When I was almost self-immolated by the Hellhound's Mana Burn, you mocked me as a weakling, and I don't blame you.
But now that I've become a battlefield harvester, shouldn't you affectionately call me Archmage?
The crumbling front line was re-consolidated. Ravencrest also personally arrived. If they retreated further, The Legion's army would directly step onto Mount Hyjal, where the queen's temporary residence was. There could absolutely be no situation where the queen had to evacuate with them again, as this would bring shame to all the Highborne nobles.
"Hold the line! The queen is watching us. Xavius betrayed the queen, betrayed the Empire, and brought foreign demons to plague us."
"We cannot let the queen be shamed, children of Kaldorei! The opportunity to serve the queen has come! Hold firm and there will be a way!"
Hold firm and there will be a way?
Who taught you that, kid?
You learned all the bad things and none of the good!
No sooner had he spoken than a deafening roar came, the piercing sound waves making ears bleed.
Looking up, the once solid defense line now had a twenty-meter wide crater, and the surviving soldiers around it were missing limbs.
Weapons and armor made of blackpeak granite were shattered into pieces. In the sulfur-smelling giant pit, there were remnants of limbs, and detached fingers curled unconsciously. Nearly a hundred people were killed instantly by this single blast!
There were no screams, no struggles; they died peacefully and quietly.
This scene terrified the surrounding soldiers, who had no idea what had happened. What was this? Whose Italian cannon was this?
Rumble!
The Fel cannons at the rear of The Burning Legion continued to bombard. Fel-powered shells landed on the night elf defense line, and the violent explosions instantly tore through the defenses.
The nearly kilometer-long defense line crumbled in an instant. Even those who miraculously survived had their internal organs shattered, their eyes unfocused as they lay on the ground, clearly beyond saving.
Ravencrest's eyes were bloodshot. He was still somewhat confused, wondering what kind of enemy possessed such powerful weapons.
He had always thought the Kaldorei Empire was very strong, relying on a vast number of mages to expand their territory all the way to the center of the former troll Empire, making any resistors flee in terror.
But now, facing the invasion of an alien civilization, he felt a sense of powerlessness for the first time, a despair that they simply couldn't win.
Endless demon soldiers, mountain-like Infernal Giants, Hellhounds that greatly countered mages, and skilled and strong Fel Guards, none of these could be resisted by the Kaldorei Empire.
Roar!
Agamaggan, the Wild God of the wild boars, was enraged. He began to charge with heavy steps, targeting the Fel cannons.
Archimonde really wanted to go and exchange blows with him. Such a powerful creature would be a good opponent. What did these natives call him? A Wild God?
Hmph!
How dare a native call himself a god!
"Adjust direction! Aim at that wild boar! Full firepower! Blast it to death!"
With a command, a large number of arcane cannons began to charge, turning their muzzles towards the charging Agamaggan. The accumulated energy even overloaded the cannons.
demons blocking the way were trampled into paste, or impaled on tusks like skewers. Pure physical collisions sent countless demons flying, their bodies torn apart.
His massive body was unmatched on the battlefield. Even a wild boar, he fought like a God of War.
"Oh no! They're targeting Lord Agamaggan!"
He had just warned him not to go deep into the enemy camp.
The next second, a deafening roar that even cracked the earth came.
arcane beams focused on a single point, destroying the spear-like bristles, and the converged beam sent the Wild God flying.
The massive body lost control, and the forward momentum combined with the impact from two different directions sent the Wild God flying tens of thousands of meters away.
Such terrifying power, even a mountain-like Wild God couldn't withstand it!
"No! Quickly send people to rescue Agamaggan! He is seriously injured, don't let anything happen to him."
Cenarius had just finished speaking when his hairs immediately stood on end. He used vines to pull his body ten meters away.
Boom!
A huge crater appeared on the ground where he had been. This was the mark of a Fel cannon bombardment. Many Dryads, Druids, and Jungle Guardians were sent flying, clearly beyond saving.
"You all deserve to die!"
Those were his students and children. Watching the demons slaughter his offspring, he couldn't sit still.
He cast vines to entangle the demons, strangling them to death, his eyes filled with hatred as he looked into the distance.
Just then, a terrifying arcane energy, enough to make one almost kneel, gathered, forming a spherical body with an intricate pattern.
The sphere's speed was not fast; it floated lightly like a balloon, giving the illusion that it could be popped with a touch.
The next second, the sphere appeared on the arcane cannon position. The arcane sphere exploded, and the spreading arcane power transformed all the cannons along with the engineers into brilliant crystals.
The demon engineers, in their terror, still reached out their claws to Archimonde, a fear of imminent death, wanting their leader to help them.
