The Stratholme Meat Grinder (Middle, Part Two)

At this moment, life is as insignificant as grass; they are merely pawns on the Battlefield.

Faced with this equally ferocious opponent, the Dragon Orcs went berserk, exhaling dragon-like breath.

However, this formidable human suicide squad unleashed unimaginable power; they were like dragon-slaying warriors, bravely battling the dragon.

Blood and flesh clashed, blood splattered, limbs littered the ground. After a brief battle, both teams were almost wiped out, and the only one standing on the city wall was a human.

A young Rivendare, who had lost an arm, leaned against the wall, panting heavily.

There was no time to cheer, no time to celebrate.

A treacherous arrow pierced young Rivendare's throat.

Sylvanas put away her longbow, pleased with her work, and nodded with a smile.

Thrall was astonished by Windrunner's terrifying archery skills. Protected by the mist magic of Stratholme's walls, only Sylvanas could unleash such a swift and deadly arrow at this distance.

But he was even more surprised by the fighting power of humans; the Dragon Orcs, whom he was so proud of, were actually at a disadvantage.

Thrall was unaware that this was the effect of the Undead Potion. After a few soldiers took the Undead Potion, decades of life force gathered in their bodies, allowing them to unleash extraordinary power in a short period of time.

Life should be like a summer flower, blooming brilliantly for only a fleeting moment.

Baron Rivendare closed his eyes, too late to grieve for the death of his beloved son.

He turned to the generals around him and warned, "Remember, always stay focused on the Battlefield. What we are seeing now is the best lesson; you must keep it in mind."

Thrall has gone berserk.

Although the Orcs outnumbered the Stratholme defenders by more than ten times, if the exchange of pieces continued, the Orcs would inevitably win.

Thrall felt humiliated, after all, in the two Orcs Wars, the previous chieftains had fought countless brilliant annihilation battles, and had never encountered such a setback.

Just then, bad news arrived.

Dathrohan crushed the Teleportation Rune and returned to the camp. According to the message from the heavily wounded Dathrohan, the Paladins of the Silver Hand were ambushed as soon as they entered Stratholme, and almost all of them were killed.

"There is a traitor among us," Dathrohan said angrily, arousing suspicion among the allied forces.

Who is the traitor?

The group exchanged glances, and Thrall Sylvanas both looked at Archmage Antonidas, their expressions revealing suspicion.

Although all the leaders attending the meeting knew of the existence of the Magic Beacons Magic Beacon, only the Archmage Antonidas could know their exact locations and wipe out all the intruders in one fell swoop.

Although Antonidas's expression remained unchanged, he was secretly astonished.

There are a total of eighteen Magic Beacons, but he only mentioned fifteen at the meeting.

The remaining three were deliberately kept by Antonidas to prevent traitors. He dispatched his most trusted subordinates, disguised as civilians, with their target being the back door of Stratholme.

The fighting at Qianmen was so fierce that most of the defending troops must have gathered there.

By simply placing a few Magic Beacons in the area around the back door and teleporting the Orcs army there, the back door can be easily captured.

But there was also no news of his most trusted disciples.

"I saw Prince Arthas inside the city," Dathrohan added.

Prince of Arthas?

So who was fighting Uther in the air?

"I think the traitor is quite clear: it's Uther the Lightbringer," Archmage Antonidas calmly analyzed, pointing to Robbie in the air. "This is most likely a puppet; they're putting on an act."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

It doesn't matter who the real traitor is; what matters is that the Silver Hand has been almost completely wiped out, Uther the Lightbringer is now all alone. He's the only one who can take the blame.

"I don't care who the traitors are. We Orcs cannot sacrifice ourselves in vain. They are all great warriors, the backbone of saving Azeroth Continent." Thrall looked at Antonidas without any politeness.

"Archmage, it's time for you to make up your mind."

Regarding the Magic Beacon, Antonidas realized he had made a mistake he shouldn't have made and felt he should make appropriate concessions. He nodded.

"Alright, let's begin the main attack ahead of schedule. Dalaran will provide all its assistance in conquering Stratholme."

A row of Catapults, already assembled, were revealed, and Orcs laborers worked hard to lift the boulders onto Catapult.

In ancient warfare, before the advent of cannons, Catapults were a powerful weapon for siege warfare.

Stratholme has high and thick walls, making it difficult for ordinary Catapults to be effective. However, these are Dalaran Catapults, which have been calibrated by Mages and enhanced with magical power, Catapult extremely accurate.

Dozens of magically encased boulders flew toward the city wall, crashing into almost the same spot.

The ground shook violently, and cracks appeared in the city walls.

Under the cover of Catapults, three enormous towers, taller than the walls of Stratholme, were set into action. Elf rangers stood atop one of the towers, providing cover with their bows and arrows.

As they drew closer and looked down from their vantage point, the fog magic of Stratholme's walls was about to lose its effect.

The other two towers were filled with ferocious-looking Orcs, waiting to get close and climb onto the city wall.

Meanwhile, several magical puppets followed, providing cover for the vehicle's advance.

Robbie took a deep breath.

The Catapults enhanced by magic were too powerful, while the towers were too dangerous.

Uther had long shown signs of defeat, and was only kept afloat by the Naaru's repeated blessings of Holy Light.

"Uther, your Silver Hand has been completely wiped out," Robbie said.

"This is just the price we have to pay for victory, a necessary sacrifice. In my military career, I've seen far worse sacrifices."

Uther didn't care; the Silver Hand's morale was wavering, and they were no longer truly his soldiers.

"I, Uther the Lightbringer, am highly respected. When I raise my arm, countless followers respond. Gilneas, Kingdom of Stormwind, Kingdom of Kul Tiras— my followers are everywhere. What difficulty is there in raising a Silver Hand?"

Robbie chuckled, "Uther, you're about to die. The Silver Hand was ambushed in the city. Who could be the traitor who leaked the information? It can only be you, Uther. You'll be eaten by Thrall, poor Lightbringer."

Uther's heart sank.

Robbie wasn't wrong; he knew very well that in this situation, someone had to step in and take the blame.

"Do you think the Holy Light will help you when Thrall tries to devour you?" Robbie threatened further.

Damn it.

Uther knew very well that he could not defeat Robbie, and the Holy Light would not help him fight against Thrall, the Savior.

"I really am going to be eaten alive."

Uther shuddered as he recalled the Red Dragon princess whose skin had been ripped off.

A holy light burst forth, Uther unleashed a terrifying speed, flying into the distance like a shooting star.

Uther wisely withdrew from the battle, finally freeing Robbie up.

He swung his warhammer in both hands, unleashing a burst of Justice of the Holy Light, and smashed it fiercely into the Elf ranger's chariot.

Sylvanas's expression changed drastically. She fired several arrows in vain, but they were all blocked by Robbie's Holy Light.

Like a meteorite falling from the sky, Robbie crashed into the massive building all by himself.

Although it was blessed with magic, the main body of the building was still made of wood.

Boom!

A loud bang.

The building collapsed, but Sylvanas managed to jump away in time, burying hundreds of Elf rangers.

"No!"

Sylvanas screamed in pain, and Windrunner showed fear.