Within the massive battlefield where hundreds of thousands of combatants were locked in a mutual slaughter, the squad led by Shandris was merely a small ripple in a vast ocean.
Yet, at certain specific moments, ripples gathered together can exert enough influence to affect the entire situation.
After Jarod issued the order for the general offensive, the Allied forces gradually suppressed the Burning Legion's fierce assault amidst sky-shaking battle cries that bolstered their morale.
Shandris was only a novice priestess of the Sisterhood of Elune; by rights, she was not qualified to lead troops alone. However, because Tyrande had unexpectedly overtaken the favorite, Maiev, to become the successor to the High Priestess, Shandris' status had undergone a subtle shift.
It is human nature to seek advantage and avoid harm, and even a religious organization like the Sisterhood of Elune was no exception. Recently, Shandris could clearly feel the change in attitude from the sisters around her. This kind of regard—born not of her own ability but of nepotism—made her feel somewhat unpleasant.
After Tyrande and Malfurion personally led the team to infiltrate Zin-Azshari, the leadership of the Sisterhood was temporarily handed over to Maiev. This iron-faced, impartial leader of the combat priestesses did not treat Shandris differently because of her special status. Although Maiev had reluctantly assigned a group of capable subordinates to Shandris' command due to Andreas' private request, she did not harbor much expectation for the seemingly immature Shandris.
Though Shandris lacked seniority, she had experienced things in this war against the Burning Legion that most people would find difficult to encounter in a lifetime. Having faced life-threatening perils multiple times, she had successfully navigated each crisis through her own efforts and those of her companions. To some extent, these crises were opportunities that fueled her rapid growth.
During the diplomatic mission to Pandaria, thanks to certain key knowledge Andreas had instilled in her beforehand, her outstanding performance won the approval of most, including the envoy Vota Moonscar.
For instance, right now, Shandris' squad no longer consisted solely of the combat priestesses assigned by Maiev. Dozens of Druids friendly to Shandris, such as Laenira, had met up with her team during the advancement and were now fighting side-by-side.
The Burning Legion's defensive line suffered heavy blows under the impact of the high-spirited Allied forces. The demon officers, who had previously hidden within the ranks to direct the troops, were forced to step forward and lead by example to bolster morale.
The Burning Legion had always respected the strong. If the commanders showed cowardice, their subordinates would naturally not give their all; after all, if the sky fell, the tall ones would be there to hold it up. Whether or not they survived this battle, officers who fought passively would certainly face a harsh reckoning when the final accounts were settled back in the Twisting Nether.
Having gone through a difficult diplomatic mission together, Laenira and Shandris had become close friends, and their coordination in battle was excellent. Laenira was a second-generation Druid specializing in Feral shapeshifting, her most proficient form being a swift and elusive black panther.
By coincidence, within the detachment of the Burning Legion they were facing, a familiar-looking Dreadlord was drifting in and out of a small area of the battlefield, cunningly harvesting the lives of Allied soldiers.
In her panther form, Laenira's fur bristled all over, and she bared her sharp fangs.
"Detheroc!"
The diplomatic mission had been ambushed multiple times by groups of Dreadlords in the mountains of Zuldazar. The claw mark on Laenira's face, which had yet to fade, was a "gift" from this large bat before her.
"Laenira, don't be impulsive. Observe the situation first." Shandris' gaze toward Detheroc was also ice-cold, but after the lesson of her previous hot-headedness—which led to an ambush and a severed arm—she had become much more cautious and calm.
Protected in the center by the combat priestesses, Leticia stood on her tiptoes from the rear, peeking curiously. However, this girl's body had not yet fully grown, and she couldn't see what was happening ahead through the wall of adults.
Leticia's clever eyes darted around, and Chu Stormstout felt a sudden shiver when he saw her gaze. As expected, his bad premonition came true. Leticia, the leader of their trio, pointed at him and said, "Fatty, go see what's happening."
The young Druid, Feron Zephyr, hesitated and advised, "Is that a good idea? This is a battlefield. Didn't Senior Andreas tell us to follow Priestess Feathermoon's arrangements?"
"Hmph~" Leticia glanced at this "coward." "Don't you want to achieve something and make your mentor proud of you?"
"Uh, I do, but..."
"No 'buts'. Go, little fatty. Use your agile moves to scout for information for us."
"Sigh... I understand."
Shandris and Laenira were entirely unaware of the conversation between the three youngsters. While killing demons, they did not forget to monitor the situation around Detheroc.
After watching for a while, Shandris still couldn't reach a conclusion. "It doesn't look like a trap. Should we make a move?"
Laenira wasn't like Shandris, who liked to calculate gains and losses before a fight. Eager for revenge, she simply growled, "Go! We must take him down this time!"
Before Shandris could stop her, the panther that Laenira had transformed into suddenly activated Prowl and vanished from the spot. Even her footsteps were hard to hear amidst the noisy battlefield.
"Still so impulsive..." Shandris shook her head helplessly, her eyes growing sharp as she raised her bow and aimed at Detheroc. "But though the words are blunt, the logic is sound. We have to go head-to-head with him sooner or later. Since we have no choice, we might as well strike first!"
Detheroc held no low status among the Nathrezim. Aside from Tichondrius, the leader of the race, only a few high-ranking members like Varimathras, Balnazzar, Mal'Ganis, and Mephistroth stood as his equals.
As veterans of the Burning Legion, the Nathrezim were the race that interpreted chaos and cunning most vividly. They would even trick their own kin; in their view, if you were deceived, you only had your own stupidity to blame.
As Kil'jaeden's most trusted lieutenant, Tichondrius had held the position of racial leader for many years without any sign of wavering. However, after the humiliating experience of being easily slaughtered by a "mere" mortal—almost failing to let his soul escape—Detheroc, Balnazzar, and the others had privately gloated quite a bit.
Originally, Detheroc thought that fighting alongside Archimonde, who had taken the field personally, would be as easy as conquering countless planets in the past. But the combat power and resilience of the Allied forces had shocked him.
Although they were far from deploying their full elite force, the Burning Legion's invasion of Azeroth had dispatched many fierce generals who had achieved illustrious military honors, and was led by none other than Archimonde the Defiler, one of the Triumvirate.
However, after entering the battlefield, the Defiler had been continuously besieged by the Wild Gods. Although he had killed several in the process of counterattacking, the enemy's momentum didn't seem to be heavily affected, as Demigods continued to step forward to fill the gaps without fear of death.
Archimonde was temporarily unable to break through the defensive line the Demigods had built with their lives. At least his safety was not a concern, but the Burning Legion's offensive was struggling to advance an inch under the resistance's tenacious defense. This forced Detheroc, who disliked frontal combat, to step out and lead by example.
Having just torn a Furbolg apart with his claws, a disturbance in the air behind him gave Detheroc a sudden sense of crisis. Following his instincts, he flung the half-corpse in his hand backward. The bright red blood sprayed into the air and bounced off an invisible object.
"Trivial tricks." Detheroc curled his lips into a cruel smile, his Fel-shrouded claws swinging toward the spot in the air where the blood had splattered.
Whiz!
A sharp whistling sound echoed as three arrows, flying in a triangular formation, aimed straight for Detheroc's back. This "attack the enemy to save an ally" maneuver forced the large bat to retract his attacking posture.
"Who dares to ambush me!"