Stormwind Wizard God
Chapter 681: Exodus

Chapter 681: Exodus

Of course, as a magnificent bastard—ahem, NO—as a gloriously benevolent Alliance hero, Duke would never be such a ruthless scoundrel as to keep this hidden for too long. When Magni finally hammered out the legendary Ashbringer, Duke would unveil his so-called "prophecy" with theatrical flourish and dispatch that treasure-obsessed madman Brann Bronzebeard on his wild goose chase, conveniently having him stumble through the frost dwarves’ frozen wasteland.

Besides, what Duke had acquired was Medivh’s entire bloody legacy, and since Medivh had transformed into a cryptic fortune-teller spouting riddles, nobody would dare question Duke’s dramatic prophecy performances.

If you can’t uncover this obvious setup, can you really blame me, Duke? innocent whistling

As the days crawled by with agonizing slowness, Duke began to wonder if the original timeline had been hurled off a cliff and shattered into a thousand screaming pieces.

On August 5th, in the 15th year after the Dark Portal tore reality a new one, the Horde finally assembled their ramshackle armada and began their treacherous sea crossing. Thrall, paranoid as a cat in a thunderstorm, remained on high alert against potential Alliance naval strikes. The cunning warchief ordered his forces to venture forth in carefully measured batches—roughly one-tenth of the Horde per wave. Each daily exodus was further divided into northern, central, and southern routes, minimizing the catastrophic potential of getting hopelessly lost at sea.

The elite Frostwolf Clan warriors held the rear guard with grim determination.

To Duke’s absolute bewilderment, it was Jaina who launched a completely unprovoked assault on the Horde fleet.

She secretly dispatched a war fleet to obliterate the Horde’s vessels, only to be discovered and thwarted by Duke’s intervention.

By the Light, this was spectacularly moronic behavior.

Throughout all of Earth’s blood-soaked history, every fool who dared fight on multiple fronts met their doom in the most gruesome fashion imaginable. The Scourge was already horrifying enough to make grown men soil themselves, and since the Alliance had failed to grind the Horde into fine powder during the past decade, attacking them now would be the height of strategic idiocy.

Duke was absolutely livid. In his desperate attempt to prevent Jaina and Thrall from developing some forbidden romantic entanglement, Duke had administered Jaina a powerful dose of reality in Tirisfal Glades. Now it appeared... the treatment had worked far too effectively.

When caught red-handed, Jaina whined with wounded indignation: "Those emerald-skinned savages are blocking our sacred path! We merely intended to intimidate them with a few warning shots!"

Jaina’s explanation contained a grain of twisted truth.

Had Duke permitted the Horde to traverse the western coastline of Southshore, perhaps this explosive confrontation could have been avoided. Unfortunately, the South Sea City-State Defense Line represented a strategic masterpiece that Duke had commanded Ilucia to construct over ten grueling years, specifically designed to combat the inevitable Scourge invasion. This fortified nail was meant to be driven deep into Lordaeron’s continental flesh, ensuring the undead hordes would bleed profusely. Naturally, allowing the Horde passage was absolutely impossible.

Duke also desperately needed the Scarlet Crusade to penetrate deeper into Lordaeron territory, rescuing as many civilians as possible from the former Kingdom of Lordaeron’s doomed lands. He could only surrender the North Coast route and grudgingly grant Southshore to the Horde.

Furthermore, route intersections were utterly unavoidable, especially when dealing with such massive transportation volumes—achieving frictionless operations was a pipe dream.

Immediately afterward, Jaina’s intimidating fleet materialized and forced the Horde transport vessels to halt dead in the water, her captains bellowing: "If you green-skinned vermin dare advance another nautical mile, we shall send you all to the ocean floor!"

This explosive news was swiftly carried to Southshore by the Horde’s loyal wyverns, and Thrall nearly leaped out of his own skin, frantically preparing to assault the North Coast in retaliation.

Duke only discovered this catastrophic mess when Thrall, trembling with barely contained terror, dispatched envoys to negotiate with virtually no hope of success.

"Ah! This particular emblem... that’s definitely Jaina’s fleet. Well, Miss Proudmoore narrowly escaped being butchered by orcs during her traumatic childhood, so she harbors an absolutely murderous hatred for the entire Horde. Since both our factions now face far more terrifying enemies, there’s absolutely no logical reason for warfare. Very well, I shall make every effort to restrain Miss Proudmoore’s bloodthirsty impulses, but should you encounter her emblem again, exercise extreme caution."