Unfortunately, the arcane energy spread too quickly, not only covering the Fel cannon position but also crystallizing a portal.
queen Azshara, holding her staff, floated down lightly, her golden eyes filled with endless rage. Even in extreme anger, she maintained her elegant nobility.
Her slender, full fingers gently clasped together. *Snap*, after a finger-snap.
The crystals, covering an area of nearly ten kilometers, shattered with a roar. Even the cannons made of meteoric iron were reduced to dust. Over fifty thousand demons were killed instantly.
Whether low-ranking Hellhounds or high-ranking Fel Guard commanders, all were reduced to fragments in this arcane storm.
The shattered portal further ignited a twisting power. Azshara, with a wave of her staff, used arcane teleportation to send the broken portal directly to another battlefield.
A blast of air, more intense than all the Fel cannons firing together, came from afar. No demon in its path could withstand the spatial tearing.
Portals involved distant and complex spatial mechanics. Once they exploded, even Archimonde and Kil'jaeden, the two supreme commanders of The Legion, would be blown to death, with no chance of survival!
Seeing his offensive thwarted again, Archimonde was nearing a state of rage. He couldn't control himself and wanted to personally descend and crush those damned rebellious ants one by one.
"Kil'jaeden, you are responsible for holding the line. Is dealing with that woman a problem?"
It sounded like a question, but it was actually a command.
This greatly displeased Kil'jaeden. They were both equals; even before joining The Burning Legion, they were both leaders, with no one higher or lower.
"What are you doing? Fully break through the Well of Eternity's confinement and teleport Lord Sargeras here. The moment Lord Sargeras descends, all resistance will become meaningless. Have you forgotten?"
Being blinded by anger was not a good thing. In warfare, emotional decisions are the most taboo.
Although The Burning Legion could afford to die and wasn't afraid of more demons dying, they were all cannon fodder, an unlimited supply of cannon fodder.
But the frustration brought by failure was strong, especially for renegades like them who abandoned their homes and handed over entire planets to The Burning Legion. Any slight setback would trigger their sensitive, fragile, and pathetic self-esteem.
"Even without Sargeras, we can conquer this planet. Don't forget, Velen is not far from this planet. If Sargeras descends, will you still have the chance for personal revenge?"
Archimonde wasn't foolish; he began to incite, knowing everyone had a weakness.
Kil'jaeden naturally had one too. His good friend Velen, who believed in the Light, ran away with a large group of his people, unwilling to collude with The Burning Legion.
Sargeras, however, had no objection to this. He only wanted Argus, the nascent Titan. As for the escaped Eredar, they were merely ants.
But others didn't care, Kil'jaeden cared a lot. It was like a competition between two top students. Originally, they were evenly matched.
But one day, one of them used external help to surpass the other, only to find the other directly quit the competition and even mocked him for being dishonest.
This infuriated Kil'jaeden. His entire life, he had wanted to defeat the other, to trample Velen underfoot, and to tell his former friend, now his opponent, that his choice to join The Burning Legion was not wrong, that it was for a grand future.
To achieve this goal, Kil'jaeden tirelessly searched the universe for traces of his former people. A major discovery meant a massive invasion, killing them all.
But for ten thousand years, he had not been able to achieve this goal. If he couldn't personally kill Velen, making him bow down and admit his mistake before dying, acknowledging that joining The Burning Legion was correct, then this resentment and obsession would fester, forming a deep-seated illness.
After a moment of silence, Kil'jaeden's tone was very unfriendly.
"I hope you don't die this time. I will hold off Azshara."
After speaking, he began to use Eredar magic to clash with Azshara. Both were top-tier beings, identical in biological dimension.
Even without the Well of Eternity's blessing, she now had the blessing of a mysterious power (the Glorious Aura), a power bestowed by her spouse, which was enough to make up for many disadvantages. Fighting Kil'jaeden, the second-in-command, didn't seem to put her at a disadvantage.
Her mana regeneration speed increased. As long as it wasn't continuous high-power magic, she only needed to wait a few minutes for her mana to be full again. If she didn't have the aura's blessing, such intense combat would deplete her mana in less than half a day.
Unlike now, where she could freely unleash large mana-consuming spells, trading power for quantity.
Kil'jaeden suddenly felt the threat of death and became serious. His opponent was very strong, even not weaker than him!
It was hard to imagine this was queen Azshara after losing the Well of Eternity. If it weren't for the traitor Xavius providing information, a complete Well of Eternity Azshara might have suppressed him, eventually defeating and banishing him back to the Twisting Nether!
