Gross's arm was brutally smashed by Kilrogg's mace-like scepter, but instead of stopping due to pain, the giant beast directly swung its broken arm, slamming Kilrogg into the ground.
Even with a resilient undead body, Kilrogg felt the world around him shake violently, and he was disoriented for a while. Just as he was dizzy, Gross raised his giant foot, burning with Fel Flames, intending to stomp Kilrogg into a pulp.
Fortunately, the undead servants Kilrogg summoned swarmed from all directions, clinging to Gross's front leg and detonating the necromantic energy within their bodies.
A series of undead explosions caused Gross's massive body to stagger. After the black smoke emanating from the necromantic energy dispersed, Gross's front leg had completely vanished, leaving only a stump corrupted by plague and dark energy.
Gross, unbalanced, swung his arms, trying to repel the surging undead, but his attacks couldn't cover his vast body. In a flash, the giant beast was covered in roaring undead creatures.
Fel Flames continuously burned the decaying bodies of the undead. Unfortunately, these Fel Flames, which mortals would avoid, couldn't instantly destroy the undead's ability to move. Instead, they incited the ferocity of the undead creatures, who frantically gnawed at Gross's charred flesh and skin, leaving behind one stinking, festering wound after another.
Even though he had become numb to pain after years of constant burning by Fel Flames, these decaying, festering wounds still caused Gross intense discomfort. This made his body constantly tremble, wanting to shake off the undead on him, or further activate the Fel Flames on him, wanting to turn all the undead into ash.
But the gradually dying undead refused to fall off. Before completely losing their threat, the undead creatures directly detonated the energy within their bodies, making their corpses their final weapons.
Under the continuous explosions of dark energy, Gross's body was already tottering, and by this time, Kilrogg had long since recovered. The moment Gross's body couldn't support itself and leaned forward to fall, he rushed onto the demon's body, burning with Fel Flames, like black lightning.
The scorching Fel Flames caused Kilrogg's expression to twist unconsciously, but amidst his distorted features, a joyful smile emerged.
With the scepter's impact, Gross let out a wail. His massive skull cracked inch by inch until it shattered completely into lifeless fragments, falling like rolling stones to the ground.
The life of this giant beast was completely ended by Kilrogg. The orc let out a deafening roar with a wide grin, "Destroy all enemies in our way, Scourge, attack!"
Without Gross's obstruction, the Scourge once again charged the demon's lines. Around the positions, spells and explosions continuously lit up.
Ogrim came to Kilrogg's side, looking at the blisters and charring on him from the high temperature, "Well done."
Slaying a powerful demon whose destructive power was comparable to a demon lord was something only a rare expert within the Scourge could achieve, and the target of the slaughter being these demons made Ogrim feel even more exhilarated.
The tragic fate of the orc race originated from the schemes of the Burning Legion. Although Ogrim always lamented that he couldn't personally take Gul'dan's head, routing the Burning Legion was a satisfying revenge for him.
The same was true for other orcs; whether alive or dead, their hatred for demons would never change.
"With this giant beast out of the way, we'll be able to breach the Eye of the Legion's defenses in a few more hours at most."
Ogrim looked at the battlefield, analyzing the current situation, and this analysis made it clear to any discerning person that the scales of victory were steadily tilting in their favor.
Such a signal was enough to be exhilarating, but as one of the Scourge's commanders, Ogrim did not relax just because victory seemed within reach.
"I always feel like something isn't right..."
"What else could be wrong? The demons are being led by the nose by us. We seized the initiative, and their current decline was already predetermined."
Kilrogg sat down on the ground indifferently, beginning to mend his injuries. While filling his wounds with dark energy, he also said, "We have already destroyed the Legion's fleet, the Legion's portals, and even the Legion's armory has been taken by us. Aside from the Legion's supreme commander, their war machine has almost completely stalled. What will they use to win this war now? A few powerful demon lords?"
Kilrogg's words were absolutely correct. The Burning Legion's effective strength on Argus was almost depleted. Although it seemed that demon forces were still continuously pouring out of small portals everywhere, without the command of the Legion's War Council, these demons were nothing more than a disorganized rabble and not difficult to deal with.
"You're right, old friend, but war always requires caution. The Legion's downfall was precisely due to carelessness."
Ogrim did not deny Kilrogg's view. Even if he was critical, he had to admit that the allied forces indeed held an absolute advantage; Antorus's military strength was no longer enough to resist them.
The naxxanar above them was firing incessantly, and it wouldn't be long before it completely pierced the Eye of the Legion fortress's defensive barrier. Once the Legion's lines collapsed, Ogrim was confident that the Scourge's army, pushing deep, would take down the Legion's War Council.
