Chapter 263: Flames

Death Knights and Ogres - these were indeed two formidable forces.

If caught off guard by these two troops, the Alliance would certainly suffer heavy casualties. As a traveler, Duke remembered a good portion of history, and when the element of surprise was no longer a factor, so-called surprise attacks would only be a joke.

Duke raised both his hands, and his index fingers of both hands pointed to the sky and swayed.

Windsor immediately understood, "Send a message, Dalaran's mage corps prepare! Archmage Kel'Thuzad? Archmage Krasus?"

"No problem."

"We've been ready."

The two gave affirmative replies through the magic communication.

Below, on the ruins of Southshore, the two sides' cavalry had already engaged in fierce combat.

"Order the retreat," Turalyon roared at his nearest messenger, knowing he would use his horn to relay the command.

"Cover each other! Withdraw to the outskirts of the town and regroup!" The soldier nodded, raised his horn, blew two short blasts, followed by a long one.

Upon hearing the horn, the squad leaders began yelling orders to their own troops, gathering their soldiers. In fact, this was not easy, especially in the midst of a chaotic melee between the two sides.

Fortunately, the Lordaeron cavalry, well-prepared, executed their tactics efficiently.

They pulled out chain hammers resembling cannonball-sized projectiles. This simple device, with round metal balls on both ends connected by a chain, was a makeshift version of a horse tripping device. They threw it directly at the Death Knights' warhorse legs; under the effect of inertia, the small balls would naturally wrap around the horse's legs, slowing down their speed, whether they were undead or fiery steeds.

Most of the cavalry had escaped their opponents. The Knights of the Silver Hand were responsible for covering the rear.

The Death Knights, without receiving new orders, chose to pursue. Just as the Alliance cavalry and the Death Knights were pulling apart, dazzling light flashed from the hillsides on both sides.

The mage corps of Dalaran!

Even when the frontline was most critical, Duke had never deployed these powerful mages. Even when ogre mages had appeared on the frontline, making the Stromgarde mages and the Lordaeron accompanying mages cry out in agony, Duke had not used them.

Good steel should be used on the cutting edge.

To Duke, a battle of attrition between mages and warlocks was just too dull. Their abilities should be used to annihilate the enemy's elite forces.

Now it was only the second battle of the Dark Portal, and before the Scourge arrived, the Horde's Death Knights were precious. While their bodies were those of deceased Stormwind Knights, their souls were the warlocks killed by Orgrim during Gul'dan's purge.

Only these warlocks could enable the newly reborn Death Knights to master the dark magic with ease.

Regardless of whether these warlocks were high-ranking or apprentices, one less would be one less. As long as they died here, the paladins could purify their souls afterward, and not even Gul'dan could resurrect them as Death Knights again!

The operation's name, Flames, was meant to embody this idea.

Amplified by the war magic circle, the power and range of each mage in the mage corps were greatly enhanced. The cost of the magic circle alone was enough to arm a 5,000-strong infantry unit.

It was all worth it.

A barrage of huge fireballs, trailing long tails of flame, poured down from the hillsides on both sides. The spectacular sight left countless people in awe. Even the retreating Lordaeron cavalry and the Knights of the Silver Hand, upon seeing it, couldn't help but be dumbstruck.

It was simply magnificent.

Simultaneously, clusters of fireballs fell from both sides, like two colossal waterfalls of flame, effortlessly covering a distance of several hundred meters and bombarding the approaching Death Knights.

The fireballs rained down upon the ruins of Southshore like a torrential downpour, causing effects beyond anyone's imagination. Southshore, already devastated by the battle between Archmage Antonidas and Gul'dan, was now engulfed in elemental fire. Even the shattered remnants of buildings, broken stones, rotten wood, and the earth beneath the stone bricks were infused with the element of fire, seemingly coming to life.

Everything writhed in the flames, aggressively spreading the fiery touch to everything it encountered, creating a scene reminiscent of the end of the world.

At first, the Death Knights, devoid of any physical sensation, pursued the Alliance cavalry atop their undead steeds. Soon, they were overwhelmed by the explosions, the terrifying blasts that plowed through the already ruined Southshore once more.

After a volley of fireballs, there was hardly anything left standing amidst the inferno.

"Ha! Be destroyed, filthy bones!"

"Stay down and die for good this time!"

The Lordaeron cavalry vented their frustrations from being dominated earlier in battle. Despite having Uther's Light blessing them, they couldn't fight like true Paladins. This had nothing to do with their martial prowess, but rather the oppressive evil power of their enemies.

Now, they unleashed their pent-up anger.

"Woo-woo-woo!" The horn sounded, signaling for all cavalry to retreat.

"Retreat again?" Turalyon furrowed his brow.

Lothar, however, laughed heartily, "Ha! That boy Duke is greedy, but I like it! Hahaha!"

Meanwhile, Duke contacted Jaina Goldensword directly through magical communication.

"Lady Proudmoore, what's the situation with Marshal Daelin?" Duke asked urgently.

"They're here!"

Almost in sync with Daelin's confident response, the sails of the Kul Tiran fleet appeared on the distant horizon.

The orcs were alarmed.

Almost every orc commander realized they were in serious trouble.

Indeed, the coastline near Southshore was the broadest and most suitable for a landing assault. The problem was, if they failed to breach, over a hundred thousand orcs would be crammed along this narrow, elongated coastline.

This would be the perfect target for the fleet's cannons!

Aboard the flagship, seeing so many of the Horde squeezed along the shoreline, Marshal Daelin was ecstatic, "Open fire with all cannons, load grapeshot! I want to send these green skins straight to hell!"

The early morning breeze and rising tide were perfect conditions for the sail-powered Kul Tiran fleet.

The initially small sails rapidly grew larger in everyone's field of vision.

The Alliance's front lines erupted in cheers loud enough to overturn the heavens and earth.

"Long live the Alliance!"

"Blast those mongrel green skins!"

"Don't think of charging through, just take the cannon fire down there!"

The Horde launched an almost desperate charge, attempting to break through the hills' defenses. Even the ogre mages joined the charge, but the mages of Dalaran effectively suppressed the ogre mages.