Being defeated by such a native was a fact Kil'jaeden could not accept.
Kaldorei? He was an Eredar, a nobler existence. How could he lose to this purple-skinned, long-eared woman!
Unacceptable, absolutely unacceptable!
Kil'jaeden was tied up. During this time, Grand Magistrix Elisande and Vashj led the mage corps to support the battlefield.
Within fifty miles of their magical duel, no demon or night elf dared to approach. The scattered magical energy was enough to cripple even the highest-ranking Doomguards. If unlucky, they could even die instantly.
However, the crumbling front line made it difficult for them to perform well. Fortunately, Elisande was an experienced lord and had been through many wars.
She instructed the mage corps to follow her and intercept the advancing Burning Legion, cutting off their reinforcements and creating a battlefield vacuum.
As for stabilizing the front line, that was up to Ravencrest's methods.
Watching the front line collapse, no matter how Ravencrest called out, he could only gather a small number of soldiers to guard himself. It was unrealistic to rally the defeated troops again.
Those soldiers were terrified, completely devoid of fighting spirit, wishing they had two more legs to run for their lives, to a place where there were no demons.
Man-eating demons, soldiers torn apart, eerie floating heads, and those arcane cannons that would blast even their own allies to smithereens at the slightest provocation.
All of these made them lose their will to fight. Their courage had been shattered, and no amount of calling out would help.
Just as Ravencrest was using magic to amplify his voice, the spell was rudely cut off. This technique was incredibly skillful.
Looking up, he saw a creature resembling a night elf, but with two huge demonic horns on its head, wings on its back, a tongue that had become long and narrow like a frog's, hands that had devolved into claws, feet that had become hooves, and a body exuding a strange sulfurous smell, standing before him.
This seemed to be the queen's advisor, Xavius?
It was only somewhat similar; more noticeable was its incredibly grotesque appearance and sinister smile.
Behind him were many night elf kin who had already been demonized. Their features were still faintly recognizable, but they had become incredibly ugly and disgusting.
These were all Xavius' students and subordinates. He never expected them to actually join The Burning Legion, to join the demons!
"Hehehehe, The Legion will destroy this world, and I am the queen's true consort. Kneel now!"
His hideous appearance was terrifying and disgusting. He had never seen such a repulsive fellow.
Was this still a noble Highborne?
"Xavius, you traitor! You brought demons here! Do you know how many of our kin have died because of your evil intentions!"
Unlike other Highborne who were arrogant and looked down on commoners, though they were all night elves, nobles preferred to call themselves Highborne to distinguish themselves from those commoners.
The inherent arrogance of elves was evident even among their own kind, without even a pretense.
Ravencrest was closer to the common people and willing to give them opportunities. He believed that they were all of the same race, and without the support of the common people, the Highborne would be nothing more than a castle in the air, without foundation, bound to fall apart sooner or later!
"Heheheh, they are all commoners, all ants. They don't deserve to live in this world. Inferior bloodlines, despicable races. Only The Legion is the most noble."
Xavius clenched his claws. Although he had become uglier, he had also grown stronger, with an unprecedented power filling his entire body.
With a raise of his hand, Ravencrest's guards immediately screamed. Fel flames enveloped them, repelling any healing spells.
They died in agonizing incineration.
"Don't you see? This is the power The Legion has bestowed upon me, so wonderful. Haha, you wouldn't understand, nor would you know this feeling. Now, surrender or die!"
If Ravencrest hadn't been a commander, Xavius would have killed him long ago.
Even he had to admit that Ravencrest had high prestige among the commoners, capable of organizing them into a resistance army in a short time, which was a testament to his ability.
Even if this defensive line collapsed, there would still be another solid line behind it, blocking The Legion's advance.
So he proposed an idea: open portals in other areas to transport Legion soldiers to other places for burning, killing, and looting, attracting the attention of the allied forces.
Once the allied forces divided to eliminate the demons, the front-line defensive power would inevitably weaken. At that point, they could break through the line in one fell swoop, turn the entire area into Legion territory, and construct defensive lines to buy time for Sargeras' arrival.
Although the demons that could be summoned by those portals had limited strength, they were numerous. As long as there were enough of them, they could turn the tide of battle.
His gaze fell upon Azshara, who was floating in mid-air, battling Kil'jaeden. His eyes were still as infatuated as ever; she was his queen, the goddess of his dreams!
The thought of his queen being ridden by that unknown beast, suffering inhuman torment, pained his heart deeply.
Don't be afraid, Your Majesty, I will surely rescue you!
A simp! Undoubtedly a complete simp!
A simp sees the surface, while the protagonist walks the path; that is the difference.
