"Fandral? No…" Malfurion was overwhelmed with emotions upon hearing his student's name. Although he desperately wanted to deny it, Tyrande's investigations and all the troubles he was currently facing indicated that the truth was indeed so.
"The Cenarion Circle was incited by him. Although there were some dissenting voices within, they were all suppressed by Fandral. After Cenarius's fall, the members of the Circle were already filled with resentment, and Fandral seized this opportunity to greatly stir up the anger in their hearts," Broll said, recounting what he had seen and thought during this period. "I worry that if this continues, the Cenarion Circle might be destroyed by this unvented rage."
"…" Malfurion wearily rubbed his forehead. Tyrande walked to his side with concern. After a moment, Malfurion looked at Tyrande with a slightly apologetic gaze. "Tyrande… I really want to go back with you and solve the problems our people are facing, but the Emerald Dream needs me. The Green Dragonflight is under attack by the Nightmare. If I leave now, they might not be able to stand alone."
Tyrande was also in a great dilemma. Malfurion's importance was self-evident; his unique connection with the Dream made him a crucial combatant here. With many Wild Gods in slumber and Cenarius reduced to a mere soul, the Green Dragonflight's last support was Malfurion and his Druids.
If Malfurion returned now and the Green Dragonflight were corrupted under the Nightmare's attack, it would be an even more terrifying disaster.
Just as Tyrande had prepared herself for not being able to bring Malfurion back, Cenarius suddenly returned. The half-man, half-stag Wild God spoke with a booming voice, "No, my student, you and Tyrande should go back now. Your people need you."
"But, Teacher—" Malfurion was somewhat confused.
"Don't worry, the Nightmare's offensive has indeed retreated. Although they are still a potential danger, I received news from the Green Dragonflight that the Guardian Dragons have appeared in the Dream. The Nightmare was utterly defeated by their great power, and they are now dealing with the remaining Nightmare and dispelling the curse on Ysera."
Joy appeared on Malfurion's face. "The Dragon Kings actually provided support so promptly! Then I must quickly return to Teldrassil. I cannot let our new homeland become a breeding ground for darkness."
Cenarius nodded slightly, and at the same time, gently swept his left hand, which was wrapped in vines and vegetation, across everyone's front. "Although my physical body has perished, I can still mobilize the power of nature. I hope this power can help you all. Go, champions."
Blessings from the Dream and nature enveloped the four of them. Malfurion felt the moonglow wheat's curse on him fading, and his physical body was calling for his return. "I will wait for you in Darnassus."
After speaking, Malfurion's soul gradually faded from the Dream, returning to his body. Meanwhile, Tyrande, Hamuul, and Broll felt the fatigue from their journey and battles gradually disappear. Hamuul and Broll, in particular, felt their connection with nature deepen and their understanding of the Druid path advance further.
Tyrande bowed to Cenarius. "Thank you, Forest Demigod. I hope to see your sprinting figure on Azeroth again soon."
"That day will come, child. I still want to attend your and Malfurion's wedding," Cenarius looked at Tyrande with a benevolent gaze. He treated Tyrande and Malfurion like his own children. The two of them had put their personal matters aside for their duties for ten thousand years. Now it was time to urge them on.
Tyrande also smiled. "When everything ends and peace returns, Malfurion and I will invite you to our wedding."
"I can feel that day will not be too far away."
"Is that a prophecy?" Tyrande asked curiously.
"No, it's a blessing." Cenarius smiled and shook his head, then turned and walked deeper into the Dream, gradually disappearing like a fading painting.
…
Tyrande suddenly opened her eyes and sat up from the stone bed. She instinctively reached out her right hand, but it was clasped by a pair of warm hands.
"You're back, Tyrande." Malfurion held Tyrande's hand. He had been waiting there for a long time.
"How long was I gone, Malfurion?"
"Less than an hour. It seems you and Teacher chatted for a while longer." Malfurion was not surprised; the sense of time in the Dream was very chaotic. Sometimes you felt days had passed, but in reality, only a few tens of minutes had gone by, and vice versa.
"Hmm… Now we need to rush to the Cenarion District. Fandral should be there now." Tyrande took some time to adapt to the feeling of returning from the Dream, then immediately said, "Every moment we delay, more people will die in Silithus for nothing."
"There's no such rush. Fandral will be punished for his actions, but I want to know why he did it."
Malfurion raised the biggest question mark in the whole affair: imprisoning his teacher, driving his colleagues mad, and at the same time inciting the emotions of his compatriots, intending to start a war without sufficient preparation… Had Fandral been faking it for thousands of years? What exactly made him take these radical and abnormal actions?
Tyrande was also very confused. Although she knew about Fandral's rebellious acts and had concrete evidence, the truth of the matter was still shrouded in mist. She felt Malfurion was right; they should first find the root cause, otherwise, even if Fandral was punished, another Fandral might appear.
However, they both did not expect that the answer to this question would soon be explained.
Shortly after returning to the Moon God Temple, Tyrande, who found Shandris absent, was about to send someone to ask what was going on when she saw her adopted daughter rush into the room in a hurry.
Shandris was startled when she saw Malfurion and Tyrande, then became overjoyed. "Mother, Shando, you're back!"
"Hmm, Shandris, you're in such a hurry. Did something urgent happen?" Tyrande saw her daughter's chest heaving from panting and wanted to ask what urgent matter had occurred.
