When Archimonde returned near the main battlefield, there was no trace of the enemy. The battlefield was a complete mess, the ground covered in craters, some made by Hellfires, others by artillery bombardment.
Looking around, the field of vision was filled with broken corpses, almost all Scourge and demons. The orderly retreating Alliance forces collected the remains of their comrades to prevent them from being desecrated by the Scourge.
Archimonde strode to the battered corpse of Grand Admiral Tichondrius, his eyes burning with anger. He knew this dreadlord; he was Kil'jaeden's adjutant, a famous figure in the Burning Legion. In his first battle after descending, this Grand Admiral had died so wretchedly!
Archimonde felt deeply ashamed.
The leaders of the Scourge and demons knelt beside Archimonde, trembling before his wrath.
"Kazzak," Archimonde called out the name of the Doomguard leader, "tell me, where did they go?"
"They retreated to a fortress in the north, and escaped through a portal to a floating city, my master!" Doom Lord Kazzak replied in a low voice.
"Why didn't you pursue?" Archimonde narrowed his eyes, dangerous light shooting out.
Kazzak felt a chill in his heart from the stare. He knew this master's temper well; if he didn't answer correctly, his fate would be no better than that of the skeleton soldier Archimonde had crushed into bone ash.
"My master, the enemy has a rapid-firing weapon that poses a great threat. We tried to pursue, but suffered heavy losses..." He puffed out his chest, several unhealed, horrific wounds still visible on his sulfurous skin. "Even my body cannot withstand too many attacks."
This answer temporarily stopped Archimonde from pursuing the matter. He turned to Dar'khan and Arthas, both of whom were also covered in wounds. Everyone else was almost injured; not a single one was unscathed.
"Why didn't you use your floating fortresses?"
"They were all destroyed in the battle, my master..." Dar'khan groveled on the ground, answering tremulously.
The remaining three floating fortresses, including the most powerful Black Fortress, all became primary targets for ground artillery after landing. Anti-air firepower was limited in its capabilities, but ground artillery had no such restrictions. When heavy artillery units unleashed hundreds of pounds of shells from cannons with calibers of 200mm or more, the fate of these immobile floating fortresses was sealed.
Now they were all part of the ground ruins.
"Very good," Archimonde suddenly chuckled, stroking the two unique Eredar tendrils on his chin with his fingers. "We've been outmaneuvered."
"You," Archimonde pointed to the dreadlord Anetheron, who couldn't help but tremble and break out in a cold sweat, "from now on, you will take over Tichondrius's position and lead the Nathrezim demons!"
"As you command, my master!" Anetheron finally breathed a sigh of relief. He had been truly terrified just now.
"It seems I underestimated these ants," Archimonde laughed instead. "Then, from now on, I will adjust my plans!"
"My master, what should we do next?" Anetheron asked cautiously.
"Destroy this place, then destroy Silvermoon City, and head south, destroying all life!" Archimonde said with a cruel voice.
"My master, I know a place where we can expand our ranks," Dar'khan said cautiously. "Recently, my servants told me that there are many trolls in the Ghostlands."
"And Gilneas; the hundreds of thousands of undead soldiers there should also be mobilized," Arthas said.
---
The Alliance army retreated in an orderly fashion to the Magisters' Terrace and entered Dalaran above the Endless Sea through the teleportation array there, then returned to Los Angeles through the teleportation array between Dalaran and Los Angeles.
The high elf fleet had already sailed to Lordaeron before the war began. Now, with the crossing of the sea imminent, any ships were extremely important resources.
In terms of results, the Battle of Sunwell could be considered a victory. But Archimonde's power was undeniable. Such a violent explosion did not cause him any harm, and Anna's attack controlling the Focusing Iris failed to truly shake him. Everyone couldn't imagine what power would be enough to kill this Lord of the Demons.
"Night Elves," "World Tree" were the names most often mentioned by Anna and Aiden. Because in the original history, Archimonde was killed by the self-destruction of the ancestral spirits of the Night Elves on Mount Hyjal.
After the images fed back by the Eyes of Observation left in Quel'Thalas were transmitted back, all the leaders fell into silence.
The Burning Legion marched south, turning the entire Quel'Thalas into a sea of fire. The undead and demon armies left nothing but desolation in their wake. The forests that the high elves cherished as life were all turned into charred remains, and the magnificent buildings built over thousands of years were also reduced to ruins.
Silvermoon City, this great capital, now only had broken walls left.
"Besides retreating, we have no other choice."
"We must hurry; the Burning Legion is advancing very quickly. It's only the third day, and they've already entered the Ghostlands!"
"At most, they will reach Stratholme in three more days. Since we cannot resist Archimonde, it's best to abandon it directly!"
"And Tyr's Hand should also be evacuated as soon as possible."
The dissenting voices at the meeting had disappeared. Now, everyone in the Alliance was panicking, thinking about retreating as soon as possible. The first fleet had already left the shore three days ago—just after the battle report of the Battle of Sunwell came, more than a thousand ships of all sizes had sailed from North Sea Wharf, South Shore Wharf, and Kul Tiras, carrying more than 200,000 refugees to Kalimdor.