Face the disparity. Perhaps if he stopped being a simp, he might live a more fulfilling life.
Indeed, simps are not bound by race or circumstance.
"Presumptuous! How can the queen be defiled by such a monster? For the queen!"
Ravencrest was enraged upon hearing this. queen Azshara was the supreme existence of the entire empire.
Although there were rumors that Her Majesty had attracted the demons, the queen's personal engagement in battle against the Burning Legion shattered those rumors.
The cry, "For Her Majesty the queen!" miraculously stopped the fleeing soldiers' fear. Looking at Azshara, who floated elegantly in the air like a sacred goddess, all the soldiers felt a hint of shame.
Her Majesty was still fighting to the death; how could they possibly flee!
"For queen Azshara!"
"For Her Majesty the queen!"
"Kill!"
No further words were needed. The fervent belief and worship of Azshara, propagated by the Highborne, had long been deeply ingrained. For Her Majesty the queen, they would not hesitate to offer their lives.
Old men, young men, women, regardless of gender or age, spontaneously picked up their weapons and charged at the demons still pursuing them, striking down demon leaders with swift blows.
The demons, in their dying moments, looked astonished, unable to comprehend how these terrified prey, who had been fleeing, could suddenly find the courage to resist!
Watching the collapsing front line reorganize, spontaneously assisting each other, and slaying Legion soldiers one by one, without a commander, purely through spontaneous, tacit cooperation.
This made Xavius' expression very ugly. These damned commoners, why wouldn't they just die properly?
If everyone in the world died, then Her Majesty the queen would be his. He was the queen's consort, the only one worthy of being the queen's husband!
"Damn it, damn it, you all deserve to die! Since you won't obey, then all of you die!"
He twisted Ravencrest's weapon with a claw, and with Fel flames burning in his hand, he prepared to give the other party a soul baptism, ensuring his soul would have no chance of resurrection, completely annihilated!
Ravencrest's eyes showed no fear. Even dying in battle was better than dying ignominiously.
"For queen Azshara!"
He closed his eyes, preparing for death, but the next second he was thrown flying, crashing heavily to the ground.
Despite the protection of his armor, he was still a bit dizzy.
Looking up again, he saw a night elf with antlers standing before him, who had defeated Xavius with a unique spell!
The nearly three-meter-tall, hideous Xavius was sealed inside a large tree, with only his head still exposed, his eyes almost bulging from the constriction, and his long tongue looking utterly disgusting.
It was Malfurion the Druid!
Xavius felt terrible. His limbs were unresponsive, his eyes wide, and his Fel energy was also suppressed.
He struggled desperately to break free, but the more he struggled, the tighter the oak tree enveloped him, making it impossible to escape even slightly.
"What have you done! Commoner, do you know who I am! Damn it, release me!"
Xavius, filled with shock and anger, couldn't comprehend why he had been defeated even after receiving Sargeras' gift of power.
And it happened in an instant; how was that possible!
An illusion! This must be an illusion!
It wouldn't scare him!
Malfurion merely looked at him coldly. As a Druid who cultivated the path of nature, he had no fondness for the Highborne, as they monopolized arcane magic, making it almost impossible for commoners to learn.
Moreover, they casually bullied and never treated commoners as members of the Kaldorei.
Perhaps it was this beast before him who had deluded the queen, leading to the Highborne oppressing the commoners. And seeing the queen personally fighting against that powerful enemy, whom even he feared...
Then the truth was clear: it was this so-called advisor who had deceived the queen!
This was a damned beast! A rude beast!
"Tell me, commoner, what exactly is this thing!"
Xavius felt like he was suffocating. Before he died, he desperately wanted to understand who he had lost to, and where he had failed?
Fel restrains Holy Light and can suppress arcane, but it has no effect whatsoever on life magic.
Forces restrain each other; it doesn't mean restraint makes one invincible, but rather that it makes things much simpler relatively.
"This is Nature magic, Xavius. Your doomsday has arrived!"
Malfurion clenched his hand, and the oak tree completely engulfed Xavius. Soon after, he would be assimilated, becoming part of the oak tree.
The spell was somewhat cruel, but it was incredibly satisfying.
The surrounding warriors were somewhat moved by what they saw. Rumor had it that many commoners were learning the path of nature on Mount Hyjal under the guidance of the demigod Cenarius.
Always revering arcane magic, coupled with the natural magical spring of the Well of Eternity, many still scoffed at the path of nature.
But today, they saw that the demon soldiers they couldn't deal with were easily dispatched by the Druids.
Even the most powerful traitor, Xavius, was subdued with a single move, proving more effective than arcane magic. Was this truly the path of nature?
