Blackrock Hold's defenses were tight. Galen had warned Lothar that Orgrim might launch a counter-raid, a decapitation strike.
Lothar agreed with Galen's assessment. If he were in Orgrim's disadvantageous position, he would choose a decapitation strike. In fact, he had always done so. Orgrim's bounty in the black market had reached a staggering ten thousand gold, but it wasn't easy money. Countless assassins had tried and failed, not even making a ripple.
Dawn. Once again, the red glow of lava illuminated the earth. Orgrim stood on a towering rock, his remaining army below.
The Orcish army filled the plain below, consisting not only of Orcish warriors but also the weak peons, whom he usually deemed unqualified for the battlefield, now armed with battle axes. Orgrim felt a pang of pain in his heart.
"Fellow Orcs, warriors of the Horde!" Orgrim raised his warhammer on the rock, his roar drawing the attention of all Orcs.
"We have faced failures and setbacks in the north. Our army has suffered heavy losses. Gul'dan's betrayal has cost us dearly. But we are still Orcs. We are still invincible. Humans have never been our match! One of us can take on three of them!"
"But in our moment of weakness, the humans seized the opportunity to chase us here. They think we are done for! That we have completely failed!"
Orgrim felt a pang of sorrow as he spoke, but some words needed to be twisted to boost morale.
"But we are the mighty warriors of the Orcs. We will not sit idly by and wait for the humans to attack. It is always we Orcs who take the initiative! This is the pride of the Horde! We will make them regret chasing us, crush them, and step over their corpses to re-dominate this land! Enslave their people!"
"War!"
"War!"
"War!"
The cheering of the Orcs on the plain made the rock beneath Orgrim tremble, easing his mind, and a look of ecstasy spread across his face.
Success!
He had finally managed to boost morale!
These were Orcs! The invincible, all-conquering Orcs! They would never weep and beg for mercy. They would fall, but they would fall charging forward!
"Blackrock Guard! Follow me!"
Orgrim jumped off the rock, a group of towering Orcs following closely behind. They charged north!
"Kill!"
The earth-shattering roar echoed through the land, the southern sky of the Burning Steppes shrouded in bloodlust!
Then, the dense green tide moved once again. Orgrim had launched the attack!
The Orcish army charged towards the Alliance's headquarters, Blackrock Hold, following the terrain of the Burning Steppes.
"Looks like Galen was right again. The Orcs really did launch a preemptive attack."
Lothar stood on the top platform of Blackrock Hold, watching the approaching Orcish army through an engineering telescope, and said to Turalyon beside him.
"Today is a good day to slaughter Orcs. My new weapon hasn't tasted Orcish blood yet, Marshal!"
Turalyon reached out his right hand and gripped his new weapon, Soulsever. The top of the greatsword emitted a bright green glow.
"Haha, so does my Great Marshal's Sword!" Lothar glanced appreciatively at the longsword behind Turalyon, then drew his own broadsword: the Great Marshal's Twinblade.
The night before last, just as he had obtained this new weapon, his good friend Medivh, who had died more than two years ago, suddenly appeared in Blackrock Hold, filling Lothar with joy.
The two talked late into the night. Lothar tried to persuade Medivh to return to Stormwind Kingdom to help Llane restore the kingdom, but was told that he had to face the greater evil, Sargeras. Lothar could only express his regret and assure him that he would protect Stormwind Kingdom, and that Stormwind Kingdom would always welcome Medivh, Duke of Ebonreach, back.
When Medivh left, he took Lothar's personal sword, Quel'Zaram.
Having seen his good buddy die in his arms once, Lothar said that he did need a more powerful weapon. Since he had just obtained the Great Marshal's Sword, he gladly lent the holy sword Quel'Zaram!
In the past few days, to better familiarize himself with his new sword, Lothar would spar with Turalyon for a while after finishing his official duties, giving his adjutant some pointers and cheering him up.
He had noticed Turalyon's unrequited love for a certain high elf, but based on Medivh's experiences with countless women, Turalyon had no chance. Lothar would bet that even if Alleria were to choose a human, it would likely be the one she had been with the longest.
Galen, what a lucky man.
One was his close adjutant, the other was his friend, and the benefactor of Stormwind Kingdom, half a mentor to his son. Lothar said that helping either one would not be pleasing, love was so difficult.
Lothar led Turalyon down the stairs and directly to the open space in front of Blackrock Hold.
Having been prepared, Lothar had sent the remaining military intelligence agents to monitor the movements of the Orcs, and had gathered the army at the first sign of Orcish activity.
Lothar mounted his warhorse, Turalyon following closely behind.
Raising the Great Marshal's Sword high, Lothar began his pre-battle mobilization: "Warriors of the Alliance, our victory is at hand! One victory and we can drive the Orcs out of our homeland for good. Our loved ones are waiting for our triumphant return!"
"For the glory of the Alliance!"
"For the justice of the Holy Light!!"
"For victory!"
Seeing that the soldiers were already high-spirited without him needing to give a long speech to boost morale, Lothar nodded, quite satisfied.
"Warriors! Follow me!" Lothar's Great Marshal's Sword pointed the way for the charge!
Warhorses neighed, hooves pounded, and the knights of the Royal Knights of Lordaeron and the Ironhorse Brotherhood pulled on their reins and charged towards the Orcs.
The next moment, a dozen signal flares shot into the sky, the red flames flying high, clearly visible in the vast Burning Steppes.
The Dark Iron Dwarves in Blackrock Spire to the west, the Bronzebeard Dwarves in Flamebreak, the Knights of the Silver Hand and the Templar Knights to the east, as well as the infantry regiments of Lordaeron and the militia regiments of Stromgarde, all moved at this moment, charging towards the battlefield of the decisive battle, surrounding the Orcish army from Lothar's flanks!
There were no more tactics, no more treacherous strategies, only the battle of iron and blood.
On the front lines of Blackrock Fortress, Lothar led his knights, lances raised, their warhorses already prancing in place, warming up with small, quick steps, their speed steadily increasing!
Lothar wanted a swift victory. Just as victory seemed within reach, problems began to fester within the Alliance. Alterac was ruined, and Gilneas and Dalaran were half-hearted in their support, each preoccupied with their own affairs.
Moreover, Alliance leader Terenas had also keenly sensed that victory was at hand, and he had openly reinforced his troops!
Reinforcements weren't frightening, but the sudden arrival of reinforcements just before a likely victory, while already holding an advantage, was terrifying. Lothar could already imagine what kind of rabble these reinforcements would be!
No doubt, they were the scions of Lordaeron's nobility, a bunch of combat novices!
Seeing that the dangerous battles had been weathered by the frontline soldiers, they rushed to the front lines at the last moment, not only to perfectly gild their reputations but also without much danger.
Having a group of parasites on the battlefield was simply too terrible. What if the enemy sent out an overpowered player, leading to a complete collapse of their own side? Lothar would have preferred to die.
Regarding politics, Lothar himself had been involved in the Stormwind Kingdom's political arena for two or three decades. He knew that this wasn't necessarily Terenas's subjective idea; politics was more about compromise. The Western and Eastern Plaguelands provided nearly half of the Alliance's food supply. The nobles had provided grain when asked and conscripted soldiers when requested. They couldn't be denied a share of the spoils, could they?
