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(A/N: Chapter 98 will soon be on Patreon!)
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(Now back to the story!)
It was hell. That was the only way to describe what had become of the human capital of Alterac.
Large sections of the city had mutated into horrific masses of flesh filled with eyes, jagged mouths lined with teeth, writhing tentacles, and countless other grotesque aberrations.
Due to the extensive weakening of the Veil, the city's Warp saturation had also reached an extremely dangerous level, and reality itself had begun to lose its grip on the surrounding space.
The greatest evidence of this was the fact that the interior of the city had become vastly larger than it should have been, with entire sections resembling landscapes torn directly from the Realm of Chaos itself.
There were swamps overflowing with pestilence, blood-red fields stretching endlessly into the distance, areas that beckoned intruders with eerie temptations and pleasures of every kind, and buildings that constantly shifted and changed shape before one's eyes.
The conditions were so catastrophic that even powerful heroes would not last long before succumbing to the overwhelming corruption and transforming into horrific monsters in service to the fel gods.
The reason Alastor and his team remained safe—and more importantly, sane—was due to their specialized protections: blessed armaments, unique abilities, and immense willpower.
Despite their superhuman capabilities, Alastor and his team had been traveling continuously for more than three hours at the very least.
Part of that was because they were keeping themselves hidden and avoiding unnecessary confrontations, but another major factor was the distorted space within the city caused by the rampant Warp energies weakening reality itself.
Under such circumstances, Mario had proven nothing short of a godsend.
Thanks to his skill as a master rogue, assassin, and spymaster, he was able to quickly guide the group through areas he recognized from before Alterac's corruption.
Even in unfamiliar territory, he only needed a few moments to determine an optimal path forward.
Because of this, while the group had still been forced to fight and kill their way through several dangerous areas, they had never once become overwhelmed by enemy numbers due to their constant movement and ability to avoid detection.
Everyone knew that even with their anti-detection countermeasures, the sheer amount of corrupted Warp energy saturating the city meant it would not take long for enemy forces to pinpoint their location if they remained in one place for too long.
"We've most likely entered the inner districts and are close to the castello—and our target. Just a bit further, my friends."
Mario called out while running at the front of the group, his unsheathed sword still stained with blood from previous battles.
They were currently crossing a field of crimson-red sand when Alastor noticed something unusual about Brann and asked with concern,
"Brann, are you alright?"
"Hah... hah... I'm fine, Alastor. Just not used to journeys like this. I might be an explorer, but this is the first time I've traveled through the closest equivalent to Hell."
Brann had no problem admitting that despite the natural resilience of dwarves and his own considerable skills, he was perhaps the "weakest" member of the current group.
Alastor's power needed no explanation.
Malfurion was the first and strongest druid.
Uther was the leader of the Knights of the Silver Hand and a Saint of the Light.
And then there was Turalyon, despite originally being a priest before becoming a paladin, was also an incredibly formidable warrior and an even more gifted practitioner of the Holy Light's supportive applications.
In fact, Alonsus himself believed Turalyon would soon earn recognition from the Light and ascend to sainthood as well.
Mario had once served as the Kingdom of Alterac's spymaster—a legendary rogue and a deadly combatant whenever the situation demanded it.
Compared to such individuals, Brann felt his thoughts were perfectly reasonable.
Still, he knew his own strengths and limitations.
One of those strengths was his skill in forging and craftsmanship, which was precisely why he carried the incredibly important responsibility of planting and arming the mana bomb needed to destroy the ritual maintaining the Warp portal.
"Lord Brann, we're close to the portal now. Just a little farther," Turalyon called out while running beside Uther.
"After we overcome this final hurdle, we can banish this blasted corruption back to where it came from and purify what remains."
Uther also added his own reassurance.
"Just focus on blowing that site to kingdom come and leave holding back the enemy to us."
"Hahaha! Will do!" Brann laughed loudly. "But after this, I'm definitely drowning myself in a dozen barrels of ale! In fact, if we make it out alive, I'm inviting all of you to drink with me."
Brann's optimistic declaration caused the group to smile...
...all except Alastor, whose expression suddenly blanked at the mention of the one "foe" he still could not overcome to this day.
Alcohol.
He was a man capable of fighting armies and monstrous daemons. Like the other Primarchs, his body possessed incredible resistance to poisons and toxins.
And yet, for some utterly incomprehensible reason, he had an absolutely abysmal alcohol tolerance!
By his second cup, he would already begin swaying.
By the third, he would pass out completely drunk.
How...?
BLOODY FRAKING HELL, HOW!?
He had examined his body through both scientific and magical means countless times, yet he had never been able to uncover the reason behind this bizarre weakness.
Was this some kind of cosmic joke created by a deranged deity!?
(A/N: Hehe.)
'Who said that!?'
Alastor instantly looked around while extending his psionic senses in every direction, yet he found absolutely nothing.
Still, he could have sworn someone had just mockingly laughed at him.
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Unfortunately, that was where their relatively smooth progress came to an end.
The moment the group left the blood-red field and entered another district filled with ruined buildings, their instincts screamed in warning.
Then came the sound of crushing stone and the sudden, ominous chill in the air.
Alastor and Malfurion were the first to react as they noticed a massive tidal wave of ice and frost surging toward them, crushing buildings and other structures in its path.
The two exchanged a single glance and immediately understood each other without words.
Malfurion leapt in front of the group and summoned massive trees and thick roots that wrapped around them like a protective dome.
At the same time, Alastor's eyes ignited with sacred flames as blazing wings erupted from his back, launching him into the air.
