Gul'dan

It was another tornado-like attack, but compared to Grom's raw, unscientific Whirlwind, this Blade Storm was a real tornado, a true force of nature, a genuine killer move!

A terrifying tornado made of blood, rain, and screaming wind rolled up on the top of the mountain, a vortex of pure destruction.

Under the high-speed rotation, whether it was Tirion, Llane, or Tom, they all lost their perception of the mysterious blademaster who attacked them. He was a blur, a ghost. They could only barely make out a green figure spinning at impossible speeds in the wind, a living cyclone.

Llane retreated with his sword in hand, his face grim, and the royal guards next to him, loyal to a fault, rushed forward risking their lives, throwing themselves into the maelstrom. The result was instantaneous: the guards were strangled into meat paste, their bodies shredded in a blink.

Seeing the familiar faces he had known for many years, loyal companions, become the souls killed by the other party's sword, Llane almost wanted to rush into the storm of sword energy, regardless of anything, and fight with the other party, to avenge his fallen men.

Tom Seamus pushed back hard, trying to use his sturdy shoulder armor to shove Llane away from the killing range of Blade Storm, to get him out of the danger zone. However, the opponent chased him closely, relentless, determined to kill Llane. He was a hound on the scent.

This was no longer just some kind of fancy swordplay. His body was spinning at high speed, creating countless sword energies that looked like real swords, slashing across at anything that attempted to stand in his way, cutting through all resistance.

The human bodies wearing standard iron armor, the large shields made of thickened iron sheets and wooden boards, even the trenches dug around the mountain, and the solid stone bunkers, everything looked so sturdy, so impregnable.

However, all these seemingly indestructible things became victims of the terrifying meat grinder of Blade Storm. They were chewed up and spit out.

The human body was cut into pieces horizontally, and I don't know how you'd put it back together if you picked it up. It was a gruesome, impossible puzzle.

The great shield was cut into pieces, splintered and useless.

The trench was opened up in an instant, its carefully dug defenses obliterated.

The roof of the stone bunker was directly blown off, sent flying into the air like a discarded hat.

The attack of this violent blademaster was completely beyond human imagination. He was a nightmare made real.

At this moment, Llane suddenly calmly accepted the grim reality. He was very grateful to Tirion Fordring who came at the last minute, a true godsend. He also knew, with a chilling certainty, that this paladin was sent by Duke at a critical moment. But this kind of power, this level of destruction, was not something that mortals could resist, right? It was simply too much.

Listening to the high-speed approaching cutting sound, a whistling whisper of death, Llane closed his eyes helplessly with a bitter smile. This was it.

One second.

Two seconds.

Five seconds...

The cutting that represented death never came, but instead a loud metal collision sound was heard not far in front of him, a deafening clang.

Tirion's tall and burly figure stood between him and Seamus like a nail, unmoving, a solid bulwark. All the blade storms, every single one, slammed into him.

Hit by countless swords? Cut into pieces?

None of these situations happened. Instead, Llane saw an oval cover emitting a sacred golden light appear on Tirion's body, shimmering with divine power. It was this cover that withstood the seemingly unmatched blade storm, deflecting every blow.

This is really... God!? Llane's eyes snapped open, disbelief warring with awe.

Duke was also a little confused when looking at the report sent by the System AI. He blinked, double-checking the data.

"Congratulations, because you urgently dispatched Tirion Fordring to the eastern battlefield and saved King Llane at the critical moment with Sacrifice Blessing and Divine Protection. King Llane's attitude towards you has risen to Life and Death Trust."

Duke knew what it meant to trust someone with life and death, a bond forged in the crucible of battle, but he was more interested in Tirion's two skills. They were game-changers.

Sacrifice Blessing: Use the power of holy light to protect a friendly unit, so that any damage it receives will be borne partially by the blessing user. It was like taking a bullet for someone.

Holy Protection: Stimulate the holy light in your body and use the power of holy light to make yourself immune to all attacks for a few seconds. It was a temporary shield of invincibility.

The holy light in this world seems to be more powerful than I imagined! It was a true force of nature, a divine miracle.