Lothar also understood that he couldn't possibly refuse this reinforcement force composed of noble scions at this time. However, the orcs had taken the initiative to attack, and they were passively responding. If they didn't make it in time, they couldn't blame him, right?
Therefore, Lothar hoped that Orgrim would attack quickly, using the opportunity to end the battle before these pampered soldiers even reached the Wetlands on their way from Lordaeron, giving them no chance to reach the front lines!
Bang!
The front-line knights had officially collided with the orcs. After the warhorses accelerated to their maximum speed, the weight of both horse and rider approached a ton. A large number of orcish infantry were sent flying by the knights, then crashed heavily to the ground and were trampled to death by the knights behind!
Until these vanguard knights encountered Orgrim's personal guard.
They were the most elite warriors of the Blackrock clan. Most importantly, there were ogres among them. These were ogres who had been subdued by Orgrim and were utterly loyal to him. When necessary, these ogres would die for him, so they had always served as his personal guard.
The knights were intercepted by the ogres, who were over three meters tall, and a melee began!
"In the name of the Holy Light!"
Turalyon closely guarded Anduin Lothar. The power of the Holy Light surged on his Argent Defender, and with a single strike, he beheaded an orc.
In the past two years, Turalyon had been by Lothar's side, receiving his teachings. He had not only received excellent guidance in military talent but also, as the strongest human warrior, Lothar had unreservedly taught Turalyon his martial skills.
The improvement in martial skills, coupled with his talent in the Holy Light, had allowed Turalyon to faintly touch the threshold of the legendary rank. Before Arthas displayed his talents, Turalyon, at the age of twenty, had become the youngest benchmark in Lordaeron.
Turalyon was covered in golden light from head to toe, and the flowing Holy Light outlined a golden war god, whose majestic figure inspired awe. No orc in front of him could withstand a single blow!
Galen, seeing the signal flare, also began to mobilize his troops. In fact, they had been waiting for the signal to charge. The generals of other countries might order them to stand by at any time, and the officers below might slack off, but with Galen's prestige in Stromgarde and his powerful personal charisma, his command of Stromgarde's militia was even smoother than that of High Commander Danath. In addition, the five Wind, Earth, Water, Fire, and Silver Legions were products of the Heart of Origin, and Galen's words were simply supreme law, ensuring that they would wear their armor and mobilize at any time without the slightest hesitation.
"Stromgarde's warriors! Follow me to charge!"
Galen's target was the right flank of the orcish army. Although he didn't know who was guarding Orgrim's right flank, it was none other than Grom Hellscream or Kilrogg Deadeye. Fenris was not qualified enough, and the blademasters of the Burning Blade clan were not suitable for command, so it could only be one of them.
Galen hoped that the commander of this right flank was Grom. In Galen's previous life, Grom Hellscream's fame had permeated the entire history of the Dark Portal. Even after he killed the pit lord Mannoroth in Ashenvale, he died in battle, and his son, Garrosh Hellscream, still stirred up trouble in Azeroth, and later even profited in a parallel world.
Galen really wanted to get such a fierce man. Grom.At least, he wouldn't have to worry about sending him out to charge into the enemy lines.
What bad intentions could Galen have?
Wasn't it just so that when he encountered the Burning Legion in the future, he could shout: I have General Hellscream, who can slay the demon lord Mannoroth!
Galen took the lead, acting as the tip of the wedge formation of the knights, followed by Haas's Skyguard Knights, Stromgarde's Highland Knights, and Varrokal's First Knights. Among them, Gavinrad's Templar Knights and Galen's personal guards, six or seven hundred Holy Knights, had been dispersed and mixed into these three major knight orders. A heavy cavalry formation composed of ten thousand people was thus pulled out by Galen!
Galen felt a surge of heroism in his heart. This joint knight army could kill all the way from Stranglethorn Vale to Quel'Thalas.
Such a large-scale operation was for the sake of seizing the greatest credit in this decisive battle. In fact, not only did Terenas see the situation clearly and send nobles to reap the benefits, but Galen, including his old father Thoras, also wanted to control enough power in the Alliance after the war.
The reasoning was very simple. Everyone also looked at military achievements. If you were 8-0 and godlike, discerning people would know that you were stronger than the 0-5 one. In the future, everyone would know that you could carry your teammates, and they would be more convinced by your command.
Terenas of Lordaeron was a qualified leader, but Galen's connections with the dwarves and high elves were not as extensive. The dwarves also didn't like Terenas treating their troops as his subordinates to command. Now, what Galen wanted was to surpass Lordaeron's achievements in the battles of various countries, paving the way for his old father to compete for the position of Alliance leader in the future.
Then this final great battle was the last good opportunity. The heads of the various orcish clan chieftains could be used as military achievements, and their heroic spirits could be absorbed by himself. It would be best if he could also retrieve their corpses after the war and revive them using Aegwynn's resurrection array. This was simply a 100% utilization rate, without any waste.
Rumble!
Rumble!
Ten thousand knights galloped on the black soil of the Burning Steppes, stirring up large clouds of dust behind them.
It really corresponded to that eternal poem!
Galen's mind stalled. It had been too long, and he had forgotten.
He only remembered the general meaning, which was: Damn! How spectacular!
Lothar assigned the task of attacking the left flank of the Orcish army to the three dwarven races.
Galen's plan of 'borrowing a chicken to lay an egg' was perfectly executed. Using the prestige of Stromgarde, he managed to get Durin, with empty hands, to become the heir of Ophist, the leader of the Thorium Brotherhood. Then, using the Thorium Brotherhood's name and his own bravery, Durin conquered Rendarin, the hill lord of Ironforge, and gained a Hill Guard consisting of three thousand Dark Iron dwarves.
With heavy troops in hand, Durin gradually gained a voice in the Thorium Brotherhood. Later, with the backing of the powerful Alliance, he was favored by General Angerforge, who invited him to reside in Blackrock Depths. After Galen solved the problem of the Fire Lord, Durin directly ascended to the throne as the Dark Iron King, thanks to this great achievement.
Moreover, this little dwarf somehow managed to abduct a Bronzebeard wife!
And this woman was the princess of Ironforge Moira Bronzebeard, the only one of her kind. This allowed Durin to directly establish relations with Muradin and Brann Bronzebeard at the front lines. Coupled with Galen's guarantee and the Thorium Brotherhood's decent reputation, the Bronzebeard dwarves, Wildhammer dwarves, and Dark Iron dwarves have temporarily reached a consensus, cooperating to strike against the Orcs.
This laid a good foundation for the establishment of the Council of Three Hammers in the future!
Galen had only acted on a whim at the time, doing it casually, but he didn't expect to reap such a great reward now.
Satisfied, Galen could brag about this for ten years!
Brann drove the tank to lead the charge. After experiencing the advantages brought by the tank last time, Brann privately purchased twenty more tanks from Galen. Muradin commanded and protected the dwarven artillery battalion from the rear.
Durin led the Hill Guard and General Angerforge led the Iron Fury Legion as infantry to cooperate with the tanks. Finally, there were the Wildhammer dwarves, who, led by Kurdran, rode their gryphon partners into the sky.
The dwarves' trinity of warfare was beginning to take shape.
Closer, closer, Brann had already observed the figures of the Orcs in the steam tank.
