On the battlefield of Angasa, the brutal battle sprinkled the entire gray-white snowfield like a sea of bright red blood. Pen × fun × Pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

Looking down from the sky, the tide of darkness never stopped hitting the Angasa's defense line, which was originally a semi-arc defense line, but now it has been torn apart, and the home field of the coalition army is like a dying beast, which can only struggle to use the last strength to drive away those infestation insects, but its body that fell to the ground has really lost the last power to fight back, and in those places that cannot be scrupulously, it can only let those insects violently tear the flesh and blood that belongs to life.

The cold wind dripping into ice constantly hit the ground, and the soldiers at the front of the defense line were waving their weapons almost in a numb manner, and the slaughter was also a tiresome thing, especially in the face of those bastards who were already dead... This makes the killing pointless.

The battle has been going on for a full 3 hours, and the coalition army of 11W8,000 people is now less than a third left, and the adventurers who spontaneously came from all over the world to participate in this "holy war" are almost 100% killed, and wave after wave of troops are sent to the battlefield, and then it is like ink dripping into the sea, and there is no more news.

A whole 7W people are buried in this place thousands of miles away from home, but there is still no end in sight to this war.

The coalition has not yet failed, but now it is only holding on with the last trace of strength, fortunately, the cowards have died as early as the first wave of charge, so the people who remain are truly warriors who are favored by courage, their minds are like steel, but even real steel, thrown in such a cruel battlefield, will be melted into scum in an instant.

In fact, if it weren't for the fact that the nature of this war was too special, the coalition forces would have collapsed long ago after suffering such a terrible battle loss ratio. From the very beginning of this war, all those who set foot on the battlefield knew ... It will have no surrender, no defeat, retreat means death, collapse means disaster, this is a confrontation between life and death, either take everything victoriously or lose everything in defeat, there will never be a third way to go.

Natural disasters do not accept compromise, compromise means death, and the first lesson that this battlefield teaches recruits is to either kill the corpses on the other side or become one of them.

Hold your sword tightly and wield it with all your courage, hoping that you will make it to the end.

Luck is useless on such a battlefield, and everywhere the undead go, there is a cold and lonely desolation.

"Hold on, my brother!"

Tyran was half-kneeling, his armor had become tattered, the blood stains on his face had dried up, his helmet had long since been thrown there, he was clutching a heavy axe he had snatched from the Death Knight he had cut down, his original saber had long since been broken, and he didn't even know how many weapons he had replaced.

The general, who was still struggling to stay at the forefront of the direction, stuffed his only remaining bottle of holy water into the hands of his adjutant, this young man had just been hit head-on by an abomination, his abdomen was gouged open, his sternum was almost shattered, and he was leaning against the low wall of the defense line that had become a ruin, the corners of his mouth twitched, blood gushed out of it, he did not accept the holy water of Tailan, but held his arm,

"Ahem... Kill me... Kill me... I don't want to become... Monster, kill me... Give me, a decent!"

"No, my brother, keep it up, we're going to win!"

Tyran grabbed the adjutant by the hand and shouted at him, "Don't sleep, bastard!

A difficult smile broke out on the face of the young adjutant,

"I know... But, but I might... I may not be able to see it..."

The hand held in Tyran's hand lost its strength at this moment, and the young general's expression froze on his face.

He's lost another brother, damn it... This deserves hell...

"Tyran!

Dalyan's roar woke the general awake, he turned around, and slashed out with an axe that he didn't look at, cutting off the arm of the death knight who rushed over and tried to sneak attack, Tyran turned his head to look around, and less than 200 of the 2,000 paladins who followed him in the north and south were still holding on, and a sadness rose up in his heart, but then there was a deep anger.

"Ahh

Holding the bloodstained battle axe in both hands, Tyran slashed at the body of the death knight in front of him one after another, chopping it into five knots, and then rushed at the jumping ghouls around him, swinging the axe and roaring in a voice that no one could understand, cutting down the dead bastards one by one, tirelessly fighting.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that all the undead, all the undead on the entire Angasa battlefield, whether it was the abomination who had just stepped out of the gate of Angasa, or the ghouls who had already stormed the last headquarters of the coalition forces, all the undead, from the noblest lich to the lowest level of walking corpses, the moment the string in their minds broke, the moment when the immortal will was completely silent, all the undead, all looked in the direction of the Icecrown Fortress, and then let out their own roars.

It's like a storm of sound sweeping across the battlefield, like a bell that represents a certain meaning ringing at this moment, like some kind of hope...

"Poof"

Dalyan was struggling to defend under the attack of the four death knights, but just as the last rune sword was about to fall on his neck, the owner of the long sword suddenly stopped attacking, gave up the possible low-hanging fruit, and turned to the direction behind him, not only him, Dalyan woke up from the initial shock, he looked back, the sound of the entire battlefield had stopped at this moment, the undead, the ferocious, silent, seemingly never crushed, at this moment also stopped the tide of death that was constantly charging forward。

It's like a walking clock stops at this moment.

The undead offensive has stopped... Why?

This question rushed to Dalyan's mind at this moment, making his extremely tired brain clogged for a while, not only him, but the soldiers who survived at this time, the entire battlefield was confused at this moment, why?

Suddenly, an idea rushed into Dalyan's mind, like a bolt of lightning splitting through the fog, like a grand bell ringing, waking up the sleeping crowd and making him understand the meaning of the current situation.

"Arthas is dead... He's dead!"

