As Andreas led his personal guard in a strike against the enemy headquarters, the army of Moonshadow's Rest let out a majestic war cry. Taking advantage of the Satyrs' attention being fixed forward, they sliced into the weak rear lines with the precision of a sharp scalpel.
Even though this contingent of Satyrs led by Xavarian consisted of the most elite soldiers of their race, being caught in a pincer attack from both front and back threw them into temporary chaos. Furthermore, with their commanders—Xavarian and his inner circle—stunned by Andreas's sudden commando assault, the leaderless Satyr army began to show signs of collapse within a short time.
Had it not been for the Worgen inadvertently interfering by charging into the Druid defensive lines, the Night Elves might have ended the battle then and there.
The Satyr "bait" units, who had intended to lure the Worgen into attacking the Druids, were also having a difficult time. Having suddenly lost support from the rear, those who had broken into the Druid formation found themselves completely isolated. With a disciplined formation of Druids eyeing them from the front and packs of relentless Worgen pursuing them from behind, most Satyrs in this desperate situation lost the light of hope in their eyes.
Though Malfurion and the others didn't know exactly what was happening at the Satyr rear, this sudden turn of events reignited hope for those who had been exhausted by juggling the simultaneous attacks of both Worgen and Satyrs.
The Druids might have lacked offensive power, but their "jack-of-all-trades" style allowed them to perform exceptionally well in support, healing, and defense, providing them with great defensive resilience. Malfurion deliberately arranged for a small group of Druids to lead the Worgen into a relatively narrow valley. Thickets of brambles and vines grew wildly under his command, trapping the Worgen within the canyon with no way to escape.
Meanwhile, the Druids acting as bait transformed into Stormcrows and took to the skies. The Worgen stared up at the soaring crows, baring their fangs and howling fiercely to vent the rage in their hearts.
With their morale shattered, the scattered charges of the Satyrs could no longer place much pressure on the Night Elf defense lines. Malfurion and the others shifted more of their attention to the Worgen; after all, these mutated Druids were once their fellow kin.
...
As the situation on the main battlefield gradually became clear, Naisha, Nawaz, Delier, and the others caught up and arrived at Andreas's side. They stood in a standoff against the former Azshara advisory group led by Xavarian.
Although the Satyrs couldn't see any shadows, Andreas knew that Prisim was also lurking nearby, ready to launch a fatal strike on any negligent Satyr at any moment.
Xavarian, after all, had been one of Azshara's key advisors. Having participated in the Night Elves' wars against the Trolls, he could tell at a glance that the current situation was irrecoverable. However, Xavarian had no intention of simply giving up. Having endured hardships for hundreds of years before launching this massive full-scale attack, he could not accept that the failure originated from his own end.
To escape the battlefield and regroup for a future comeback, Xavarian had to lead his remaining elite subordinates to carve a blood-soaked path out of the encirclement. Andreas and his group were the first stumbling blocks to their successful withdrawal.
Confident in his own strength, Xavarian signaled to his subordinates to engage and pin down Andreas' followers. He intended to use Andreas, the commanding general, as his breakthrough point.
"Heh~"
Andreas immediately understood Xavarian's plan upon seeing the change in their formation. He leaped down from his unicorn, allowing the intelligent creature to withdraw from the combat zone on its own. Holding a sword in his left hand and a staff in his right, he assumed a combat stance against Xavarian.
To avoid further complications, Xavarian struck first. His glowing green claws sliced through the air with a piercing whistle. He decided to test Andreas's combat abilities in a melee engagement first.
Although he had never faced a Satyr head-on before, Andreas had a strange expression on his face as he met Xavarian's overconfident close-quarters assault.
Even though hundreds of years had passed and Xavarian had clearly practiced his melee skills to some extent, he had, after all, been a pure Arcanist in the past. In Andreas's eyes, those wildly flailing claws were no different from a "brawler's punch," merely an attempt to use raw speed to mask openings that were visible everywhere.
Hum~
Catching the exact moment Xavarian's claws separated and left his center wide open, the Blade of the Black Empire in Andreas's left hand cut into the opening without a moment's delay.
Andreas was not a formally trained warrior, and in his non-transformed state, his strength was not particularly high. However, this strike, which perfectly grasped the timing, made Xavarian incredibly uncomfortable. His claws had just moved apart due to his shifting technique, and he could only watch helplessly as this slightly curved, strangely shaped longsword drove straight toward his chest, beyond the reach of his own limbs.
At the critical moment, a flash of inspiration struck Xavarian's mind. He lowered his head, using his curved, ram-like horns to block the path of the Blade of the Black Empire.
This response surprised Andreas somewhat, but he immediately followed up by swinging the Staff of G'Hanir, bolstered by its energy blade.
Although he had barely managed to block the first round of attacks by lowering his head, Xavarian's field of vision had narrowed because of the movement. The incredibly sharp light-blade sliced off his left horn before Xavarian could even raise his head to dodge.
"Ugh!"
Grunting in pain, Xavarian hurriedly retreated. His hands snapped back from their open position, crossing guardedly in front of his chest in a defensive posture.
Xavarian, having outsmarted himself, felt a surge of secret rage. Cunning brat... holding a staff and wearing robes to look like a mage, yet his melee skills are so outstanding. This guy is definitely not a pure caster!
Xavarian began to channel the Fel energy throughout his body to cast a spell. Suddenly, three medium-sized meteors with green flaming tails appeared in the sky.
Boom!
Upon hitting the ground, the meteors rapidly shifted form as three Infernals crawled out of the craters they had created.
"Shadow Claw!"
Andreas's clear voice rang out from the side of an Infernal. A massive black hand, roughly the same size as the five-meter-tall construct, gripped one of the Infernals tightly. After a tooth-grinding crunching sound, the newly formed Infernal was crushed into a pile of rubble by the giant claw, its Fel core completely destroyed.
Facing mindless constructs like Infernals, the mind-altering properties of Shadow magic were useless, so Andreas chose to employ spells that delivered direct destructive power.
Infernals were the Burning Legion's favorite cheap siege constructs. Through the caster's summoning, they could appear anywhere on the battlefield, simultaneously dealing a blow to the defenders' morale and physical lines. As veterans of the War of the Ancients, the soldiers of Moonshadow's Rest were not rookies; these low-level Infernals did not frighten them.
Andreas quickly reduced the three Infernals to piles of useless stone in short order. Xavarian's expression turned grim; he hadn't expected the siege weapons that had played such a massive role during the War of the Ancients to be so pathetic.
Without the massive portals to the Twisting Nether, any demon exceeding a certain level of power could not enter Azeroth in their true form—Infernals were no exception. The versions Xavarian summoned were merely low-tier, "budget" versions. For the experienced Andreas, crushing them was all too easy.
What exactly is this kid's class? A Spellblade? Proficient in both melee and spells... what a nuisance!
"Is that it? Have any other tricks? Feel free to use them."
From the corner of his eye, Andreas spotted a black panther stealthily approaching. He intentionally feigned ignorance, using a calm expression and provocative words to keep Xavarian's attention fixed on him.
Xavarian grinned maliciously with hatred. "Since you're seeking death, don't blame me."
"Summon! Doomguard!"
Andreas rolled his eyes as he watched Xavarian raise a purple soulstone high. A Warlock? What a waste of your original Arcane talent...