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(A/N: Chapter 102 will soon be on Patreon!)
(Sorry this was supposed to be released on the 30th but I'm currently suffering from diarrhea which caused the delay!)
(P.S: FUCK YOU NURGLE!)
Outside, the Alliance armies were quickly retreating under orders from their generals, who relayed commands to all officers to withdraw and put as much distance between themselves and the city as possible.
Rhonin was leading his regiment away while covering the rear alongside a few others.
"Watch your flanks!" he yelled, launching a powerful chain lightning spell that struck a great many enemies before unleashing a magical shockwave at the largest gathering of daemons.
A Pink Horror tried to attack him from the flank, only for Rhonin to deflect its strike and crush it, along with several other daemons, with telekinesis before slashing his sword and cutting down an attacking Daemonette.
"Gods, these things are disgusting!"
Further away, his regiment finally joined up with the others who had already retreated to an "acceptable" safe distance. He immediately spotted Antonidas and made his way toward him.
"My lord, forgive my crude language, but what the frak is going on!? We were about to break their flank when we suddenly got orders to retreat."
Antonidas felt his lips twitch as he looked at Rhonin with exasperated amusement.
One of the most talented young mages he had seen in his long life—and an even better combat mage—Rhonin also seemed utterly determined to ignore the etiquette expected of high-ranking magi.
But if Antonidas was being honest with himself, that was part of what made Rhonin such a breath of fresh air.
"It's important. We were just contacted by Tyrande Whisperwind. The objective is complete, but due to certain circumstances, staying near the city is too dangerous."
Rhonin's eyes widened in pleasant surprise as he laughed.
"So Al and the others got it done, huh? Shouldn't have doubted them for a second. Where are they? They probably made it back already, right?"
Antonidas's expression grew complicated and worried, causing the young Archmage to blink in confusion.
Then he heard the sound of massive flapping wings and looked up to see several red dragons come into view, led by a particularly large and majestic one.
Rhonin recognized the lead dragon as Krasus, while the surrounding Alliance soldiers stared in astonishment at the sight of the mythical creatures, many taking it as a good omen.
"The Red Dragonflight? Man, talk about knowing people in high places. Aegwynn really went all out calling for an eventual evac for the team, huh?"
Krasus descended and landed in front of Antonidas and Rhonin as the members of the decapitation team jumped off his back. Krasus himself then transformed into his High Elf form.
Before Antonidas could stop him, Rhonin had already started walking toward the group with his signature grin.
"You guys sure took your time, but you did get the job—!"
Rhonin stopped abruptly as his grin faded when he noticed a very important detail.
Where was Alastor?
And the complicated expressions on the group's faces did not help his growing anxiety.
"Krasus... where the fuck is Al?"
"Rhonin..." Krasus began heavily. "There were complications. Deathwing appeared along with Nefarian and the Black Dragonflight. Greater Daemons were closing in, and the rift was far more unstable than we initially thought."
"Escape was becoming impossible, so Alastor stayed behind to give us a window to escape—"
"SO YOU FRAKKING LEFT HIM THERE!?"
Rhonin's face lost the last traces of amusement the more Krasus spoke, and he genuinely looked like he wanted to tear the ancient red dragon apart!
It wasn't just Rhonin. The surrounding soldiers who overheard the conversation froze in shock at the thought of their Supreme Commander—the Alliance's greatest hero—potentially being left in mortal danger.
Turalyon wanted to speak, but he didn't know what to say as he held Arthas's body, which had been covered with a cloth to conceal his identity.
The members of the team themselves also felt guilty about what had happened, but everything had unfolded too quickly for them to even protest the idea of leaving Alastor behind.
None felt that guilt more than Krasus.
Not only was Alastor one of his friends and someone he genuinely admired, but throughout their travels together, Krasus had come to understand just how important Alastor was to the Alliance.
The man wasn't merely the Alliance's leader. He had become a symbol of hope for every living being on the planet.
If something happened to him, Alliance morale and momentum would shatter.
Cohesion and unity would fall into disarray, and in the worst-case scenario, the enemy might even find a way to reverse the Alliance's recent victories, turning the path to triumph into yet another brutal war of attrition.
