The verdant forest, ravaged by the undead Scourge, was tinged with a grayish-white, and the air was filled with a scent of decay.
high elves were not particularly fond of natural forests; elves who revered the arcane preferred to live in cities.
Only high elves who focused on combat skills, with magic as an auxiliary, truly liked natural forests, perhaps a legacy from their distant relatives, the night elves.
Sylvanas actually had a younger brother, but like her parents, he died in battle during the Second orc War when their lands were invaded.
Returning to this sorrowful place, she had been on edge. If the Warsong Clan hadn't been Arthas' personal guard, she would have used any means to drown these filthy orcs in a cesspit.
In the distance, a twenty-meter-tall marble statue was visible, a lifelike female elf ranger, one hand holding a bow, the other drawing the string.
"Sylvanas, whose statue is that?"
Sylvanas' eyes fell into a memory, her voice cold and mournful.
"My mother was Lireesa. She was a pioneer of the ranger Corps and our pride."
"It's just that she sacrificed herself during the Second orc War, and afterward, I took over the position of ranger-general."
Perhaps this was the reason for her low spirits; seeing her homeland destroyed and defiled, it would be unnatural for her to be happy.
Suddenly, a roar came from ahead, and a powerful arcane aura gathered in that direction.
"Die, you ugly monsters!"
A magic arrow streaked across the sky, and the arcane storm attached to it lifted all the undead in its path, tearing them into pieces in mid-air.
This move was very flashy, but the greater its power, the longer the recovery time, making it impossible to fight again until she recuperated.
"Arcane Shot? That's Vereesa! Arthas, go to Windrunner Spire; my sister is there."
Sylvanas didn't know when her sister had returned. Despite her concern, she used her Eagle Eye spell to confirm the location and situation, and only after ensuring there were no traps or ambushes did she plead.
"Stay close to me."
Arthas charged forward, leading the way.
This time, he wasn't just blindly slashing; he had learned to use skills to clear enemies. While hacking with a real sword felt more satisfying, before he had cleaving attacks, it lacked the thrill of mowing down foes.
Fel in his left hand, Holy Light in his right, occasionally summoning a Infernal, his main goal was just to have fun.
When a paladin stops talking about Holy Light and starts playing with Fel, you should know that your demise is near.
In the distance, below Windrunner Spire, numerous wooden barricades blocked the entrance.
On the high platform, several elf rangers retaliated with bows and arrows against the besieging undead from above. Occasionally, screeching gargoyles would swoop low, snatching a random unlucky elf and tearing them apart in the air.
Facing disorganized stragglers without a leader was already so difficult; one could imagine how they were routed by the charge of the undead Scourge.
"No, sister!"
"Damn it! Damn it!"
Vereesa angrily drew her bow and fired, but she was still somewhat weak after just unleashing her powerful spell.
The arrow struck the ghoul's head precisely but failed to kill it. The ghoul paused for a moment, then pounded the crumbling barricade even more ferociously.
Finally, the moment the barricade was breached, the weary warriors inside immediately raised their shields and stepped forward, behind them were terrified elf civilians.
After continuous fighting and inadequate rest, coupled with the fact that while elves are long-lived, their physiques are not particularly outstanding, they were now at their limit.
They didn't last long before these high elf warriors were overwhelmed. The ghouls rushed towards the terrified civilians, unleashing a bloodbath and screams.
When Arthas arrived, only a few rangers were still desperately holding on, on the verge of exhaustion and death.
Vereesa's eyes widened, watching a claw stop less than ten centimeters from her face in mid-air. The lingering fear of brushing with death still pounded within her.
As the ghoul was cut down, she saw a handsome human swiftly dispatching the undead with his blade.
"Little sister!"
"Sister!"
The two sisters, covered in blood, embraced. After the slaughter of life and death, only those who survived truly understood the preciousness of family.
"~Sob~sob, they're all dead, my sisters are all dead. And many warriors died covering the civilians."
"Civilian casualties were heavy. We tried to ask Silvermoon City for help, but they, ~sob , they actually locked the gates, letting our compatriots outside be torn apart by the undead."
"We could only hide, returning to Windrunner Spire to rest, but we never thought we'd still be discovered."
Vereesa sobbed, constantly choking back tears, recounting what had happened in broken sentences.
What was unexpected, however, was that Quel'Thalas had abandoned its people, solely to protect Silvermoon City from falling.
It was actually thanks to Sylvanas not being there, with no one to contend with the undead Scourge, that they were able to advance unopposed.
Banehollow's goal was the Sunwell, to resurrect Kel'Thuzad using the Sunwell, and incidentally summon The Legion demons to join the battle.
Why not use the Sunwell to summon high-ranking demons, like Archimonde?
Because the more powerful the demon, the more stringent the summoning conditions, and the Sunwell could not meet the summoning requirements.
The advantage was that he could drain the last essence of the Sunwell, summoning lower-tier demons as cannon fodder.
Especially the low-level Felhounds, which fed on arcane mana, they were a great weapon against mages!
Ordinary warriors could cut them down in a few blows, but a mage's magic had no effect on them; instead, it would be devoured, causing the mana within the mage to burn, leading to an excruciating death.
In the campaign story, if Sylvanas hadn't blocked Arthas from going to the Sunwell, the high elves wouldn't have suffered so terribly.
Her repeated obstructions caused The Scourge to lose the initiative. After Silvermoon City had time to prepare, the sneak attack turned into an all-out assault, which is also why Arthas slaughtered half the elves and turned her into a banshee.
Arthas didn't pay much attention to Vereesa; instead, a mischievous idea formed in his mind.
Since Silvermoon City wouldn't accept these civilians, why shouldn't he persuade them to come to his own territory?
They were abandoned anyway; it would be perfectly reasonable for them to flee and seek their own survival!
It wasn't that he was infatuated with their beauty, most high elves were handsome men and beautiful women, but rather that elves lived long enough and had rich experience in many professions, which could enrich the development of his territory and earn him more money.
"Arthas, can these elves still be saved?"
Sylvanas looked up, tear streaks on her cheeks. The usually strong ranger-general was on the verge of breaking down after witnessing her homeland shattered and her subordinates dying tragically.
Vereesa looked at Arthas curiously. When had the prince of Lordaeron grown up?
And she was also very puzzled: the people were already dead, could they really be brought back to life?