Shandris immediately ordered the sentinels to enforce martial law, sealing off the Moon God Temple, and told Tyrande and Malfurion everything she had learned from Astrana.
The more they listened, the more their brows furrowed, until finally, both of them sighed deeply at the same time.
"Xavius, that heinous scoundrel! All of this was orchestrated by him alone! I was too merciful back then, allowing him to commit evil until today!"
This was Malfurion's anger towards his nemesis.
"Fandral… He is a pitiful man. We all thought he had moved on from Vastann's death, but he had actually collapsed in that disaster…" Tyrande never expected that a dignified Arch Druid would betray the entire Kaldorei race for such a reason.
She knew—Fandral was not incapable of discerning Xavius's deception. At least, Xavius could not have simply fooled him with a mere illusion and made him willingly betray his people. Rather, he was unwilling to experience the pain of losing a child again, even if he knew the illusion was false.
However, since Fandral's corruption was now proven and the reason was clear, Malfurion and Tyrande were not going to wait any longer. They immediately prepared to capture Fandral first, then discuss how to deal with him.
"Oh, Shandris, tell Rayndor to be careful and take good care of Leyara and her daughter. Without Fandral, the two of them will truly have to rely on each other…" Tyrande felt a pang of heartache. Fandral's crimes could not be forgiven. Although the elves would not sentence their own people to death, Fandral would probably face permanent imprisonment.
....
"Quickly send people to Silithus for support; the Druids in Cenarion Hold are struggling alone!" Staghelm quickly signed the action order. The Qiraji in Silithus were stirring, and for the Druids to defeat their ancient enemies from thousands of years ago again, they had to act with full force immediately.
At the same time, Staghelm was also seeking to purchase large quantities of supplies from various neutral or friendly forces, aiming to arm Cenarion Hold to the teeth, making it the first line of defense against the Qiraji onslaught.
As long as the Hold was defended, the passage connecting Silithus and Un'Goro Crater could be held, making it almost impossible for the Qiraji to continue advancing east and north. Although many Nerubian had already appeared in Feralas, the efficiency of digging through mountains versus advancing directly on open paths was incomparable. A Nerubian commander would not make such an illogical, potentially suicidal decision.
Just as his subordinate left the room with the documents, Staghelm suddenly felt a headache. He grunted, clutching his head. In a daze, he saw a familiar figure appear by the door.
"Run, Father! Tyrande is back with Malfurion, and they want to undo all your hard work!"
"Vastann…" Staghelm groaned, calling his son's name. He swayed as he stood up, reaching out his hand with effort towards the figure not far from him, standing at the door, until finally his hand rested on a pair of firm arms.
Staghelm was stunned. Shouldn't it be the soul of his son, who had always given him guidance, at the door? Why could he touch him…
Before he could figure out this question, a strong sense of restraint came from his arms and legs. Python-like vines quickly snaked out from around the wooden house, locking Staghelm's limbs and wrapping around his entire waist and abdomen.
"Staghelm! Clear your head! Vastann died long ago; that's a Xavius-fabricated illusion to deceive you!"
Malfurion's reprimand thundered, and only then did Staghelm awaken as if from a dream, realizing that Vastann, who had been standing at the door, had vanished, replaced by his furious mentor.
"Stormrage… This… Impossible! Where's my Vastann?! Give me back my son!" Staghelm's head throbbed, but he suddenly lost control, roaring and struggling frantically. The vines wrapped around him seemed about to break under his immense force.
"Calm down, Staghelm!"
Malfurion directly slapped Staghelm across the face. The current Arch Druid was stunned by the sudden slap. Half of the iron-blooded man's face was red and swollen, but it was precisely this slap that made the hysteria in his eyes gradually dissipate, replaced by composure and clarity.
"Mas…ter…" Staghelm stammered, his mouth agape for a long time, seemingly wanting to say something, but in the end, he fell silent.
Malfurion, exasperated, pointed at Staghelm's nose, "You still know I'm your teacher?! Look at all the good things you've done! My matters aside, but the Teldrassil deception, and sending people to Silithus when the situation is unclear? Are you sending them to their deaths?! Staghelm, you're going to destroy the entire Kaldorei!"
The Sentinels stood guard at the door; they had almost never seen Malfurion so angry. The last time was probably ten thousand years ago, when Illidan created the second Well of Eternity.
Tyrande, however, was not surprised. Although Malfurion had always been a gentle and patient person, if one truly thought he was a good-tempered old man, they probably forgot the meaning of "Stormrage." Nature, when calm, is the cradle of life, but furious storms also come from nature.
"Lock him up and let him cool down."
After scolding Staghelm for a while, Malfurion finally suppressed his anger. Watching the Sentinels drag Staghelm away like a dead dog, a flicker of reluctance still crossed his eyes, but he immediately erased that emotion.
Staghelm's crimes had already affected the survival of the Kaldorei. If discovered any later, it was feared that all residents on Teldrassil would become sacrifices offered by Staghelm to the Nightmare.
"I will resume the duties of Arch Druid," Malfurion solemnly promised everyone. He then saw the documents and reports on Staghelm's desk. He picked up one at random, and after careful reading, his expression became even heavier.
Although Staghelm had committed a grave mistake by rashly sending troops when the situation in Silithus and the Beetle Wall was unclear, the situation in Silithus was indeed worsening daily. The garrison and Druids in Cenarion Hold were already stretched thin, and if no more troops were sent to support them, they would likely soon be overwhelmed by the Qiraji and the shifting sands.
