Resolve
Archimonde's roar echoed across the heavens, both announcing the coming of the end times and summoning his army.
In an instant, countless thorn-like stone pillars erupted from the corrupted earth. Every three pillars converged, resembling a claw rising from the ground—these were portals. Above each portal stood Fel Crystal, its energy supplied by a dedicated source. Legion minions emerged one after another, their thunderous footsteps causing the pebbles on the ground to tremble.
Nathanos stood atop Mount Hyjal, the battlefield far in the distance, yet still clearly visible. Archimonde seemed intent on giving those still resisting no respite. He dispatched a powerful army: Felguard, hellhounds, and Doomguard marched towards Jaina's camp. Notably, this army also included numerous creations of the Scourge. Ghoul and Abomination greedily searched for any sign of the living, and even acolytes joined the fray.
The sky gradually darkened, and the sun was shrouded in clouds—this was definitely not normal weather. Seconds later, dozens of fireball-like objects rained down on Jaina's camp.
"Hellfire is coming!" the female mage cried out. She had seen this creature before when she fought Grom Grommash with Thrall, and she had taken precautions then.
"Brothers and sisters, let's use our strength to help the people get away from this atrocity!"
Together with all the mages in her army, she erected a magical barrier. The Hellfire collided violently with the barrier, leaving only ashes. The enemy's plan to launch an air raid and create chaos had failed. However, this had drained Jaina of a great deal of her magic; her face was somewhat pale, though she tried her best to appear relaxed.
"Don't push yourself," Sylvanas cautioned.
Jaina frowned slightly, then smiled at her. "I'm not some frail little girl. I'm fine, I can still fight."
The Female Elf nodded silently. Jaina's determination had exceeded her expectations, but for everyone's safety, she still said, "You should rest, Jaina. According to the plan, we still need your teleportation spell to retreat."
"Certainly."
The first wave of attacks wasn't a probe; Sylvanas quickly discovered that the enemy's numbers were virtually endless. The humans' ranged firepower was formidable, but for every enemy felled, another would take their place. Soon, a bloody, hand-to-hand combat ensued. Sylvanas personally engaged the various grotesque monsters. She picked up a discarded spear and hurled it at a Doomguard, piercing his skull. A hellhound lunged at her, but the Female Elf didn't flinch. She grabbed the horns growing from the dog's back and plunged her short sword deep into its jaw. The hellhound howled and fell incapacitated. Sylvanas didn't wait for another demon to charge at her and meet its end. True hunters always strike first. She didn't choose to kill any of her locked-on targets on the battlefield; instead, she Charge towards the direction from which the demons were surging. She wasn't defending; she was attacking. She had broken out of the human defensive lines, meaning more and more demons were targeting her as their primary attack target. If she continued to venture so far alone, she would surely die. But the survivors of Lordaeron didn't watch their Ranger risk her life alone; instead, they were inspired. Most of these people were refugees—from Lordaeron, Stromgarde, Dalaran, and Quel'Thalas —whose homes had been destroyed in the Burning Legion's machinations, and whose anger had been suppressed for far too long. The demons had always mistaken mortals for weaklings, so when Sylvanas's heroic actions ignited the fires of vengeance in these humans, the power they unleashed shocked their enemies. The displaced people followed the Female Elf out of the lines, launching a counterattack. The humans' high morale was something no one had anticipated.
The charging demons quickly fell, then were mercilessly trampled. The battlefield's terrain was inherently unsuitable for large-scale military operations, and the demons' sheer numbers became their fatal weakness. The huddled masses of demons made it impossible for those at the back to see what was ahead, let alone realize that the mortals were already upon them...
Sylvanas breathed heavily, the aching muscles in her arms making it impossible for her to loosen her grip. She looked exhausted; indeed, her feet, her surroundings, and her vision were filled with the corpses of demons and the Undead. Anyone would have the right to show fatigue after slaying so many enemies, but her spirit remained unbroken.
'I can still fight, I can still hunt down more demons and Scourge. I'll spit my spittle in the face of my Demonic Master.' Her anger grew stronger with each breath. But now there were no enemies for her to hunt; at least the Burning Legion had to reconsider the resolve of these mortals before launching an attack.
Sylvanas could no longer bear the long-standing burden of grief. Hatred for Arthas's actions, the reality of Quel'Thalas's destruction, and heartache for Nathanos' fate burned within her like flames. The Ranger opened her arms, looked up to the sky, and let out a piercing scream, a mournful howl that was both beautiful and terrifyingly agonizing, bursting from her throat.
She had cried out as she looked at his dead face. But that wasn't just her own pain, her own despair.
"Truly powerful."
Medivh's voice reached Nathanos's ears. They could all hear it from where they were standing. It was an expression of emotion, but Nathanos felt a powerful jolt in his heart. Who was this voice? How could she have caused him such unprecedented sorrow? He wanted to know the answers to these questions, so he instinctively looked at Medivh, hoping she would offer some explanation.
"Who is here?" His eyes flickered. "This person... she must hate the Burning Legion so much that she can let out such a terrifying shriek."
"Yes," Medivh replied with amusement, "Of course she can!"
Nathanos frowned, sensing a veiled meaning in Medivh. The mage seemed to be deliberately concealing something, something Nathanos most wanted to know.
He turned around, wanting to urge Medivh to speed up, but after seeing the situation before him, he swallowed his words.
Medivh wasn't distracted; he placed his hand on the World Tree, where tiny white dots were constantly emerging from the brown bark and slowly gathering on him. That was the power of the Well of Eternity.