Chapter 140: The Great Battle-Arcane Mage of Azeroth(Aunt Liu)

My father-in-law, Bold Windrunner, observed the elves bustling about and remarked to Patrick, "Planning for retreat before a battle has even begun is hardly a sound command."

Patrick replied, "How do you view these creatures currently advancing upon Quel'Thalas, Father-in-law?"

Bold Windrunner pondered for a moment before reasoning slowly, "I do not believe any creature in all of Azeroth would dare assault Quel'Thalas directly, especially not in a frontal attack. Countless souls who sought to attack Ban'dinoriel have ultimately been reduced to nothing more than refined arcane energy."

The elder hit the nail on the head: "It is highly probable that these unknown creatures are not native to Azeroth. They are likely those same visitors from another world who destroyed the Kingdom of Stormwind. Based on information received by the Council, reports from our scouts at the front lines indicate that these unidentified beings marching on Quel'Thalas are indeed those very marauders."

Patrick humbly responded, "You are right, Father-in-law. Our estimation of the enemy's strength requires adjustment."

The elder was pleased by Patrick's demeanor. "Perhaps your decision is correct; a full-scale offensive only after gaining a complete understanding of the enemy's strength is a reasonable course of action. Go now. War is the stage for the young, and this time, it shall be left to you."

From beginning to end, Bold Windrunner remained filled with confidence in the martial capabilities of Quel'Thalas. Perhaps it was precisely this complacency that led to the capital being pushed to the very gates of the Ban'dinoriel shield during the Second War.

Patrick deployed half of his elite forces. Even Lorn Flowsong, the intelligence chief, led his troops onto the battlefield, accompanied by Higgins El'Cabalon, the commander of the floating city's guards.

Guided by "Big Cat" Reh'ba, almost every elf in the Observer organization had begun to offer sacrifices to him. With nothing more than simple provisions and common arcane materials, the Lynx Spirit would grant a mark that, when activated, significantly enhanced attack speed and reflexes. Renowned for their agility, the Lynx Spirit's influence on movement and swiftness was beyond question, providing a substantial boost to all rogues and warriors blessed by it.

The expeditionary force was ready. Patrick led a large mixed contingent of rangers and mages out of the floating city to take up positions on the ground, where the vast army of the Orcish Horde could already be seen looming in the distance.

...

In the distance, Orgrim also spotted something in the sky; from afar, it appeared as if a city were floating above the clouds. For a moment, even Orgrim was astonished by the miracle the elves had created with their so-called magic.

As the main army drew closer, the Warchief could faintly discern some of the local creatures waiting for the Horde's arrival.

"Gul'dan," Orgrim called to his lieutenant, the warlock whose apprentices he had slaughtered and whose influence he had largely curtailed. "Can you understand their native tongue?"

Gul'dan bowed slightly. "I can manage to understand some of it. Medivh provided me with data on all the peoples of this continent, including the languages of these natives."

Orgrim pointed toward the distant elven lines and asked his temporary advisor, "Can you understand what they are saying? Why are these creatures gathered here in such a prepared manner?"

Gul'dan replied, "Warchief, they are merely uttering common curses; there is no need to concern yourself with them. We have come to the northernmost part of the continent to conquer them—why waste thought on such trivial matters?"

"Very well. Then there is nothing left to say." Orgrim drew his legendary weapon, the Doomhammer, as white mist puffed from his nostrils. "Lok'tar ogar! People of the Horde, follow me and attack!"

"Lok'tar ogar!"

The surrounding orcs echoed the cry. This ancient Orcish phrase was a time-honored tradition of their race.

Patrick’s senses were already spread across the surroundings, his psychic filaments reaching everywhere. Hearing that familiar Orcish declaration of war, Patrick responded immediately: "Engage!"

The rangers had already drawn their bows, ready to strike at the signal. All the elves could see that these green-skinned, tusked creatures were ill-intentioned. Coupled with the trolls' harassment during the grand wedding ceremony, every elf suspected that the trolls had allied with these unknown beings to invade the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas.

Alleria served as the battlefield commander. When it came to commanding ranger units, her experience was beyond anything Patrick could claim.

Alleria’s commands were decisive. Instantly deciphering the enemy's tactical intent and the weaknesses of their formation, she watched the orcish infantry charging toward them and ordered, "Arcane Shot! Aim for the warriors in the front rank! Break their charge! Fire!"

Meanwhile, Patrick hovered forward, directly blocking Orgrim’s path of advance.

Seeing a scrawny native creature blocking his way, Orgrim prepared his signature charging strike—a move that had seen countless human soldiers prove its devastating power with their own blood. He did not believe this small native could withstand it. With a look of disdain, Orgrim whispered to himself, "Die."

Watching the orc surge toward him, Patrick deployed his most proficient energy barrier, imbued with spatial suppression, intending to deflect a full blow from the Doomhammer.

[No, dodge! The force of his attack is wrong—your judgment is flawed!] Alan noticed something amiss and issued an immediate warning.

Heeding the alert, Patrick did not hesitate to use Blink to vanish from the spot. When the Doomhammer struck the space where his arcane shield had been, the friction generated sparks, and the immense power colliding with the spatial suppression created a hissing sound, as if glass were cracking.

"Legendary? How can he be a legendary warrior?" Patrick wondered to himself.

[His attack power has indeed reached the legendary level, but his personal tier remains at the ninth level. The world's will is currently intact; breaking the shackles of power to reach the legendary realm is not so easy. Although the restrictions will gradually lift in a few years, Orgrim is currently still a ninth-level warrior.]

"He can produce legendary-level damage with ninth-level capability?"

[It appears so. You had best guard against the combined effect of his charge and strike. The force is immense; even a legendary mage might not be able to withstand it head-on.]

"Damn it..." Patrick cursed internally. Orgrim was known as a cunning orcish warrior; he had never expected such overwhelming offensive power. In the Horde, Orgrim was often called the "Backstabber," and Patrick had assumed that while his frontal assault might be strong...