Chapter 575: The End of the War

"Ah, don't worry. Alexstrasza knows of it. She has said her kin went overboard. Henceforth, the Red Dragonflight won't pursue the matter," a voice murmured.

Archmage Antonidas's face turned a shade redder, having hoped to slyly profit from Duke: "Alright, consider yourself fortunate. Perform your part and help me control this."

With that, Duke stood atop a tank, feigning a spellcasting posture. Meanwhile, Antonidas took refuge inside the tank, laboriously guiding the flow of magic.

Truth be told, Duke was not in the mood to cast any spells. The troubles brought by Baron Geddon's Mana Burn hadn't fully dissipated. Currently circulating within Duke was merely minimal magic for monitoring. He simply employed system sprites to oversee Antonidas's casting, ensuring no magical missteps and providing timely alerts.

For Antonidas, this was more than enough.

Duke theatrically chanted spells atop the tank. Below him, Antonidas and the surrounding Kirin Tor archmages started channeling their energies, suffusing their bodies with arcane might.

The energy on this land had dwindled significantly, but the Dark Portal itself was a reservoir of immense power. And there were no measures in place to prevent mages from commandeering it.

Well, there used to be.

With the demise of Gul'dan, the last master, at the Tomb of Sargeras, the magical restrictions on the Dark Portal became mere ornaments.

Now, Antonidas and the other mages were doing precisely that—drawing energy from the Dark Portal and channeling it toward Khadgar.

The venerable mage's silver locks stood on end, touching the tank's ceiling.

To the observing orcs, incomprehensible arcane energy began to dance around Duke's visage and fingertips.

Gales roared around him, and to the orcs, it even seemed as though lightning manifested at his side.

The orcs seemed to have found a reason for their defeat—Ah! It was such a formidable human archmage who defeated us!

They held their breath, not daring even to sigh.

Facing the Dark Portal, Duke closed his eyes, spread his arms, and then pushed forward, as though intending to unleash all the amassed energy. Of course, this was the handiwork of the blue-collared mage inside the tank.

A massive energy sphere, pulsating with countless luminescent specks, formed before Duke.

Every observer could easily feel its rhythm, its concentration, even without arcane knowledge.

Duke was pleased with the surrounding awe-stricken gazes.

Perfect!

His grandeur was unmatched!

Duke silently applauded himself.

Anyway, it's just to intimidate the orcs, he thought, smirking mischievously.

Aided by system sprites, Duke focused on the gaping spatial rift, gauging its energy. After another thorough check, he relayed a precise 3D magical model to Antonidas.

Antonidas jolted, muttering, "Is it a natural talent gap? I was just beginning to sense the rift's form, and this freakishly talented youngster has already constructed the entire model."

He quickly assigned tasks to the other archmages via the magical communication network and signaled Duke.

Duke... Duke opened his eyes. Residual energy seemed to leak from his profound gaze, enchanting the Windrunner sisters and stupefying both human soldiers and orc captives alike.

He abruptly clasped his hands together, then made a pushing motion. The suspended energy sphere shot forth, elongating into a spear-like shape.

A spear of energy, aimed directly at the heart of the Dark Portal.

Its power surged, permeating the Portal and shattering its stone foundation.

"Boom!" An explosive sound echoed.

The explosion's force knocked many Alliance soldiers and orc warriors off balance. Even Duke nearly tumbled off the tank.

The swirling dark-green energies in the Portal's center were blasted apart. Fortunately, most shattered energy fragments were drawn back into the collapsing portal.

The spatial tremors ceased after a few moments, and the massive rift vanished.

The tumultuous green-black hue was replaced by a void. Every archmage felt the land breathe again after the connection to Draenor was severed.

Standing atop the tank, Duke surveyed the surroundings. He spotted a slightly disheveled Lothar getting up. Of course, Turalyon looked even more so. The dutiful paladin had shielded Lothar, seemingly ready to activate the Divine Shield.

With no destructive shockwaves felt, Turalyon abandoned the thought of invulnerability. Covered in dust and pebbles, the paladin seemed unharmed and grinned at Duke.

"The Dark Portal has been destroyed. Unless a demigod-tier mystic with a divine artifact attempts to reopen it, our world is now safe," Duke proclaimed from his vantage point. Instantly, fervent cheers erupted from the Alliance soldiers.

"We are safe!"

"The war has truly ended!"

"Long live Duke Marcus!"

"Long live Anduin Lothar!"

"For the Alliance!"

"Hahaha!"

"We've won! We've finally won!"

Who shed tears of joy?

Which warrior, who had lost loved ones, now smiled?

The two-year-long Dark Portal war had finally come to an end. Despite its short duration, this dreadful conflict engulfed the entire Eastern Kingdoms, drawing every sentient race into its maelstrom.

From Stormwind in the south to Quel'Thalas in the north, every household had known blood, tears, sorrow, and pain.

But now, this cursed war had concluded. People cheered, flashing genuine smiles for the first time in ages. Everyone laughed, genuinely relaxing their weary nerves.