They already knew that one member of the council had died at the hands of that Windrunner Ranger-General. The remaining two demon lords were already struggling alone. It seemed they couldn't always manage the Legion's vast command system.
Ogrim could deeply understand the feeling of having a seemingly powerful army under his command that was actually on the brink of collapse, because the Old Horde's war in the Eastern Kingdoms was like that too.
It seemed the orcs had swept through most of the Alliance's kingdoms, and many nations had even fallen due to the orcish advance, but the final result was the Old Horde's complete defeat.
Ogrim laughed self-deprecatingly. What use was thinking about these things now? He was now also fighting for Azeroth, or rather, for all those who had suffered persecution from the Burning Legion.
Draenor, that once beautiful planet, had also become a desolate place like Argus.
Ogrim could not forget the plains of Nagrand, just as he could not forget the shattered Outland—and now, he at least had an opportunity, an opportunity to take revenge on the Burning Legion.
In this regard, he was very grateful to Arthas.
The relentless war in Antorus seemed to have no effect on the Burning Throne; the Dark Lord's sanctuary remained as desolate and cold as ever, the only sound being the footsteps of the iron-forged Guardian.
But behind the dull thud of clashing steel footsteps, an incessant murmur was hidden.
"Ah… damn it, sister, these Titans are as stubborn as rocks in a Hellhounds' latrine!"
The Fel andcress Priestess, with her fiery red skin, cursed her work under her breath—a first in tens of thousands of years. The reason was simple: this torture, which originally required slow, meticulous effort, was being forced to accelerate by their master's demands.
The spirits of the Titans also seemed to realize this, so no matter how much the Coven of Witches intensified their torment, these souls remained completely unmoved, save for their instinctive cries of pain.
Much less achieving Sargeras's goal: to completely subdue these proud Titans and make them loyal adherents of the Dark Pantheon.
Facing the torment of Sargeras's loyal followers, the Titans remained silent, enduring the agony like unyielding stones. This lack of reaction from their victims particularly annoyed the four Fel andcress Witches.
They should have had infinite time to slowly torment these lofty gods, but the current situation was grim. Their master demanded they break the Titans' will as quickly as possible, to reshape them into Dark Titans.
Yet, in these tens of thousands of years, they had only succeeded once: with Aggramar, the Destroyer Titan, who now guarded the core hall of the sanctuary.
But that was an exception among exceptions. The Fel andcress Witches found it difficult to replicate Aggramar's fall; it was the confluence of many factors that had broken Aggramar's will, making him submit to Sargeras's wishes amidst chaos.
However, the other gods of the Pantheon were not so easily tamed. At least, the Fel andcress Witches believed they still needed time to subdue these proud gods.
Ice crystals condensed in the hands of Tyma, Mother of Shadows. As she used a cold capable of freezing a vacuum to numb the Titans' souls, she urged, "Nora, complain less. If we can't fulfill our master's command, then we are no different from those useless creatures outside."
"Don't even mention those fools! They were beaten senseless by a bunch of mortals and still expect our master to clean up their mess!"
Nora gritted her teeth in anger, quickly unleashing her fury upon the Titan's soul. This Fel andcress Witch, extremely skilled in manipulating flames and high temperatures, violently plunged her longsword, burning with crimson flames, into Gorgana's soul-form. The demonic flames immediately coiled around Gorgana's soul like a persistent disease, causing the Titan to periodically let out horrific wails.
Sphrackse's earlier arrival had interrupted the Witches' work, allowing the Titans a brief respite, which was why Nora had been so furious at the time, even wanting to directly burn a Legion Commander to ashes.
Fortunately, her sisters had stopped Nora in time; otherwise, losing another member of the Council of Commanders would only hasten the Legion's defeat.
They had no need to shoulder that responsibility. Their most important task now was to break the Titans' will and turn them into Sargeras's loyal hounds.
"And those Nathrezim… Hmph, I've long known what schemes they were plotting behind our backs, but our master mercifully spared them from death—I wish I could catch one of those damned bats and stuff him into a torture device!"
Nora brought up the betrayal of the Nathrezim again, regretting that she hadn't seized the opportunity to capture a few of those damned Dreadlords to make them emit some pleasant screams.
"Enough, Nora, focus on breaking these Titans' spirits. Don't keep our master waiting!"
Suraya, Mother of the Cosmos, interrupted her sisters' chatter. They continued their rotations, using various forms of magic and rituals to torment the Titans' wills.