Every day, sea ships from other places sailed to the major ports, and hundreds or thousands of large fleets sailed away after completing their assembly.
In order to transport more people, the Alliance had to find ways to fix small fishing boats together with iron cables and brackets to use as sea ships. But even with the protection of large fleets, the risk resistance of such small boats was still very worrying. If they encountered a storm, they would easily capsize.
But even if all the ships were gathered, plus the two floating cities of Dalaran and Los Angeles, there were still more than 1.5 million people on the continent of Lordaeron who could not go to the New World. They could only migrate south, praying that the Burning Legion would not burn the flames of war to the Southern Continent.
Aiden said in a deep voice: "Stratholme cannot be abandoned directly."
He then explained: "The evacuation of refugees still needs at least half a month. If we directly abandon Stratholme, then the Burning Legion can launch attacks in any direction on the continent of Lordaeron at will."
"Then we have to hold back Archimonde once more," Anna's voice was self-deprecating. "I really feel like an ant trying to shake a tree."
"Who doesn't? I hope we can find another way to restrain him sooner!" Aiden also smiled wryly.
At this moment, a messenger suddenly rushed into the conference room. This could only happen when there was an emergency military situation. Sure enough, the messenger said urgently: "Your Majesty, the Scourge of Gilneas has almost all mobilized, crossed the Greymane Wall, and is preparing to launch a major attack!"
The Ashburn Village front has always maintained a force of no less than 50,000 troops, guarding against the Scourge's attack. It is mainly composed of the Gilnean Legion led by Queen Tess, the Silver Hand Knights led by Dathrohan, the mechanized units of dwarves and gnomes, the Stormwind Knights led by King Varian of Stormwind, and the Stromgarde Legion led by Thoras.
After the great retreat from Northrend, Warchief Thrall of the orcs also led a troop to join the Ashburn Village front. However, given the unpleasant past during the Second War, the orcs camped separately on the outskirts of Ashburn Village. There was almost no contact between the two, which naturally avoided conflicts.
Even though the scouts discovered the anomaly of the Greymane Wall at the first time, the war still inevitably broke out.
King Genn led all the Scourge soldiers out. Gilneas has now become an empty city. But the effect of doing so is also obvious: he has gathered a huge army of over 250,000! Looking around, the ground is covered with Scourge!
But this army is not led by Genn. His master has personally arrived—the Lich King Dar'khan has come here with the death knight Brox and a group of dreadlords.
After learning that the Alliance was conducting a large-scale crossing of the sea, Archimonde ordered the army to encircle from the north and south, jointly encircling and suppressing from two directions. Break through Lordaeron and destroy all resistance forces!
Therefore, he dispatched some of his capable subordinates to command the Gilnean forces. Upon receiving the order, Genn immediately commanded the liches and necromancers under his command to summon their master's descent.
Now, the great battle has begun!
"Go forth, my servants. Let these living beings feel despair and fear!" Dar'Khan floated in the air, loudly commanding the hundreds of thousands of troops.
The Ashwood Village line of defense had long since constructed large-scale fortifications to defend against the incoming attack. The artillery on the position fired in unison, landing in the undead army and inflicting heavy casualties on the Scourge. The enemies near the impact points were instantly cleared, only to be immediately filled by more Scourge. These shells were like stones thrown into the sea, creating a splash, but ultimately of little help to the overall situation.
The gnomes' air force was also working hard to drop bombs and fight against the Scourge air force, such as gargoyles. The dwarves' steam tanks roared as they charged towards the enemy ranks.
This war had no warm-up or probing; the moment of contact was a full-scale offensive!
"Warchief, the Scourge from that side is charging out!" The orcish camp also received news of the Gilnean Scourge army's attack.
"Should we provide support?" someone couldn't help but ask.
Thrall immediately stood up: "Head to the battlefield, now! Immediately!" He grabbed the Doomhammer and charged out of the main tent, riding his war wolf and shouting loudly: "All orcish warriors! Follow me to provide support immediately!"
Under the Warchief's command, the orcs quickly found their weapons and followed Thrall to the battlefield.
"In the name of the Holy Light! Attack!" Dathrohan raised his Holy Light-blessed greatsword high and shouted loudly. The paladins of the Knights of the Silver Hand, under his leadership, launched a charge towards the Scourge army.
"Stormwind Knights, attack!" Varian Wrynn also led the knights of Stormwind to launch an attack.
The cavalry of the Gilnean Legion and the Stromgarde Legion crossed the fortifications almost simultaneously and charged towards the boundless Scourge army. Iron hooves trampled, the earth trembled, battle cries shook the sky, and courage and despair echoed together in the skies above Gilneas.
Seeing these foolish Alliance knights still daring to charge, Broxigar grinned. He raised his runic battle-axe and shouted to the death knights behind him, "Ebon Blade, since they want death, then we shall bring death to them!"
The black torrent charged towards the Silver Hand paladins.
"Let's go have some fun too!" Mal'Ganis let out an evil laugh, "Avenge the former Grand Marshal!"
"Are you talking about Tichondrius? He seems to have been killed by an angel," Varimathras's voice was only playful, with no sympathy.
