Despite being pierced through, Gruul's powerful vitality allowed him to completely ignore the pain of his injuries; the terrible wound in his abdomen instead ignited his ferocity.
With his mind filled with anger and rage, Gruul had given up thinking and completely forgotten his earlier thought of escaping or retreating. His two massive claws struggled to grip Sabelian's skeleton, unleashing his earth-shattering might without reservation onto Sabelian.
A bone-jarring crunch and the sound of shattering bone emanated from the Gronn's claws. Sabelian's dragon bones, reinforced by death energy, were crushed like dry, hollow branches. Gruul's furious counterattack didn't stop there; his claws penetrated the gaps in the bones, aiming to tear the Dragon Lich directly in half.
Sabelian sensed Gruul's intention, and the battle-hardened Black Dragon naturally wouldn't let him succeed. He fiercely dug the claws of his hind feet into the Gronn's relatively vulnerable legs, while his two front claws clasped Gruul's shoulder blades. His sword-like tail simultaneously inflicted new wounds on Gruul and flapped his bone wings, actually pulling Gruul off the ground.
As Gruul's claws passed through the Dragon Lich's chest, where its soul flame burned, he naturally experienced a scorching pain akin to Dragon Breath. However, Gruul stubbornly endured the pain and damage, intent on tearing Sabelian in half.
But Sabelian, gripping Gruul, furiously slammed and dragged him between mountains and the ground. In the violent collisions, Gruul found it difficult to maintain a steady grip on Sabelian's body with just his hands, and instead, he was battered and bruised, looking incredibly disheveled from the Dragon Lich's relentless assault.
The collisions between the two behemoths in the mountains and valleys caused the entire region to continuously shake. Even the more fragile skeletons couldn't withstand the impact generated by their collisions, directly disintegrating on the spot into a pile of bone fragments.
Even naxxanar, suspended high in the sky, could feel the tremors from Sabelian and Gruul's clash. However, Arthas's attention was not on their battle. He sat in the command chair on the bridge, his elbow resting on the armrest, his hand clenched into a fist beside his cheek, his gaze seemingly fixed on the slightly vibrating Orb of Necromancy before him on the ground.
Gruul's defeat was a foregone conclusion. Even if he was a ferocious Gronn capable of exchanging blows with Deathwing, he stood no chance against the Scourge, which could be considered the bane of all living creatures.
Therefore, Arthas had little interest in this battle, which was essentially a guaranteed victory. His thoughts were clearly elsewhere.
"Have they been released?"
Kel'Thuzad heard Arthas's murmur. He quickly withdrew his gaze from the battlefield. "As you wish, my Master, the first batch has already been deployed to Zangarmarsh."
"I hope they are clever enough… Outland is not entirely suitable for the existence of the undead."
The entire shattered Draenor was enveloped in chaotic energy. Even the undead, if repeatedly washed over by mixed energies, could not last long. Death energy was not the only energy in Outland.
Especially Zangarmarsh, where the vitality of the area had not completely dissipated, making it theoretically very difficult for undead creatures to appear.
However, at present, the Naga and Akama's Ashtongue Tribe, who were sweeping Zangarmarsh, discovered a large number of low-level undead appearing at the border of Zangarmarsh and Blade's Edge Mountains.
The scythe in Akama's hand quickly swept these fragile skeletal frames into true bones. As he cleared these undead that seemed to emerge from nowhere, his eyes held an indescribable disgust.
In his understanding, only the most despicable and evil beings would desecrate the remains of the deceased and toy with those tragic souls, and in Draenor, the last ones to do so were those fallen orcs.
Although he still held sympathy and pity for his "former" compatriots, for the orcs who had once massacred them, only hatred and revulsion remained in Akama's heart.
And for these undead creatures, all Akama could do was help them find release, although the skeletons of these undead seemed to belong to Ogres, who weren't much better off.
However, Deep Lord Karathress, who was also responsible for the cleanup, noticed something amiss.
His warhammer shattered a wobbling skeleton, and from a pile of bones, he picked out a relatively intact skull. Karathress frowned, staring at the skull, and asked Akama with an uncertain tone, "Are there any Fel Orcs or Legion outposts nearby?"
Akama shook his head. "This is the border between Zangarmarsh and Blade's Edge Mountains. Blade's Edge Mountains is the territory of Ogres and Gronn. Their territorial instincts are extremely strong; even the Legion would not easily provoke them."
"But looking at this quantity, it's likely that a sizable tribe has been turned into undead." As a Naga, Karathress, though not a magic user, had some understanding of various magic. "The opponent is probably a master of shadow magic."
"From the current situation, that certainly seems to be the case."