Gathering his strength, he unleashed a raging tidal wave of fire directly against the incoming glacial assault.
The two attacks collided violently, creating a devastating shockwave that flattened the surrounding buildings and cracked the ground beneath them for more than a hundred meters, while the opposing elements struggled to annihilate one another.
Malfurion's protective dome shielded the others from the destruction as, eventually, both attacks cancelled each other out.
Once the storm subsided, Malfurion dismissed the dome.
"We might have a problem..." Mario muttered with a frown, already suspecting who had launched the attack.
"Very much so," Malfurion replied darkly.
And it wasn't just him.
The others also tensed as more than a dozen figures soon emerged from the ruined streets before stopping directly in front of them.
At their center stood Arthas, surrounded by over a dozen Death Knights.
The moment Uther saw him, his expression darkened with fury.
"I should have expected you would attempt something like this," Arthas said coldly. "You were always the sentimental type, Alastor. Always wanting to end the fighting as quickly as possible."
"How did you know we were here, Fallen Prince?" Malfurion questioned sharply.
They had taken extensive precautions to ensure they remained undetected, yet they had been discovered the moment they neared their objective.
"Let's just say my blade has taken quite an interest in my old friend here," Arthas replied while resting a hand on Frostmourne's hilt. "Or more specifically, it's interested in seeing him dead."
Alastor's eyes widened slightly as he realized that Frostmourne could sense his presence or rather the presence of his sacred flames.
He'd unintentionally compromised the mission!
But more than that, he once again felt the same deep revulsion whenever he looked at Frostmourne.
Apparently, the feeling was mutual.
"My friend is long gone."
Arthas smirked mockingly.
"I'm hurt, Alastor. To think you would say something like that, especially when you're practically confirmed to become my brother-in-law."
"Surprised? Information travels easily down south through our "special" channels, especially when it concerns one of the kingdom's most widespread rumors."
"Honestly, I should have expected it. My elder sister always did seem a bit too eager to spread her legs for you."
"Speaking of her... perhaps I should pay Calia a long-overdue visit after this."
"I'm sure she'd be overjoyed to see me right before I tear her spine out."
That did it.
Powerful waves of heat exploded outward as a cloak of sacred fire engulfed Alastor's body.
The murderous look in his eyes caused even the surrounding Death Knights to tense.
"Malfurion..." Alastor spoke in a dangerously calm tone. "Take the others to the portal and complete the objective."
"While I deal with this piece of shit once and for all."
The others' eyes widened immediately as they tried to object, only for Alastor to cut them off sharply.
"Enough! That is an order from the Supreme Commander of the Alliance."
Then his tone softened slightly, though his gaze never left Arthas.
"This mission is too important. Every minute we waste means more brave souls dying in a war no one ever asked for."
"Uther... I know you want to stay, but please."
"I swear I'll avenge the scars and humiliation he dealt you back at Lordaeron, so leave this to me."
Uther hesitated while staring at Arthas.
Eventually, however, his expression hardened with resolve as he gave a firm nod.
"I shall obey the Commander's orders."
The others also suppressed their hesitation and steeled themselves.
Turalyon looked at Alastor one final time before turning to follow the others.
"Don't die... You have too many people waiting for you."
Alastor did not look back, but he gave a slight nod.
That alone was enough for Turalyon before he hurried after the rest of the group.
Arthas frowned as he watched them escape.
"After them!"
The undead knights moved instantly—
—but Alastor swung his arm to the side, and a colossal wall of sacred flames erupted behind him.
The blazing inferno stretched far into the distance, cutting off all pursuit.
"Your opponent is me."
Arthas sneered.
"Arrogant to the very end. Do you truly think you can stop all of us?"
"Even now, the other forces within the city are becoming aware of your presence. They'll arrive soon enough."
Alastor answered with a cold smirk.
"Let me tell you something, Arthas."
"Since the beginning of this war, I've fought while simultaneously leading the Alliance forces. And because I serve as the Alliance's Supreme Commander, I've constantly been forced to fight while surrounded by bodyguards and strategic constraints."
"I've also been maintaining a psychic spell I created—Battle Meditation—to empower my forces across the battlefield."
"But doing so placed a continuous strain on me and prevented me from fighting at my absolute best."
Arthas suddenly felt a chill crawl down his spine.
Impossible as that should have been with his Undead body.
Immediately sensing danger, he ordered all of his Death Knights to attack at once.
"But now..." Alastor continued.
"...I'm behind enemy lines."
"And inside this city, I no longer need to maintain that spell."
"So now... I can fight you with EVERYTHING!"
Alastor thrust out his hand in a claw-like motion.
Six Death Knights were instantly seized by invisible psionic force before being violently crushed in midair.
A moment later, sacred flames erupted from within their shattered armor, consuming them entirely.
The remaining Death Knights charged him—
—and Alastor vanished in a blur of speed.
He appeared behind the nearest Death Knight with his flaming sword already drawn.
The undead warrior was sliced cleanly in half vertically before bursting into sacred fire.
Despite his massive Primarch physique, Alastor moved with impossible speed, weaving through the battlefield like a blazing phantom as he butchered every Death Knight reckless enough to approach him.
Finally, he hurled a spear formed entirely of sacred flames at the last remaining knight.
The blazing projectile pierced straight through the undead warrior, instantly incinerating its corrupted body while purifying and freeing the trapped soul within—just as he had done for the others.
At last, Alastor raised his burning sword and pointed it directly at Arthas.
"You shall not pass!"
"This.....is between you and me now."
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