The good news, however, was that only low-level Qiraji were currently roaming outside the wall. The core of the Qiraji Empire was still locked behind the Beetle Wall, difficult to break through, so things had not yet reached an unmanageable point.
"I've reviewed the reports. Both the Druids and the Sentinel Force, and even the Guardians of the jungle, have reported the movements of the Qiraji. Many skilled individuals have sacrificed themselves in the Qiraji hives for investigation and evidence collection. This matter is beyond doubt," Tyrande walked over to Malfurion, updating him on the recent situation. "Staghelm's scheme has failed, but his idea of sending more people has some merit."
"Indeed, but—"
"Shando, Mother, two guests have arrived." Shandris knocked on the wooden door from outside.
Malfurion and Tyrande exchanged glances, then Malfurion called out, "Please come in, Prince Arthas, and old friend Ysondre."
"I'm glad to see you well, Malfurion. The Emerald Dream is already in chaos…" Ysondre was quite pleased to see Malfurion.
"You don't have to worry about that, Ysondre. When I left, my mentor told me that the Green Dragonflight's predicament had been resolved. The appearance of the three Guardian Dragons greatly alleviated the situation, and Xavius seems to have decided to retreat, no longer manipulating the Nightmare to devour the Emerald Dream."
Ysondre nodded. In fact, she had also sensed the changes in the Emerald Dream, but the doors to the Emerald Dream were still tightly shut, preventing her from accessing accurate information.
Arthas then said, "Long time no see, Arch Druid, and Priestess Tyrande. We originally wanted to seek assistance from the Druids to find a path to the Emerald Dream, but it seems it's no longer needed."
"I still have to thank you for your help, Arthas," Malfurion sighed, a hint of self-reproach in his voice. "Staghelm lost his mind, to actually believe such a low-level lie… I also felt the illusion fabricated by Xavius just now. That fellow had none of Vastann's aura, only exuding the Nightmare's distortion and corruption. It's also my fault; I failed to notice Staghelm's psychological flaw, which led to today's tragedy."
"This isn't your fault, Malfurion," Ysondre comforted him. "The Nightmare is everywhere, and no one knows who the next victim will be. And given Staghelm's strength, did he truly not know it was an illusion? It's just that the day Vastann died became Staghelm's eternal Nightmare…"
"Let us mourn the victims of the Nightmare later; there are more urgent matters now," Malfurion shook his head, changing the subject. He looked at Arthas, "Arthas, do you know about the secret beneath the sands of Silithus?"
"Yes, the ancient Qiraji Empire slumbers there. The Qiraji swarms, fearless and blotting out the sky, and the cruel constructs that stirred up the sands, almost brought a catastrophe to all life on Azeroth." Arthas spoke as if reciting from memory. Perhaps some would say the Kaldorei were arrogant and conceited, but no one could deny the blood and tears they shed in the Ancient War of the Shifting Sands.
Just as no one could deny that the ancient Trolls once challenged the indomitable Aqir, risking the survival of their entire race, and brutally tore open a path to survival when extinction loomed, laying the foundation for the rise and fall of later civilizations.
Unfortunately, apart from Zandalar, the other later Troll kingdoms either rapidly declined in their internal conflicts, or pursued forbidden powers and became enemies of the world, or still fantasized about restoring ancestral glory without matching strength and vision, ultimately leading to decay and destruction.
Even so, the Trolls brought a strong sense of oppression to other races besides the Kaldorei. One only needs to look at the equally arrogant Quel'dorei, who were so badly beaten by the declining Amani Empire that they had to seek humans as a shield.
Taking over from Arthas, Malfurion's tone also became heavy. In the Ancient War of the Shifting Sands, the Night Elves and the Guardian Dragons paid a heavy price. Whenever Malfurion recalled it, he felt as if that cruel war had happened just yesterday.
"We and the Guardian Dragons joined forces and repelled the Nerubian with extremely heavy casualties, but at that time, we were also unable to continue the pursuit, because no one knew how many more enemies were in the depths of the desert. Moreover, the ancient ruins buried in those sands shocked everyone; those architectural complexes, like the palaces and temples of gods, brought us intense unease."
"The Guardian Dragons and the Kaldorei were convinced that a darker power was behind and guiding the Nerubian. To be safe, several Dragon heroes chose to sacrifice themselves, and with others working from inside and out, built a magical wall at the border of the Nerubian Empire, trapping the Nerubian inside, hoping that over a long period, the trapped Nerubian would self-destruct due to resource depletion and scarcity."
At this point, Malfurion shook his head, self-deprecatingly, "We were too naive then, thinking the Nerubian would truly be destroyed by time, but we never considered how they survived in the desert from ancient times until twelve hundred years ago—regardless, the Qiraji resurgence is a fact. Twelve hundred years ago, we defeated the enemy, but that was not solely the Kaldorei's achievement; it was a result of allied assistance. So today, we hope to call upon the members of the Alliance to jointly address the threat of Silithus, to confront this catastrophe that may affect all of Azeroth."
"I am certainly aware of this, but—"
Arthas was about to say something when he was drawn by a strange fluctuation. Everyone in the room sensed this change.
Ysondre was the most excited, for she felt the presence of her master. She was even too excited to speak:
"It's Queen Ysera, the Sleeper—no, the Awakened Ysera, she's back!"
