Suddenly losing its speed advantage, Al'Akir's situation immediately turned dire. In a matter of seconds, it endured countless attacks. None of the heroes standing here were simpletons. The swarm of spells and weapon attacks left it utterly embarrassed.
It struggled to escape the slowing area of the Time Wall before finally regaining its freedom. But that move just now was simply impossible to defend against. Even though Al'Akir understood the effect of the Time Wall, it still didn't know how to detect it. Now, it no longer dared to charge recklessly.
Al'Akir gritted its teeth and shouted angrily, "Storm and Thunder, I command you to come to my side!"
Its body transformed into a gigantic vortex, and the sky turned dim. The air was filled with a suffocating pressure.
Previously, Jaina had also summoned a vortex, but compared to the one before them, its power was ordinary. As the Windlord, Al'Akir could summon the most powerful storm in the world!
Silver-white light flickered within the storm, and silver electric serpents writhed and twisted within, as if they were about to devour people.
However, having lost its speed advantage, Al'Akir was like a toothless tiger, its threat greatly reduced.
The heroes' endless shields and defensive spells gradually neutralized the storm and thunder, making the subsequent battle incredibly easy for them. After this outburst, Al'Akir became very weak. It put up a desperate struggle, but in the end, it failed to achieve any significant results.
Aiden summoned a huge sword of light from the sky, which descended from above and pierced through Al'Akir's head, which had been restrained, bringing this battle to an end.
Al'Akir shuddered all over, stiffened in place, and then trembled. Amidst a "wooing" sound like a low sob of the wind, the Windlord's entire body disintegrated, leaving only a final, unwilling voice echoing in the empty Throne of the Four Winds:
"After every storm, there is silence…"
---
With Al'Akir's death, the wind elements in the Skywall completely ceased their resistance. Of the four elemental planes, only the Firelands remained stubbornly resisting.
Ragnaros was a fiery-tempered being, as could be seen from his appearance. He generally didn't play any tricks or schemes, only using "force" to subdue people.
After the seals on the elemental planes were lifted, he immediately and aggressively set the flames towards Mount Hyjal. In the early stages of the war, his army once reached near the World Tree Nordrassil, almost completing the task that N'Zoth had given him.
It should be known that a year ago, Nordrassil had just encountered the greatest crisis it had faced in its ten thousand years of growth. At that time, the Nightmare Lord had already taken away much of its essence, and with the subsequent self-destruction, Nordrassil almost withered completely. Only the roots that had plunged into the Well of Eternity still maintained their vitality.
For the past year, the druids had spared no effort in casting natural spells to heal it, and now they had barely seen a glimmer of hope—a thin layer of new bark had grown on Nordrassil's original trunk, indicating that it was slowly recovering. As long as they continued to work hard, it would eventually be revitalized.
However, it was currently very fragile, like a newly planted seedling, unable to withstand even the slightest damage, otherwise, it might die completely. That would not only render the druids' efforts completely futile, but also be a huge loss for the whole world.
As long as the World Tree was still alive, it could continuously heal the wounds of the earth. Whether it was the trauma left by magic or fel energy, it would slowly recover under its subtle influence. And without it, the world would be prone to disasters, and the wounds that magic inflicted on the earth would be permanent.
Deathwing's decision to launch the Cataclysm at this time was also due to the fact that Nordrassil was at its weakest point.
Because the World Tree was so important, the Firelands' invasion at this time completely enraged the peace-loving druids. They awakened the sleeping turtle god Tortolla. After this giant turtle and its offspring joined the battlefield, the situation became increasingly unfavorable for Ragnaros.
Especially now that the druids had successively resurrected the wolf god Goldrinn, the raven goddess Aviana, the white stag Malorne, the wild boar Agamaggan, and other powerful ancient guardians, the enemy had already invaded the Firelands, and Ragnaros was incredibly frustrated.
In this situation, the Firelord, who originally disdained using tricks and schemes, had to use his brain.
Ragnaros was not a mindless guy. If he lacked wisdom, he could not have lived from hundreds of thousands of years ago to the present. Later, he really came up with a brilliant idea.
"Thaurissan, my servant, come here!" He called his chosen one and ordered him to do something.
---
As early as when the Nightmare Crisis occurred, the night elves had officially announced their joining the Alliance. So now Mount Hyjal not only had night elves but also other races of the Alliance. Especially in the early stages of the war, when the fire elemental army aggressively attacked here, High Priestess Tyrande specifically requested support from the Alliance.
At this time, seeing warriors of other races on Mount Hyjal was a very normal thing. Every night elf would give these people of other races a kind and grateful look.
