Though it was difficult to admit, the King had fallen in battle, more than half of their people had died or been injured, and with the onset of the Fel addiction, the army's combat effectiveness was directly halved.
At this time, opening a portal not only required several Grand Mages to maintain it, but also a sufficient amount of arcane power.
Focusing on Kael'thas, one could still see a state of continuously decaying arcane power, a symptom of losing the Sunwell's blessing.
He was relatively better off; having served as a councilor in Dalaran for many years, his reliance on the Sunwell wasn't as strong.
However, for other high elves who had lived in Silvermoon City for many years, the effect of decaying arcane power would only be more severe, an unsustainable drain.
Normally, the arcane power in the body would slowly recover over time, a very slow process, but at least noticeable.
If a Mage exhausted his arcane power today, after resting one night, his arcane power would recover by more than half the next day, this was natural recovery.
But it was not the case for the high elves; the constant decay of arcane power was nothing less than torture for a race immensely sensitive to it.
"We don't have enough arcane power to open a portal, and the undead are constantly harassing us. We don't have enough time to rest; we must resist the undead attacks at all times."
Unable to recover arcane power, and with it continuously decaying, yet still needing to expend arcane power to cast spells to resist the undead invasion, it was indeed difficult.
Arthas looked up and could still see many Mages holding crystals, drawing arcane power from them to replenish themselves.
There were many tools for storing arcane power, but there couldn't have been too many in stock, otherwise they wouldn't be going mad.
Just as he was about to speak, a commotion erupted in the distance.
A high elf Mage, unable to endure the depletion of arcane power, had gone mad!
He cast spells indiscriminately, killing many civilians on the spot with magic.
The guards swarmed forward to subdue him, numbly tied him up, and sent him away to be held.
"Is this…?"
Sylvanas had some inkling, but wasn't certain.
Kael'thas gave the ranger-general a deep look. Her performance in Lordareon Royal City that day undoubtedly confirmed that she would become a queen and leave the Sin'dorei people.
"That's right, the Wretched!"
"Prince Arthas, watch your words!"
Someone spoke up to stop him, but Kael'thas waved his hand.
"It's fine; our allies have the right to know our situation."
As if to clarify for others, he explained with a somewhat weary tone.
"Without the light of the Sunwell, we are falling into a state of arcane power decay. Some of our compatriots who cannot bear it will become Wretched, losing their sanity and turning into madmen and monsters."
"This situation is becoming more and more common. We can open a portal to leave, but we need your help to hold the line for a period to ensure the Mages can open the portal without interference."
"A powerful dreadlord has set its sights on us. Its abilities are very strange; it twists arcane energy and disrupts our spellcasting."
Ultimately, it was their powerlessness. Without a strong leader to anchor them, they were this helpless.
"Which demon, and where is it?"
"It's in Silvermoon City."
Arthas cast a scouting spell and, from a great distance, saw the high elf capital, now reduced to ruins.
Even the walls had exquisite carved patterns, pleasing to the eye.
Without magical enchantments, the high elves, with their long lifespans, simply enjoyed dabbling in these things to pass the time.
Now, this elegant embellishment was worthless; severed limbs and blood smeared the walls and streets.
Large numbers of demons roamed the city, catching isolated refugees and either devouring them whole or tearing them to shreds alive.
The screams only made these demon minions more excited. Twisting their necks amidst the enemy's cries, the cracking sound of bones was so beautiful!
In the central fountain, the once clear spring water had turned into foul, reeking green liquid. Many demons, after drinking it, grew larger and more bloodthirsty.
Behind the fountain was a four-legged monster, with Fel flames burning on its head, and a blood-red maw over a meter wide filled with sharp, elongated teeth, a familiar figure, the Pit Lord Mannoroth!
When he gazed into the abyss, the abyss also gazed into him.
As if sensing he was being watched, Mannoroth even made a throat-slitting gesture with his two-headed spear.
This was the first time such a situation had occurred; previously, it had always been silent.
The undead were marching further south, with only The Legion's demon minions remaining, a very strange division of labor.
However, Arthas' attention was not on Mannoroth, but on the female demon standing guard nearby, wearing a silken veil.
Six arms, about ten meters tall, her imposing physique did not make her appear bulky, but rather gave her an exceptionally robust beauty.
Her clothing was revealing, and she constantly danced provocatively, her beautiful face bearing a seductive smile, very alluring.
Males with insufficient self-control would likely be unable to move upon seeing her, utterly enchanted by this seductive harlot, becoming slaves without realizing it.
These female demons were called Succubi. Despite their flirtatious demeanor, their status within The Burning Legion was not low, even higher than that of dreadlords.
As loyal fangirls of Sargeras, their purpose was to spread The Burning Legion's influence.
They were either commanding officers on missions, or at the very least, adjutants, and their combat power was terrifyingly strong!
But in Arthas' eyes, they were nothing more than painted skeletons, though their figures were certainly captivating!
Mannoroth cast a Fel magic spell that formed a letter and casually tossed it over.
The alluring and seductive Succubus gracefully caught it. The scorching Fel flames did not burn her delicate fingers; instead, they seemed incredibly docile.
Suddenly, a magical bow and arrow appeared in her hand. She attached the letter to the arrow, drew the bow, and shot it out.
The arrow streaked through the sky, reaching the Alliance camp half a minute later.
Arthas collected himself and caught the arrow, feeling utterly astonished.
The distance from here to Silvermoon City was at least two hundred li; it was shot all the way here?
His high recovery ignored the Fel flames, instantly annihilating them.
The Fel letter burned, and a wild, hideous laugh emerged, speaking in the common tongue.
"Heheheh, you ugly mortals dare to spy on our existence, very good, very good!"
"Now, this Pit Lord gives you a chance. Come to Silvermoon City and defeat this Pit Lord, and you can leave safely."
"Otherwise, heheheh, you will all become slaves of The Legion!"
After hearing the Pit Lord's declaration of war, everyone fell silent.
The undead, who were still besieging them outside, actively retreated under mental control, forming a barrier on both sides, which was the path to Silvermoon City.
Beyond that, a large undead army was pressing down, blocking their retreat route and completely surrounding them.
Now, they had no choice but to fight a battle where the enemy was numerous and strong, and they were few and weak.
Kael'thas stumbled back a few steps in a panic. If his adjutant, Lor'themar, hadn't supported him, he probably would have fallen to the ground.
He would never forget that laugh, which had effortlessly torn through Silvermoon City's magical barrier, and how one person had single-handedly annihilated the magical corps formed by Silvermoon City's lords.
Summoning a rain of fire and Infernal, he destroyed more than half of Silvermoon City. One person, he could say, was an army!