Chapter 576: The Names of Heroes Shall Be Sacred

The bitter taste of defeat lingers on every orc's lips. Many had come with dreams of conquering a vast new world, securing fertile lands for their clans.

But reality brutally knocks them down. The Alliance, composed of races known as humans, dwarves, and high elves, proves superior to the Horde, taking them from the pedestal of conquerors to captives.

The joy of victory spreads throughout every member of the Alliance. Everywhere, people are cheering, embracing each other. They pat each other on the back, celebrating their triumph over the terrifying war.

Alleria gazes at Duke's profile, her heart swelling with an overwhelming emotion only she could understand. As one of the primary witnesses to Duke's meteoric rise, she's seen him progress from a penniless magic apprentice to a hero of the Alliance.

She recalls, just two years ago, Duke was a young lad who depended on her for magical notes. The memory of her spending three months in jail for his sake always irked her. But then, Duke emerged as a savior, rescuing the entire high elf kingdom of Quel'thalas under the watchful eyes of the Silvermoon Council and Sun King.

What was it about Duke that so profoundly captivated her? Was it his extraordinary wisdom? His commanding presence? Or his reputation that made countless enemies surrender?

No, it wasn't just one thing. Maybe it was everything.

A woman's heart is a complex thing.

In that moment, the only thing Alleria was certain of was her deep love for Duke.

"A word, Duke," Alleria suddenly spoke. She was tempted to kiss him passionately, but the presence of thousands of watchful eyes held her back. She wondered if she should ask Duke to step into a secluded tank cabin.

Who knows...

"Duke! I am head over heels for you," she exclaimed.

To her surprise and slight irritation, ignoring the countless onlookers, or maybe it was her fearless nature, Vereesa suddenly stepped forward, taking hold of Duke's face and passionately kissing him.

Up close, despite the surrounding noise, Alleria could hear the intertwined sounds of her love and sister. Seeing Vereesa, whose face greatly resembled her own, lost in the heat of the moment, Alleria felt as if she was the one being kissed.

Suddenly, she found herself leaning in, but was startled by the rising roar of the crowd.

"Way to go, Marcus!"

"Beauty and the hero!"

"Hahaha, more like hero with hero. Lady Vereesa has slain more orcs than you have leg hair."

With the cheers and jeers echoing, Vereesa continued her embrace with Duke.

"Isn't Duke with Lady Alleria?" someone whispered.

"You don't get it. Elves are open-minded. It's common for them to have multiple partners."

"Then let's see Duke kiss Lady Alleria!"

"Kiss her! Kiss her!"

In the past, the strict hierarchy would've prevented such audacity. But leading this cheeky chorus was the seemingly stern young general, Reginald Windsor.

The chants grew louder, led by Duke's personal guards.

Flustered, Alleria hesitated. Vereesa, after hearing the crowd, reluctantly let go of Duke, teasingly sticking her tongue out at her elder sister, her face radiating the pleasure of the kiss.

"Kiss her! Kiss her!"

Alleria felt it inappropriate, but Duke, displaying his dominant side, pulled her close, sealing their lips in a passionate kiss.

The crowd erupted in cheers. Despite her embarrassment, Alleria realized she relished this moment of audacious celebration.

Standing behind Duke, hearing the thunderous applause, Sylvanas now understood why her proud elder sister and instinctive younger sister fell for the same man.

It was simple. Duke Marcus was the great hero of the Alliance. His name was legendary. His name was sacred. He, along with the Alliance heroes fighting alongside him, would forever be an indispensable part of the Alliance's glorious history.

The war was over. The Alliance had won. Azeroth was safe, even if it might be temporary. But that didn't stop the world of humans, dwarves, and elves from celebrating their grand victory.

From the southernmost kingdom of Stormwind to the northern high elf lands of Quel'thalas; from the western isles of Kul Tiras to the eastern rebuilt lands of Stromgarde, news of the victory flew.

In taverns and during leisure, tales of Duke Marcus, the legendary mage and extraordinary commander, dominated conversations. Followed by discussions about the frontline Alliance leader Anduin Lothar.

Then there were the fearless twelve paladins of the Silver Hand: Uther, Tirion Fordring, Saidan Dathrohan, Turalyon, Gavinrad the Dire, and others, who dared to charge fearlessly at two hundred thousand orcs. Their names would forever be synonymous with 'courage.'

Also mentioned were Alexandros Mograine and Abbendis, who, despite the odds, held their ground, becoming idols for many young admirers. Not to forget, Daelin Proudmoore, Llane Wrynn, Thoras Trollbane, and Antonidas, frontline rulers whose names would always be revered.

The war was over, and their names would forever be sacred.