"Loader, prepare to load the shells!"
"Aim!"
"Fire!"
"Boom!"
Taking advantage of the flat terrain, Brann quickly approached the Orcish soldiers. As the steam tanks launched their attack, Muradin also commanded the artillery battalion from the rear to unleash a wave of artillery fire.
The dense artillery fire caused the Orcs in the front row to be thrown into chaos. The Warsong Clan, led by Rogg'm the Gorefiend, rode their wolves with agile maneuvers, quickly encountering the Bronzebeard and Dark Iron tanks and infantry!
The Nagrand wolves were very agile, and the steam tanks' turrets couldn't capture them. In the end, they could only helplessly give up trying to stop the wolves' actions, and instead attacked the slow-moving, densely packed Orcish peons.
Bang!
A Warsong wolf rider, who had charged over, fiercely chopped at the side of a steam tank with an axe. A white mark appeared on the armor's surface. The Orc's brute force was terrifying. The Warsong wolf rider almost fell off his wolf due to the recoil.
The crew inside the tank were almost deafened. It seemed necessary to suggest to their prince to increase the tank's soundproofing.
Seeing that the Warsong wolf riders couldn't break through the steam tanks' thick armor, Brann remained as steady as an old dog in the steam tank, happily continuing to drive the tank, experiencing his so-called 'man's romance'.
Suddenly!
Boom!
With a loud noise, a steam tank was scrapped!
A tall Orc with a bald patch in the middle of his head was now wielding a huge battle axe. After killing the Dark Iron dwarven infantry around the tank, he struck with all his might, cutting a steam tank that was attacking into two pieces. Two of the four Bronzebeard dwarves inside the tank died on the spot, and two were seriously injured, before being killed by the other Orcs!
Brann was stunned. According to Galen, the steam tanks were made of rare thorium alloy, with a frontal armor thickness of up to eighty millimeters, and a side armor thickness of more than 50 millimeters.
Moreover, Brann and the others had personally tested it. Muradin's full-strength strike with his warhammer could only create a deep dent, and a direct hit from a mortar shell would leave it unscathed. He didn't expect to encounter such a ruthless person today!
Then, a second steam tank was also turned into a pile of rubble!
"Durin! Stop him!"
Brann shouted loudly to Durin in the steam tank. The 10,000 gold-coin tank was gone, but Brann was heartbroken for the drivers and gunners inside the steam tank!
Every dwarf was a valuable asset, especially those who could go to the battlefield. The dwarves who could fight were even more precious. Every death not only pained him, but if too many were lost, he would be beaten by his big brother when he returned!
Durin also saw Rogg'm the Gorefiend wreaking havoc among the steam tanks at the first moment. He immediately pulled the reins of the magma hound under his crotch, and quickly rushed towards Gorefiend.
Durin swung the orange hammer in his hand, and the magma hound leaped, pouncing directly at Rogg'm!
Rogg'm also noticed this black-haired dwarf wielding a warhammer that emitted an orange-red light. He was on full alert!
Bang!
Sulfuras and Bloodhowl collided in mid-air!
Awoo!
The huge force caused Rogg'm's wolf mount to be unable to withstand the pressure. Its limbs softened and it collapsed directly to the ground.
As the saying goes, 'copper skin, iron bones, tofu waist'. This new wolf mount of Rogg'm's had its waist broken!
This was the second wolf mount that Rogg'm had lost since coming to Azeroth, which cast a shadow over his heart. Then, his Bloodhowl changed its move in mid-air, and the crescent of the axe hooked, breaking one of the magma hound's hind legs as it fell. Durin was caught off guard and fell face-first off his mount!
"Whoosh!"
The strong wind howled behind his head. Durin tightened his grip on the warhammer and rolled away like a lazy donkey, narrowly avoiding Rogg'm's fatal axe, but Durin was splattered with blood!
His magma hound mount was chopped into bloody froth by Rogg'm's Bloodhowl.
Durin, who had just stood up, hadn't recovered when another gust of wind howled behind him!
Clang!
A flaming warblade slashed at Durin's crown. Unable to dodge, Durin could only take the invincibility potion at the first moment!
At this time, an Orc, also bare-chested and muscular, appeared behind Durin, holding the warblade that had just tried to kill Durin.
This was an elderly Orc, with a battle flag on his back, with a burning blade on the flag!
It was the old chieftain of the Burning Blade Clan, Dar'Khan Fireblada, who was cooperating with the Warsong Clan.
A drop of cold sweat dripped from Durin's forehead. If it weren't for the invincibility potion, he would have become the shortest-lived king in the history of the Dark Iron dwarves. He had been in office for less than a month, and his queen was only just pregnant. The Dark Iron dwarves were about to face a situation where the Bronzebeard dwarven princess would be regent again.
"Prince! Your Highness!"
Durin frantically called for support through the connection of the Heart of Origin in his mind!
In terms of strength, Durin was at the early stage of the Legendary rank. His experience soared after the Molten Core battle, but this didn't change the fact that he lacked combat experience.
He was sent by Galen to the Thorium Brotherhood for a joint mission right after his training. He faced the Dark Iron dwarves, and Dagran Thaurissan, the strongest of them, was killed by Galen beforehand. His Legendary-tier experience mostly came from Aragorn and Gandalf, who shared their overflowing experience points after reaching their own limits.
Therefore, Durin had never experienced intense large-scale battles. Unlike Aragorn and Gandalf, who were always by Galen's side, fighting from the forest trolls of the Witherbark to the centaurs and quillboar of Azeroth, he couldn't be considered a seasoned warrior.
Moreover, his Heroic Spirit was the former Dark Iron Emperor Thaurissan. Although an emperor's bloodline Heroic Spirit was of high quality, he himself had lived a pampered life and hadn't experienced many battles. He only provided Durin with exceptional talent, not much combat instinct.
He could hold his own against a Heroic figure of the same rank, but he paled in comparison against two, especially against Grom Hellscream and the Triple Burningblades, the pinnacle of orcish combat power!
By the time Galen received Durin's constantly flashing red exclamation mark, he had already led a ten-thousand-strong heavy cavalry group and fiercely pierced into the orcs' right flank, directly splitting the orcish forces into two!
However, the situation on his side didn't allow him to teleport directly over. In this chaotic battlefield of hundreds of thousands of people, teleporting over alone to provide support would likely lead to him being besieged to death.
"Durin, use Divine Shield and an Invulnerability Potion to hold on. Then, tell Brann not to cower in the tank and come out to help share some of the pressure!"
Galen sent out a mental wave. As the saying goes, jade must be polished to become a useful object. Durin simply lacked pressure. Letting him experience the pressure of being beaten up might be a good thing. Gandalf died once and went from gray robes to white robes. At most, the Mountain King would be locked up in the Hall of Kings for two days after dying once and be able to come out after reading the rules. It's not a big deal!
Durin, you are already a mature king, and you are about to become a father. You must understand that without experiencing wind and rain, how can you see a rainbow?
The Brotherhood Sword swung wide, its two-meter blade wielded by Galen as if it were an extension of his arm, reaping the lives of orcs one by one.
