Azgalor's massive body was torn asunder in the fel explosion, creating a shockwave that consumed all surrounding demons. Under Rhodes' control, the Titan used its colossal frame to shield the Horde alliance from the brunt of the blast. Fel-green flames hissed against its golden armor, yet failed to leave so much as a scratch.
Before the battle began, Rhodes had layered the Titan with various buffing spells; he even reserved a final healing spell for the giant, restoring its vitality to full. With a health pool of 300 points, taking down this behemoth was no simple task.
Almost simultaneously, Thrall unleashed his full power. The lightning channeled through Doomhammer transformed into a roaring electric dragon, sending Kaz'rogal flying. The demon slammed heavily into the mountain rocks, unable to get back up immediately. The surrounding Orc warriors swarmed him, hacking him to pieces, while Rhodes' Magic Arrow promptly obliterated the demon's head.
Thrall's combat prowess remained formidable; leading a small squad to successfully contain a Doomlord proved he truly had the skills of a leader.
"No—!" Archimonde's roar shook the very foundations of the world from the distance. He never imagined his three lieutenants would fall in such quick succession. This war was proving to be infinitely more difficult than he had envisioned.
Seeing Archimonde personally enter the fray, Thrall's pupils contracted. "Lord Rhodes! Archimonde is moving! We must retreat! According to the plan, lead him to the third line of defense!"
The death of his adjutants and the chaos within his demonic army meant the Defiler could no longer sit idly by. Fel flames soared around him, and the portal he had maintained for so long shuddered violently under his emotional upheaval before finally collapsing. "You insects... how dare you! I will destroy you utterly, burn you until nothing remains."
The consecutive deaths of two high-ranking Legion commanders dealt a severe blow to the demons' morale, causing their offensive to visibly falter. Thrall leaned on Doomhammer, breathing heavily. He looked around; the Horde warriors had suffered heavy casualties, but their eyes still burned with an unyielding fire. He looked at Rhodes—though the human was pale and clearly drained of mana, he still stood tall. They had won this battle.
"Warriors of the Horde, victory is ours today!" Thrall's voice, though weary, was filled with pride and emotion. Numerous Orcs, Tauren, and Darkspear Trolls raised their weapons high in celebration.
Rhodes nodded, looking down the mountain at the still-massive but now disorganized demon army, and further away at the terrifying presence of Archimonde. "Eight hours are up, Warchief Thrall. Your mission is complete, and you have done exceptionally well," Rhodes said. "Now, it is time for the final step. Retreat to the third line of defense as planned."
Thrall took a deep breath and nodded firmly. "Warriors of the Horde! Orderly retreat! The coming battle belongs to the Night Elves!"
The Horde began a fighting retreat toward the summit. Rhodes took one last look at the frenzied sea of demons and the Defiler, who had finally stood up in a towering rage. Then, he turned and left with the retreating troops. He needed rest; only Archimonde remained.
The Orcs, Tauren, and Troll warriors knew that facing Archimonde head-on was suicide. Under their overlords' command, they used fortifications and leap-frogging cover to move toward the peak. As the fires of the second line faded, the Legion demons trampled over the corpses of comrades and foes alike, surging toward the summit of Mount Hyjal.
On the third line, the Night Elf army stood ready: Treants, Druids, Keepers of the Grove, Dryads, Sentinels, Furbolgs, and Mountain Giants were all assembled. The demigod Cenarius stood at the fore, nodding to Rhodes.
"Truly valiant, Lord Rhodes, Lord Thrall. I have witnessed your heroism. Leave the rest to me," said Malfurion, riding a massive stag. "Rhodes, get to the rear and rest immediately."
"I understand. I'll take a short rest. In about six or seven hours, I'll come back to help you deal with Archimonde," Rhodes replied, his voice strained. Fighting for sixteen consecutive hours had pushed his mental energy to the limit. He desperately needed sleep.
Rhodes had timed this perfectly. As dusk fell, he could complete a "game day" within his system, allowing the Mage Guild to fully restore his mana for tomorrow morning's final showdown. Furthermore, the night was the Night Elves' greatest ally.
"Rest easy, Rhodes. While you sleep, I promise you that not a single demon of the Burning Legion shall set foot here," Tyrande said, stepping forward with a nod.
"Go and rest, Rhodes. The Great Holy Light will guide us to victory," Uther added. Jaina and Caponia stood beside him, nodding as well. Having rested for eight hours on the Night Elf line, they were ready for the coming fray. Rhodes nodded to everyone, dragged his exhausted body to the far rear, and fell into a deep sleep the moment his head hit the ground.
In Rhodes' absence, the Night Elf army faced the full fury of the Legion. The night was as dark as ink, but the forests of Mount Hyjal were torn apart by fel fire and moonlight. Archimonde's gargantuan feet stepped onto the fertile soil before the third line; emerald moss instantly turned to black ash under his corruption, and the air reeked of sulfur.
"Ten thousand years, Night Elves... I have returned. The Legion has returned, bringing you death and destruction."
Archimonde raised his hand, and dozens of pitch-black fel beams fell from the clouds like divine punishment. The bark shields summoned by the Druids shattered like paper. A Dryad was pierced through by a beam, her emerald blood vaporizing into white mist. Bear-form Druids tried to block the path but were sent flying by the shockwaves, their thick pelts scorched to the bone.
The demons followed like a burst dam. Infernals fell from the sky into the Treant ranks, their stone bodies exploding into fel shockwaves. Felguards hacked through branches with blood-stained Cleavers, and Imps swarmed injured Sentinels with frantic eyes.
"In the name of Elune, hold your ground!" Tyrande stood atop the Altar of Elune, her green hair flowing in the night wind. Terrifying moonlight descended like falling stars. Tyrande and dozens of Priestesses of the Moon began to channel the power of their goddess. Countless stars fell from the sky, transforming into lunar energy blasts—Starfall. It was the "Lunar Orbital Strike" that Rhodes surely would have marveled at. The combined spell of the priestesses covered the entire battlefield, devastating the Legion's ranks.
Malfurion darted through the forest on his stag, thrusting his oak staff into the ground. Dozens of Ancient Protectors rose from the earth, their heavy bark fists crushing Felhunters into pulp. Roots entangled the Felguards, dragging them underground to be strangled. When an Eredar Warlock tried to cast a firestorm, Malfurion blurred into cat-form, his claws tearing the warlock's throat.
The Night Elf defense was a luxurious display of power. Chimaeras, Faerie Dragons, and Hippogryph Riders attacked from the sky. Ancient Protectors hurled massive boulders. Cenarius stepped forward to face Archimonde, emerald natural energy swirling around the demigod.
"Archimonde the Defiler, you trample upon the cradle of life. Mount Hyjal will not be your sacrifice; instead, it shall be your grave."
Archimonde sneered. "So what if you are a demigod of the wild? You were lucky to survive ten thousand years ago, but today, there is no escape! Oh, I almost forgot—your father was that white stag, wasn't he? When I strangled him ten thousand years ago, his screams were exquisite. I shall do the same to you shortly."
Archimonde leveled his hand at Cenarius, and a jet-black ray of fel energy erupted—a "Finger of Death" many times more terrifying than the one Anetheron had used.