Hearing Karathress's analysis, Akama also deeply agreed, but their mission was to clear threats from Zangarmarsh and transfer the lake water from the surrounding marsh into the reservoirs built by the Naga. Moreover, the environment of Blade's Edge Mountains would somewhat affect the Naga, so Vashj did not intend to send troops into Blade's Edge Mountains.
"But if that's truly the case, the troops we lead might not be a match for them," Akama said. "If needed, we can also send scouts to see where these undead are coming from."
Karathress listened to Akama's words, seemingly a bit distracted, his attention still focused on the skull in his hand. "Ah… that's up to you then. My mission is to guard this lake and eliminate nearby threats."
Most of the undead invading this lake were very weak; an ordinary Naga soldier and Broken could easily deal with several of them. Moreover, these mindless skeletons couldn't even serve as scouts; their fragile soul flames extinguished once their skeletal vessels were destroyed, making them impossible to collect later.
Rather than a premeditated invasion, Karathress was more inclined to believe this might be an adverse effect leaked from some demon's influence. However, the appearance of the undead was indeed somewhat peculiar. To be cautious, the Deep Lord decided to collect some relatively intact undead bones and hand them over to Vashj, letting her determine what was going on.
Akama, watching Karathress deep in thought, suddenly grew curious about the origin of these Ogre skeletons. He then picked up an intact skull from the scattered bones on the ground. Although he had lost the blessing of the Holy Light, as a Broken chieftain who had been able to establish himself in Outland for so long, he now followed the path of the Shaman.
And the power of a Shaman is inextricably linked to souls. Akama intended to use this to research where these skeletons came from and why they appeared in Zangarmarsh.
That night, Akama returned to his temporary tent, dismissed his guards, took the skull he had brought back from his belt, wiped it clean, and placed it on a small wooden table with a half-basin of water.
The four elements are all closely related to souls, but the gentlest and easiest to communicate with is the water element, and this basin of pure water, specially prepared by Akama, was the key condition for communicating with souls.
After being abandoned by the Holy Light, Akama was originally disheartened, but seeing his compatriots struggling helplessly in the abyss of despair, he realized that he should not sink into depravity. After Niu Bodun re-established contact with the elemental spirits of Draenor, the once dormant path of Shamanism became active again.
Akama was also one of the beneficiaries; as a former Draenei Archbishop, he possessed far greater insight and knowledge than ordinary people, which allowed him to better communicate with the elements and practice the path of Shamanism.
However, communicating with souls is an extremely profound and difficult act; even old prophets who have served the shamanic teachings their entire lives find it hard to get a response every time they ask.
Not to mention that Akama's current subject was an Ogre whose cause of death was unknown, so Akama had no confidence in extracting key information from it.
But if it was merely an attempt to communicate with the soul of the deceased, the risk was not great, and the materials were not complicated, so Akama still chose to try, because what he had seen of Illidan and the Naga's actions in recent days made him increasingly feel that his chosen "new allies" might not be good people.
Outland could not endure another Magtheridon's devastation, and the Draenei survivors could not withstand a second massacre.
For this, Akama was willing to take even a tiny risk.
But soon, he changed his mind.
After a panicked cry, Akama fell to the ground from his meditative state. His shouts attracted the attention of the guards outside the door. Two Ashtongue Tribe personal guards quickly entered, worried that their chieftain had met with misfortune.
However, they only saw Akama's rarely seen look of terror. Following Akama's gaze, they saw a wooden table covered in white frost, the Ogre's skull cracked by the cold, and the basin of pure water that served as a medium had completely turned into ice.
After his subordinates burst into the tent, Akama hastily got up and covered the table with a black cloth, sternly instructing his two subordinates, "You saw nothing, understand? If those Naga and demons ask, you just say that an accident occurred during my meditation to communicate with the elements, angering the elemental spirits, understand?"
The Ashtongue personal guards nodded. Having followed Akama for so long, their selection as trusted confidants already proved their unwavering loyalty.
Only after the two Broken left did Akama lift the black cloth again, staring at the wooden table, which still radiated cold, and the seemingly unremarkable skull, his expression very complex.
In the soul's illusion, he seemed to be in a world of ice and snow, an environment even more extreme than the former Frostfire Ridge. Looking down, there was nothing but a vast expanse of mountains.
On this icy mountain, there was a Frozen Throne emanating endless chill, and in this extremely harsh environment, upon that throne, sat a blurry figure.
Akama instinctively glanced at him then, but soon, the bone-chilling cold instantly froze his soul, and the connection with the soul, constructed with water elements, was quickly severed. His consciousness, in a dizzying whirl, dissipated into the swirling snow.