"It seems the Guardian Dragons succeeded," Arthas was momentarily stunned. He hadn't expected the Guardian Dragons to directly descend upon Teldrassil. Did Ysera sense Ysondre's presence?
But it was also perfect timing. The matter of Silithus should be discussed with the Guardian Dragons.
....
"Greetings, Tyrande, Malfurion, and I especially thank you, Malfurion. Without your and Cenarius's valiant efforts, the Emerald Dream's defenses would surely have been torn apart by the Nightmare." Ysera's eyes glowed with a faint emerald hue, clearly indicating she had awakened from her slumber.
"It has been many years since I last saw you soar over Azeroth, Ysera," Malfurion said with considerable emotion. Ysera spent most of her time slumbering in the dream, so seeing her fully in reality was indeed a rare occurrence.
But this often meant that something significant was about to happen, something that would involve all of Azeroth.
"Xavius and his minions escaped. In the dream, our power couldn't be fully unleashed, and Ysera had just recovered, so we could only let that monster hide for a while longer." Malygos was still quite indignant about not completely eliminating Xavius, but he immediately turned his cold gaze to Malfurion. "Now, let's talk about Teldrassil. Planting a World Tree without permission, have you forgotten what happened in Grizzly Hills?"
"The Kaldorei will take responsibility for this matter. I will lead the Druids to guard Teldrassil day and night, preventing him from being targeted by evil entities," Malfurion said, showing the appropriate sense of responsibility when confronted by Malygos's questioning. But then he hesitated, seemingly pondering whether to say something.
Tyrande noticed Malfurion's change and quickly took his arm, whispering, "Malfurion…"
"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," Malfurion reassured Tyrande, then made up his mind. "Esteemed Guardian Dragons, can the Kaldorei—"
"I know your request, Malfurion, but we cannot bless this new giant tree right now," Alexstrasza looked up at the lush canopy. "The specific reasons cannot be known by too many people, but you don't need to blame yourselves too much. Teldrassil has taken root and become the new lifeblood of the Kaldorei. It's just that for the coming period, you will need to guard him yourselves."
"I will have the Green Dragonflight look after Teldrassil's reflection in the dream, Malfurion. Please rest assured for now. We should first discuss Silithus." Ysera also expressed the same sentiment. When she learned of her siblings' and Arthas's new plan, it was indeed not a good time to expend power to bless Teldrassil.
"You all know?"
Malfurion was briefly stunned for half a second, but Ysera raised her hand and conjured an illusion. "While I was slumbering, I was entangled by the Nightmare, but that was both an illusion and a prophecy: the Beetle Wall is in peril, and the Qiraji are ready to rise again at any moment."
"However, this time the Kaldorei have just suffered from the Legion's invasion, and other mortal races are fighting the Burning Legion in Outland. We have other missions to fulfill. I'm afraid no one can withstand the Qiraji's assault," Ysera said with concern, voicing Malfurion's worries.
However, Malfurion and Tyrande's expressions remained calm. "No matter the cost, we must stop the Nerubian's expansion, or else all of Kalimdor will become a Nerubian paradise."
They were prepared to pay a heavy price. Even without any assistance, the Kaldorei had to fight the Qiraji to the death in Silithus, because their home was there. Teldrassil had just been completed, and the Kaldorei could no longer bear the risk and loss of another tribal migration.
Seeing that the elven "old couple" intended to fight the Qiraji to the death as a whole tribe, Arthas had to step forward and explain, "The Kaldorei do not need to make great sacrifices. To eliminate the Qiraji and their master behind them, the best weapon lies beyond that desert."
…
"This damned weather, I feel like I'm going to be mummified!" Lothar raised his hand to his forehead, trying to block the relentless, scorching sun, but unfortunately, it wasn't very effective. Under the intense heat of the blazing sun, the ice magic shield he used for protection was constantly steaming.
The extreme climate of Tanaris was even more severe than he had initially imagined. Now, even the undead warhorse beneath him seemed listless. Besides the scorching sun, the strong winds in the desert blew the rags wrapped around Lothar's and the warhorse's necks and faces wildly, making him instinctively tighten these pieces of cloth.
The sandstorm didn't affect him much, but he was still worried that his undead appearance would cause unnecessary trouble, so after departing from Tanaris, he had kept his face covered and avoided merchant caravans in the desert.
Anub'arak, accompanying Lothar, stealthily moved underground. Although the scorching sun couldn't harm him, he still preferred the feeling of being underground. Buried under the hot dunes, it would actually be very dry and cool. "We will soon reach the place the Lich King mentioned. Be prepared, as it is, after all, a Titan ruin and could be very dangerous."
The man and the spider hadn't traveled much further when, as they saw the continuous mountain range stretching across the southern side of the Tanaris desert, a violent explosion sent a sound wave from directly in front of them.
However, they paid it no mind, simply continuing forward until they saw several short, sturdy figures stumbling towards them.
"Are those… Dwarves?" Lothar clearly saw the people running towards them. "Why would there be Dwarves in the depths of the desert?"
And just then, the Dwarves, who were fleeing for their lives, also spotted Lothar riding his undead warhorse.
"Hey! Don't come over, run! The construct behind us has gone mad!" A female Dwarf was about to warn Lothar to flee when she heard a massive explosion of air. Her hair stood on end, and she lunged forward, quickly falling to the ground.
