If You Can't Win on the Battlefield, Everything Is Zero

Thrall watched the charging Orc army endure attacks of fire and frost along the way, with many falling before they finally reached the Night Elves' position—only to be taught a harsh lesson by arrows and Druids.

The Orcs were stubborn too. Disregarding casualties, they clashed with the elves. But whenever they managed to wound a giant bear, strange elves in the rear would use the Holy Light to heal those bear Druids. A single burst of Holy Light would make a giant bear covered in wounds rise onto its hind legs again and attack the Orcs.

"Retreat!" Thrall told the messenger painfully.

Leaving another field of corpses behind, the Orcs had no choice but to retreat to their starting point.

The seasoned Saurfang said bitterly, "We can't break through. What's the point of a war like this, Thrall?"

Thrall looked at the Old Orc and said in equal pain, "The Orcs no longer have a homeland. If we don't find a way to claim some good land now, the Orcs will have no future. We're fighting for that future."

Saurfang pointed painfully at the corpses scattered across the battlefield. "Without these warriors, what future do we Orcs have left?"

"Ancestor's Spirit told me that the Orcs' future lies in Ashenvale. Can't you see how dense the forests are here? There is prey everywhere. Durotar and The Barrens have already become dead lands. The Orcs have no future there." Thrall repeated the same argument.

"Fine." Saurfang was left speechless, but when he saw the fallen Orcs on the battlefield, his heart still clenched with pain. "Then what do we do now? We can't advance, but we can't retreat either!"

Thrall had a headache as well. The Night Elves had actually gained reinforcements. Not only did they have High Elf mages skilled