Before completely breaking free from the illusion, the last words Akama could hear were: You are not the traitor.
The shattering illusion also, to some extent, harmed Akama's mind, which was why he was so startled just now. Although he didn't know who that man was, the terrifying pressure emanating from him, which made Akama's soul and brain tremble, felt as real as if it truly existed.
Traitor? Who is that?
Akama did not know what the person in the illusion was describing, but he knew that person must be an existence beyond his imagination; even Magtheridon, the former Lord of Outland, had not given him such great pressure.
Only... only when Illidan had deprived him of a part of his soul, attempting to completely enslave him, had he felt a similar sense of oppression from Illidan.
However, the oppression Illidan gave him was due to his soul being controlled by dark magic, but the person in the illusion merely glanced at him and said a few words casually, yet it severely tested his mind.
Akama even felt that if he truly stood before that Frozen Throne, he probably wouldn't have the courage to fight the other party.
When did Outland get so many terrifying and troublesome individuals!
Akama broke into a cold sweat. Frostfire Ridge had long since been destroyed by an explosion, and there was no place in Outland now covered in snow. Moreover, even before Draenor's destruction, there was no such place, so Akama was certain that it was definitely not a location on Draenor.
"Is he also... another creature from another planet, like Illidan...?" Akama muttered to himself, suddenly, he seemed to think of something, "Like Illidan? Traitor?... Could he be referring to Illidan?"
Illidan was not a creature of Draenor, and neither were the Naga, but those Naga were an organized clan, or rather, an army. However, only Illidan, Akama had not seen any creature similar to him among the Naga's ranks.
Although Illidan's appearance now looked similar to a demon, as a Draenei who had dealt with demons countless times, Akama naturally knew that Illidan was not one of the many demons of the Burning Legion, but rather seemed to be the result of some unknown intelligent race accepting the power of fel and becoming demonized.
"Could it be that Illidan is the traitor mentioned by that mysterious person?" Akama thought. Although he believed his conjecture was probably very close to the truth, he did not know Illidan's past, and those Naga and Illidan himself did not trust him enough, so it was difficult for him to obtain information in this regard.
At the same time, Akama also realized that, judging by the other party's tone, they were likely not coming with good intentions, otherwise they wouldn't refer to Illidan with a title like "traitor." But if the other party and Illidan were to confront each other directly, Akama did not know who would win, but the biggest loser in the end would certainly be the survivors of Outland.
Because Illidan's power was growing daily, already showing signs of dominating Outland. At this moment, if another individual, no less powerful than Illidan, perhaps even the "culprit" who chased Illidan and drove him to Outland, suddenly intervened, Akama could hardly imagine what terrible consequences this would cause.
He could not let Illidan and his confidants know about this for now, otherwise...
Akama seemed to foresee that a provoked Illidan would even more frantically exploit Outland's resources to strengthen his own power.
Akama, on his side, was making his own calculations, preparing to keep something from Illidan, but he didn't know that Warlord Karathress, who looked like a simple-minded warrior, had already returned to the constructing Coilfang Reservoir with an Ogre skull in hand.
"My Lady, during our cleansing of Zangarmarsh, we discovered a group of strange undead."
Vashj's lithe body glided over to Karathress, and she asked from above, "Oh? Strange undead? How strange? Outland doesn't lack strange things."
Karathress paused for a moment, slightly out of sync with Vashj's pace, but he quickly recovered, "These undead came from the border between Blade's Edge Mountains and the swamp.
I suspect there's a Demon or fel Orc settlement nearby, otherwise, there wouldn't be enough support to reanimate such a large number of skeletons."
"A Demon settlement…" Vashj's brow furrowed slightly.
Illidan had told her that they currently lacked the strength to infiltrate Blade's Edge Mountains and Netherstorm, but there were also very important things there.
Could it be that the Demons had gotten there first?
"I collected some intact skeletons, but I'm not proficient in magic, so I can only leave it to you, Lady." Karathress took out the still-intact skull and handed it to Vashj.
"I understand.
You go back to your work for now.
If there really are Demons entrenched on the border of Blade's Edge Mountains, then the construction of our fortifications must be sped up."
Karathress nodded, then swayed his body and swam back into the dark, unlit waters, leaving only Vashj staring blankly at the skull.
"Such potent necromantic power." Vashj was once Azshara's handmaiden, and the ten thousand years after the Great Sundering certainly hadn't been lived in vain.
Although her magical attainments couldn't compare to those of her magically specialized kin or Her Majesty the Queen, she had reached a height unimaginable to ordinary mages.
Furthermore, the immense legacy of magical research left behind by the ancient Night Elves and Naga allowed her to possess a broader perspective than many brilliant Human and High Elf mages.