As soon as she lay down, a red laser of destruction streaked past exactly where her head had been. If she hadn't dodged in time, she would have been turned into a headless corpse by that high-energy beam.
Coincidentally, the light beam that swept past the Dwarves' position shot directly towards Lothar. The Deathlord commanded his warhorse, which leaped nimbly, dodging the incoming beam.
But it was this leap that caused the linen strips wrapped around the undead warhorse to be grazed by the laser. The intense heat instantly ignited the cloth on the warhorse. Although Lothar extinguished the flames with frost in time, it revealed the terrifying skeletal form of the warhorse.
"How unlucky…" Lothar patted the warhorse's back, calming the skeletal warhorse, which was angered by the attack, and at the same time said to Anub'arak underground, "You take care of the ones behind, I'll handle the ones in front."
There was no response, but the undulating sand indicated that the Crypt Lord had already sped away underground.
"Undead?!"
The dwarves lying on the ground were greatly alarmed when they saw Lothar, riding a skeletal warhorse, fly over their heads. In their eyes, most undead were mindless monsters with strong hostility towards all living beings—at least, that's how all the undead they'd encountered in various ruins over the years had been.
It was strange, too; previously, only a very small number of ruins would have undead creatures, but recently, the Explorer's League in various places had reported more and more discoveries of undead. The members of the League hadn't taken it seriously.
However, most places where undead existed were cold and damp. Discovering undead deep in the Tanaris Desert caused a severe shock to the worldviews of the Explorer's League members. And this undead in front of them hadn't even attacked them proactively?
Just as the dwarves' brains were struggling to comprehend, several violent crashing sounds came from behind. The female dwarf who had warned Lothar earlier got up. She brushed the sand off her body, turned her head to look, and then saw a sight she would never forget.
Several ancient construct golems, weighing tens or even dozens of tons, were either overturned or impaled by rock spikes that erupted from the ground. The hard, rune-carved rocks could not withstand the fierce attacks at all. Many of the already flawed stone statues instantly shattered into rock fragments, and their energy cores rapidly dimmed.
Lothar, riding his warhorse, charged forward at an unnatural speed. With a sweep of his right hand across his back, the greatsword Apocalypse, covered by cloth strips, was in his hand. This sinister greatsword immediately glowed with a thick, moss-like green light upon contact with Lothar.
With just one pass, the constructs' ancient mechanisms could not keep up with Lothar's cavalry charge. Apocalypse swept through the construct piles with several sword lights. The constructs struck by this demonic sword crashed to the ground, and their breaks were not clean like those from a blade, but rather jagged, as if corroded by acid.
After Anub'arak knocked down several golems in the first wave, he also revealed his true form from the sand. His massive body reflected a metallic sheen under the blazing sun. His appearance left the fleeing dwarves of the expedition team even more dumbfounded.
"Nerubian…a Nerubian?" An old dwarf with a grizzled beard recognized Anub'arak's race, but he didn't understand why this native Northrend creature would appear at the southernmost tip of the continent.
Moreover, based on the decorations and carapace patterns on Anub'arak's body, he quickly identified that this massive, mountain-like Nerubian was even a general or king among the Nerubians.
Anub'arak and Lothar easily wiped out the construct team that had been chasing the dwarves. Lothar put away Apocalypse, ready to leave, but was called back by the female dwarf behind him.
"Please wait a moment!"
The accompanying dwarves looked at the female dwarf with terrified eyes. The old dwarf immediately pulled the female dwarf, scolding her in a low voice, "Are you crazy, Ava? Those two guys are clearly abnormal. While they haven't noticed us, we should escape first!"
"Uncle Thunderwine, Brann is still trapped in the ruins ahead. By the time we run to Gadgetzan or Ironforge for help, I'm afraid we'll only find their corpses!"
The female dwarf named Ava's words made the dwarves swallow their persuasion. Brann and the others had stayed behind to cover their retreat, letting them run out for help. But the problem was, everyone knew perfectly well that in the middle of this deep desert, with no villages or inns nearby, by the time they found rescue, Brann and the others' bodies would be cold.
The only help they could find right now were these two mysterious…creatures. Ava had already made up her mind. "Uncle Thunderwine, you guys keep running. I'll go negotiate with them. If it doesn't work, then it's just death. At least you guys can still find others for rescue. Just don't forget to avenge me then!"
With that said, Ava didn't wait for the other dwarves to say anything. She jogged away from the group and headed straight for Lothar and Anub'arak.
Thunderwine watched Ava's retreating figure, knowing Ava was right. Gritting his teeth, he led the remaining dwarves and turned to leave. Every second they delayed increased the probability of Brann and Ava meeting with disaster.
Watching Ava walk towards him, Lothar glanced at Anub'arak beside him. Just as he was about to ask how to handle it, Anub'arak merely gave him a faint glance and then burrowed into the ground.
Now only Lothar was left. He could only grumble to himself, "Why didn't you dare to leave Arthas alone and go into seclusion when you were with him?"
Lothar was about to say a few words, or use some magic to dismiss or scare away the female dwarf explorer in front of him, when he heard her shouting loudly, "Whoever you are, thank you for saving me and my companions. I want to give you a commission. Please save our other companions. Their leader is the third son of the Bronzebeard family from Ironforge. He's very rich; he can pay you!"
"Uh—" These words dispelled Lothar's idea of driving Ava away. The third son of the Bronzebeard family, wasn't that Brann? How could he encounter this unlucky fellow everywhere?
