The gaze that had locked onto him just now had come from a Death Knight. No wonder it had been as cold as the deepest pits of hell, without a trace of the emotion a living person should possess.
The Death Knight was impossible to miss. His Death Warhorse billowed thick black smoke, while its four hooves burned with conspicuous, icy-white frost flames. It made him stand out among the mass of Orcs like a blazing light bulb.
From high above, the entire battle around Menethil City lay in plain view. The breach in the wall, roughly fifty meters wide, clearly could no longer be repaired anytime soon.
Great numbers of Orc Infantry, Ogres, and others poured through. Relying on the tremendous mobility of their Death Warhorses, the Death Knights flashed like lightning out of the fog of war beyond the city, clearing the wall and entering Menethil City in the blink of an eye.
Each appearance was as fleeting as a blur. Their Death Warhorses seemed utterly weightless, moving with ghostly speed and agility.
The area occupied by the Orcs kept expanding. Masses of Human Soldiers fought Orcs, Ogres, and Death Knights at close quarters. Behind the Human Soldiers, Elf Mages and Rangers desperately poured out damage in support, while the Orc Shamans and Warlocks who had entered the city unleashed offensive spells without pause.
Purple Dark Magic, blue arcane energy, white frost, red flames, dazzling Chain Lightning, and black Curse Magic-all these magical lights, together with the cold gleam constantly reflected from weapons and armor and the hot blood splashing everywhere, formed a brilliant yet horrific scene.
Amid all this magic, the Death Knights were the most conspicuous and terrifying. The bodies of the Human Soldiers killed in the earlier battle had been carried into Menethil City. Those