Galen and his men were like a plow on the battlefield, mercilessly cutting everything in their path in two. As they advanced, the infantry formations behind them also made contact with the orcs. The green-skinned orcs surged like a tide, constantly crashing against the red shield walls of the Stromgarde legions. The riflemen and high elf rangers in the rear were providing full firepower, while the spear thrower units established by the ogre laborers were also constantly counterattacking.
The battle between the human and orc warriors had entered a fever pitch. The warring sides were like meat grinders, ruthlessly devouring more blood and more lives. Corpses were piled layer upon layer on the Burning Steppes. This barren land covered in volcanic ash was directly soaked in blood.
Rumble!
Rumble!
The ten-thousand-strong heavy cavalry quietly changed their direction of attack. Galen planned to kill two birds with one stone, directly cutting the orcish formation in half and then rushing from the east to the west to support Durin!
Galen had lost count of how many knight's lances he had thrown. Each time a lance was filled with orc corpses, he would discard it and take out a new one from his backpack to continue piercing!
At this moment, Galen saw an orc riding a white dire wolf galloping across the battlefield. Many soldiers of Lordaeron were being slaughtered by him without any chance of resistance. Galen immediately recognized him as an old opponent he had fought in the Wetlands, the chieftain of the Thunderlord Clan: Fenris Wolfbrother.
He also had a little-known identity, the elder brother of Durotan, chieftain of the Frostwolf Clan!
Today, I will send you to reunite with Durotan!
Don't misunderstand, there's no targeted intention, it's purely a literal meaning!
Galen, on his galloping warhorse, stared intently ahead. He raised the knight's lance in his hand, aiming the sharp tip at the Thunderlord chieftain and his white dire wolf, who were surrounded by a group of orcs!
The high-speed movement of the warhorse caused the earth to tremble. The warriors of the Thunderlord Clan looked terrified. There were too many human heavy cavalry!
The entire orcish horde couldn't muster so many wolf riders!
Fenris immediately turned the reins in his hand. The dire wolf beneath him nimbly leaped away. The Thunderlord Clan's guards also quickly followed their leader in running away.
Just kidding, how can we stop the human knight order, which is at the peak of its power, with our manpower? Let the surrounding laborers and people of other tribes consume their physical strength first, and then, when their combat power declines, I'll bring people back to kill them!
Fenris's little plan was well thought out. I want the war merit, but I don't want to lose too many of the tribe's warriors. Picking up kills is the way to go.
It's a pity that while the Thunderlord Clan wanted to avoid the brunt of the attack, Galen didn't want the prey he had set his sights on to escape like this. Moreover, as the Thunderlord Clan, which was quite famous among the seven great clans, even a small victory would be a worthwhile military exploit!
Golden Holy Light poured into the warhorse beneath him, instantly making the warhorse glow with golden light. Galen, along with his hundred or so paladins and dozens of knight captains, also activated acceleration skills!
After the Thunderlord Clan left, their original position was filled by orcs from other clans, and these orcs were sent flying by Galen and his men before they could react. Their chests took the brunt of the impact, and their breastbones shattered before they were slammed hard on the ground. The galloping iron hooves mercilessly trampled over the orc corpses, crushing their flesh and burying their bones in the ground.
Soon, Galen caught up with the Thunderlord's tail!
"Judgment!"
Golden warhammers were thrown from the hands of the paladins. The wolf riders of the last row of the Thunderlord Clan were momentarily slowed down after being attacked by the Holy Light. Then, the distance closed, and another wave of Hammers of Justice followed!
The stunned wolf riders were overtaken and instantly overwhelmed by Galen and his men, quickly disappearing beneath the hooves of the horses!
"Protect the chieftain!"
The loyal orcs of the Thunderlord Clan turned around and charged towards Galen and his men, trying to stop their momentum, but it was useless. Their resistance was like a stone thrown into the sea, not even creating a splash.
"Fenris! Prepare to die!"
Galen poured all his strength into his right arm, the arm that had been single for eighteen years, and then he threw the knight's lance in his hand like a javelin!
In fact, the lance still contained the power of the Holy Light, dyeing the silver-white lance golden!
"Behold my star-piercing lance!"
On the battlefield, Galen on the eastern front was at an advantage, chasing and beating the Thunderlord clan, while the western front was at a disadvantage, with Rogrom beating on Durin and Brian. The dwarves were struggling to hold on, and Muradin, seeing the unfavorable situation, also joined the battle.
The most intense battle was in the center, where the two commanders of the Alliance and the Horde were fighting fiercely in the center of the Burning Steppes.
The knightly orders were forcibly intercepted by the tall, burly ogres, like mountains of flesh. Losing their speed advantage, the knights began to fight hand-to-hand. Mograine, seeing this, quickly led the Stratholme battle group to support them!
The pikes of the Lordaeron phalanx gleamed with cold light, but this did not intimidate the orcs, whose morale was boosted by Orgrim, especially since Orgrim himself was leading the center army!
"Lok-tar ogar!"
Tens of thousands of orcs launched a charge, attempting to overwhelm the human legions in front. The Stratholme battle group immediately organized a shield wall. These Lordaeron soldiers standing in the front row were all veterans, having clashed with the orcs many times. They had even been pushed to the brink of losing their organization by the orcs. Now, their faces were stern, and they calmly gripped their spears and shields.
"Archers, fire! Fire! Ballistae and cannons, prepare to fire!"
Countless arrows soared into the sky, then fell in a parabolic arc, raining down on the orc ranks.
The Hearthglen and Darrowshire battle groups provided long-range support from behind Mograine. Although the effect was significant, it failed to suppress the orcs' charging pace.
The orcs, approaching the human phalanx, pulled out the short axes hanging from their waists and began to throw them!
It seemed that Orgrim, knowing that his subordinates lacked spellcasters and other means of attack, had begun to develop some mid- to long-range attack methods, such as throwing spears for long range and throwing axes for medium range.
Bang! Bang bang! The whistling axes crashed into the shields of the Stratholme battle group with tremendous force. Some shields shattered under the dense and powerful throwing axes of the orcs, and the soldiers who lost their shield protection were hacked to death by the chaotic axes.
If Galen saw this scene, he would definitely mock Terenas and the Lordaeron nobles for being big sharks with thin arms.
Hmph!
Lordaeron was obsessed with saving face and suffering the consequences. Relying on its large population and vast territory, it considered itself a great human power, turning a blind eye to the large number of sophisticated weapons and equipment circulating from Stromgarde, trusting only the equipment it forged itself. Now, it was reaping the bitter fruit!
The originally neat shield wall began to show flaws. Before the soldiers behind could fill the gaps, Broxigar the Saurfang had already led the Blackrock elites to crash fiercely into the Stratholme battle group.
The strong among the orcs generally only equipped a single pauldron, which was usually covered with spikes. This was designed to allow the orcs to exert their brute force to the fullest when charging.
Broxigar, this orc veteran, took the lead, using his huge right pauldron as a shield, slamming the Lordaeron soldiers away. Then, a large number of orcs followed him, tearing apart the defensive formation of the Stratholme battle group.
Mograine was furious. These were the elites gathered by the nobles of Stratholme. If too many were lost, he would not be able to withstand the accusations of a group of nobles!
"Guards! Follow me!"
Seeing the orc overseer Broxigar slaughtering in the battle group, Mograine decided to personally enter the fray!
On the other side, Orgrim was also killing frantically. Ordinary human soldiers were no match for him at all. No one could withstand a blow from the Doomhammer!
