Make Azeroth breathtaking

Tannis muttered to herself as she turned on the already calibrated instrument. A point of light appeared on the map, flashing on and off.

"This is?"

“These are the engineering glasses I gave to Grom before. He should have them with him at all times—or maybe he lost them on the way. That way, we can figure out where he went.”

Tanis tapped the map lightly, and instantly place names written in goblin language appeared on the map. In the blink of an eye, her face turned ugly.

"...This is serious. Grom went to Ashenvale, and I can guess what he's going to do next in the Berserker."

49. Orcs and the Cataclysm

Ashenvale, Lake Mystra.

The lake that once slept beneath the Stonetalon Mountains is no longer tranquil. Raging fires have scorched the lush greenery, and the corpses of night elf civilians lie in the grass, floating in the lake. Their blood has stained the water and polluted the ground. Under the moonlight, all of this appears terrifying and sinister.

"Huff, huff..."

Grom sat cross-legged on the ground, holding a whetstone and sharpening the blade of Bloodhowl again and again. Beside him lay a piece of silk, soaked in blood, which he had used as a rag; it was a piece of silk he had torn from the clothes of a victim.

"Chief, our master has ordered us to meet with our allies."

A demon-blooded orc ran up to Grom and knelt down on one knee.

"Allied forces? We don't need that stuff, but since it's the master's order, let me go see what kind of guys will be fighting alongside us."

Grom hoisted Gorehowl onto his shoulder and strode toward the reinforcements' camp.

——————————————Across the lake————————————————————

Phosphorus fire, white bones, decay.

Compared to the brutality and bloodshed of the demonized orc camp, this camp exuded a deathly stillness from beginning to end, with occasional blue spirit flames flickering in the shadows before fading back into darkness.

"Undead, I never expected that the allies my master arranged for me would be a bunch of frail skeletons."

Grom, carrying Gorehowl, walked to the entrance of the Scourge camp and snorted disdainfully.

"I never imagined that I would cooperate with savage orcs."

Accompanied by the voice of a young man as sharp as a cold wind, the clatter of hooves reached Grom's ears from the depths of darkness. A young human man, riding a skeletal warhorse, clad in heavy armor, carrying a long sword, with long hair that appeared pale even in the moonlight, and a withered face, appeared before him.

"Grom Hellscream, chieftain of the Warsong Clan."

Grom narrowed his eyes slightly, sensing the unimaginable pain and despair emanating from the human male.

"Arthas, the Lich King's chief death knight."

The human man dismounted from his skeletal warhorse, drew his chilling greatsword from his back, and slowly walked toward Grom.

"Oh......."

Seeing Arthas's actions, Grom instantly understood the intentions of this inhuman man. He dragged Gorehowl backwards, pushed off the ground with his legs, and charged at Arthas like a cannonball. Arthas, on the other hand, put on a slightly cruel smile, raised Frostmourne from below, and met Gorehowl head-on.

"clang!!!"

The two legendary weapons collided in mid-air, sending out a burst of cold air. The barb of Gorehowl caught the fangs of Frostmourne. Grom and Arthas began a tug-of-war, and after a few seconds, the balance of power began to tip in Grom's favor.

"Your strength is nothing special, Death Knight."

Grom took a deep breath, further stimulating the boiling demonic blood within him. His muscles bulged high, displaying an unusual blood-red hue.

Just when Grom thought he was about to win this contest, a strange chill entered his body through his hand. This chill was so cold that even he, who was strengthened by the demon's blood, could not resist it!

"Roar!!!"

Grom, realizing he had been tricked, roared in fury. He raised his right leg and kicked Arthas mercilessly in the stomach, while Arthas smiled sinisterly, causing a frost storm to swirl around him.

"Crackling sound!!"

With a sickening sound, Grom's thick leg kicked through the icy storm surrounding Arthas, stomping heavily on his stomach. Arthas, in pain, clenched his right hand, and a surge of shadow energy struck Grom's arm. The area on Grom's arm visibly shrank after being struck.

"ha!"

Grom, struck by the spell, did not retreat as Arthas had expected. Instead, the orc warrior did something that surprised Arthas: Grom grabbed the handle of Gorehowl with his left hand, spun around it once, and then plunged straight into Arthas's arms.

"Oh!"

Arthas felt a sweet taste in his throat after Grom delivered an additional elbow strike to his abdomen, almost spitting out blood. With this blow, Grom successfully separated his weapon from Arthas's Frostmourne.

"Again!!"

Grom, having separated himself from Arthas's weapon with a single blow, exhaled and, wielding Gorehowl in one hand, swung his right hand in a wide arc towards Arthas's head. Arthas, recovering from Grom's earlier attack, quickly raised Frostmourne upwards, the pervasive chill causing clusters of ice flowers to condense on the blade of Gorehowl's axe.

"Click!!"

Gorehowl clashed with Frostmourne once more, shattering frost flying in all directions. Arthas was forced back a small step by Grom's brute force.

"Without your spells, you can't possibly be my match, Death Knight!!"

Grom, pressing his advantage, gripped the handle of Gorehowl with his left hand and launched a barrage of attacks on Arthas, giving him no chance to breathe, one after another.

"You've fallen for their trap, orc."

Just as Grom felt that the dawn of victory was about to break, Arthas spoke leisurely.

"what?"

Before Grom could understand what Arthas meant, a wave of extreme cold erupted around him, sweeping across half the soil. The biting ice froze everything on the ground, including Grom's feet.

"You would make a fine undead warrior, orc."

Seeing Grom standing still, blown about by the wind, Arthas, carrying Frostmourne, slowly approached. Clearly, he was prepared to keep his word.

