A whirlwind suddenly blew through the battlefield, rolling up dry blades of grass and fine branches. Beneath the foliage of the sky, the Forsaken of the New Legion are charging to the death.

The recruits had no intention of conserving their strength, and started with a frantic sprint, as if their goal was not to win, but to die. At first, the rhythmic, neat footsteps of the soldiers could be heard, but after a few breaths, the sounds gradually mixed together and became a rumbling sound. The entire battlefield echoed with the sound of heavy trampling of the ground, like rolling thunder, deafening.

At this moment, Varimathas was looking down at the battlefield with great vigour, his eyes full of mockery and contempt. Although the situation was beyond his expectations, Sylvanas actually turned over and recaptured the Undercity, but now it seems that this reckless woman actually hit his head and gave him a chance to kill himself, which is simply stupid. Because for the undead army, the combat power is proportional to the number, and the difference in number is nearly three times, he really can't imagine where the Banshee King still has a chance to turn around.

He glanced at the black-clad enemy like a dark cloud, turned to the apothecary beside him, and said, "Since those fools are in a hurry to die, then grant their wishes!" ”

As he spoke, with a wave of his right hand, he ordered the rebels to start the battle.

The first to start was the meat grinder at the back of the queue, and with the sound of the "buzzing" noose collapsing, the rotten corpse fragments were thrown towards the new legion like a shotgun, splashing blood-colored waves in the crowd. Immediately afterward, the Legion's casters and archers began to attack, rusty arrows and colorful magic whizzing across the sky and falling into the crowd like a scythe of death.

But the new regiment rushed too fast, and by the time the meat grinder was still crunching and retightening the tightropes, they had already crossed the line of the battlefield.

In the rear of the rebels, the purple flag slowly leaned straight ahead, which was a signal for the attack. It is worth mentioning that because this rebellion happened so suddenly, both for both the enemy and the enemy, the rebels' flags did not even have time to be replaced, and the flag was still embroidered with the Broken Face badge representing the Queen. For the first time in the history of Azeroth's war, the two sides of the battle were under the same banner.

"Forward!" The rebel officers shouted loudly. Unlike the new legions, these rebels were distinctly well-trained, lowered their swords and spears, and began to march forward, from slow to running, to galloping, and then advancing at a terrible pace, uncontrollable like an avalanche, and the earth groaned and trembled at their feet.

Two waves that are also gray-black collided head-on, making a huge sound of "tom" that made people feel tight, and the soldiers who rushed to the front row were instantly swallowed by the huge waves formed by the swinging limbs and armor fragments, but the follow-up soldiers did not mean to stop at all, they shouted forward and followed, fiercely impacted, without fear, never retreating.

In just a dozen seconds, the battle entered a white heat. On the battle line of the dogs' teeth, thousands of people fought fiercely together, bones and flesh collided violently, swords and spears collided wildly, and the magic of both sides continued to fall from the sky, like rain hitting the beach, creating patches of blood-colored pits in the crowd.

The entire front was like a whirlpool of death, swallowing into the "life" that had died once, and then spitting out clumps of broken arms and stumps. But even so, the follow-up troops were still rushing forward, painting this dense vortex with a thick blood.

The two forces collided, and at the beginning, the two sides were still evenly matched. The morale of the new legionnaires made up for their lack of training and equipment, and they fought the rebels fearlessly, with courage as their weapon and faith as their armor. They don't care about the rain of arrows above their heads, the sharp spears in front of them, and the magic that thunders down from time to time. Thousands of spears, pitchforks, and scythes, swinging wildly, pushing forward, they were red-eyed, frantically slashing at anything that stood in their way, even with kicks, shoulders, heads to slam into them, and they even dared to meet the sharp spears with their mutilated bodies, and even if they were pierced, they would swing the final blow before they fell.

Gradually, however, the situation inevitably shifted to the side of the rebels. Because one side of the battle was well-dressed and armed with sharp weapons, while the other side was so badly armoured that it was difficult to hide from the body, and some even had only a layer of animal skins to protect themselves, the stubborn new legionnaires often could not hurt the other's fur, despite their best efforts. Pitchforks, scythes, or sticks with nails nailed, bounced back at the touch of the steel armor, as if they had hit rocks and walls. The rebels' razor-sharp weapons can easily pierce their chests and chop their bones apart. Their persistence and efforts were in vain, and the desperate bloody battle only delayed the time when defeat came.

The rebels' superiority in equipment and training gradually became apparent, and they began to occupy the wind, and the thick array was like a 10,000-ton boulder rolling down from a high mountain, advancing heavily and unstoppably. The left flank of the new legion began to retreat first, then the right flank, and in the end, the company could not stand it, and although all the warriors were fighting bravely, they were already beginning to panic, and the shadow of defeat hung over everyone's hearts.

In the rear of the rebels, the Dreadlord watched contentedly as the rebels rolled forward slowly and unstoppably, smirking smugly, while the Apothecary stood hunched over him, wagging his tail like a pug with a broken spine, chattering flattery.

"What a thunderous blow, your soldiers have already gained the upper hand, and victory is at hand!"

"You are the only one who should be the rightful ruler of the Undercity, it's ridiculous that these people are not trying to resist in vain, and they are simply killing themselves!"

The apothecary touted it so vigorously not only because of the fear of the Demon King's sycophancy, but also because he was looking for a way out: the Royal Apothecary Guild that remained in the Undercity seemed to be unlucky, and he had to find a new master for himself. It is unlikely that he will return to the Banshee King, but it seems that being a loyal lackey to Varymathas seems to be a way out, after all, it is impossible for the demon to rule the Forsaken on his own, whether it is racial or linguistic differences, it will be an obstacle to domination, and in the end, it will depend on dogs like him.

Although he was a master of playing with his mind, and every bit of the pharmacist's intentions were clearly understood by him, this did not prevent Varimasas from closing his eyes slightly, enjoying his flattery, until the pharmacist's mouth was dry and there was nothing to say, he opened his eyes and waved his hand as if he were driving away the flies around him.

"It's time to reap the fruits of victory! Order the reserves, go into battle! ”

Little did he realize that he was on his way to hell.

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