim's eyes brightened further; victory was within reach.
Due to multiple collisions with the doomhammer, the great royal sword, which was inferior in density, had developed slight cracks. Like Lothar himself, it seemed it could be shattered at any moment.
"Lok'tar!"
Seeing the dawn of victory, Orgrim completely abandoned defense, pouring all his rage into the doomhammer. During their final close-quarters engagement, he deliberately smashed the warhammer onto the sword Lothar raised to block.
"Crack~"
The crisp sound of the longsword shattering caused both sides' expressions to change simultaneously—one side rejoiced, the other worried.
"Bang!"
In the end, the great royal sword snapped into two under the pressure of Orgrim's full-strength blow.
Seeing this scene, Turalyon quickly abandoned his command duties and charged toward Lothar's position.
But contrary to the expectations of both participants, the broken half-sword in Lothar's hand did not allow Orgrim's warhammer to pass.
A brilliant golden blade extended from the broken edge of the sword. This materialized energy blade remained firmly blocking the path of the doomhammer.
"What?!"
Orgrim, having exhausted his strength, had absolutely not anticipated such a bizarre phenomenon.
Although Lothar was also surprised, the chance to turn defeat into victory was right before him. Experienced as he was, he temporarily cast aside his doubts, utilized Roujin to deflect Orgrim's attack, and used the opponent's momentum to pivot to the right.
When Lothar completed his 360° turn, the side of Orgrim's body, previously wounded by a sword mark, was fully exposed in his sight.
"Ha!"
Seizing the opportunity, Lothar grasped the golden blade with both hands and brought it straight down with his remaining strength.
"Swish!"
Orgrim, unable to defend himself, had his left arm severed. The energy blade, its momentum undiminished, split open his already damaged breastplate, leaving a deep sword wound that started at his shoulder, sliced across the left side of his body, and reached his flank.
"Ugh!"
Hit heavily on his left side, Orgrim lost his balance and fell to the ground, covered in blood. The outcome was decided.
Lothar looked with a complicated expression at the flickering energy blade in his hand. Within a few seconds, this blade, which had not originated from his own power, slowly dissipated into light particles.
After confirming that Orgrim had passed out due to shock and injury, Lothar turned his head to look at the Night Elves' position at the rear of the battlefield.
Andreas smiled and put two fingers together in a gesture toward Lothar, which confirmed to Lothar who his savior was.
"A Light Blessing, huh..."
Lothar shook his head with a wry smile. He finally understood why Speaker Moonshadow had suddenly proposed giving his weapon a Light Blessing before the great battle began.
Although he didn't know how Speaker Moonshadow had anticipated the situation's development, he definitely had to thank him for his preparation today, which allowed him to narrowly survive.
In a one-on-one duel, the weapon is also an extension of the combatants' inherent power.
Without Andreas' prior preparation, Orgrim would certainly have won after Lothar's sword broke. Such a defeat could not be blamed on anyone else; he could only fault himself for improper weapon usage.
Lothar unexpectedly defeated the unprepared Orgrim using the energy light blade. Even if the Warchief knew, he would have no complaints; he could only blame his own lack of foresight for not expecting the opponent to have a backup plan after his sword broke.
This situation could not be considered outside support; it merely showed who was better prepared before the battle.
The Orcs, already on the verge of collapse, saw their Warchief defeated, and their morale instantly plummeted. Most Orc soldiers threw down their weapons and surrendered in despair.
Only a small number of those who refused to admit defeat managed to break through the encirclement early, including Teron Gorefiend's Death Knights and Zuljin's Amani Trolls.
Due to his current state as an undead being, Teron Gorefiend had a major disagreement with Gul'dan, who resurrected him. After escaping Quel'Thalas with Gul'dan, they parted ways. He rejoined the Horde during the Siege of Lordaeron, shifting all blame onto Gul'dan.
Orgrim knew perfectly well that the fellow was talking nonsense, but it was a time when manpower was needed. He didn't expose Teron Gorefiend's clumsy lie, intending to settle the score later, and allowed him to rejoin the battlefield to fight the Alliance's Holy Knights.
The Death Knights, swift as the wind, broke through the encirclement and charged south. After breaching the defenses of the Kul Tiras Marine Corps, they slipped into the Redridge Mountains, after which they vanished without a trace, just like the Bloodfury Clan.
The Death Knights numbered only around a hundred, incapable of causing catastrophic damage to the post-war order, and pursuing them now was impossible anyway.
Although the Holy Knights' warhorses could receive Light infusion to boost their burst power and stamina, their physical functions ultimately had limits. They would certainly lose a test of endurance against the tireless Undead Warhorses.
Turalyon let out a long sigh of relief upon seeing Lothar survive and claim victory.
Counting from the start of the First Orc War, humans and Orcs had struggled for six years. Finally, the outcome was definitively decided, and the Alliance soldiers present excitedly raised their weapons and cheered joyfully.
The veterans of the Kingdom of Stormwind embraced their comrades and shed tears of excitement; the Orcs' defeat meant they finally had hope of reclaiming their homeland.
Lireesa also let out a soft breath. The War Bow, which used to feel weightless, now felt exceptionally heavy in her hands.
Seeing Lothar's perilous battle today further solidified her idea of retirement. She subconsciously turned to look at her three daughters, who were huddled together excitedly chattering about the joy of victory.
"Hmm?"
Noticing the displeasure on Alleria's face, Lireesa subtly followed her gaze. A young human officer, who was smiling and greeting her, was none other than Marshal Lothar's adjutant, Turalyon.
"Heh~"
Lireesa shook her head and didn't dwell on the matter.
There were thousands, if not tens of thousands, of people who admired her daughters. Not only humans, but many within the High Elves had also boldly pursued them.
However, her eldest and second daughters had high standards and looked down even on the talented young men within the High Elf race, let alone humans, whose lifespans were clearly unequal.
As for her youngest daughter, Vereesa... Lireesa looked worriedly at her third daughter, who was smiling foolishly. Protected by her two older sisters, the child knew too little about the dangers of the world. Lireesa worried that she might one day be fooled by a human's sweet talk.
High Elves possess long lifespans exceeding three thousand years, whereas humans only live for a mere century in comparison.
If Vereesa truly found a human husband, it would mean she would live the rest of her thousands of years in constant remembrance and sorrow.
Lireesa knew her own daughter well. Vereesa was the type to stick to her principles; once she chose a partner, she wouldn't consider anyone else.
'I should make some arrangements beforehand. At least I need to make Vereesa open her eyes and see the world more, so she doesn't get swept away by some smooth-talking human.'
"Achoo!"
A red-haired man in Dalaran suddenly sneezed. The Young Mage looked around, puzzled.
"Who is cursing me?"
Ahead of him, an exceptionally handsome, golden-haired High Elf mage frowned and urged, "Rhonin, what are you looking at? Hurry up and follow. Master Antonidas has issued an urgent summons; something important must be happening."
"Coming, coming!"
'Must be a delusion.'