History is never objective.
Chen, Stormstout, coldly watched the Warriors charging towards the Scourge — the Tauren, Pandaren, Trolls, and others—who were incredibly brave.
Unfortunately, faced with the mighty Scourge, they had no weapons, no armor, and were Destiny to be slaughtered.
"Mortals are so foolish." Archimonde sneered, gazing at the blood-soaked Battlefield. "They usually lack their own thoughts, blindly following the crowd. A simple emotional manipulation is all it takes to send them to their deaths."
Amidst the deafening Battlefield, one could occasionally hear the slogan, "Fight for Azeroth!"
Although they all seemed to be full of enthusiasm, a closer look revealed that many soldiers were swept along by the crowd, unable to control themselves, and unconsciously rushed towards the Scourge.
Many soldiers were unprepared for battle and fell Restless Souls to the Scourge's blades.
"This world is inherently dark; there's no light or hope here," Chen said in a low Stormstout, feeling a strange sense of exhilaration.
Under the cover of over 100,000 cannon fodder, the Scourge soldiers walked methodically into the Portal and successfully evacuated Dalaran. Before stepping into the Portal, Chen Stormstout took one last look at the corpse-strewn Dalaran and revealed a sinister smile—a foolish sacrifice destined to be forgotten by history.
The Burning Legion withdrew through the Portal, taking most of the war materials with them, leaving only the flickering Dalaran shield behind.
Arthas showed a look of regret; failing to defeat the Burning Legion in Dalaran would mean a far greater price for the races of Azeroth.
"What should we do next?" Arthas frowned. The situation in Azeroth was complex and difficult to discern between good and evil, with many races holding conflicting opinions, leaving even the Prince unsure of what to do.
Kel'Thuzad gazed at the corpse-strewn land and said regretfully, "Today's battle is a lesson. If we invade Kalimdor, the Scourge will likely face this kind of foolish war every day, unless we are determined to destroy Kalimdor."
The cannon fodder were defeated, and in their most desperate moment, many chose to surrender.
Arthas shook his head, his face filled with bewilderment and confusion. "Why is this happening? Why?"
The Scourge soldiers fell Anjing, no one said anything. In truth, Arthas knew the answer, but he was unwilling to face it.
Good and Evil do not exist; there are only interests and crises. The rapid rise of the Scourge has made all races of Azeroth feel threatened, and its danger level even exceeds that of the Burning Legion.
Near Dalaran, the prisoners dismantled the houses left behind by the Burning Legion and began building their own prisoner camps.
Arthas sighed softly, looked at the numb and pitiful prisoners, and shook his head, saying:
"Slaughtering innocent civilians is not what we should do. Look at these bewildered prisoners; how should we settle them?"
Robbie said seriously, "The worst punishment for them would be to release them; the Orcs would turn them into Tough Jerky. However, we should give them a choice."
The prisoners faced two paths: first, to become laborers for the Scourge, with no idea when they would be freed.
Secondly, upon returning to Kalimdor, the Scourge provided them with ships and provisions.
Deception and trickery are only temporary. After realizing the truth, the prisoners understood the true nature of the Orcs. Most of them chose to become laborers. Laborers may not have freedom, but at least they can survive.
A small number of people chose freedom, Arthas kept his promise, sending dozens of large ships carrying them towards Theramore.
"I have a wish," Arthas said, "That all the races of Azeroth can unite to fight the Burning Legion." He then looked around at the Scourge generals. "What ideas do you have?"
Sylvanas's face was grim; she was very dissatisfied with Robbie's forceful methods and sneered:
"Using force and manipulation to compel the races of Azeroth to join forces with the Scourge, or face annihilation. There is no better way. When the shadow of death hangs over the land, all that remains are numb puppets."
Arthas shook his head, insisting, "That's not my goal. The Scourge's objective is to drive out the Orcs, not to destroy the sparks of civilization among the races of Azeroth."
"Young Prince, you are too naive." Sylvanas squinted and said sarcastically, "This world is inherently bloody. If you don't eliminate them, they will find ways to eliminate you. The High Elves and the Amani Trolls have fought for thousands of years. Who is Justice and who is Evil? In fact, the High Elves are the invaders."
There is no inherent good or evil, right or wrong, in the struggle for living space, Robbie pondered to himself. Although Sylvanas's attitude was hostile, her opinion was correct.
If Arthas were leading a human army, Robbie would not hesitate to support Sylvanas's opinion.
However, the Scourge is an incomplete life form, unable to reproduce, and is more like a self-protection mechanism of the Azeroth.
This reminded Robbie of Godzilla, the prehistoric Godzilla that was created to balance nature.
The Scourge is undoubtedly similar to Godzilla, as the invasion of Orcs alien species disrupted the normal ecological Order of Azeroth, leading to the rise of the Scourge.
When the Orcs disappeared, the Scourge completed its mission and was destined to vanish into the dustbin of history. The future of Azeroth still requires the joint efforts of all races.
With this in mind, Robbie suggested, "Because they're wary of the Scourge's power, they're unwilling to act freely. So why don't we grant their wish? The main force of the Scourge can voluntarily retreat to the icy wilderness of Northrend. Of course, we can't just stand by and watch the Burning Legion destroy Azeroth; we must leave a small elite force to secretly assist the various races of Azeroth."
Sylvanas curled her lip. "A foolish decision, this is suicide."
Arthas's eyes lit up. "This is exactly what I need."
"Very well, Arthas, you are the leader after all." Sylvanas was extremely uncooperative. "The Scourge can go to Northrend, but the Forsaken of the High Elves must remain in Lordaeron."
The prisoners landed in Kalimdor aboard Scourge ships, where the Orcs immediately sent them to labor camps and systematically slaughtered them, turning their flesh into Tough Jerky.
"The defeated face only death," Thrall said viciously.
Dustwallow Marsh, inside the Burning Legion's secret underground base.
Archimonde gazed at the busy Legion Engineers, his face grim, as if he might erupt in Fel rage at any moment. After a long silence, Archimonde suppressed his anger and asked:
Have you found the cause?
The Fel Reaver production line was successfully installed, but it couldn't function properly, producing only scrap products, which frustrated Archimonde.
An Eredar Mage wiped the sweat from his brow and replied nervously, "Our initial assessment is that the problem lies with the core component; we lack the capability to resolve it."
Throughout the entire universe, there are few races capable of producing core components. Within the Burning Legion, only the Cute Pet Legion possesses such technology. Archimonde also has his pride and doesn't want to live at the mercy of others.
"In other words, the Fel Reaver production line has become a pile of scrap metal." Archimonde said angrily, "The Scourge has not been defeated, the Legion's great cause has failed, how can I explain this to Lord Sargeras?"