Chapter 321: FFF Squad

The Horde has weakened.

Lothar, with his extensive experience in fighting the Horde, is acutely aware of this.

The current orc warriors, although better equipped than before, are declining in combat power. The orcs that the Kingdom of Stormwind initially faced were all masters of combat.

Any reckless attack, death!

Any moment of delayed reaction, death!

Any failure in a contest of strength, death!

According to Duke, these were the elite warriors who had just experienced a war with an unknown race called the Draenei.

Not only did they know how to use all their advantages, but their combat talents were also unparalleled.

Facing such elites, the soldiers of the Kingdom of Stormwind often suffered a casualty ratio of one to ten.

However, after the burning of Stormwind City and two cross-sea landings, Lothar has rarely seen a large number of orcs of that quality.

Here on the Southshore, Lothar estimated that the casualty ratio has probably dropped to 1 orc for every 3 humans. This is because the orcs lack warlock support, and the humans have brought almost all mages capable of combat.

Now it's like a tipping point, whoever outlasts, wins.

If the Alliance can't hold on this time, the Horde will have a large number of elites who have experienced the trials of blood and fire. Even a peon who originally only knew how to use a wooden hammer will grow into a formidable killing machine.

On the contrary, well-trained Alliance troops, such as the soldiers of Lordaeron and Gilneas, will quickly rise.

Just a little bit, just a little bit short.

But Lothar has already dispatched the best troops he could. The Horde's strong are being dealt with by Uther and the elite of the Knights of the Silver Hand.

Apart from sending himself, Lothar is completely out of options.

No wonder King Terenas is so anxious!

If it weren't for King Terenas still being somewhat sober, knowing that sending cavalry under these circumstances would be useless, he would probably throw all his remaining knights into the fray.

Suddenly a voice rang out.

"Uh, this, Deputy Commander Marcus sent me a message, in the case of unfavorable warfare and no strategy available, we can use the 'Tactical Strike Team FFF Squad'." The speaker was Duke's chief steward, Marco.

In terms of martial power, Marco is a nobody.

In terms of ability, he doesn't stand out either, but his smoothness and diligence have made him the most well-known mouthpiece under Duke's command. In many occasions, he is even Duke's full representative, his every word and action representing Duke's attitude.

His appearance now is undoubtedly a breath of fresh air in the stagnant Alliance command.

"What? Duke has another solution!?" King Terenas grabbed Marco's shoulder with infinite joy.

"Uh, this is just an experimental weapon. It has not been tested in actual combat, but my lord has said that it can be tried if necessary." Marco did not make a definitive statement, even if Duke's original words were "Send those guys out to wreak havoc when they're about to collapse.", Marco still cautiously left room for discussion.

"What is the FFF Squad?" Lothar was suspicious, not that he didn't trust Duke, he was borrowing his own words to let Marco explain to everyone.

"Uh, it seems to be a kind of strange language, called, fire something? In Common, it means 'Fire, fire, fire!'."

Duke's backup plan made Lothar's teeth ache.

"Alright, don't say anymore, just tell me directly how to cooperate. Do you want me to order the relocation of the ballista or cannon positions?" In the imagination of Lothar and the other leaders, something that could serve as a game-changing backup must be something huge and terrifying.

Marco waved his hand: "No, we have a full set of preparations."

On the beach frontline, the Alliance was retreating step by step.

Another defense line centered around wooden fences was completely destroyed.

Highlord Mograine, wielding a huge cleaver, finished off an orc attempting to ambush him. After splitting the orc in half, he quickly surveyed the defense line, immediately grabbed a messenger nearby, and roared at him: "Form a defense squad! Retreat to the sixth fence and regroup!"

The soldier nodded, then raised his horn, blowing two short blasts, followed by three long ones.

Upon hearing this sound, from squad leaders to mid-level officers, they all shouted orders to their troops, gathering their soldiers, forming small square formations while retreating, ensuring that the orcs couldn't catch up all at once.

Turning tail and running would be suicidal. Carelessness could turn into a rout.

Humans, even at 1.8 meters tall, can't outrun the orcs who are generally over two meters tall, no matter how fast they run.

The Horde tried to break through these retreating formations, but the Alliance soldiers stood tightly together, holding their weapons steady, thrusting at any orc that approached.

Even in retreat, each squad raised their shields, connecting them together, ensuring that each heavy blow from the orcs was borne by at least three people.

Small shield walls were moving.

The orcs kept attacking these squads with overwhelming numbers, hoping to knock over these soldiers. Once they fell, they basically had no chance to get up again, the orcs would definitely swarm over to finish them off.

Fortunately, most of the Alliance soldiers were able to successfully retreat to the next line of defense.

Looking at the sky, Mograine couldn't hide his worry.

"This won't work! If we can't hold out until nightfall, the entire coastal defense line will collapse..." Looking at the setting sun, Mograine was deeply worried.

Craftsmen were frantically installing fences and setting up chevaux de frise, but the newly built defenses were definitely not as solid as the first few old lines. If they couldn't stem the Horde's offensive before nightfall and turn the battle into a positional war, the humans, who were at a disadvantage in individual combat power, would undoubtedly be defeated in the night battle.

Just then, several dazzling flames emerged from behind Mograine, sprinkling down in the middle of the battlefield.

Clearly, this had nothing to do with magic or mysticism.

Mograine turned his head to see a group of private soldiers from Duke Marcus of Stormwind standing on the next line of defense.

It was a flame more enduring and brighter than a mage's fire. A dozen tongues of fire stretched from the arrow tower, setting half the battlefield ablaze.

The blinding flame made all other colors on the battlefield seem dim, even outshining the fading sunlight.

Fear of fire, this is almost the most primitive instinct of all terrestrial creatures. Its fear originates from billions of years ago, from the forest fires of the primordial forests. From the moment there were forest fires, the fear of fire has been rooted deep in the genes of terrestrial creatures.

The Horde's aggressive momentum was momentarily halted.

Mograine finally had a chance to see the insignia on those strange Alliance soldiers. It was three consecutive, identical symbols.

FFF