Perhaps after the war, they too could try to cultivate it. Learning more never hurt.
In the distance, Cenarius, whose offspring had tragically died, charged deep into enemy lines, hoping to slay Archimonde in one fell swoop. This was not only to avenge his children but also to dismantle the Burning Legion's morale.
As long as morale was low, killing them would reduce many unnecessary losses.
The initial advance was smooth. Large numbers of Dryads and Jungle Guardians pushed forward with him, tearing a defensive line through the dense demon army.
However, his offspring's strength was limited. The number of his children around him dwindled, and his pace slowed, eventually being completely halted.
Countless demons began to encircle him. Greatswords hacked, axes struck his body, and the bursting thorns reflected outwards, causing considerable damage to the attacking demons.
But that was all it was. The special thorn aura could indeed reflect damage, but he himself couldn't endure it. There were at least thirty to forty demons surrounding him. Enduring so many attacks simultaneously, even a demigod would eventually struggle.
Moreover, as a spellcaster, his physique was indeed not robust enough.
"You hateful demons, get out of our world!"
Cenarius was about to cast a spell when he suddenly felt a chaotic fluctuation, on the verge of igniting.
He quickly suppressed the fluctuation using a special method and dared not cast any more spells. Just now, his mana had almost boiled, as if it was about to consume him.
This terrifying sensation made him feel exceptionally uneasy. If he forced a spell, it would not only be ineffective but would also cause him to suffer a backlash!
Looking at the nearly ten-meter-tall three-headed Hellhound in the distance, this was a leader among Hellhounds, a powerful entity.
It had an even more exquisite restraint over mages, and even demigods found it difficult to resist.
Seeing Cenarius trapped, Archimonde had already dealt with the two demigod bear brothers and was now approaching Cenarius.
Demigods do not truly die; as long as there are believers who can prepare a ritual, they can still be resurrected.
However, these two bear demigods seemed unable to resurrect for the next ten thousand years. Their descendants, the furbolgs, were not ambitious, and the materials for the resurrection ritual were too expensive for them to afford. Even the night elf race could only resurrect their more closely related demigods first, and it would be a long time before it was their turn.
"Heh heh, your name is Cenarius, right? Very good, you look decent. You're qualified to be part of my collection, a little stronger than those two dumb bears from earlier."
Archimonde was itching for a fight. He had been controlled to death by Arthas before, which had greatly frustrated him.
Arthas, who had absorbed the souls of the Ahn'Qiraj insectoids and achieved a massive increase in attributes, could now stand on equal footing with him. If he continued to grow, no one would be able to defeat him, not even the fallen Titan Sargeras!
This is the protagonist, with unlimited growth in power, able to disregard anyone, taking life and death lightly and fighting anyone who disagrees!
Cenarius was definitely no match for Archimonde. They were both equally matched in their respective weaknesses.
Cenarius could be axed to death by an orc, and Archimonde could be blown up by a Wisp while climbing a tree. It was a case of a 'Sleeping dragon' meeting a 'Young Phoenix'.
But given the current situation, Cenarius was entangled with demons, and the mana burn of the Doomguard Hellhound restrained him, preventing him from casting spells.
Even a demigod, if he was a spell-casting demigod, would be a large, living target once he couldn't cast spells.
Another white stag, rampaging across the battlefield and ramming all appearing Fel Cannons with its antlers, had just impaled two smaller Pit Lords.
Their corpses were still hanging on its antlers, not yet flung off. Dark green Fel blood dripped down the antlers, and the stag's hide reflected a sheen that neutralized the Fel corrosion.
However, the blood dripping onto the ground quickly killed the hidden seeds in the soil, corroding a small area.
Seeing his beloved son on the verge of a tragic death, the strongest demigod, Malorne the White Stag, forcefully flung off the two long-dead Pit Lords. Disregarding his immense exhaustion and the numerous large and small wounds still on his body, he moved his four limbs, stirring up a gale.
He accelerated continuously as he ran, aided by the natural breeze, boosting his speed to an extreme.
Legion soldiers along the way were flung away before they could even get close. Malorne, running faster and faster, became a streak of light under the moonlight's blessing.
In the blink of an eye, as Archimonde was about to twist off Cenarius' head to keep as a trophy, the distant beam of light suddenly arrived before him.
His outstretched hands abruptly changed position, his hooves firmly planted on the ground, adopting a standard warrior's shield wall stance to block the impact of the streak of light.
His previously relaxed expression suddenly turned surprised. When the antlers struck his heart, surprise turned to horror.