At this moment, she noticed the strong death magic fluctuations left on the Ogre skull, but how could such a powerful death magic only create a group of skeletons with little combat power?
It was more likely to create a group of skeletal constructs.
Unless the spellcaster's purpose wasn't to create undead, but had other intentions.
Demons wouldn't use such methods; their way of enslaving souls was very simple and crude.
With such a large group of Ogres, corrupting them with fel and then incorporating them into the Legion's ranks was the Demons' usual method.
According to the intelligence they had gathered, Blade's Edge Mountains, apart from scattered Demons, should be the territory of Ogres and Gronn.
How could such a group of unknown undead suddenly appear?
Vashj became somewhat wary.
She felt that there was more hidden within this skull, but it was clearly no longer a problem she could solve alone, so without hesitation, she immediately contacted Illidan, who was far away in the Black Temple.
The magic brazier in front of her suddenly lit up, and the blue flames slowly twisted into a tall figure.
"Vashj… Is something wrong?"
Illidan's hoarse voice came through; the fel had brought him great power, but it had also completely transformed his body.
"Lord Illidan, during our sweep of Zangarmarsh, we discovered some unknown undead on the border of Blade's Edge Mountains.
Their strength is very weak, but after they are killed, the death energy remaining in their bodies is beyond imagination, completely disproportionate to their strength."
"Undead… potent death energy…" Illidan's bat wings slowly flapped behind him.
He himself completely emerged from his meditative state.
The Demon Hunter straightened up and stretched his body, while muttering in the air, "Let me see."
Vashj presented the skull, but the moment the skull's empty eye sockets met the Demon Hunter's gaze, a bone-chilling cold suddenly erupted.
In surprise, Vashj immediately deployed a magical barrier, protecting herself and the magical brazier used for communication, but the water around her slowly began to freeze under the influence of the cold.
Moreover, even with the magic shield deployed, Vashj could still feel the biting cold seemingly permeating her body.
"Have you finally found the main target, Demon Hunter?
Long time no see." A clear, yet strangely ethereal voice echoed in the void.
"This skull is your medium for transmitting power.
If you insist on playing tricks, I'll just destroy the skull and then slowly come after you." The Demon Hunter was not at all polite.
Although he had lost his eyes, his demonic vision allowed him to clearly see the energy flow within the skull, and he easily figured out the other party's method of transmitting audio and video.
"Suit yourself, but the energy in this skull won't disappear into thin air just because it's destroyed.
The magic circles jointly researched and inscribed by several Liches and Necromancers—even this Naga Lady probably couldn't handle them, could she?"
Illidan's face darkened, and Vashj's expression also became unnatural.
She had already realized the danger of this skull and regretted not preparing more layers of defense before rashly activating the power within the skull.
"Are you calmer now?
Can you listen to me now, Illidan Stormrage?"
"Speak quickly."
"Is that how you speak to your savior?"
As they conversed, swirling ice mist outlined a faint, indistinct figure.
His face was unclear, but the longsword at his waist was etched in Illidan's memory.
"It's you?" The Demon Hunter's face rarely showed surprise.
He remembered that sword, or rather, even if he were imprisoned for another ten thousand years, he wouldn't forget the power on that sword, "How do you know I'm here—or rather, have you already defected to the Legion?"
When he spoke the word "Legion," Illidan's tone had become dangerous.
If this guy, who had once helped him escape from the Warden's Vault, was truly part of the Legion, then it meant Azeroth was probably in a very dangerous situation, because this guy had single-handedly broken into a heavily guarded Night Elves prison and "killed" all the guards inside.
His dangerousness was no less than some high-ranking lords of the Legion, or rather… his style was very similar to those elusive Nathrezim.
"Don't look at me like that, Illidan.
While I don't particularly like your methods, at least we have common enemies." Arthas could guess what the Demon Hunter was thinking.
Although this guy was quite cunning, he generally wouldn't stray from the keywords "Burning Legion" and "Tyrande." "Since we have common enemies, we have something to talk about."
Illidan was unaware of Arthas's taunt, but when he heard "common enemies," he was noticeably stunned before continuing, "Since you know the threat of the Burning Legion, you should also understand how ridiculous your words are.
The Burning Legion's schemes are endless, so how can I be sure you're not another one of their traps?
How can we talk if you're a hidden, secretive individual?"
"I know you won't believe me so easily, but I believe you won't refuse a transaction that has no downsides."
"A transaction?"
"That's right, the content of the transaction is also very simple: one piece of information in exchange for you helping me do one thing." Arthas lightly threw out a sentence, then uttered a name amidst Illidan's look of disbelief, "Kil'jaeden."