When the ancient war song sounded, the Ember Bringer drank blood and roared.

One man and one sword, continuing to write the legend, continuing to write the elegy of the Northland, and continuing to write the last song of the heroic soul of Lordaeron.

In the brilliant golden light, Ares held his sword in both hands and jumped high, the holy light shining on him, like a blazing light, Ares jumped into the skeleton of the undead. The Ember Bringer lifted high and fell, a splash of light that swept through every inch of land around Ares. The undead, whether skeletons, zombies, ghouls, or crypt demons, all turned to ashes in an instant.

Ares felt a wave of vertigo as the endless energy filled his body. Soon, the world before him became clear again. His eyes burst out with dazzling golden light, and the holy light of his sword holding his hands floated, and he himself seemed to turn into a light and shadow.

Everything around, only darkness, only cold. It's like a lonely boat, fighting endlessly against the vast Black Sea.

The Scarlet Crusaders behind them were dragged farther and farther away, as if they had been centuries away from themselves. Ares could barely hear the shouts behind him, the Scarlet Crusaders, the Scarlet Fortress, only a vague floating shadow.

However, the Ember Bringer is still singing. It is iron-blooded, it is proud, there is no fear, there is no darkness, and no matter how huge the undead are, they instantly turn into flames and ashes in front of it.

For a moment, just a moment, Ares seemed to go back in time, to the bloody battle against the Scourge at the hands of Tyr. When an endless army of scourge descended on Lordaeron, the Scarlet Crusaders of the Hand of Tyr refused to retreat, vowing to live and die together with the city. They fought until they were impaled in the head by the Crypt Beetle and crushed by the Scourge Legion. At that time, the silver dawn came, and the army of the Scarlet Monastery came, and at that time, the immature paladin was among them. Yes, for a moment, Ares seemed to see his past self. Those childish eyes. At that time, the Ember Bringer had not yet been purified, and humanity could withstand the tide of the undead. Now that the Ember Messengers have been purified and the Alliance and Horde have formed the Northern Expeditionary Army, what else can stop the tide of history? The roar of abomination made Ares suddenly awaken, and clenched the greatsword in his hand, and the paladin swept out with all his might, the blazing golden light flashed, and the fat Abomination of the Scourge behind him was sliced in two. Large piles of carrion slipped from the abomination's upper body, and a foul-smelling poisonous gas spread out of the abomination's body.

For Lordaeron!

Faintly hearing the shouts of the Crusaders, Ares clenched the giant sword in his hand and continued to charge. The wind and snow hit him in the face, but it didn't seem to have any effect on him. He swiped his sword and slashed at an undead spider, his long hair dancing wildly, and stabbing at a zombie in a small sprint, the golden light flashing.

He is the Ember Bringer, and his name merges with the sword.

Through him, the Holy Light judges the sins of this world. Ares felt that countless heroic spirits had awakened, they were beside him, they were in the sky, the light turned red, the ground under the paladin's feet became a land of flames, and a large area of holy light fell from the sky, yes, like the fire of heaven, in the dark sky, a blazing pillar of light appeared. The flames poured down, and a large number of undead were instantly devoured and burned...... Around Ares, the souls of the dead wailed and the flames were everywhere.

In the distance, Bridget, who was riding on a blood-colored warhorse, couldn't help but shed tears of excitement when she saw this spectacular scene. The Ember Messenger is their legend, their spiritual pillar, and at this moment, he is truly back. Moreover, the power is a hundred times stronger than before.

"I feel ......"

The Ash Messenger was roaring, and thousands of miles away in the camp of the Alliance Expeditionary Force, Grand Prosecutor Whitemane suddenly felt a faint cramping pain in his heart. He got up and left the tent and looked out into the eastern sky. There, a crimson glow was floating in the dark night sky.

"Feel what?"

Sylvanas sensitively got up and asked.

"The Light, the Light is calling us."

Whitemayne stared and whispered. He leaned his staff, closed his eyes reverently, and a white light loomed over her cloak.

"You mean, in the east, the Light is coming?"

Sylvanas asked.

"Yes, the Light is guiding us."

This time, the Grand Prosecutor opened his eyes and replied in the affirmative.

While the two were talking, a dazzling golden light flashed from the sky in the dark night sky, and this time, everyone noticed......

……

The wind whipped up the snow, the snowflakes mixed with the blood and water rushed to his face, and in the crowd of the undead, Ares fought bloodily. The corpse of the undead of the natural disaster dragged the ground behind him, this unyielding resistance, this heroic charge, without hesitation, never retreating.

He had no reinforcements, no comrades, he fought alone and tirelessly.

In the darkness of the night, he was the only light.

In the dead land, he is the only hope.

The glory of the alliance is restored, and the heroic soul of the Knights lives on......

"In the name of the Light!"

Among the tens of thousands of undead, Ares swung his sword and roared.

Bloodstained Northlands......

No undead could stop him, and the power of the Light surged through his body, Gianna, Sylvanas, Jean, Varian...... Countless faces flashed before his eyes, and if the Ember Bringer fell, there would be no hope for Lordaeron, and the soldiers of the expeditionary force would be reduced to flesh and blood sacrifices, and they would be wiped out by the Lich King's army. Ares roared, and the light poured down on the rows of undead soldiers. Under that terrible cry, a holy flame was ignited in the bodies of the undead.

……

When he woke up again, Ares found himself lying in a field of white snow, with the snow eagle flapping its wings anxiously. Ares doesn't remember how he survived, and the last image he remembers was an endless army of scourge standing in front of him. The lich, whose skeleton was left with nothing but eerie bones, was cut in two by the Ashbringer's sword, and the bones were scattered everywhere. Immediately, countless ghouls pounced on him......

His messy thoughts were torn apart by the wind, and Ares found himself weak and tired after the battle. He was scarred all over his body, and although the knight's armor was a good piece of armor, it still looked dilapidated after countless zombies and ghouls gnawed it. Several wounds had clotted into blood scabs, crawling like bloodworms from hell.

The cold made Ares shiver, he had never been so weak afterward. The holy light has dissipated, and now I am no different from ordinary people, and the disease is spreading in my body. Ares knew that he needed another priest or paladin to heal him. He couldn't even lift his hands...... Fortunately, in the chaotic snow, a group of coalition cavalry was approaching, and the bright blue emblem on the banner was faintly appearing at the end of the line of sight......