He forcefully twisted his antlers, turning his body slightly, just enough to avoid his heart. Even for a demon, a blown-out heart would mean death.
Crack!
Archimonde let out a painful groan. He could feel that the right side of his ribs was broken, not simply fractured, but shattered!
Were it not for his tenacious fighting will, he would have let go from the pain.
Malorne impaled Archimonde and pushed him over a thousand meters away. Legion demons caught in the impact along the way either had broken limbs or were completely paralyzed, their bodies shattered by the aftershocks. Those who miraculously survived did so due to the demons' tenacious vitality, but they would not recover and could only slowly await death.
Smoke billowed, obscuring the situation within.
The surrounding demons automatically avoided the area where the two were fighting; there wasn't a single demon within a five-hundred-meter radius.
It wasn't that they didn't want to get close, but they feared incurring Archimonde's wrath. If he killed them, they would have no complaints.
demons are not afraid of death, as they can always resurrect. However, they fear offending a commander, who might indefinitely push their resurrection queue back. In that case, they wouldn't resurrect for tens of thousands of years, and even if they did, their memories would be wiped, effectively meaning they were already dead!
A gentle breeze blew, and the scene within caused the night elf allied forces to erupt in cheers.
The arriving Highmountain tauren joined the battle lines, and many Earthen also came to fight. When they saw the demigod Malorne impale Archimonde against a large tree, their initially anxious hearts became filled with surging battle intent: with such a powerful demigod assisting, they were sure to win this time!
The advantage is ours!
The allied forces were in high spirits, preparing to counterattack and push The Legion back into the city.
But the situation gradually started to feel off. The Legion demons were all sneering, seemingly not panicking at all because of their commander's death; instead, there was a playful mockery in their expressions.
Perhaps they had seen too many low-level demons and assumed all demons were brainless creatures. Surely they couldn't resurrect indefinitely, possess keen intelligence, and even grow endlessly, right?
One cannot have their cake and eat it too; that's wrong and will incur divine wrath!
"They really are brainless demons! Their commander is dead, and they can still smile!"
"Pah, these beasts all deserve to die! My family was slaughtered by demons. I want them all dead!"
??
Old hag, please don't cross the streams!
Amateurs watch the excitement, experts watch the method.
Only Malfurion and others saw the problem. Archimonde, though severely wounded, was not dead. Even queen Azshara would have to avoid a vengeful strike from the strongest Demigod.
Archimonde had actually endured it head-on!
He wasn't gored by the white stag; he merely had half his ribs broken. It was indeed a bone-deep injury, but he clearly still had the strength to fight.
Oh no!
Archimonde sneered, and his lowered hands slowly grabbed the antlers again. Now Malorne couldn't even retreat; he was caught!
"A little pain, a long-lost agony. It's so wonderful, it excites me."
"What is your name?"
"I am Malorne, the White Stag Demigod. Take your lackeys and get out of our world!"
Malorne, though worried, was not afraid. He didn't fear death; for a Demigod, death was merely a cycle.
If he could die for Azeroth, he would do so without hesitation, for he believed his son would resurrect him in the future.
Even if it took ten thousand years, he would gladly wait.
Even if he couldn't be resurrected, saving his son meant he harbored no resentment, no regret, and no hesitation.
A father should protect his son; this was the last thing he could do.
"Malorne? Very good. You are strong, only slightly weaker than that fellow I met before."
Archimonde began to exert force, pushing Malorne backward, and the blood-stained antlers peeled away from his body.
Fel energy was mending his wounds. It was painful, and the pain stimulated his body to secrete adrenaline, making him feel particularly fanatical and excited. This was the meaning of battle; this was the joy that battle brought.
Malorne strained his limbs, his hooves deeply embedded in the earth, using the earth's power to resist.
But all of it was futile, meaningless. His strength was simply inferior to Archimonde's. The opponent was not only a mage but also a perfect warrior, a powerful warrior whom even the most brutal demons would kneel before.
As Archimonde exerted force, Malorne was still pushed back little by little. His four hooves carved deep marks in the ground, four furrows perfectly demonstrating the power gap between them.
Had it not been for the impact of a running charge, Archimonde would not have suffered severe injuries, but even so, it was only severe injuries, which did not affect his combat effectiveness.
As Malorne was pushed back, just as he was about to break free, he found himself locked in a strange hold by the opponent!
Not a philosophical wrestling lock, but rather both hands grabbing his neck, then twisting with force!
Crack!
His neck snapped, and Fel energy surged in, shattering his physical energy and injecting the entire body with Fel.
The light in the stag's eyes gradually faded. He saw Moon Goddess Elune calling him.
His eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and finally, his soul returned to the Emerald Dream. His physical body had died, and after being infused with Fel energy, it couldn't withstand the collision with natural forces, exploding on the spot. His physical body was utterly destroyed!
Only a white stag's head remained, clutched in Archimonde's hand, as he let out a ferocious laugh at the anti-The Legion forces, his chin tendrils dancing, showing how delighted he was.
"You ants, do you see! This is Malorne, your strongest Demigod! Now his head has been twisted off by me. Perish under the iron hooves of the Burning Legion! This is your salvation, hahahaha!"
Arrogant!
But Archimonde indeed had the right to be arrogant. He personally twisted the neck of Malorne, the strongest Demigod, and it wasn't a sneak attack, but a dignified, head-on battle. He slew Malorne in full view of everyone. This strength, this honor, this achievement was absolutely genuine!
"Father!"
Cenarius roared in grief and anger. If he hadn't lost his head and fallen into an encirclement, his father wouldn't have had to rush to save him immediately after slaying two high-ranking demons, without even a moment to rest and recover.
It was all his fault that his father died!
His gaze towards Archimonde showed no fear, only intense hatred.
Suddenly, the morale of the allied forces was struck. Had even the strongest Demigod lost?
Could they really defeat the Burning Legion?
Should they give up?
"Lord Cenarius, please return first. We need to organize our defenses!"
Malfurion shouted. Now that Malorne was dead, Demigod Agamaggan had been sent flying to the Barrens, and even the two Demigod Furbolgs, Ursol and Ursoc, had been killed. They had suffered too many losses and had to retreat and regroup first.
With morale low, continuing the battle would be unwise. They had to retreat first.
Even the Burning Legion couldn't occupy all places at once. They could retreat to Mount Hyjal to organize their defenses.
This time, they had underestimated the Burning Legion's strength, leading to such severe consequences.
Failure was not terrible; what was terrible was being crushed after just one failure. That would be truly beyond salvation.
The disheartened allied forces were driven back over twenty kilometers, which, in turn, left Azshara and the Magister forces surrounded.
Fortunately, there were arcane Golems holding the front. These arcane Golems were similar to Infernal Giants, only requiring energy to operate, having no will, and acting entirely under the control and programmed instructions of the mages. They were the mages' favorite guards.
Loyal, powerful, and durable!
Although the demons surrounded Azshara, not a single demon dared to step forward.
Aside from the risk of being crushed by the collateral damage, the commander also forbade anyone else from interfering. This was a one-on-one duel. A group attack would, of course, be the best method, but Kil'jaeden didn't think that way.
Archimonde had already slain three Demigods and scared off the allied forces. If he couldn't defeat Azshara, wouldn't he lose face?
Later, everyone in the Burning Legion would think Archimonde was stronger than him. demons were very pragmatic; they followed whoever was stronger, and listened to whoever was more powerful.
Strength was fundamental. With strength, one could pull down the high-ranking demons above and take their place.
Gradually, Azshara began to fall into a disadvantage. Without the Well of Eternity's blessing, she truly was just an ordinary Demigod.
Powerful, but not omnipotent. The Well of Eternity not only provided her with an endless supply of energy to cast spells but also nourished her body, repaired the physical strain caused by frequent spellcasting, and further enhanced the power of her magic.
Azshara with or without the Well of Eternity was like Arthas with or without Frostmourne.
More and more demons began to appear. Even the Kaldorei Empire army, which arrived later as reinforcements, felt a sense of despair. How could they possibly fight this?
High-end combat power was the key to victory. Without anyone to contain Archimonde, he would become a ruthless killing machine that no one could stop. Wherever he went, there was only death and destruction!
At this moment, he was like a War God!
Just as everyone was despairing, a large number of flying dragons appeared, with Azshara as their epicenter.
Arthas appeared out of nowhere, cleaving a Fel spell apart with his sword, standing on Sinestra, who had returned to her dragon form.
Frostmourne was raised high, and a beam of Holy Light descended from the sky.
"In the name of Azshara, rise, queen's subjects! Elune is watching over you, and Azeroth is watching over you. For the queen, for our world, rise and fight again!"
No one knew what this was, only the Burning Legion knew: it was the Holy Light! Their old nemesis, their sworn enemy, with whom they had been at war for tens of thousands of years.
As the Holy Light descended, one could vaguely see six-winged angels sending souls back.
Broken bodies were reassembled and restored.
The fallen warriors, mages, sentinel archers, huntresses, Dryads, and so on, rose again.
Their eyes looked at Azshara with fanaticism. They seemed to have heard that they were resurrected in the queen's name!