"But angels are on their side, so let's collect some interest first!"
Dathrohan charged through the enemy ranks, killing one enemy after another. In the face of the Holy Light, these Scourge turned to ashes. But the paladins around him dwindled, while the Scourge seemed to multiply with each kill. They gradually fell into a disadvantage.
Just then, a ghoul suddenly pounced on him from his side rear at an extraordinary speed. Dathrohan heard the wind and only had time to slightly turn his body. With a "pounce," a sharp pain came from his left shoulder, where the armor had been torn and a deep wound was left on his shoulder, oozing blood.
"Quite alert." The ghoul's body twisted and transformed into the appearance of a dreadlord. It was Mal'Ganis!
"Come, let's continue playing!"
Dathrohan glared at this cunning demon, using the Holy Light to heal his injuries while cautiously gripping his greatsword. He spurred his horse forward and shouted, "Die, demon!"
Mal'Ganis dodged to the side, his sharp claws slamming hard on the sword, blocking it. He quickly pounced at Dathrohan again. Dathrohan raised his left arm and hurriedly cast a defensive spell.
"Bang," the demon's attack landed on his left arm. The layer of Holy Light defended against this attack. But Dathrohan still felt his left arm go numb. The injured area throbbed with pain.
"Not bad, let's see how long you can last?" Mal'Ganis taunted. His composure was in stark contrast to Dathrohan's vigilance. He was clearly at an advantage.
Not far away, Varian was also in trouble. A powerful opponent had found him, the death knight Broxigar!
Varian was a powerful warrior, but now he was only skilled and physically strong, lacking the tempering of life-and-death battles. Compared to the Lo'Gosh summoned by Nozdormu on the Frozen Throne, he was still far behind.
He was overwhelmed by Broxigar's violent attacks, utterly disheveled.
General Reginald, seeing his king in danger, immediately rushed over to rescue him. But even with their combined efforts, Broxigar still seemed very relaxed.
"I heard you are a king." Broxigar paused his attack, baring his teeth and revealing a cruel smile, "You will become my trophy!"
Varian and Reginald panted heavily. Their weapons had been chipped in many places by the runic great-axe in the previous confrontation, and it was unknown how long they could last.
"Retreat, Your Majesty. I'll cover you!" Reginald raised his shield, which bore the image of a lion. It was the symbol of Stormwind.
"I will not retreat!" Varian denied outright. "The warriors are fighting desperately, I will not run away alone!"
"Very good, I like opponents like you!" Broxigar said with admiration.
"But I hate orcs like you!" Varian stared at the orcish death knight, his eyes revealing undisguised hatred and anger. He roared and charged forward!
"When I transform you into a death knight, I hope you will still be proud of your race!" Broxigar also let out a war cry and actively met the charge.
However, courage could not eliminate the gap in strength. Even though Varian and General Reginald tried their best, they still could not resist Broxigar's offensive. The worst thing was that when he couldn't dodge and had to use his sword to parry Broxigar's heavy battle-axe, the sword, already chipped in many places, finally gave way—with a crisp "crack," it was severed by the runic great-axe!
"Your Majesty!" Reginald flew over and fully raised his shield in front of Varian.
"Boom!" Broxigar's full-force axe strike almost shattered the shield in half. General Reginald behind the shield felt as if he had been hit by a chariot, his left half of his body holding the shield had lost consciousness, and a bloody taste surged in his throat. He knew this was a sign of internal organ damage.
The Stormwind soldiers nearby tried hard to rush towards this side, hoping to rescue their beloved king and general. But the endless undead soldiers blocked their path of support.
"You are dead!" Broxigar pulled out his axe and raised it high above his head.
Varian and Reginald simultaneously fell into despair.
"Broxigar!" A violent roar suddenly came from not far away. An orcish warrior covered in blood rode a giant wolf, slashing left and right with the giant axe in his hand, chopping the Scourge blocking his path into pieces like cutting vegetables.
"Face me, you disgrace to the orcs!" Grom broke through the obstruction, raised the Bloodhowl battle-axe, and slammed it down at Broxigar.
"Clang!" The two giant axes collided, making a huge sound.
The two once most powerful orcish warriors fought fiercely. Axe shadows crisscrossed at the point of battle, and no one dared to approach.
"Reginald, how are you!" Varian pushed away the Stormwind general who was protecting him.
"I... I'm fine, Your Majesty." Reginald coughed twice, with some bloodstains on the corner of his mouth. He obviously didn't look fine.
"Don't talk!" Varian loudly called for guards to send the general who faithfully protected him to the rear.
In front of him, Grom was still fighting fiercely with Broxigar.
Varian was very conflicted. He hated orcs, both in the past and present. Even if he was forced to ally with the orcs, he had not forgiven these green-skinned beasts who had once destroyed his country and family.
He had just shouted at Broxigar, "I hate orcs like you," but in the blink of an eye, when he was almost in despair, it was an orc who saved them from the death knight's axe. How should he deal with this in the future?
However, he was not the only one who was conflicted. As the brave orcish army rushed up, many people were saved from the blades of the undead army by the orcs. The inherent impression that the orcs had given them more than a decade ago was being slowly reversed.