Dalyan muttered to himself, and the next moment, endless joy surged up from the bottom of his heart, and he slashed the death knight in front of him to the ground with a sword, and then raised his arms and shouted,

"Arthas is dead! We... We won! We won!"

Tyran heard the voice, he was also a spirit, he watched like a madman dragging his sword into the stagnant group of undead on the opposite side, Dalyan laughing wildly while slashing, and saw the knights who laughed like Dalyan, their faces still had blood and lingering exhaustion, but at this time, it was as if the soul had returned to their body, as if it had been resurrected.

"We won?"

Tyran shook his head, he stared blankly at his hands, which were already covered with blood and wounds, and then he heard cheers from the rest of the battlefield, like a fire that burst out from a spark, and then quickly swept the whole land, and everyone went crazy!

The most calm paladins were like the craziest savages, grabbing something from the ground and smashing it towards the deaths who would no longer resist, and the mages, too, completely abandoned their calmness and grace, hugged the rude warriors, and cheered in unison for the arrival of a difficult victory, and in the far distance, in the most anxious part of the battle, King Varian wiped the blood from his face and looked back at his son, he was out of breath, but the performance of the first time on the battlefield made the king unexpectedly satisfied.

Varian laughed and placed his bloodstained hand on Anduin's shoulder, and raised his other hand to point to the dark dome that was slowly opening in the distance, it was the Icecrown Glacier of Eternal Night, and now it opened, the cold golden halo stood out above the dark clouds, and the path of the firmament of the Valagar Fortress, which Dick had specially borrowed, was placed across the sky like a sword.

It's like a real signal to tell the warriors who are still fighting that victory is coming!

"Son, look! we won!"

King Varian puffed up his head proudly, like a lion patrolling the battlefield, and he held the Salameni in his hand high, the blue-red light shining like a rising flag, and behind him, the bloody Alliance soldiers cheered in unison.

"Arthas is dead!

On the other side of the battlefield, Sal raised the hammer of destruction in his hand, and the beating blue lightning continued to fly on the hammer surface, and behind him, the warriors of Garrosh, Dranoth and other tribes also cheered in unison, and on the opposite side, the originally menacing spider demon fled as fast as a frightened mouse, panicking.

They still have the numerical advantage, they are still strong, but victory is far from them.

Tyran was basking in the joy of this sudden victory, but he couldn't laugh, his heart was empty, and he saw his lieutenant, the brave man who had died a few minutes before the victory, and he had an expression on his face that he didn't know whether to cry or laugh.

Staggering a few steps forward, Tyran knelt in front of the cold corpse of the young man, he held the palm that had lost his life and temperature, and he lowered his head as if in prayer.

"We won... Hawke, we... Won. ”

Warm tears slipped from the corners of Tyran's eyes, and soon covered his face, he didn't know why he was crying, but it didn't matter, he was not the only one crying on the whole battlefield, and in the picture of victory, even crying had a different taste.

Maybe it's the inability to help yourself, maybe it's the escape of sadness, maybe it's the feelings that have nowhere to vent... In short, they won, and it's all over.

"Tyran, my son!"

A mage dragging a bloodied arm walked up to Tyran and handed him a sounding stone, interrupted by a tired voice, it was the voice of his father, Fordin.

"We won... But now is not the time to celebrate, organize the surviving warriors to evacuate the battlefield, do their best to treat the seriously wounded, and our war is over!"

"And these undead?"

"They'll be in the new Lich King... No, return to Icecrown under the will of the commander of the Night's Watch Legion, don't worry, my son, the history of the Scourge of the Dead is over, it all took place in our witness, the war is over, the rest of the matter, we'll talk about it later... In short, enjoy your hard-earned victory. ”

Old Fordin's voice ended at this, and Tyran was puzzled until his brother Dalyan came up to him and asked in a low voice,

"You also received an order to retreat?"

"Hmm... But I don't know what's going on?"

Tyran pointed to the undead around him who had begun to walk towards Icecrown, they looked like real dead, even if they were cut down by fanatical warriors, they would not fight back.

"Shouldn't we go on the offensive and crush them once and for all?"

Dalyan seemed to know more as he reached out and patted Tyran on the shoulder,

"Alright, my brother, look around, there are only so many of us left, and there are still millions, tens of millions... The upper echelons will take these issues into consideration, but I'm curious... That legion of the Night's Watch, what the hell is going on? ”

"Alright, kids!"

With the light of the teleportation spell shattering, the commander-in-chief of the coalition forces who appeared next to the young commander, the old marshal Wendsol, interrupted the whispers of Dalyan and Tyran, the old warrior had obviously experienced a fight just now, as could be seen from his blood-stained armor, he reached out and patted the two young men on the necks vigorously, just like those veterans greeted.

Field Marshal Windsor's gaze swept over the two generals,

"Don't say these things that have nothing to do with victory, enjoy the victory, this must be a great battle that will go down in history, we are soldiers, let's do what soldiers should do, it's time to relax, understand?"

The depth in the old marshal's gaze made both Dalyan and Tyran understand his hint, as old Fording had said, now was not the time to discuss these things.

The battlefield was still noisy, and the remaining warriors watched as the undead who were still fighting just now fell under their weapons without resistance, but moved silently and stubbornly in the direction of Icecrown, like a silent migration.

History turned a new page at this moment, starting from the 20th year of the Dark Gate to the end of the 25th year of the Dark Gate, and the history of the Scourge of the Dead came to an end in this great migration.

Like at the end of a lot of stories... History has turned a new page.