After lamenting how Brann had managed to survive until today, Lothar waved his hand and summoned another skeletal warhorse, then walked silently in Brann's direction. He didn't ask where Brann was, because in this desolate desert, Brann and the others' souls were as conspicuous as fireflies in the night.
Watching Lothar's departing back and the skeletal warhorse beside him, which seemed full of disdain and contempt, Ava swallowed, then steeled herself and, pulling on the bones of the warhorse, swung herself onto its back. The imagined scene of being thrown off the warhorse did not occur. Although it had no affection for living beings, due to Lothar's suppression, it didn't dare to do anything to Ava.
...
"Boss Brann, we're about to give out!" A dwarven expedition team member, gripping his crumpled expedition hat, sat down beside Brann, covered in dust. He said with a ashen face, "All our supplies are at the camp outside. Without water and food, we can't last more than a few days in here. I'm afraid in two days we'll have to gnaw on rocks."
The female dwarf sitting nearby scoffed at her companion, "Heh heh, relax. We won't even last until we run out of water and food. Those stubborn constructs outside have no intention of letting us go. They're frantically clearing the passage that was blasted shut by the dynamite earlier. Those rocks blocking the tunnel will only hold for a few hours at most."
"At least it can hold for a few more hours, which is better than being killed right now, Gloria," Brann said, leaning against the wall. This famous adventurer was also in a sorry state now. His carefully groomed beard was covered in dust and rock fragments, and even the long whiskers on the side of his face were singed. But this did not diminish Brann's will to survive.
He had encountered more difficult and perilous situations than this, and yet he was still alive today. He believed he wouldn't die today either.
Brann looked at the blasted-down side passage, recalling the situation just now. "When we were exploring the tunnel, all those constructs suddenly came to life. A small portion chased Thunderwine and the others, but the vast majority came towards us… Why is that…"
"I don't know, maybe we're just unlucky?" Gloria took a sip of water to moisten her throat. Their current supplies could last at most two or three days, but the good news was that before then, the constructs would break in and tear them limb from limb, so they would most likely not starve or die of thirst. Being killed instantly was better than being tortured by hunger and thirst.
"That might be one reason… But after we blasted the passage shut, those constructs didn't retreat or chase others. Instead, they swarmed us even more frantically… Is there a possibility, I mean, a possibility, that there's really something incredible hidden in this secret chamber, and the constructs' duty to guard the chamber is far more important than chasing down the fleeing people?" Brann came to a relatively reasonable conclusion based on his many years of experience.
"So, if we go to the very end and find some ancient artifact, and if it helps us, we might still have a chance to survive—" a dwarf said.
"Or we might be turned into dead dwarves by an even more dangerous trap—what do you say, boss? I'll listen to you either way." Gloria looked at Brann, waiting for him to give the order.
Brann pondered for a moment and finally made a decision, "We continue deeper. Staying here is a dead end. Exploring deeper might give us a sliver of hope."
"I'm not surprised to see Brann in a place like this."
The magnificent Titan-style gate in the distance made Lothar sigh with emotion; Brann always seemed to appear at the right place at the most unexpected time.
Anub'arak, however, had a different opinion. "That dwarf, I think he's a big trouble. Every time the Lich King is with him, something unexpected always happens."
"It's always been like this… Haha, maybe it's a curse," Lothar couldn't help but sigh, thinking of Brann's various outrageous deeds.
Ava looked at the silent Lothar in front of her, not knowing what to say. The conversation between Lothar and Anub'arak was directly through soul connection, so she couldn't hear it at all. All this way, she only felt Lothar's silence was chilling.
Fortunately, the Uldum ruins were already in sight, and this unsettling silence could finally come to an end.
Ava bravely said to Lothar, "It's right here, the Uldum ruins. Brann separated from us here. They lured most of the constructs into the facility."
She had thought Lothar wouldn't respond, but this time she heard a hoarse voice that seemed capable of freezing one's soul.
"Uldum?"
Ava thought she had said something wrong and quickly replied, "Yes… is it very dangerous here? We'll just find Brann and leave immediately!"
Lothar did not answer Ava's question again. He spoke to Anub'arak, "Didn't the Lich King say Uldum was a hidden ancient desert… How come this female dwarf says the ruins ahead are Uldum? What do you think?"
"I trust the Lich King more, and Azjol-Nerub's records also mentioned Uldum. In any case, that is an ancient region, not a long-abandoned Titan facility." Anub'arak answered unhurriedly, "Are you really planning to look for that dwarf named Brann? That might delay our time. The Lich King has set a time limit for us."
"Time is sufficient, and since they call this place Uldum, perhaps there's a connection to the ancient desert we're looking for… Hmm, the Lich King only told us that Uldum was hidden by ancient magic, and we had to find its specific location ourselves. Although he said with the guidance of the Apocalypse and the Frozen Throne, we shouldn't have much trouble, I think we can go find Brann. His research in this area is always better than ours."
In fact, this was also one of Lothar's purposes for coming. He didn't know how long he and Anub'arak would have to wander in the desert to find the gate of Uldum that Arthas spoke of. If Brann could offer some advice, it might be simpler.
"Alright." Anub'arak was concise. "There are many constructs ahead. Let's deal with them first."
What met their eyes was the Explorer's League's camp, torn to pieces by the constructs. Supplies, tools, and some logs and books were scattered everywhere, making Ava's heart ache.
