The Worgen—a mobile disaster that would ravage the Kingdom of Gilneas ten thousand years later—originated from Druids of the Pack who could not control the fury within their hearts.
These unnaturally produced creatures were incredibly troublesome. Although their transformation was incomplete, they indeed possessed a portion of the powers of Goldrinn, the Wolf God. Not only was their individual strength formidable, but their coordination with one another was also seamless. The worst part was the Worgen curse they spread.
Every Night Elf bitten by a Worgen would be infected by the virus, forcibly mutating into a Worgen within a very short time. In this era, neither humans nor the Kingdom of Gilneas existed, nor did the alchemical cure they would eventually develop to allow Worgen to retain their sanity.
Hundreds of Worgen darted between the lines of both sides. Although many were killed by the Satyrs and Night Elves respectively, the number of Night Elves infected by the virus far exceeded the original number of Worgen. Within just half an hour, the number of infected Worgen reached over a thousand.
Because they shared the same source of natural energy, Druids were more susceptible to the Worgen curse. In contrast, the Satyrs, who wielded Fel energy, remained unaffected by the virus.
This situation caught the attention of the cunning Satyr leader, Xavarian. He ordered his subordinates to stop killing the Worgen for the time being and instead risk their lives to herd them toward the Night Elf positions.
Xavarian's devious scheme yielded significant results, causing the spread of the Worgen to accelerate further. By the time a frantic Malfurion began to deal with the crisis, their numbers had already exceeded 2,000.
Feron gazed from a distance at his mentor, Fandral, who was struggling to subdue the charging Worgen. Frowning deeply, he turned to Andreas.
"My Lord, what do we do? Do we charge in directly to break the siege?"
"No," Andreas replied, rubbing his chin in thought. "We have many Druids among us as well. The Worgen infection doesn't seem to affect Satyrs, so joining the fray recklessly might have the opposite effect."
Lifting his head to survey the surrounding terrain, Andreas pointed toward the distinct junction of the gorges in the distance and asked Delier, "Can you teleport us to the side near Frostwhisper Gorge? we will launch a pincer attack on the Satyrs from the rear and cut off their path of retreat."
Delier observed the distance and thought for a moment before nodding. "A short-range teleport for twenty thousand people shouldn't be an issue. However, the raging elements on the battlefield might interfere with our precision; we might not land exactly at the exit of Frostwhisper Gorge."
"That's enough. Just as long as you don't teleport us into the ground or a cliffside."
Thanks to the Shadow Mist Andreas had cast over the entire group, the three warring factions remained unaware of the Moonshadow's Rest army despite its proximity.
The fuming Tyrande, having received the reports, was still on her way. Because of years of accumulated resentment, the Highborne Arcanists had refused to teleport Tyrande and her personal guard, citing reasons such as shift changes or malfunctions in the teleportation tower system. Enraged, Tyrande made a mental note of the Highborne's betrayal at this critical moment; given her vengeful nature, retaliatory actions were likely imminent.
At the junction of the Gorge of Sothann and Frostwhisper Gorge, a large teleportation circle appeared on the ground as pale blue Arcane light flashed. A small group of Satyrs at the rear noticed the Arcane fluctuations and turned in surprise to investigate, but these "early birds" immediately had their heads severed by shadows appearing beside them.
Prisim's rogue squad was not yet fully formed; the ones striking now were the combat priestess units led by Naisha.
More and more Moonshadow's Rest soldiers emerged from the teleportation array. Andreas, riding a snow-white unicorn that Leticia had found from who-knows-where, stood at the very front of the formation.
The Satyr vanguard was joyfully guiding the Worgen to assault the Druid defense lines, leaving them completely caught off guard by the army suddenly appearing behind them. They didn't even have time to turn around and establish a rear defense.
Andreas unsheathed the Blade of the Black Empire from his weapon belt, leveled it toward the Satyr position, and shouted his command.
"Charge! Break their rear lines and annihilate every Satyr!"
"Roar!"
An earth-shaking war cry echoed across the battlefield. Warriors carrying eagle shields and one-handed weapons charged in the lead. As soon as they entered range, they collectively activated their Charge skill against the Satyr rear. The impact of the heavy-armored warriors crashing into the Satyr lines triggered a wave of panicked screams.
Being overconfident in their ability to tie down the Sentinel forces, the Satyrs were severely lacking in rear defenses. The Moonshadow's Rest army plunged deep into the center of the Satyr formation like a knife through cake.
Although Andreas could have fought more freely by shifting into animal forms, he remained mounted on the swift white unicorn to bolster morale. He brandished a sword in his left hand and a staff in his right while galloping across the field. After charging for a while, he realized the Blade of the Black Empire was too short to deal sufficient damage from horseback.
Andreas promptly sheathed the one-handed sword. From the Tear of Elune atop the Staff of G'Hanir, a sharp blade of energy extended, transforming it into a polearm-like weapon with a spiked head. The energy blade triggered by the Tear of Elune was indestructible; the unarmored Satyrs were sliced through as easily as paper.
Amidst the chaotic battlefield, the sudden charge from behind by the Moonshadow's Rest army shattered the Satyrs' hard-won morale. Andreas took the lead, charging straight toward the largest black-furred Satyr in the center.
The unicorn looked magnificent, but its only real traits were its speed and the breakthrough power generated by its kinetic energy; it could not use magic or fly. Andreas handled the defensive work while mounted, enveloping himself and the horse in a translucent purple-black shield. Ordinary stray arrows could not penetrate his defenses.
Just like the former Highborne society, Satyrs were highly stratified. The tall Satyrs standing in the center with expressions of amused onlookers were undoubtedly the high-ranking members of their race.
The sudden assault caused significant distress to Xavarian. He hadn't expected his rear to be ambushed by an army appearing out of thin air.
Before the final barricade, the unicorn leaped high. While mid-air, Andreas aimed his "spear" at the most prominent grey-furred Satyr.
"Minions of demons! This world does not belong to you. Vanish!"
Boom!
The spear, thrown with great force, struck heavily in front of the wartime headquarters where Xavarian and the others were located. The rising dust obscured the bloody scenes occurring within.
Andreas's Staff of G'Hanir—assembled from a sprig of the Mother Tree G'Hanir and the Pillar of Creation known as the Tear of Elune—possessed an inherently high ceiling of power. Although Andreas still didn't dare fully activate the Tear of Elune, a divine artifact was still a divine artifact. Even used solely as a mana amplification device, the Tear of Elune was incredibly effective.
As the staff hit the ground, it triggered an energy explosion within a ten-meter radius. Satyrs who failed to react in time were blown into countless pieces by the energy blast, spraying blood everywhere.
"Junior! You dare charge straight into my central camp? You are too arrogant!"
An angry shout came from above Andreas. Reflexively, he drew the Blade of the Black Empire and slashed upward. With a crisp sound like metal clashing, Andreas blocked a claw strike launched by Xavarian's razor-sharp nails.
"Heh~"
The unicorn beneath him bore the pressure, its body sinking slightly. Shadow energy erupted from Andreas's hand, forcing the startled Xavarian to fly backward.
"Xavarian, loyal servant of Xavius. Do you still fail to see reality?"
Under the watchful eyes of the wary Xavarian, the unicorn stepped beside the Staff of G'Hanir embedded in the ground. The scattered internal organs and bodily remains around him made Andreas feel slightly nauseous.
Schwing.
He pulled the blood-stained staff from the ground, the reappearing energy blade pointing toward the dark-faced Xavarian.
"The world has changed, and so has the era. You are no longer the protagonists of this world. Exit the stage of history gracefully!"