Tyrande also returned with the teleportation. When she heard Arthas mention the name of Moon Goddess Elune, whom she served, a flicker of suspicion appeared in her emerald eyes. She didn't believe he was a follower of the Moon Goddess; he was an enigmatic man, and Ximen Chuixue was probably not his real name!
Why was he hiding his name? What exactly did he want to do!
The more shrouded in mystery he was, the more curious she became, wanting to peel back the fog to see what he truly intended and what he was thinking!
Not to mention her, even Azshara, who was always so haughty, seemed to be seeing Arthas anew, her golden eyes filled with surprise and shock.
Initially, she had merely regarded Arthas as a tool for procreation, very powerful, but not enough to stir her heart, that soulful tremor.
To move her, besides a love that grew over time, one could only display extraordinary abilities.
Proud women were hard to impress, but once they fell in love and gave their heart, they truly couldn't be driven away.
"My husband, you've done very well. I am pleased, the queen is happy, and I won't mind that you've found other consorts."
A hint of pride flashed in Azshara's eyes, and a charming curve played on her lips.
As the queen, she instantly saw that something was amiss, and with Tyrande's scent still lingering on Arthas, how could he hide it from her?
So, after a secret rendezvous, it's best to shower immediately and destroy the evidence, otherwise, you'll be caught in minutes. This is no joke.
Don't ask, the readers told me.
Arthas' lips curved into a smile, wondering if they would still remember him when they met again in the future.
This journey had been fruitful and worthwhile, but it was a pity that his two wives, Jaina and Sylvanas, weren't with him; otherwise, it would have been even more interesting.
But then again, the encounters with Tyrande and Azshara were completely unexpected for him. He wondered if the brothers Malfurion and Illidan would go crazy if they knew?
The goddess both brothers deeply loved was now his consort; this made it even more fun and interesting.
"These are the dragonflights. They have come to help us fight the Burning Legion. They are all allies. The Green dragon queen and Cenarius should be very familiar with each other."
"Allow me to briefly introduce them: red dragon queen Alexstrasza, Green dragon queen Ysera, Deathwing, the black dragon Aspect, Malygos, the blue dragon Aspect, and Nozdormu, the bronze dragon Aspect."
"We shall win this battle! I am back, so we cannot lose. Archimonde is mine; you all hold back The Legion demons."
Arthas looked at the furious Archimonde. He had been so arrogant when he twisted the White Stag Demigod's neck, that defiant look was truly excellent. Please recover it; don't let him think the Burning Legion are all cowards!
Azshara glanced at the red dragon queen. Her woman's intuition told her that this queen also seemed to have some unclear relationship with her consort.
It was truly a headache. Didn't they know how to be a little more discreet?
Although it was normal for powerful Demigods to have multiple consorts, she found it somewhat unacceptable. She was the queen of the Kaldorei! She was the uniquely gifted, supreme Azshara!
How could she share her consort with other women? This was too shameful!
"Our forces are not enough; it will be very difficult to fight. We must seal the portal."
Azshara didn't command armies, but she knew the battlefield situation was not optimistic.
Even though many allied soldiers had been resurrected, the numerical disparity between friend and foe was still too great.
The endless demon fodder could indeed exhaust the energy of high-end combatants. Had it not been for excessive exhaustion and his eagerness to save his son, Malorne, the White Stag Demigod, might not have died and could have escaped.
Hearing this, even with the arrival of the dragonflights, the situation was still very grim.
This was the Burning Legion!
The Burning Legion had come out in full force, sending even two commanders, with only Sargeras left.
Hearing this, the smile on Arthas' lips was hard to suppress. Was it his turn to show off?
"I anticipated this long ago, so I invited some allies. They are the former enemies of the trolls, now scattered. This race of insectoids is called Mantid; don't mistake them."
"Come forth, Xakthak, fight for me, fight for Azeroth! I shall grant you free will; from now on, you will no longer be slaves!"
With that, he used the power of the Old Gods to erase the mark, replacing it with his own mark, but without the shackles.
The Mantid Empress felt an immense sense of relief in an instant, as if an innate shackle had vanished. They truly seemed free!
No longer needing to fight for the Old Gods, no longer born into servitude, the Mantid race truly seemed capable of continuing.
Damn, damn, My God!
Countless Mantid flew from afar, and many more emerged from underground.
Void portals opened, and numerous Mantid poured out, all hissing excitedly.
The Empress was free, which meant they were also free.
Although they didn't know how precious freedom was, the mountain in their minds had disappeared; this was an undeniable fact.
"Gladly at your service, Lord. For Azeroth, we are single-minded, even if it means sacrificing our entire race!"