Moreover, those constructs were still moving the Titan artifacts that the Explorer's League had excavated and collected back to their original places. If they continued, several weeks of their hard work would be completely ruined.
However, now was not the time to worry about the progress of archaeological work. The most urgent matter was to rescue Brann and the other trapped agents.
With Lothar and Anub'arak escorting them, the constructs, which were deadly weapons to the Explorer's League members, instantly became mere toys with no substance. Whether it was a Crypt Lord or a Deathlord, dealing with them was not to say effortless, but certainly easy.
Before long, all the rampaging ancient golems and constructs turned into piles of rubble and scrap metal. After Anub'arak's claws pierced the last golem, they finally had time to examine what Ava called "Uldum."
Although this Titan ruin still showed some semblance of a Titan facility, it was far too crude and dilapidated compared to the Titan facilities in Northrend. It was even more rundown than Uldaman, which was buried underground and had been extensively excavated.
If not for the distinctly Titan-style pillars and reliefs, this place might have been mistaken for an ordinary abandoned building.
"The entrance is buried by rubble, Anub'arak, can you dig a tunnel?"
Lothar looked at the rubble-filled passage and could only ask the Crypt Lord to clear the way. The Crypt Lord said nothing more and directly dug a path into the facility.
…
"Boss! If what it says here is true, then this isn't Uldum at all. This is just a monitoring facility that can monitor Uldum's situation!" Gloria reported the translated text to Brann in shock, "The real Uldum is completely different from the Titan ruins we've encountered before!"
"Oh my goodness… Boss, come look at this." The explorer Anvil lit up a template. He gazed ecstatically at the projected image, "Uldum… is an entire desert!"
"By my beard, I've never been this excited in my life!" Brann bounced around the control room like a captain discovering a new continent. He held his hat, looking here for a moment, touching there for another. "This is a new discovery that will revolutionize the archaeological world!"
The group of dwarves was excited for about one or two hours before their enthusiasm slowly cooled down, because they discovered that besides recording some true historical materials about Uldum, most other functions in this facility had failed due to the erosion of time. In other words, it was now just an empty shell, and those useful devices might have crashed eight hundred years ago.
"So we still can't get out." Anvil said with a long face, "Boss, it seems we're really stuck here this time—even if Thunderbrew and the others can make it to Gadgetzan, it'll take at least half a month round trip, and even if they spend a fortune to ride a gryphon back, it'll still be at least a week."
"However, no matter how much we ration our supplies, they'll only last three days at most," Gloria spread her hands. "Outside, there's a pile of constructs frantically digging through the rubble. Now we can sit in this hall full of historical materials and antiques and wait to die—the good news is we'll at least die with great value."
"Hey, girls and boys, don't be so disheartened. Trust old Bronzebeard, the facilities here are just down, they might not be broken. If we can activate them…" Brann found a panel, rubbed his hands together, and pressed the large red button on it.
For a long time, nothing happened. Brann chuckled awkwardly twice, and just as he was about to say something to comfort everyone, the entire control room began to shake.
"Boss, what button did you press again! I don't want to be crushed into dwarf pâté by stones!" Anvil dodged everywhere, avoiding falling rubble. Gloria, on the other hand, wielded her pickaxe, batting away flying rocks.
Brann was greatly alarmed. He quickly looked at the panel, "This… this isn't right. There was no power activated just now, what's going on?"
He rubbed the panel frantically again, only to find the shaking gradually stopping. As he let out a long breath and was about to take credit with his companions, he found a deathly silence behind him.
"Anvil? Gloria? What's wrong? Why aren't you talking?"
"Boss, it seems we made too much noise and woke up the mummies underground." Anvil swallowed, his entire body enveloped by a massive shadow. The Crypt Lord's eyes, glowing with a ghostly green light, were all fixed on him.
Anvil and Gloria, along with a few other dwarves, were instantly enveloped by an immense sense of pressure after being fixated upon by the Crypt Lord's multiple eyes. Anub'arak's colossal size, even among the Nerubians, made Anvil feel his calves uncontrollably trembling.
Gloria, on the other hand, gripped the pickaxe in her hand. Hot-tempered as she was, her current thought was to strike a heavy blow at Anub'arak before his claws pierced her.
But just as Gloria was about to charge out, a single sentence from Brann nearly made her lose her balance and fall to the ground.
"Goodness... why are you here? Did he send you?" There was no fear in Brann's voice, only confusion. The other dwarves didn't understand what Brann meant, but Brann himself knew, because he was one of the few who knew Arthas's other identity.
Although he couldn't identify which specific Crypt Lord Anub'arak was from his physical characteristics, he was indeed identical to the Crypt Lords in the Scourge.
"Allow me to answer that question."
Wrapped in a tattered cloak, with a greatsword bound in rags on his back, Death Knight Lothar pressed one hand against the wall of the tunnel Anub'arak had opened and spoke from the entrance, "Old Bronzebeard, long time no see."
Brann was very puzzled by this. He felt a strange sense of familiarity from the undead knight in front of him. It wasn't until the other party's stance slowly aligned with a figure in his memory that the well-traveled dwarf adventurer's eyes widened, his face filled with disbelief.
"Lothar—this, how is this possible!"
Lothar briefly smiled at the words, then pulled back his face covering, revealing a lifeless, pale face. "I truly didn't expect that I could save you again even after I died."
