Money or Life?

Silithus's blazing sun remained as vicious as ever,

but the Alliance and Horde's "insect extermination" campaign was progressing in two completely different ways.

To the west, in the direction of the Hive'Zora, insects were rarely seen moving across the surface anymore. The Alliance was conducting an inch-by-inch carpet search to ensure no nests had been missed and could flare up again over time.

Thus, aside from a small number of mages using spells to search, everyone else stood watch in shifts. The battlefield had been silent for days. The earthshaking sounds of battle were gone, replaced only by the occasional scattered explosion or magical roar marking the final cleanup. A heavy scent of char and the strange fragrance of scorched protein lingered in the air, refusing to fade.

The rest were relaxing in the Alliance camp, where there was even an air of... leisure? It felt less like they had come to fight a battle and more like they were on vacation.

Yes, like a vacation.

As soon as the Alliance arrived, The Sandbox stopped worrying about buying Horde insect shells and devoted all its efforts to supplying the Alliance's rear lines. Their airships took off and landed constantly, delivering no longer cold weapons and ammunition, but barrel after barrel of dwarven ale fragrant with malt; crate after crate of steak, pork ribs, and even live river fish, wrapped in thick oil paper and kept perfectly fresh by mages' frost spells. Seasonal fruits, soft white bread, and even several huge tubs of ice cream trailing cool vapor were carefully unloaded by the Goblins.

"For the Alliance! For victory!" King Varian, resting in the camp, raised a foaming mug of dark beer, his voice booming. The Alliance soldiers—humans, dwarves, and elves—wore weary but satisfied smiles as they clinked cups and enjoyed