The favorable advantage even gave Orgrim an illusion!
I can win!
As long as I find their Grand Marshal Lothar and kill him!
However, Orgrim was not deceived by this illusion. He saw the transformation of the Alliance from the soldiers at the bottom!
From the beginning, their formations were scattered by the orc warriors, and then a third of their comrades were killed or wounded, and they began to collapse, crying and screaming, running around on the battlefield. The orc warriors only needed to chase after them like herding chickens and kill them one by one.
Now, the Alliance's three-man formation for dealing with orcs was becoming increasingly sophisticated. Even if one of the three was killed, they could quickly find the formations of other friendly troops on the battlefield and quickly join them, and their cooperation was very tacit!
The orcs did not lose unjustly before, but our Horde is not without a chance!
Orgrim had already locked onto Lothar!
With just one glance, he recognized that it was the Alliance marshal he was looking for. He was wearing a blue and gold-trimmed robe, with a majestic lion's head printed on his chest, and the greatsword in his hand was constantly killing his soldiers!
The military commander of Stormwind, whom he had once driven to flee in Elwynn Forest, eventually fleeing north, and now, under his command, he had brought back reinforcements from the north!
The knights of the Brotherhood of the Horse surrounded Lothar, charging through the orc ranks, attempting to rescue the intercepted Lordaeron Royal Knights. Relying on the elite knights of the Brotherhood of the Horse, they fought their way from the periphery to the center.
At this time, Lothar also noticed Orgrim staring at him.
The Doomhammer and the black plate armor were too easy to recognize.
Orgrim raised the Doomhammer, the hammerhead facing Lothar, while Lothar also pointed the tip of the Great Marshal's Sword at Orgrim!
The next moment, the two moved!
Lothar's Arathi Highlands warhorse and Orgrim's Blackrock wolf simultaneously charged towards each other.
"Get out of my way!"
Orgrim swung the Doomhammer, and the Lordaeron soldiers within three meters of him were directly knocked away, spitting blood in mid-air, with a large amount of internal organ fragments mixed in the blood, and it was clear that they would not survive.
Lothar's Great Marshal's Sword was also swinging left and right, directly clearing away the orcs in his way.
Lothar, Grand Marshal of the Alliance, descendant of the bloodline of Emperor Thoradin, the number one human warrior of the current era, a legendary peak, equipped with the Great Marshal's Sword, an epic-level divine weapon!
Orgrim, Warchief of the Horde, former deputy of Blackhand, although his combat power cannot be said to be the first among the orcs, he is also among the top tier, equipped with his family heirloom weapon, the Doomhammer, which is also the source of his surname!
Clang!
The two crossed paths in the center of the battlefield, and the blade of the Great Marshal's Sword and the Doomhammer separated after a fierce collision.
First round, a tie!
"Again!"
Orgrim pulled on the reins of the wolf under his crotch and changed direction. Lothar also turned his warhorse.
The two's gazes met in the air, and it seemed that the collision of their gazes produced sparks!
Some short-sighted orcs and human soldiers tried to rush towards the enemy commander, wanting to show off in front of their marshal and warchief, but unfortunately, they overestimated themselves. The pressure generated by the two legendary peak figures directly forced them to kneel halfway, and then their lives were reaped by others.
The Alliance adjutant Turalyon and the Horde veteran Eitrigg engaged in battle, and the Brotherhood of the Horse and the remaining Blackrock guards also arrived. They each fought in a group, leaving the central battlefield to the two powerhouses, while also isolating the disturbances of small cats and dogs.
The charging knight's lance flew towards Fenris with the force of a thunderbolt. Fenris turned his head and saw the lance, but it was already impossible to dodge. Seeing that their chieftain was unable to evade, the guards behind Fenris jumped off their dire wolves, using their own flesh and blood to block the spear for him!
These guards of the Thunder King clan are so brave!
Unfortunately, it was useless. Galen now had a large family and many capable people under his command. He didn't care about things like 'Fatal Strike' or 'Armor Penetration' passive skills. He just spent money to apply them to himself when the battle started. He wasn't fighting alone.
The knight's lance pierced through two Thunder King guards, its momentum undiminished, and pierced into Fenris' right shoulder, exiting through his body!
It seemed that those guards were not doing useless work. At least they changed the accuracy of the lance.
Galen would not admit that his throw was inaccurate. How could a man be inaccurate?
Watching Fenris fall off his dire wolf from the force of the lance, Galen commanded the ten thousand knights in his mind to split apart in the middle, avoiding the open space where Fenris was.
Galen changed his mind. For the sake of Durotan and Go'el, he would spare Fenris' life. However, while the death penalty could be avoided, the living penalty was unavoidable. Galen wanted to capture him alive to exchange him for military merit, and then Lightforge him.
The Golden Dragon and the Honored Orc were already on the agenda. The Lightforging at the Cathedral was a bit busy recently, and the Lightforging personnel were already scheduled until next year.
Fenris struggled to stand up. The heavy bleeding made his vision darken. Behind him, because of the lance, two of his own guards were still hanging, making movement inconvenient. He swung his battle axe in front of him, trying to cut off the knight's lance and then escape.
Headstrong!
Clang!
The knight's lance didn't break. Instead, a gap appeared in his hand axe. The lance made with level four forging technology was at least of excellent blue quality. How could Fenris cut it off without a divine weapon?
However, because of the axe's weight, the lance sank downwards, and Fenris was injured even more, his legs weakened and he knelt down.
Galen had already run far away and didn't see this scene. Otherwise, he would have considered whether to change the candidate for Lightforging. This Fenris must have something wrong with his brain!
At the very back of the ten thousand knight regiment, ten knight captains who received Galen's order separated and directly surrounded Fenris, then took him prisoner towards the edge of the battlefield.
Galen once again adjusted the position of the knight regiment, directly piercing into the center army, where Orgrim's elite main force was located.
Galen also roughly estimated that on this Burning Steppes battlefield, at least 300,000 troops were fighting here.
Galen knew that the Alliance had dispatched nearly 200,000 troops this time. His five legions, plus the Stromgarde militia and the Highland Knights, and the legion brought by Haas, were already close to 100,000. Gilneas only dispatched one legion to skirmish on the periphery. The remaining 100,000 were the armies of Lordaeron and Stormwind.
Orgrim had gathered at least 100,000 troops, but Galen didn't know the specific ratio of formal soldiers to peons.
However, Galen knew that the central army was Orgrim's elite force. According to Garona's intelligence agency, the Blackrock clan had only 30,000 elite troops left. This was his guarantee that he could still serve as Warchief. Once they were all wiped out, Orgrim would become a figurehead.
On the way, Galen saw Danath was fighting an old orc holding a two-handed bone staff. That old orc was one-eyed, and the bone staff in his hand was covered with spikes.
It was Kilrogg Deadeye. Danath and he could be considered a fateful showdown.
Galen didn't intend to gank. Ignoring them, he led the knight regiment roaring past. The magnificent momentum of ten thousand horses almost scared Kilrogg into wetting himself.
The central battlefield was indeed the elite main force of Orgrim. Galen saw that Uther and the Silver Hand paladins were all held back. Mograine's Stratholme warband had already lost more than half. It was estimated that if this battle was won, the nobles of Stratholme would be heartbroken. This was the strongest elite they could gather as the capital of Eastweald.
