"Ha! By the Light!" Watching Uther finally breach the orcish ranks, Duke couldn't hide his admiration.
But it wasn't mere admiration. It was a sort of reverence for the legendary paladin.
Duke felt a bit guilty for overshadowing some of Uther and his twelve paladins' moments. But as an outsider in this world, that guilt was fleeting.
The sky over Blackrock Mountain was perpetually shrouded in thick clouds and smoke, casting a heavy, blood-red shade on everything below.
But now, a gap in the clouds revealed a beam of pure light. As Uther charged into the Horde's main force, the paladin seemed like a beacon of the Holy Light itself, fierce and terrifying. Each of his blows dismantled an orcish warrior.
And to think, these devastating blows were dealt while atop his charging war steed. To onlookers, it was a blur of shimmering golden arcs, clearing the orcs around him.
Any Silver Hand paladins within thirty yards of Uther were also enveloped in his radiant aura. Since the beginning of this war, their numbers have swelled more than ever in history.
Thanks to Duke's persuasion and Lothar's full support, these paladins played pivotal roles in their respective battalions.
Witnessing Uther and his small band daringly charge into an army of over two hundred thousand Horde, many were awestruck by such unparalleled courage.
More paladins yearned to join this formidable vanguard, but Uther's squad moved too swiftly. The twelve paladins, with their hammers, axes, and swords illuminated by their unwavering faith, charged through. Even Alliance soldiers trapped in the midst of orcs would break formation, providing the charging steeds more room.
"No! Return! Ignore that small unit! Press the charge!" Orgrim Doomhammer commanded.
Uther didn't aim directly for Doomhammer. Their duel would not conclude quickly. The Alliance's aim was to disrupt the Horde's assault. Thus, Uther opted to shatter half of Doomhammer's guards and gracefully retreat.
However, many orcs, now enraged, turned to face their new shining adversaries.
For the first time since the war began, the consistent tide of the Horde was in disarray.
The charge of the twelve paladins continued.
They'd lost count of how many orcs they'd felled. Gavinrad initially wanted to keep track, perhaps to boast later, but gave up after fifty.
It was a brutal battle. Savagery met zealotry, shining plate armor clashed with wild tattoos and piercings.
The orcs were undeniably strong, brutally wild, and heedless of their pain. Yet, the paladins responded with righteous wrath and the full might of the Light.
In the face of the blinding, sun-like radiance of the Holy Light, countless orcs fell, paying with their lives and honor.
Amidst the chaos, Duke, now out of combat, whispered, "It's still... not enough."
"Not enough? What's lacking?" Whitemane inquired.
Without waiting for Duke's answer, Alleria, taking down an orc with a precise shot, responded, "The Alliance is still far from turning the tide!"
Alleria was right. Despite many orcs on the right flank of the Alliance falling, the Horde still vastly outnumbered them.
Given the inherent physical disparity between humans and orcs, it was only a matter of time before the humans would be decimated. With the human main force defeated, neither the dwarves nor the high elves would fare well.
Suddenly, Duke turned, not alone in spotting Alexstrasza, in her dragon form, leaving the battlefield. At the same time, Baron Geddon, equally massive, slowly submerged into the lava flows of Blackrock.
Clearly, the two mighty beings had decided against confrontation.
For some reason, Duke recalled a popular meme from another world:
"Hey, let's stir things up!" "Meet at xx location." "Bring your weapons." "Bring a whole crew." "Uh... seems like they made a deal."
Indeed, it was comically accurate.
While hundreds of thousands below were in a deadly conflict, the supreme beings, who were a major concern for both sides, casually left the chaos for the Alliance and Horde to resolve.
A magical message from Alexstrasza reached Duke, "Duke, I've managed to persuade that fire elemental to retreat. Sorry I couldn't be of more help..."
Still, Duke was grateful to the Red Dragon Queen, "No, I should thank you. At least I won't suffer from another Mana Burn."
"Next time, as long as it doesn't violate the Red Dragonflight's code, I'll come when called," she promised.
"I'm sure there'll be a time," Duke said, a mysterious smile on his lips.
Returning his gaze to the battlefield, the paladins were still charging and retreating, now slowly being surrounded by countless orcs. If this continued, they'd likely take down numerous orcs before being overrun.
Behind the twelve paladins, the Alliance and Horde were still locked in intense combat on the scorched land.
The deafening roar of battle was unrelenting.
The Alliance's main force still held firm.
A flag with a red border, white center, and a crimson emblem stood defiantly amidst the green sea of orcs.
It represented the Scarlet Crusade, led by Mograine and Abbendis, the mightiest army of Lordaeron.
Having participated in battles from the First War in Southshore, the Silverpine Forest conflict, the defense of Lordaeron, to the liberation of Ironforge, its legendary tales spanned the Eastern Kingdoms.
King Terenas heavily relied on them. Even kings who despised Terenas had to acknowledge this indomitable force forged by the knights' unwavering spirit.
Full of honor, unwavering will, and relentless resolve.
But now, from their initial thirty thousand, less than eight thousand remained, all wounded.