It was no exaggeration to say that Alastor had long since become the "heart" of the Alliance.
But at that moment, Rhonin didn't fucking care about any of that.
Alastor was his best friend—hell, he was more family to Rhonin than his own so called "blood" relatives had ever been!
Now, finding out that his brother in all but blood was trapped in a situation that could actually kill him! caused Rhonin to become completely livid.
Due to his heightened rage and volatile emotional state, Rhonin's grip on his magic loosened. His aura flared like an inferno, and the surrounding reality itself seemed to strain under the pressure of the power he was releasing.
Antonidas looked at him in shock.
He had always known Rhonin was an exceptionally talented mage, but the amount of mana he was projecting was several times greater than what he had displayed even at his previous peak—and it was still climbing!?
Every nearby soldier quickly moved away, desperate to put as much distance between themselves and the two mages as possible.
The might of an Archmage was already legendary, and dragons were mythical beings of immense power. No one wanted to be caught near a possible clash between the two.
Krasus felt a chill run down his spine as he sensed the amount of power Rhonin was radiating.
Normally, Krasus would never fear a confrontation with an Archmage. Not only was he an immensely accomplished magic user himself, but in his dragon form, ordinary Archmagi stood no chance against him.
But Rhonin's aura was rapidly approaching the level of top-tier Archmagi like Antonidas... and even Krasus himself.
"Rhonin! Calm yourself!" Antonidas shouted as he unleashed his own aura to counter Rhonin's and suppress the unstable surge of mana.
"Grand Magus... is the magic circle still usable?" Rhonin ignored the command entirely and instead asked his own question, causing Antonidas's eyes to widen again.
"Don't try anything reckless, you fool!"
Antonidas immediately realized what Rhonin intended.
He wanted to use the original magic circle to teleport directly to Alastor's location.
Under the current circumstances, however, Antonidas couldn't allow that.
Rhonin scowled and was about to respond when a massive emerald rift suddenly tore open across the sky.
From within emerged a colossal red dragon that descended and landed before them, the ground trembling violently beneath her immense weight.
"Alastor!?" Rhonin exclaimed in shock and relief the moment he saw Alastor on the dragon's back. "By Arda, you gave me a heart attack, you son of a—"
"DUCK!"
"Duck? I meant bitch, it's son of a bitch—!"
He couldn't finish his sentence as everyone on the battlefield heard the sound of something tearing apart.
Every eye immediately turned toward Alterac City, where multiple multicolored tears were appearing not only throughout the city, but also high above it.
And their numbers were rapidly increasing.
"BY DUCK, I MEAN GET DOWN!"
Alastor shouted again as he leapt from Alexstrasza's back and immediately conjured an arcane barrier dozens of meters wide, reinforcing it further with his psionic telekinesis as he faced the city.
"Oh.....OH FUCK!"
Rhonin's eyes widened along with everyone else's as they immediately rushed to protect themselves and the army.
Rhonin, Krasus, and Antonidas quickly conjured their own arcane barriers, pouring as much power into them as possible.
Now that his connection to Nature had been restored, Malfurion summoned massive amounts of trees and vegetation, binding them tightly together into enormous wooden barriers.
Turalyon closed his eyes and began reciting the holy chants of the Church. Uther did the same, pouring the last of his strength into a massive barrier of Holy Light.
Even Alexstrasza moved to the forefront, conjuring towering walls of red-and-gold flames while also using her own colossal body as a makeshift shield.
Brann and Mario, lacking the means to provide additional defenses, did not remain idle. Instead, they immediately began coordinating the Alliance soldiers.
"Everyone behind the barriers! Double time! Vehicles, artillery, and special units are secondary compared to you and your comrades!"
"Machines can be fixed! Dead lives can't!"
"GET A MOVE ON, LADDIES! AND FOR THE MAKER'S SAKE, STAY AWAY FROM ANY VEHICLES OUTSIDE THE BARRIERS UNLESS YOU WANT TO END UP AS A BLOODY PANCAKE!"
It wasn't just them. The other two Alliance armies also unleashed whatever defensive measures they could while taking cover, as commanders rapidly moved their troops behind the hastily assembled defenses.