Lordaeron dispatched six legions, the Stratholme warband and Darrowshire warband of Eastweald, the Hearthglen warband and Andorhal warband of Westweald, while the Menethil royal family only dispatched a Royal Guard Corps and a Royal Knights. In addition, there were tens of thousands of logistics and transportation troops.
From this, one could see the composition of the nation of Lordaeron. Unlike Stromgarde, which had been highly centralized under the efforts of Thoras and Galen, although the nobles of Stromgarde also had many private soldiers, more troops were in the hands of the royal family.
Two-thirds of Lordaeron's army came from nobles. No wonder Terenas was so generous. Stromgarde and Kul Tiras were so generous in sending troops to help the Kingdom of Stormwind because the king was a warrior. Terenas wanted to be the leader of the Alliance, the second Thoradin the Great of mankind, so he was so active. Moreover, it seemed that he was spending other people's money. My army has losses, but his losses are actually greater. I still maintain control!
Galen didn't care about so many twists and turns. He still had some goodwill towards Mograine. This time, he would do him a favor. If the wheel of history still allowed him to obtain that Dark Crystal, he would be able to ask for it.
"Varrokal! Take your knights to support Mograine!"
"Yes! Your Highness!"
Then a torrent of three thousand people separated from the main force and headed straight for where the Stratholme warband was.
After a while, Galen saw a group of Alliance soldiers struggling to support themselves under the offensive of the death knight regiment. The Silver Hand Knight Regiment was held back by Orgrim's ogre guard, unable to arrive in time to support. Fortunately, Lothar had assigned many paladins and priests to various legions, including many base priests belonging to Galen. It was their existence that prevented this group of ordinary Alliance soldiers from collapsing under the evil magic of the death knight regiment!
"Gavinrad!"
"Here!"
"Purify that evil!"
"Yes!"
Then Gavinrad also led his men out. More than three hundred high-level paladins and one thousand high-level knights once again separated from the knight torrent. This time, Galen decided to annihilate the death knight regiment in one fell swoop. They were too much in the way!
Rumble!
Rumble!
The heavy armored knight group that had been divided again had more than six thousand people left, which was still a powerful force.
Their knight lances were covered with orc corpses. After the lances were discarded, they replaced them with greatswords for slashing and unfolded a real cavalry and hacking.
Orgrim was originally engrossed in fighting Lothar, but the vibration of ten thousand horses galloping attracted his attention. Six thousand heavy cavalry shocked him!
He must fight quickly and then stop this group of knights!
Otherwise, the Horde is in danger!
On the central battlefield, Lothar and Orgrim were locked in a fierce battle, and their bodyguards around them were also fighting tooth and nail.
The Blackrock orcs were indeed powerful, a head taller than ordinary orc soldiers, easily able to knock down two orc soldiers.
And the knights of the Iron Horse Brotherhood were not to be trifled with. This group of strong men, handpicked from the Stormwind Kingdom, had followed Lothar for decades, from fighting the gnolls of the Western Plaguelands to the jungle trolls of Stranglethorn Vale. In recent years, they had fought no less than a hundred battles with the orcs. Those who had survived to this day were all monsters, and in the future, a ninth-tier peak was a certainty.
A fierce warrior like a member of the Iron Horse Brotherhood, capable of carrying a person on their shoulders and letting a horse run on their arms, could directly take on a Blackrock bodyguard one-on-one without flinching.
Orgrim miscalculated. He didn't anticipate that some humans would exhibit signs of atavism, becoming like the iron-bodied Vrykul. He didn't expect his Blackrock bodyguards to be held back. Originally, he wanted a gang fight, but it turned into a one-on-one duel between himself and Lothar.
The Arathi Highlands warhorse and the Blackrock dire wolf brushed past each other once again, but unexpectedly, this fleeting encounter between horse and wolf would be their last.
Lothar and Orgrim simultaneously wanted to kill each other's mounts to cripple their mobility, resulting in Lothar's Greatsword of the Alliance slashing the Blackrock dire wolf's neck, and Orgrim smashing the head of the Arathi warhorse.
Both mounts died on the spot, and the two riders were thrown off their mounts due to inertia.
Having experienced hundreds of battles, the two landed steadily on the ground after a front flip to dissipate the force. The surrounding orcs and Alliance soldiers quickly made way, not daring to take the opportunity to launch a sneak attack, fearing that they might be accidentally killed by the two top powerhouses.
After turning around, the two charged at each other again. Although Orgrim's physical fitness was stronger than Lothar's, and he was nearly a head taller with far greater strength, Lothar's combat skills honed over thirty years were far superior to the orcs, who favored a more unrestrained fighting style.
Orgrim immediately aimed the Doomhammer at Lothar's head, launching a fierce attack with an unstoppable, mountain-toppling momentum!
Lothar remained calm, gripping the hilt of the Greatsword with both hands, his legs slightly bent, and swung upwards from the lower right with a rooting force!
Although Azeroth didn't have the saying of using four ounces to deflect a thousand pounds, Lothar's combat skills had similar techniques, using leverage to counteract greater and stronger forces.
Orgrim was completely unaware in mid-air. He only knew that his jumping slash was powerful, having smashed the heads of countless tall ogres and cyclopes.
Bang!
The two weapons collided heavily. Orgrim's expression changed. The Doomhammer in Orgrim's hand was almost knocked out of his grip by Lothar's force, and his body also deviated from its downward trajectory in mid-air. Lothar seized the advantage and didn't forgive. He raised his right leg high and kicked heavily into Orgrim's abdomen. However, Orgrim's black plate armor was not ordinary. Although Orgrim was kicked away, he didn't suffer too much damage, only feeling that his arms were a little numb from the shock after landing.
The two locked eyes, and the atmosphere in the air froze!
"Lok'tar ogar!"
"For the Alliance, for Stormwind!"
Both sides let out a battle cry and fought together again.
The battle between the two legendary-level warriors was quite exciting. Greatswords and warhammers clashed back and forth. One was tall and strong with overwhelming force, and the other was well-proportioned, agile, and skilled. This was a peak battle of strength and skill.
Their only goal was to kill each other and win this battle.
The battle entered a stalemate. Greatswords, being sharp weapons, were not as advantageous as Orgrim's warhammer in collisions. Lothar casually picked up a shield from the ground and began to fight steadily, no longer using the greatsword to clash head-on with the Doomhammer. When there was no opportunity, he would use the shield to block Orgrim's attacks, then use the shield to dissipate the force, looking for openings in Orgrim's unrestrained attacks to counterattack.
Before long, Orgrim's black plate armor had been cut open in several places by Lothar.
It wasn't that Orgrim only knew how to use brute force and had no skills at all. After all, orcs, as natural warriors, were naturally endowed with berserker strength and powerful force, so they were usually accustomed to using their physical advantages in combat, only dabbling in combat skills.
Humans used skills to supplement their shortcomings due to insufficient strength. After all, why bother learning useless skills when a battle could be resolved with physical advantages?
A trace of anxiety also surfaced in Orgrim's heart. He had already realized that he was beginning to be at a disadvantage. After all, this unrestrained attack method was very exhausting. As long as he couldn't hold on, it would be time for Lothar to launch a major counterattack.