Over there, seeing that he couldn't kill Llane even with his ultimate move, his most devastating attack, the mysterious blademaster reluctantly retreated, melting back into the shadows. His figure disappeared into thin air, as if he had never been there. After using his ultimate move, he would probably be in a weak period for a long time, utterly drained. That kind of terrifying move that concentrated all the strength of several days in an instant would not be without cost. It would take a toll.

I won't have to think about that guy for a long time. He's out of commission.

At this time, in the image of the Mage's Eye, Tirion, who was sent by Duke, was seen rescuing King Llane. A warm applause broke out in the headquarters, a spontaneous burst of relief and admiration.

"Amazing! Deputy Commander-in-Chief!"

"Oh my god, how did you come up with that? You're a genius!"

Duke was flattered, his cheeks flushing slightly, because this was praise from the five kings of the Alliance, no small feat. Although he saved his own boss, saving Llane also helped these kings. With a powerful enemy at the door, no one wanted the Alliance to fall apart, to crumble from within.

"Okay, now we just have to..." Before Duke could finish his sentence, he saw a hunchbacked figure appear in the field of vision of the Mage's Eye, a grotesque silhouette against the fiery backdrop.

The next moment, the Mage's Eye was destroyed, its magical connection severed, plunging the view into static.

However, Duke saw that two areas of "fire rain" as large as four football fields fell on the two hilltops closest to the port, raining down hellfire.

A fire rain area as large as eight football fields. Could this be done by an ordinary warlock? No way in hell.

Duke and Antonidas looked out the window at the same time, their faces grim, seeing the hills in the distance were all on fire, with firemen struggling and waving their bodies in pain... Those tiny firemen in their field of vision were all the elite of the Alliance! They were being burned alive.

On the hill, the volume of the screams suddenly doubled, a chorus of agony, and then quickly subsided, replaced by an eerie silence.

And on the beach, the orcs naturally cheered, a triumphant roar that echoed across the water.

With the help of the System AI, a figure that was originally just a small black dot rapidly expanded in Duke's vision, zooming in with chilling clarity. It was a hunchbacked orc holding an evil skull-shaped staff. He had an old, wizened face, staggered movements, and several huge bone spurs protruding from his back, like a demonic porcupine.

It seems like this guy doesn't need anyone to touch him; he might just die on the road in the next second, collapsing from sheer decrepitude.

But no one could underestimate Duke, and he would never underestimate this mysterious orc who used the Water Walk to stand on the waves, his body swaying up and down with the waves, an unholy apparition.

He is the terrifying existence standing at the end of the evil road in the mortal world, a true master of dark magic.

Duke's facial muscles kept twitching, his face turning pale, a ghostly white. He finally squeezed out three words, a name that struck fear into the hearts of mortals.

"Gul'dan!"

Duke was extremely sure that the historical Gul'dan did not participate in the Battle of Hillsbrad Foothills. He was supposed to be elsewhere, plotting his own dark schemes. Duke wondered if his butterfly effect, his meddling with fate, had changed the course of destiny so much that it had actually attracted Gul'dan, the original warlock, to this battlefield.

The only thing to be thankful for now is that Gul'dan is no longer the demigod-level Gul'dan, the all-powerful sorcerer. After being tricked by Medivh, that cunning mage, Gul'dan's strength has dropped by at least half, a significant reduction.

Unfortunately, even if Gul'dan's strength was reduced by half, he was still no match for Duke, the Archmage. He was still a force to be reckoned with.

Duke walked over to Antonidas, his face grim, and bowed deeply, a sign of profound respect. "I'm sorry, Chancellor Antonidas. The other party is Gul'dan, the former demigod sorcerer and the strongest orc in the mysterious realm. Apart from you, the Sun King of Quel'Thalas is the only one who can rival him. You're our only hope."

Facing the expectant gazes from all directions, Antonidas leaned on his staff, his long white beard trembling slightly, a look of fierce pride on his face.

"Hahaha! Dalaran will not refuse responsibility! We will not shirk our duty! The same goes for the Speaker of Dalaran!" Antonidas declared, his voice ringing with power and determination. "Let's show this overgrown goblin what real magic looks like!"