Rumble!
A thick wall of earth erupted from the ground, stretching over fifty meters in length, a meter wide and two meters high!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The charging orcs at the front couldn't stop in time. Their momentum sent them crashing into the wall with heavy thuds, throwing their formation into disarray and reducing the impact of their assault.
But it didn't stop there—two more earthen walls rose from the ground, forming a U-shaped barricade that trapped the advancing orcs.
"Hiss..."
A mage who could control earth magic? That was usually a shaman's role! Was this even fair?
'Still no kobolds, though—minus points.'
The soldiers of Stormwind seized the opportunity, using the walls to mount a counterattack. Galen rallied Gavinrad, merging their knight squadrons into a single powerful force.
It was smarter to keep the cavalry moving, looking for chances to charge, than to let them be bogged down in a defensive line.
The orcs came in overwhelming numbers—ten thousand, maybe more—surging down the cliffs. Most targeted Lothar's central formation, while a smaller wave aimed for Marcus's vanguard.
Galen's priority was to relieve the vanguard. Those men were the future defenders of Stormwind's walls. They couldn't be allowed to fall here.
The vanguard, barely over a thousand strong, stood their ground under Marcus's command. Despite being outnumbered three to one, they held fast, but their line wouldn't last much longer.
With over a thousand elite cavalry at his back, Galen charged with the Iron Horse Brotherhood. These knights, all high-level warriors, smashed through the orc ranks like a hammer through glass.
Their first assault cut open a corner of the orc encirclement—hundreds of orcs were crushed by warhorses or cleaved down by flashing blades.
The knights wheeled around after a hundred meters and charged again, their momentum splitting the orc ranks repeatedly. After several back-and-forth attacks, a gap finally formed.
Marcus seized the opening.
"To the valley! Go now!"
"No! I won't abandon the others!"
"That's an order! Get to the valley entrance and hold it. I'll bring the rest!"
Marcus hesitated, but Galen's authority—and Gavinrad's urging—won him over. Breaking away from the fray, Marcus led a charge through the breach, galloping several hundred meters to the narrow valley mouth and forming a defensive line across its fifty-meter width.
Galen sighed in relief. Marcus was clearly suited for defense. He'd hold the entrance. Now it was time to extract Lothar and the rest.
But time was running out. The Iron Horse Brotherhood was exhausted. Lothar and his men had to be pulled out now.
With renewed force, Galen led the remaining cavalry straight into the orc masses, cutting a bloody path from north to south, slicing through the advance line. But even as they broke through, knights were falling. Some didn't make it back.
By the time they reached the earthen wall, only six hundred knights remained. Four hundred lay forever behind them.
"Lord Lothar, we have to go now. If we stay, we die here."
Even Galen, a ninth-level powerhouse, was panting hard. Uther and the others were drenched in sweat, their armor soaked through.
"What's your plan?" Lothar asked, still holding the line. He'd just slain an orc overseer and kicked the corpse aside, dispatching two more enemies with swift strokes.
Across the battlefield, Medivh stood cloaked in ice magic. Dozens of orcs around him had already been frozen solid—clear evidence of the Guardian's power.
Before Galen could answer, a deafening roar surged from the south. The orc war drums thundered, shaking the battlefield.
Climbing the earthen wall for a better view, Galen's heart sank. A tide of dark green orcs was approaching, surrounding a massive figure with a blackened, rocky arm.
"Blackhand the Destroyer..."
Galen recognized him instantly—the puppet chieftain Gul'dan placed in command. And if he was here, could Gul'dan be far behind?
They had no time to waste. If they didn't use their trump cards now, it would be too late.
"Lothar! We have to retreat. The orcs just brought ten thousand more!"
They were surrounded. With over ten thousand orcs at the valley mouth, escape was impossible. The orcs were strong, unyielding, and burning with bloodlust. Stormwind's troops—barely three thousand Lionheart soldiers and a few hundred noble retainers—were spent.
"Then go. Take the paladins and leave. Thank you for everything you've done for Stormwind."
Lothar's voice trembled with pain. The Lionheart Legion—Stormwind's first and finest—had been founded by the kingdom's first king and trained by Lothar's own ancestors. Now, under his watch, it would be destroyed.
"Tell Llane the kingdom's future is in his hands. And take care of my sister. That's enough... for me."
Lothar was saying goodbye.
"Save it for the king himself." Galen turned to his men. "Brothers! It's time to witness a miracle!"
Uther, Danath, Dathrohan, Turalyon, and Tirion pulled out scrolls, sprinting to marked locations around the battlefield. One by one, they activated the scrolls, lighting up magic circles. Brilliant white light flared.
Soldiers began vanishing in flashes of teleportation, whisked away from the battlefield.
At the end, only Lothar, his guard, and Medivh remained.
The orcs were stunned. The battlefield had cleared. Their enemies—gone?
Then they roared, charging the last remaining humans: Lothar's guard.
Galen raised his sword with a grin. "Can't skip the dramatics!" He and the paladins vanished in white light, reappearing behind Marcus's defensive line.
Meanwhile, Marcus and his men had been pushed back another fifty meters under relentless pressure, retreating deeper into the canyon.
"Medivh! It's your turn now!"
Teleportation was nothing to Medivh. He'd done far more complex spells. Gathering his power, light flared around him—blinding, divine.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Bolts of lightning rained down like wrath from the heavens, sealing the canyon mouth in a net of thunder and fire. Orcs within range were turned to charcoal. Those who tried to charge the barrier were flung back like ragdolls.
Only a hundred or so orcs made it inside the canyon.
Soon, they too were wiped out. But Medivh had reached his limit. His body gave out.
Lothar caught him.
"We've done enough," Galen called out.
"Haul ass!"