Moreover, the current disadvantage of the Horde was the lack of troops. Kilrogg and Fenris on the Eastern Front, and Grom and the Blademasters on the Western Front, were all fighting with the goal of killing the Alliance commander as their focus. The longer the time dragged on on his side, the greater the variables.
However, Orgrim still had an advantage. Both humans and orcs belonged to the mortal races, with long-lived individuals having lifespans of around a hundred years. Lothar was already close to fifty years old, and his physical fitness had begun to decline from its peak state, while Orgrim was at most thirty years old, right in the prime of an orc!
However, Orgrim didn't know that Fenris had already been captured, otherwise his mood would be even worse. At this time, he could only suppress his anxious mood, while also reducing the force of his attacks and retaining three points of strength.
Time is a butcher's knife, each cut aging people. After the battle lasted for half an hour, Lothar felt physically exhausted, feeling somewhat powerless. His lungs were protesting like a damaged bellows.
In Azeroth, fifty years old was already old enough to be a grandfather. Lothar, because he had spent his younger years carousing in the flower gardens of Stormwind Kingdom with Medivh and Llane, eventually led to him and Llane marrying late and having children in their old age. Otherwise, Callan's child would already be able to pick up a wooden sword and start learning the basics.
The strong fighting spirit in his heart allowed Lothar to drag his tired body and persevere. Orgrim was also panting a little. Now it depended on who couldn't hold on first.
However, Lothar knew that, judging from the physical fitness of the two races, it would definitely be himself who couldn't hold on first. Therefore, Lothar decided to take a risky move, risking himself!
Orgrim tentatively smashed down with the warhammer again, but this time, he didn't feel the resistance of the warhammer hitting the shield. Caught off guard, Orgrim couldn't stop his force, and the Doomhammer slammed heavily on the ground!
Ogrim's eight parts of strength, plus Lothar's use of the shield in his hand, which was close to being deformed, as a guide, turned eight parts of strength into twelve parts of strength. Ogrim was caught off guard and couldn't hold back the warhammer in his hand, smashing it heavily on the ground, splashing up a large amount of dirt.
Without giving Ogrim a chance to react, Lothar took advantage of the opening of this tribal chieftain's central gate, and the Great Marshal's Sword pierced into his right rib like an arrow leaving the string, quickly and fiercely!
The blind spot in defense, coupled with the inability to retract the warhammer to block, caused Ogrim to be severely injured by the Great Marshal's Sword. Even his family's black plate armor failed to help him block this sword.
Ogrim was severely injured, his face twisted, and he blamed himself for being impatient due to the influence of the battle situation, falling into Lothar's scheme, but he still had a chance!
Isn't it just trading injuries for lives? I can do that too!
Bloodlust Rage!
Ogrim activated the orc's talent, and his body emitted a red light. Lothar, seeing that the situation was not good, wanted to withdraw and distance himself, and then slowly grind down the injured Ogrim, but found that his Great Marshal's Sword could not be pulled out!
Ogrim endured the severe pain in his ribs, controlled his muscles and ribs to firmly jam the Great Marshal's Sword so that Lothar could not withdraw, and then used the explosive power brought to him by Bloodlust Rage. Ogrim picked up the Doomhammer and swung it in a circle from top to bottom, smashing it towards Lothar's head.
A smile appeared in Ogrim's eyes. Victory was at hand. If Lothar abandoned his weapon and withdrew, then in the next moment, he could smash his back of the head. But if he didn't retreat, I would at most be seriously injured, but he would surely die!
With just one last step, I can righteously kill the Alliance's Great Marshal on the battlefield!
And this group of the Alliance will have their morale collapse due to Lothar's death. As long as the orcs launch two more charges, these human soldiers will cry for their parents and turn around and run away. Then it will be the tribe's turn to turn the tables!
At this time, Lothar's face also changed. He did not expect that the Great Marshal's Sword could not be pulled out. This second of time made his situation very dangerous, and the offense and defense were reversed in an instant.
Faced with this thunderous hammer, Lothar could only raise the shield on his left hand, trying to protect his face!
Bang!
The shield shattered!
Lothar's left hand was fractured!
White bones pierced through the pink flesh!
And Lothar, who was about to have his head explode in the next moment, had no fear in his eyes. All he had was determination!
He concentrated the strength of his whole body, tightly gripped the hilt of the Great Marshal's Sword with his right hand, and then vigorously stirred the blade stuck in Ogrim's body!
At this moment, Lothar only had one thought in his mind: I can't live, but I will take Ogrim with me. Llane, my brother, the Kingdom of Stormwind depends on you to revive it. Varian, I entrust him to you to take care of! Galen, you must help Varian and Callan more!
"For the Alliance! For the Kingdom of Stormwind!"
Lothar roared loudly, trying to leave his last words.
Turalyon on the periphery also noticed Lothar's desperate situation! He gasped!
"No!"
At this moment, the blood from the corners of Ogrim's mouth was gushing out like it was free. Looking at Lothar's resigned roar beneath him, he had lost sensation in his ribs, and the massive blood loss also made him feel the loss of his strength.
But! He won!
All the tribe's enemies will die like this, until this world belongs to the orcs!
One thought he was bound to die, and his head would explode like a watermelon in the next moment, and the other thought he had already won, and conquering the entire continent was just around the corner.
However, the script was set by them, but the ending was not decided by them.
Neither Lothar nor Ogrim had noticed the protruding pink crystal at the end of the hilt of the Great Marshal's Sword. Everyone thought it was an ornament, and no one had noticed that the pink crystal had cracked!
The attack of the Doomhammer was now unstoppable, continuing its downward arc, and in the next second, it would hit the top of Lothar's helmet!
A large number of orange-yellow runes appeared under Lothar's feet, and a transparent Mask protected Lothar's entire body!
Bang!
The originally earth-shattering Doomhammer was like hitting a solid iron ball. Ogrim spat out a large mouthful of blood from his mouth due to the force of the warhammer's counter-shock!
Then Ogrim's whole body seemed to be drained of strength, the Doomhammer fell from his hand to the ground, and his knees buckled, kneeling on the ground.
"This! Shouldn't... be the orcs'... destiny!"
In the next moment, Ogrim was seriously injured and fainted in front of Lothar.
Lothar, who was dumbfounded, was still holding the hilt of the sword in his hand. When Ogrim fell to the ground, he reflexively pulled it out, and Ogrim's body twitched in a coma.
The first to react was Turalyon. As an outstanding student of the Paladin Academy who had to pass the Holy Shield test before graduating, he noticed that the Mask on Lothar's body was very similar to the Holy Shield, and it was most likely Galen's work again!
"Their warchief has been killed by the Great Marshal!"
"The Great Marshal has won!"
"The Alliance will win!"
Turalyon led the remaining Iron Horse Brotherhood knights to break away from the entangled Blackrock Guards and quickly rushed over to protect their Great Marshal.
The Blackrock Guards also went crazy like they were madly attacking Turalyon's line of defense. They thought that the chieftain had been killed, so even if they were killed, they would have to snatch back Ogrim's body. The chieftain's death was already their dereliction of duty, and they only had this as the last responsibility of the guards.
"The chieftain is dead! Marshal Lothar killed Ogrim!"