Then finally, the space surrounding Alterac City could no longer endure the strain.
And it collapsed.
BOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
The first thing visible was light.
Blinding, chaotic light so intense that looking at it for even a moment was painful.
Accompanying it was a massive energy shockwave alongside literal hurricane-force winds.
The shockwave slammed into the barriers with tremendous force, while the winds were powerful enough to push back heavily armored vehicles outside the barriers with alarming ease.
Even the Armored Core units were forced backward dozens of meters despite their pilots jamming their mechs' hands into the ground in an attempt to anchor themselves.
The earth shook continuously, as though the entire region had been struck by a prolonged earthquake.
The light was so overwhelming that the vast majority of people were forced to look away lest their eyes be burned.
Thankfully, despite visibly straining under the pressure, the barriers held.
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When the light, tremors, and windstorm finally subsided, everyone slowly lowered their barriers one by one.
"...By the Light."
A warrior-priest whispered in shock as she stared toward Alterac City—or rather, where Alterac City had once stood.
The capital of the Kingdom of Alterac was gone.
As in absolutely gone.
Along with it vanished the Beastkin, daemons, and undead surrounding it and within the city's corrupted pocket dimension.
What remained in its place was a gargantuan crater large enough to fit one or two entire cities within it.
Mario stared at the crater with a mournful expression before placing a hand over his heart and whispering a quiet prayer.
"Rest now, my people... you have been avenged."
Brann, standing beside him, heard the murmur and genuinely felt bad for his comrade.
First, a large portion of his kingdom's population had been sacrificed to fuel the ritual.
And now the capital itself—the greatest physical representation of the nation's culture and history—had been completely erased.
Brann patted Mario on the back and gave him a reassuring grin.
"Hey, didn't you say it yourself just now? Machines can be fixed. Dead lives can't."
"Your people weren't all wiped out because of your actions, Mario. And this, like everything else, can be rebuilt."
"And besides... HE won't forget the part you and your people played in this war."
Brann gestured toward Alastor, who was slowly lowering his conjured barrier.
The growing gloom within Mario began to fade as hope once more entered his eyes.
From everything he had seen and heard about Alastor, he knew Brann was right.
Alastor would not only help the people of Alterac recover, but would likely ensure they emerged from this tragedy stronger than ever before.
Mario's fists tightened as he made a silent vow.
Whatever rose from the ashes of this disaster, he would make sure it became something greater.
Something better.
And never again would his people suffer under the shame brought upon them by a bastard and traitor king like Aiden.
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"Th-The... the sky! Look!"
A worgen was the first to notice. His wolf-like eyes widened as he pointed toward the heavens.
Those who heard him instinctively looked up, only for their own eyes to widen in shock. Soon, more Alliance soldiers noticed the change spreading across the sky.
The corrupted purple sky and storm clouds that had hung overhead since the start of the war were receding.
And not only were they receding—the process was accelerating.
Before long, the corruption was completely swept away, replaced by the familiar blue sky many had thought they would never see again.
For countless soldiers, the sight felt surreal.
"Ha... ha... Hahahahah!!!"
A knight of Lordaeron suddenly fell to his knees, laughing uproariously with tears streaming down his face.
And the dam was broken.
Very quickly, Alliance soldiers everywhere began laughing, crying, cheering, and shouting as though they wanted the very gods themselves to hear their joy and defiance.
Before this moment, most had been too shocked by the destruction of one of the human capitals and the sheer devastation caused by the collapse of the Warp Rift.
But the return of the blue sky drove home one undeniable truth.
They had won.
Not the war—not yet—but a major victory against the forces of Chaos.
And in doing so, they had shattered the enemy's metaphorical backbone.
"BACK TO THE HELLHOLE YOU BASTARDS CAME FROM!"
"JUSTICE FOR LORDAERON! JUSTICE FOR ALTERAC!"
"THE GRACE OF THE LIGHT AND THE FAITH OF THE LIVING HAVE BROKEN THE DARKNESS! DEATH TO THE HERETICS!"
Many knew the war was not yet over.
Lordaeron City still had to be reclaimed, and the northern regions of the continent still needed to be purged of lingering daemonic and other fel corruption.
Not to mention that those responsible for the war itself still needed to be punished.