The Titans could only helplessly endure the horrific torment. They constantly suffered the pain of searing flames, yet felt no warmth due to the cold released by Tyma. All beautiful memories were destroyed and ravaged by the Coven of Witches. The Coven of Witches tore out all their memories from their long lives, then violently crammed into their minds images of how the Legion had destroyed the worlds protected by the Titans.
And many more grotesque forms of punishment and torture awaited the Titans. In addition to their souls being ravaged and eroded by the Coven of Witches' magic, their sanity and consciousness would also be disintegrated by the Fel andcress Witches themselves. No matter how powerful the Titans were, their surrender would only be a matter of time.
But now, the four tormented Titans rallied their spirits. Although their consciousness was chaotic and blurry, and they didn't even know how much time had passed, they could sense that the Witches were becoming increasingly agitated, which indicated that something was forcing them to speed up.
They didn't know if it was an order from their rebellious brother, but the sudden change in their prolonged torment also represented a glimmer of hope—even if similar methods of torture had occurred before, where the Coven of Witches created various illusions of rescue, only to then personally destroy those beautiful fantasies.
Just as the wails and suffering of the gods echoed through the hall, a destructive aura swept through the entire hall like a storm, even affecting the Witches' magic.
However, this time, they did not show the impatience they had when Sphrackse arrived. Instead, they unanimously stopped their work and looked at the phantom that appeared above the secret chamber.
"How is the progress?"
The towering metal giant ignored the four weakened Titans in the secret chamber. His eyes burned with flames of vengeance and anger, and his metallic body was covered in cracks and scars, appearing like a fragmented corpse pieced together. Yet, such a scarred body was as majestic as a star.
The reborn Destroyer Titan, Aggramar, had actually left the core of the sanctuary he guarded, and this usually only meant one thing: he brought Sargeras's decree.
"We have exhausted all means, but this still requires time."
Suraya respectfully answered Aggramar's question. Although Aggramar had been resurrected, as the first Titan resurrected by Sargeras, there were inevitably some issues. They were unsure how much of his self remained, but they knew that Aggramar's every word and action were closely tied to Sargeras's will.
One could even consider Aggramar as Sargeras's spokesman; in situations where Sargeras did not appear in person, seeing Aggramar was equivalent to seeing Sargeras.
The Fel andcress Witches' answer evidently did not satisfy Aggramar, but the Titan showed no anger. He merely raised his hand indifferently and seized a Titan's soul from the secret chamber.
"Continue your work."
As Aggramar departed, the Fel andcress Witches remained silent, only resuming their various torments upon the Titans. However, with one less target to "attend" to, the remaining three Titans had to endure a significantly more concentrated barrage of attacks.
As for the Titan who was taken away, the Fel andcress Witches did not want to ponder his fate—perhaps the soul of Aman'Thul, Father of the Gods, was due for some special treatment from his brother.
"Damn you, undead, go back to the world of the dead!"
Erodus roared, his voice thick with magic and sound waves, tearing through everything around him, even distorting and shaking space itself.
The first wave of undead soldiers that rushed into the hall was ripped to shreds by the roar, their scattered body parts making for a gruesome sight.
But this did not deter the Scourge forces that followed; they stepped over the corpses of the previous wave and charged directly towards the Legion's command hall.
At this moment, Erodus and Sphrackse stood behind the last remaining demon guard; they had already decided to abandon the uppermost command hall, the place from which orders were issued to the entire universe's demon Legion, and now they clearly had no further use for it.
Waiting for death while guarding useless instruments was not the Council of Commanders' style; after destroying all instruments that might be invaded or misused by the allied forces, they directly led their personal guards to block the lowest elevator door.
Both Eredar knew very well that this was their final battle; no matter how glorious their past achievements and history, in the face of the Scourge's surging, wave-after-wave offensive, they no longer held any meaning.
All they could do was pour all their killing skills into the fight, whether it was destructive spells that burned everything or powerful physiques that could shatter mountains and crack stones.
The two commanders unleashed a storm of destruction on the battlefield, mercilessly devastating the surrounding enemies.
Unfortunately, the Scourge's offensive seemed endless; even if Erodus and Sphrackse tore apart countless undead soldiers, there were always new undead, fearless of death, to fill the gaps.
Initially, they had the leisure to thoroughly crush the undead's soulfire, preventing them from being resurrected by Necromancers again, but as their surrounding demon personal guards fell one by one, their defenses became stretched thin.
Even if killing a hundred undead soldiers only left one scar, the number of undead soldiers they faced was despair-inducing; these seemingly fragile cannon fodder undead were once weaklings the Legion didn't even bother with, but now, their vast numbers had become a death knell for the Legion's highest commanders.