The frantic shouts quickly spread among the Alliance soldiers, boosting their morale, while the orcs were like eggplants beaten by frost, no longer as brave as before.
"The Alliance will win! The Alliance will win!"
"No!"
With a roar of anger, Broxigar, who had broken free from the Stratholme battle group and the Varrokal Knights, went crazy. He led the remaining Blackrock Guards and rushed over. He would not allow himself to abandon Ogrim!
"Take him alive!"
This was an order from Galen remotely. This leader of the Hellscream family still had a hidden line of fate. Galen wanted to do an experiment to verify his conjecture!
The entire High Knight Corps of three thousand members pressed on, and Broxigar and the Blackrock Guards failed to stir up any later waves!
The chieftain was defeated!
They were defeated!
The great orc who once led them to sweep across the entire continent was killed?
The orcs' faith collapsed!
The orcs were dumbfounded. At this moment, they were like zombies, as if they had lost all their energy, and the battle axes and wolf-tooth clubs in their hands fell to the ground one after another, and then they slumped and sat on the ground.
Varrokal brought people to control Broxigar and brought him to Lothar. This was a war achievement belonging to Stromgarde.
Turalyon checked Orgrim and then turned to report to Lothar: "Marshal, he still has a breath."
Lothar sighed, this was a terrible opponent.
"Heal him, he will be judged by the various countries of the Alliance for slaughtering innocent creatures of the Eastern Continent!"
Broxigar understood Lothar's words and knew that Orgrim was not dead yet, then he gave up struggling and obediently let the knights kill him.
In the distance, more orcs lost their will to continue fighting after Orgrim fell, but there were still tribal members fighting. The Death Knight regiment broke through the encirclement of the Templar Knights and attempted to escape.
At this time, a large number of Alliance strongmen gathered in the central army, and the struggle of the Death Knight regiment in the battlefield was particularly conspicuous!
Uther's attention was attracted, and he roared: "It's this group of evil creatures again! Knights of the Silver Hand! Charge! Eliminate this group of evil creatures and purify them!"
The Knights of the Silver Hand rushed out, golden warhammers flew all over the sky, and Teron Gorefiend looked desperate. With wolves in front and tigers behind, he was doomed this time!
One minute later, the first Death Knight regiment in Azeroth was completely wiped out!
Their corpses were purified by the golden holy light, turning into a group of humanoid flames, and finally turning into a pool of black ashes and blending into the volcanic ash.
In a place invisible to everyone, a large number of heroic spirits slowly rose into the air and were absorbed into the Altar of Kings.
"Reorganize, our encirclement has been completed, capture all these orcs!"
In the west, Galen spread out the remaining six thousand knights, trying to solve the Warsong clan in Blackrock Mountain. Unlike the first batch of orcs who came to Azeroth, they recognized the orc coalition force of the tribe. They united and swept the entire continent, and had a sense of belonging to the title of the tribe. Chieftain Orgrim was their faith, and the capture of Orgrim meant that this group of orcs was no longer a threat.
The Warsong clan had just arrived in Azeroth and had not been greatly influenced by Orgrim. Grom was their faith. Once they escaped, they would be like a group of bandits, leaving hidden dangers for the eastern countries.
Of course, the main reason was that Galen had taken a fancy to Grom, a fierce general. He had to get such a powerful thug.
Unfortunately, Galen was one step late. When he arrived at the western front, he only saw a group of Nagrand wolves breaking through and moving away.
Among the wreckage of more than a dozen scrapped steam tanks, Durin lay on his back in a completely undignified manner. The armor on his body was damaged in many places, and there was a deep crack in his chest, with blood flowing from the crack!
The Wildhammer dwarf shaman was healing the unconscious Brann, and Muradin was guarding him with a worried look.
"Looks like I'm late?"
Galen muttered to himself.
"My dear prince, if I had been any later, I would have returned to the embrace of the kings!"
There were many people around, and Durin spoke very vaguely.
"How is it? Do you realize how weak your combat power is? Don't think that you can sit back and relax when you become king. There are many crises in the future!"
At this time, Muradin helped Brann over.
"Galen, I almost returned to the mountains just now! Fortunately, my father doesn't want to see me yet. How is the situation over there?" Brann was really tough, and he could still joke at this time.
"Marshal Lothar and the warchief had a one-on-one fight. It seems that Marshal Lothar won, and the orcs have collapsed!"
Galen had never worried about this battle. The army was overwhelming, and the Red Dragon Legion was still waiting for his call in Blackrock Mountain. Moreover, he had left so many backhands in the Great Marshal's Sword that even if Lothar himself lost, he would not die.
"Galen, after this battle is over, the war will be over soon, right?"
The steady Muradin asked. The dwarves had been besieged for more than two years, and various facilities of the dwarves in the mountains of Khaz Modan had been destroyed by the orcs. The entire Bronzebeard Kingdom was in ruins and needed to quickly resume production and resettle the refugees in the city. After all, Ironforge could not keep Galen providing food to support them.
"In the Blasted Lands in the south, there should still be some orcs guarding the Dark Portal. Their strength is not strong. Any legion can deal with them. The war is over!"
The subsequent task was to clear the orcs in the south and then close the Dark Portal. This second war between the orcs and humans would be over.
As for destroying the Dark Portal, Galen had never thought about it. Such a symbolic thing was full of feelings for Galen. He would rather send ten legions to be stationed in the Blasted Lands than have it destroyed.
There was also Draenor behind it, and Galen didn't want to give up this easy-to-get fat.
Of course, it was a joke to say that he would destroy the Dark Portal. It was built by Gul'dan and Medivh, who was possessed by Sargeras. This thing's level had already surpassed mortals. If the Dragon Legion didn't take action, with the magical level of the human countries and the dwarves, they should not be able to destroy it!
As for the high elf kingdom, perhaps moving the entire Sunwell over and detonating it might be able to destroy the Dark Portal together.
"The war between humans and orcs is over, but another war is about to begin," Galen said jokingly.
"Huh?"
Muradin was puzzled. This upright warrior didn't understand Galen's words. With the current strength of the Alliance, even if the orcs from the other side of the Dark Portal made a comeback, the Alliance could still beat them to a pulp.
"Hehe!" Galen didn't explain, but ordered the knights to clean up the battlefield, gather the orc prisoners, and deal with the orcs who still had the will to resist.
Another war was a war without gunpowder!
The Alliance was now strong, unprecedentedly strong, but the reason for its disintegration often came from within.
"Galen, Terenas is not a good leader. The difficult war in front covered up his selfishness. Without the pressure of the orcs, his little thoughts will soon be suppressed. Perhaps we can form our own small group to have more say in the Alliance."
These were Brann's weak words. Galen now had a higher opinion of Brann. At least he was much more politically aware than his second brother and was not just an explorer who would open monsters without thinking.
"A small group is necessary. Stromgarde likes to be friends with the generous dwarves. For you, we are willing to contribute our wine!"
Galen laughed loudly. So much effort had finally brought Ironforge onto his chariot. Now Stromgarde was uniting vertically and horizontally in the Alliance and was about to override the Kingdom of Lordaeron.
At this time, Galen thought of something.
"Then Brann, Muradin, let our cooperation begin with the construction of an underground railway from Stromgarde's royal city to Ironforge!"