"That's it, Arthas. Grom is more valuable alive than Grom dead."

Countless bats gathered in the void, and Tichondrius, the first lord of the dreadlords, appeared. Clearly, he had been watching the battle all along.

"Yes."

Arthas bowed and stepped back. Seeing Arthas yield, Tichondrius turned his head with satisfaction and looked at Grom.

"Grom, the Legion needs your Horde to join forces with the Scourge to break through the Night Elves' defenses in Ashenvale and remove any obstacles preventing Lord Archimonde from setting foot on this land. Success is the only option; failure is not an option."

50. Legion, advance!

The next day, at dawn.

Although nighttime is the domain of demons, undead, and demonized orcs, Tichondrius, having experienced the War of the Ancients, knew that night elves not only had a certain boost in combat power under the moonlight, but also gained a series of supernatural abilities thanks to the blessing of the moonlight. Without hesitation, Tichondrius chose dawn as the start time for the operation—night elves do need rest, and dawn is also a time for a surprise attack for them!

However, Tichondrius's wish was in vain. The moment the mixed forces of demonic orcs and undead rushed out of the forest, a horn with a strange rhythm resounded throughout the entire Ashenvale Forest.

"Ugh——"

The deep sound of horns echoed through the forests of Ashenvale, and one after another, slumbering ancient trees were uprooted and rushed to the front lines. Sentinel troops followed closely behind these ancient trees on their fierce mounts. Further afield, the elves' natural allies—bearmen, owlbows, nightblade leopards, and others—also charged onto the battlefield. At the same time, the trees grew wildly, and in an instant, a wall of ancient wood stood before Tichondrius.

"Damn it! Those bastards were actually prepared!!"

Completely unprepared for the fact that the night elves had already laid out a defense, Tichondrius was furious. He raised his hand and contacted Mannoroth.

"Manolos! Didn't you conceal the fluctuations of the teleportation?!"

"If anyone has leaked the fact that the Legion has returned to this land, it was you who leaked it, Tichondrius. Your foolish illusions have probably been seen through by the surviving Wilderness demigods."

Mannoroth's deep voice boomed in Tichondrius's ears.

“I didn’t even step into the Night Elves’ warning range, and they didn’t have a chance to see my illusion! Now, you get to the front lines immediately! The raid failed, so we have to launch a full-scale attack! We must take advantage of the Night Elves’ lack of troop assembly and push into their heartland in one fell swoop, then hold out until that sluggish Anotheron completes the teleportation ritual to Lord Archimonde!”

"As you wish, Tichondrius."

Before the Abyss Lord could finish speaking, streaks of pale purple light spread out around Tichondrius. Mannoroth the Destroyer, whose body resembled a giant dragon, passed through the portal and stood beside Tichondrius, whose expression was somewhat grim.

"Intrigues and schemes all serve the purpose of the front lines, Tichondrius. I thought you had come to understand this during the Legion's endless expeditions."

With a mocking tone, Mannoroth swung his double-headed spear heavily, instantly turning the dawn sky fiery red. Deadly meteor showers rained down on the Ashenvale forest, the surging demonic flames rising high and burning everything in their path to ashes. The ancient wooden defenses erected by the forest lasted less than ten seconds before turning into massive fireballs.

"howl--------------!!!"

Seeing the destruction he had caused with a casual wave of his hand, Manolos felt a little better. He opened his blood-red maw and let out a deafening howl. An invisible terror spread through the air, and even the demonized orcs felt a slight tremor in their hearts.

"You...go up...kill everything you see...no sympathy...no mercy!"

"As you wish, Master!!!"

Grom raised Bloodhowl and charged into the sea of ​​fire with a roar, while Mannoroth, who had simply and brutally torn apart the barrier in front of the Blood Orcs, spun his weapon around and gave Tichondrius, who was clenching his claws, a provocative look.

"Arthas, lead the Scourge and sweep them away! Turn every living enemy you encounter into our servants!!"

Tikdios glanced sideways at Manolos and then loudly gave the order.

"As ordered."

Arthas rode his warhorse and gently raised Frostmourne. Waves of cold air surged around him, extinguishing the flames and clearing a path of ice for the undead army.

"Um???"

The demonic fire was extinguished, and Mannoroth was immediately enraged. He raised his spear, ready to strike Arthas, who dared to disturb his enjoyment.

"Don't be impulsive, Mannoroth. The Scourge needs corpses to maintain a continuous supply of troops. Your flames have burned away a significant portion of our potential strength. If Lord Kil'jaeden knew about your actions, it might... make you a little unhappy?"

"Don't try to intimidate me with Kil'jaeden's name, Tichondrius... The commander-in-chief of this war is Lord Archimonde, and even you Nathrezim must obey his orders."

"Yes, yes, I know."

Tichondrius waved his hand dismissively, pleased to see some dead night elves resurrected as new soldiers by necromancers.

"I hope you won't be foolish enough to stand in my way, Tichondrius."

Mannoroth dragged its massive body toward the battlefield, eager for more carnage as the king of the abyss lords.

Looking at Mannoroth's massive back, Tichondrius made a spitting motion in disdain.

"A brainless idiot."

————————————————Ashenvale, Astrana————————————————

This mid-sized night elf town in Ashenvale has now become a frontline command center. Officers of the Sentinel Force come and go here, along with dryads and jungle guardians. Sometimes, bear-like creatures can even be seen roaming around.

“Our first line of defense has been destroyed, Cenarius.”

Tyrande frowned as she learned about the situation at the front through the owl. Although she had known for some time that the Burning Legion was about to return, she still felt uncertain deep down when facing this ancient enemy.