Chapter 570: The Final Battle

Rushing to the scene, it wasn't only Duke and his entourage. From a distance, Kilrogg Deadeye and Zuluhed, leading nearly a thousand orcish warriors, charged into battle.

From the Alliance's side, twelve paladins and a long line of human soldiers advanced. Stormwind knights had broken through Orgrim's guards and reached Lothar, protecting the leader of the Alliance.

More so, over a hundred steam tanks joined the fray. Dwarves atop were fiercely firing, clearing the orcs in their vicinity.

In the distance, following several charges by the tank brigade, the orcish army was fragmented into smaller groups. Few Horde banners still fluttered above the battlefield. Despite these clans putting up a brave front against the human onslaught, the increasing number of mages and heavy artillery rendered their resistance futile.

Scattered orcs couldn't break the human phalanx, but grouping made them vulnerable to concentrated mage attacks. Most feared was the colossal tank destroyer of the dwarves.

Though a massive and sluggish machine, given time to aim and reload, its cannon shots would shake the earth. Its blasts left a radius of over 200 meters utterly devastated.

The orcish forces found themselves trapped in this vicious cycle, grouped up they'd face annihilation, scattered they'd be taken down by human formations.

Further, their rear guard was in disarray due to the dwarves' blitzkrieg tactics. In the backlines, forty thousand dwarf infantry stood firm, continuously wearing down the orcs.

The rallying cries of the orcs were hardly heard. Instead, orcs dropped their weapons and fled in panic.

All that echoed now was the cry of "For the Alliance!"

High above, Duke, seated atop a tank, looked down at Orgrim and pronounced almost judgmentally, "The Alliance has won!"

Orgrim, struggling to his feet, bloodied and gravely injured, unable to lift his [Doomhammer], rasped defiantly, "This time, the Horde may have been defeated. But what of it? The Horde will rise under its third Warchief! Every warrior from each race in your Alliance will fall to the might of the Horde! Until your world belongs to us!"

Suddenly, with all his strength, Orgrim shouted, "Zuluhed! Kilrogg! Kargath! Go! Leave now—the Horde has not yet fallen! The Horde will never fall—"

Lothar sighed softly, "Take him alive."

Even though he whispered, his usually booming voice was loud to the common ear.

Led by the twelve paladins, over five hundred knights charged at Orgrim.

Kargath Bladefist, with his bulging gray muscles, acted instantly. With his remaining arm, he grabbed Orgrim, his intentions clear.

Tirion Fordring arrived.

In a galloping charge, his hammer struck with incredible speed.

With a clang, Kargath, using the giant blade attached to his arm, barely blocked the blow.

Without a moment's respite, Gavinrad and Saidan Dathrohan's hammers simultaneously hammered down.

Even a mighty gladiator-born hero like Kargath, facing two of humanity's top warriors, was sent flying over twenty meters, tumbling before regaining his composure.

Unfortunately, he was now far from Orgrim.

With a fierce punch to the ground, Kargath retreated.

Indeed, he had done his best!

Kilrogg Deadeye, wielding his razor-sharp bone-axe, felled a human knight in one swing, his blade piercing through plate armor, spilling the knight's entrails. With a glance at Orgrim, now surrounded by the twelve paladins, he turned and left without hesitation.

However, Zuluhed, Orgrim's right-hand, to everyone's surprise, charged in, hammer in hand.

Yes, he aimed to rescue Orgrim. In the face of nearly a thousand human knights, the twelve fearsome paladins, and three formidable elven ranger heroes, he aimed to free his beloved Warchief.

This wasn't just bravery or rationality; at this moment, Zuluhed was more of a fervent martyr. Not just him, but over three hundred orcs, all great warriors, charged alongside him.

"Uther!" Lothar, catching his breath, called out to the leader of the paladins.

Everyone understood without further words.

Duke raised both hands, signaling Sylvanas and Veressa to hold their arrows. Magni, initially signaling to fire, lowered his hand.

This was the final confrontation of this battle.

True warriors transcended borders and even races.

They deserved utmost respect.

Uther, with a battalion of knights, galloped faster, their steeds gaining momentum. At this point in the battle, no knight still had their lances.

The deciding factor would be their approach, their equestrian skills, and that fleeting decisive confrontation.

Closer and closer they came—

The orcs, with their vast experience against knights, knew how to deal with them.

Taking down a knight was no easy task. A skilled rider could dodge or use their shield to block most upper body attacks.

Orc hammers swung, leaving arcs in the air, with the luckier ones landing their massive heads on the horses.

Scores of warhorses fell, blood pouring from their shattered skulls, twitching as they died. Their riders either tumbled clumsily, finished off by orcish blows, or managed to roll away, regaining their stance to continue the fight.

Many other knights, sensing imminent strikes, expertly steered their mounts away from danger, then retaliated with deadly momentum.

In the first wave, the Alliance and Horde clashed fiercely.

Uther, skillfully evading Zuluhed's attack, delivered a powerful blow filled with the Light's might on Zuluhed's right shoulder armor. Almost everyone focusing on Zuluhed heard the shattering. It wasn't just the armor, but the entire right shoulder that burst apart.

Zuluhed's entire right torso was obliterated by Uther's blow. The arm, once holding his hammer aloft, flew into the air, spinning wildly.