And behind the sea of undead, high-ranking undead like Death Knights, Lichs, and other senior Scourge units and generals waited coldly for their strength to wane.
When Sphrackse and Erodus didn't even have time to crush the souls of the undead, the outcome of the battle was already sealed.
Soon, the heavily scarred Sphrackse was the first to be slammed into the ground by a massive Death Gronn; the berserk Gronn violently vented its rage, clutching Sphrackse in its hand and flinging her around like a doll.
Erodus was no better off; his refined fel iron armor, symbolizing authority, was severely damaged, and even the decorations on his shoulders had been Broken by the Death Knight's blade.
His massive body granted him immense strength, but it also made him a conspicuous target on the battlefield; countless necromantic spells and blades were aimed at him, and no matter how valiant Erodus was, after such a prolonged struggle, he was practically impaled with swords and spears.
Erodus's breathing gradually grew heavy, and his vision blurred; he could no longer distinguish whether the liquid obscuring his eyes was his own blood or the ichor from the undead.
But in his blurry vision, he saw a bald Orc on a tall horse slowly approaching him.
He wanted to swing his arms, to tear apart the opponent's body with his fel energy-stained claws, but his hands, which could usually easily smash steel and rip apart giant beasts, were now too heavy to lift.
Erodus stumbled forward, using his last ounce of strength to avoid kneeling before Ogrim.
But Ogrim had no intention of letting Erodus stand firm; the black warhammer swung mercilessly and swiftly across Erodus's cheek, accompanied by a sickening crunch of bones and splashing blood, Ogrim's heavy hammer almost caved in Erodus's face.
The impact on his brain caused Erodus to completely lose consciousness, his eyes rolling back as he fell unconscious.
Ogrim watched the last general of the Council of Commanders fall. "Don't kill them. Their souls have other uses."
The Necromancer nearby quickly calmed the berserk Death Gronn and then commanded the undead to swarm forward, pulling Sphrackse from the Gronn's hand.
At this point, one of Sphrackse's wings was missing, the bones in her limbs were completely shattered, and countless other bones in her body were Broken, but the powerful vitality of a demon kept her conscious, despite being covered in blood and injuries.
But only her consciousness remained; in her current state, let alone resisting, she could barely move a single finger.
The Gronn roughly picked up the two Legion commanders, tasked with transporting them back to the naxxanar.
"Finally, these demons are completely routed."
A smile appeared on Ogrim's face for the first time; with the defeat of the Legion commanders, the leaderless demons could only fight independently, and without unified orders, these demons would even infight due to conflicting opinions.
Under such circumstances, the demon lines collapsed at an unimaginable speed, and most areas within Antorus were almost entirely occupied by the Scourge or the allied forces.
The allied forces began to clear out the remaining demons within Antorus and pave the way for subsequent reinforcements; when the last demon in Antorus fell, the routed demons were forced to abandon the fortress and flee in all directions towards the Antoran Wastes.
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The next task was for the outer allied Legion and the local Broken resistance; they would use their familiarity with the terrain to hunt down high-ranking officers or other valuable targets among the fleeing demons, one by one, to prevent them from reorganizing an offensive that could threaten the allied forces after escaping to other parts of Argus.
Ogrim had his subordinates restart the elevator that had been disabled by the Council of Commanders; as the magical engine hummed once more, the steel hall resumed operation from its deathly silence.
Leaning on his warhammer, he took the elevator to the top of the fel energy spire, which was the true location of the Eye of the Legion.
The top floor of the fel energy spire was a grand hall, serving both as the Council of Commanders' meeting room and their command platform; however, the communication devices that could connect to all realms had now been destroyed by Erodus and Sphrackse, leaving only things that wouldn't be useful for a while.
Scourge technicians had already set up here, attempting to decipher demon engineering technology, but Ogrim came only to find a place with better signal to contact his superior.
As the communication crystal lit up, Arthas's image appeared in the hall; all Scourge members, upon seeing the Lich King's figure, immediately stopped their work, saluted him, and then returned to their posts.
"Well done, Ogrim, we now have complete control of the outer perimeter of Antorus."
Although Arthas congratulated Ogrim on his victory, his expression showed little joy; while the fortress and armories of Antorus had completely fallen into their hands, the true core had not yet been reached.
And the Nathrezim's warning indicated that Sargeras was brewing some new conspiracy; they had no time to celebrate victory and had to immediately find a way to break into the true core of Antorus, which was the Dark Titan's temple.