The honest and trustworthy young hero Duke declared with righteous conviction that he would control his subordinates, while simultaneously and decisively feeding Thrall a massive spoonful of psychological warfare—Beware of Jaina at all costs! Her hatred for the Horde burns with the intensity of a thousand suns! Should you fall into this merciless female demon’s clutches, prepare to be methodically dismembered into precisely eighteen pieces! Ah, the horror!

Duke, wallowing in his deliciously dark mood, spat with savage satisfaction: Let’s see if you dare pursue that ridiculous Beauty and the Beast romantic subplot in this lifetime! Even if you sold your own father and I refused the purchase, I absolutely will not permit your escape, Thrall. Do you still fantasize about soaring through the heavens while remaining earthbound? Keep dreaming your impossible dreams!

Duke’s response to the Horde envoy radiated such convincing sincerity that Thrall almost believed every word. He genuinely thought Duke was a wise, far-sighted hero who prioritized the greater good above petty conflicts.

Unfortunately, Grom Hellscream’s harsh words shattered Thrall’s naive illusions: "If Edmund Duke wasn’t the same bastard who personally dispatched millions of orcs to the deepest pits of hell, I might actually believe he possessed genuine sympathy for our people."

Absolutely correct!

Across the entire continent, when calculating the total number of tribal members killed directly or indirectly, Duke confidently claimed second place, and not a single soul dared claim first.

Honestly, Duke had no desire to show such kindness toward the Horde.

The accursed Scourge was spreading with such terrifying velocity that Duke could only eliminate the dangerous wild card of the Horde with maximum haste.

BEGONE!

GET OUT OF HERE IMMEDIATELY!

The faster you flee, the better for everyone involved!

Duke wasted no time with subtlety. The following day, he presented Thrall with a detailed map of the Scourge’s relentless advance and explained with brutal directness: "Either the Horde accelerates its migration to breakneck speed, or the Alliance declares total war against the Horde. We might not possess the strength to utterly destroy the Scourge, but we can absolutely annihilate the Horde despite our current perilous situation."

This time, Thrall believed every terrifying word.

Without hesitation or debate, he organized the most massive sea crossing in orcish history on August 8th, evacuating all remaining members in a single, desperate exodus.

On August 10th, devastating news arrived that Stromgarde had fallen for the second catastrophic time on the previous day, the 9th. Half the city’s defenders had been brutally slaughtered without mercy. Even the mighty King Galen Trollbane perished in the hopeless battle and was subsequently raised as one of the walking dead.

Naturally, the more widespread and humiliating account claimed that multiple Stromgarde royal guards had confirmed Galen’s cowardly surrender after the outer city walls were breached by the unstoppable Scourge.

Tragically for his legacy, the Scourge maintained their perfect record of executing every single person who surrendered, so they murdered Galen immediately, transforming him into a rotting undead monstrosity with barely any flesh clinging to his skull—a sight that absolutely ruined the city’s aesthetic appeal.

What a pathetic disappointment that Galen proved to be such a complete failure that he couldn’t even achieve the prestigious rank of Death Knight, instead becoming the weakest possible variety of shambling zombie warrior.

Only Duke possessed the knowledge that this miserable wretch would eventually become just another Forsaken wandering the Arathi Highlands.

When this shocking news spread, it triggered absolute pandemonium throughout the Alliance.

Duke released a weary sigh.

As the ancient wisdom proclaimed: leave others a path to survival so you might meet again in better circumstances. In the official Alliance records, following Duke’s careful modifications, it was announced that Galen had died heroically in battle. After all, a king who perished fighting courageously could far better inspire the survivors to resist the Scourge with unwavering determination.

On August 12th, the Scarlet Crusade’s main force finally arrived and established beachheads on Lordaeron’s northern coast and Whispering Coast, successfully opening the crucial third and fourth evacuation routes.

Simultaneously, just as the entire Arathi Highlands fell completely under undead occupation, even the stalwart Magni was forced to station his third brother Brann Bronzebeard at the strategic Thandol Bridge, desperately preventing the Scourge from launching a southern invasion. At this critical moment, every single major Scourge force vanished without a trace overnight.

"WHAT IN THE SEVEN HELLS? I haven’t spotted Arthas, Antonidas, or any high-ranking lich from the Cult of the Damned on any battlefield?" Duke exclaimed in absolute shock.