In the past, they had never dealt with humans, dwarves, gnomes, or orcs, and their friendship with the tauren was limited to the multi-racial coalition during the War of the Ancients. Of course, they were grateful that these warriors were able to support Mount Hyjal regardless of their safety.
At this time, if a team of dwarven warriors appeared here, it would not surprise the night elves.
Today, there was such a team of Dark Iron dwarves, and they encountered a very tricky thing—their captain was burned by the flames of the powerful fire hawk Alysrazor in the battle on the Firelands front. The physicians on the front line were unable to heal such injuries, and the dwarves had no choice but to take their captain to Nordrassil to find a powerful druid for help.
The night elf sentries at each outpost saw the injuries of the Dark Iron dwarf who was being carried on a stretcher. The dwarf's body was severely burned, and the magical flames lingered on his body. He looked like he was burning, emitting bursts of heat to the surroundings. He was biting on a piece of hardwood, which was already covered with teeth marks. One could imagine the pain he was enduring, but he stubbornly endured without groaning in pain.
"What a man!" The night elf sentries were immediately in awe, not only letting them pass but also taking the initiative to send someone to escort them to Nordrassil.
Such serious injuries, and the magical effects on his body had not been dispelled, indeed only a grand druid or a high priestess like Tyrande could heal him.
In this way, the group successfully arrived at Nordrassil.
The sentry captain learned of their intention and immediately said, "I will report to the High Priestess immediately, please ask this dwarven warrior to be patient for a while!"
The injured Dark Iron dwarf on the stretcher twisted his expression. He nodded with difficulty and said vaguely, "Thank you."
The sentry captain turned around and rushed into the main hall. He would not see that, at the moment he turned around, a fierce light flashed in the eyes of the Dark Iron dwarf on the stretcher.
The elven sentries who had escorted them to Nordrassil had already left, and they were going back to their posts to continue their duties. Only a few Dark Iron dwarves were left here for the time being.
"Priestess, should we take action immediately?" A Dark Iron dwarf lowered his voice and asked.
"Wait a minute…" The Dark Iron dwarf on the stretcher whispered.
It was not that he was hesitating, but that he wanted to expand the results.
The withered Nordrassil was not far from him. As long as he wanted, he could completely destroy this tree at any time. Since he was already sure of success, he certainly wanted to go further.
The one who could "heal" him was either a grand druid or a high priestess. Among the night elves, those with these two titles were all highly respected. Especially High Priestess Tyrande, who was the co-ruler of the night elves.
As far as he knew, Grand Druid Malfurion was still on the front line in the Firelands, fighting alongside those ancient guardians. Only Tyrande and Broll Bearmantle who stayed here were qualified to heal him.
If it was the latter, killing him would not be a loss, but if it was the former—that would be a big win!
If Tyrande died, it was very likely that the entire situation in the Firelands would change drastically. Perhaps the predicament of his master Ragnaros would be solved.
This was a sure-win deal, how could he not be tempted?
---
At this time, inside the Temple of the Moon of the night elves, High Priestess Tyrande was meeting distinguished guests.
The visitor was Princess Moira of Ironforge. She brought the decision of the Council of Three Hammers of Ironforge: Because there were no wars in the Eastern Kingdoms for the time being, they would send more dwarven warriors to the front line of Mount Hyjal to participate in the war and assist their night elf allies.
Moira was a straightforward woman. Compared to Tyrande, who always maintained politeness and elegance, she was much more direct, even a little rude.
The female dwarves never knew what elegance was. Even the dwarven princess was so straightforward.
In fact, she had changed a lot. Before the Blackrock Mountain disaster happened, she was really a hot-tempered person. The word "gentle" did not exist in the dictionary of a female dwarf.
After her husband Dagran Thaurissan sacrificed himself to save his people, Moira, who led the Dark Iron dwarves back to Ironforge, was much stronger, and her temper had also converged a lot.
Now she was the leader of the Dark Iron dwarves and inherited her husband's surname, renamed Moira Thaurissan.
After that disaster, the Dark Iron dwarves were the weakest force in the Council of Three Hammers. Even so, the Bronzebeard dwarves and the Wildhammer dwarves still did not trust them very much. Although they formed the Council of Three Hammers to co-govern Ironforge, the Dark Iron dwarves' previous "black history" made the other two dwarven branches full of vigilance towards them.
Moira was well aware of this, and she knew that she could not be too public. For the sake of the Dark Iron dwarves, she had to keep a low profile.
But Moira was still the same woman who dared to love and hate, and was straightforward. The circumstances of reality would not change her.
At this time, the sentry captain came in and reported to the High Priestess Tyrande that there was a Dark Iron dwarven warrior outside who had been severely burned by Alysrazor's magic flames and requested treatment.
"Dark Iron dwarf?" Tyrande asked.
"Yes, he is really a man!"