But what everyone understood now was that the end was finally in sight.
And for the first time in a long while, the Alliance held the absolute advantage and all the cards.
"Hey, Krasus... sorry about that outburst earlier..." Rhonin said sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head.
Krasus, however, simply laughed and waved the concern away.
"None taken, Rhonin. Though perhaps I should have clarified from the beginning that while I did leave Alastor behind... Lady Alexstrasza remained with him."
Speaking of Alastor, he stared at the massive crater where a city had once stood and sighed heavily at everything that had transpired in the span of a single day.
"Worry not, Son of Llane."
Alastor looked up in surprise toward the colossal Dragon Queen, who despite her immense and imposing form, regarded him with a kind expression.
"You concern yourself too much with failures that have not yet come to pass, and with burdens that time itself may yet resolve."
Alastor felt a trace of embarrassment at how thoroughly Alexstrasza seemed able to read him.
Still, he couldn't deny she was right.
A part of him did feel guilty over Alterac's destruction.
He had believed that no matter how badly damaged the city became, it could eventually be rebuilt once the corruption was cleansed.
But now...
He doubted even a single brick remained of the old capital.
Then there was Deathwing.
Alastor had heard of him through books and the personal account of others that saw him in the war, but this had been his first direct encounter with the Black Aspect.
And if that wasn't troubling enough, he had sensed another dangerous power lurking within the dragon.
Worse still, despite the nature of Deathwing's corruption, Alastor's sacred flames had not affected him in the same way they affected Chaos or the undead.
"Look around you, Alastor." Alexstrasza gestured toward the hundreds of thousands of cheering Alliance soldiers.
"You achieved a great victory this day."
"You have ignited the flames of a new era."
"Stand proud... for you have won."
Alastor slowly released a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders.
"Thank you... and I owe you a debt for your assistance back there."
"We were in a rather dire situation. Had you and your Red Dragonflight not arrived when you did, things could have ended a lot worse."
"You owe me nothing, Alastor," Alexstrasza replied. "I answered the call of my old acquaintance, Aegwynn. And now that the Rift is gone, the Warp storms surrounding Azeroth have significantly weakened."
"With the main anchor destroyed, the dragonflights can finally shift their attention back toward aiding the material realm of Azeroth."
And it was true.
With the connection to the Realms of Chaos greatly weakened and the Warp storms finally beginning to dissipate, the endless tide of daemons the dragonflights had been forced to contain had drastically decreased.
Now they only needed to keep a portion of their forces guarding the Emerald Dream while the rest could return to Azeroth and aid its mortal defenders directly.
Rhonin suddenly ran up to Alastor and patted him on the forearm as Alastor returned to his normal mortal height to face him.
"Rhonin! Light, am I sorry for worrying you—"
"Al, it's okay! I understand!" Rhonin interrupted before giving Alexstrasza a sheepish glance.
Then he quickly dragged Alastor aside before grabbing him by the shoulders with an unusually nervous look.
"But THEY don't."
Alastor blinked in confusion before following Rhonin's gaze.
And immediately paled.
Standing a short distance away were Varian and Anduin, both staring at him with stern expressions.
But somehow, that wasn't the worst part.
Oh no.
That honor belonged to the two beautiful blonde women currently walking toward him with utterly livid expressions.
Suffice to say Jaina and Alleria did NOT look happy.
Alastor tried to remain calm as his mind desperately searched for a solution to the disaster he found himself in.
'Wait... that's right! Rhonin's still here! He can—'
Alastor perked up and quickly turned toward Rhonin, only to see the Archmage giving him a one-handed peace sign before teleporting away.
'TRAITOR!!!!!!!!!!'
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Malfurion watched the entire scene with a dumbfounded expression before glancing toward Tyrande, who had only recently arrived beside him.
"Should we—"
"No."
Tyrande spoke only a single word, but the sternness in her tone left absolutely no room for argument.
Malfurion immediately shut his mouth and made a masterful impression of a silent statue.
Though... was it just him, or was Tyrande also giving Alastor a somewhat similar disapproving look that Jaina and Alleria were giving him?
More importantly...
Did Tyrande herself even realize she was making that expression?
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