Aside from Brann, the other dwarves, and Ava who was following behind Lothar, belatedly discovered with shock that the Death Knight radiating a dangerous aura before them was none other than the Grand Marshal of the Alliance, Anduin Lothar, who had fallen many years ago.
Besides the joy of reuniting with an old friend, Brann asked a question with some concern, "He resurrected you... didn't he?"
Since Lothar had revealed his identity, he had no intention of hiding anything. He nodded slightly, "Indeed, but the situation is very complex and inconvenient to explain now. Just know that you don't need to worry; he hasn't gone down the path you fear."
"That's good..." Brann breathed a sigh of relief. He was truly afraid that Arthas would embark on a path of no return, which would undoubtedly lead to a worldwide catastrophe.
He knew he shouldn't doubt Arthas, but the power Arthas had wielded since taking up that sword was simply too dangerous, like walking on the edge of an abyss; a slight misstep could lead to a fatal fall.
"Then why are you here today? The Scourge shouldn't appear on the continent easily."
Brann asked Lothar. The last time the Scourge made a large-scale move was to counter the corrupted forces in Ulduar. Now that he met Lothar at the southernmost tip of the continent, he guessed that something significant was about to happen again.
"We are here for Uldum. There is something the Lich King needs there." Lothar directly told Brann the plan, as he intended to use Brann's abilities to accelerate the mission's progress.
When it came to exploring and excavating ancient ruins, he was no match for Brann, that 'troublemaker' who loved to run around. He had realized this even when he was the Grand Marshal of Stormwind: professional matters should be handled by professionals. The Lich King had indeed told him that if needed, he didn't need to hide his identity and could seek help, because the Scourge might soon no longer conceal its existence.
"Uldum? Ar—how did the Lich King set his sights on it? It can't be that he has an amateur hobby of archaeology, can it?" Brann turned and walked towards the various panels and records in the main control room, muttering as he showed Lothar their recent discoveries. "We originally thought this was Uldum, a small Titan facility, but this is actually just an observation post for Uldum. The real Uldum is hidden by ancient magic."
"The Lich King has already told us this information. He also gave us a specific coordinate, saying the true location of Uldum is probably around there. But since the gate to Uldum is magically concealed, hidden within the mountains, do you have any thoughts on this?"
Brann shook his head, sent his companions away to pack their things, telling them to set up a temporary camp here for research, then turned to Lothar and said, "No, absolutely no clue. We didn't even know the true situation of Uldum at first... Where did Arthas learn all these secrets? I suspect he's merged the Titans' information database into his brain!"
"That's a headache then... We can only go to our coordinates first and hope to find something useful there." Lothar glanced at the other dwarves busy in the main control room and said to Brann, "Are you coming with us, or staying here?"
The old dwarf chuckled twice, "Didn't I send those younglings away precisely so I could go with you? I can't wait another second to discover the true gate of Uldum."
Lothar was about to nod when he heard Anub'arak transmit a message to him through soul communication, "Are you really taking that troublemaker with you?"
Lothar said helplessly, "Do you think I want to? According to the Lich King, that gate is sealed with Titan technology and magic. So why don't we let Brann try if he can open it? I don't want to summon naxxanar only for it to be shot down from the sky by Titan technology."
Upon hearing this, Anub'arak fell silent, which was taken as acquiescence.
At this moment, Brann was scanning back and forth between Lothar and Anub'arak with a strange look—he always felt that these two were hiding something from him.
...
Twelve hours later, Brann, feeling like he was about to be dehydrated by the sun, looked at the continuous mountain range in front of him and the endless sand sea behind him, his facial features contorted into a knot.
"I say, if you want to exhaust Old Bronzebeard to death, just say so. I'm not an undead who can effortlessly run around in the desert." Brann said, simultaneously guzzling a mouthful of water—thankfully, he had packed enough supplies in his magic satchel.
"Strange..." Lothar frowned, "We should be very close to that coordinate."
"We seem to have been going in circles," Anub'arak suddenly said at this point, "I saw the underground tunnel I left here before."
Anub'arak hadn't noticed anything unusual at first, until he discovered the reinforced underground passage he had made. "I suspect this entire area is covered by some kind of magic, affecting our perception. The strong winds in the desert quickly cover up traces on the ground, and even the positions of the sand dunes shift."
"It does seem very wrong..." Brann also realized it at this moment. "Didn't you notice? All the places we just walked through... we haven't seen any traces or bones of wild animals. These things should be everywhere in Tanaris!"
Perhaps no one had ever come here, or everyone who did either luckily turned out of the magically covered area and returned to the normal desert, or they turned into bones, forever buried beneath the yellow sand.
....
While Brann, Lothar, and Anub'arak were searching for a way into Uldum, in the west of the Tanaris Desert, through the mysterious Un'Goro Crater and the barren Silithus, the sky was covered in a sickening, murky yellow. Looking closely, it wasn't just stirred-up sand, but also countless, horrifying swarms of Qiraji moving back and forth.
The defenders of Cenarion Hold were going through the most difficult time in the past twelve hundred years. The previously dormant Qiraji had reawakened, and they began to expand wildly, encroaching upon the Night Elves' defensive lines.
Every day, new casualties and corpses appeared in the Hold, making the already quiet fortress even more lifeless. This situation only slightly alleviated after the first wave of Night Elves reinforcements arrived.
However, the number of reinforced Druids was too small to fill the gaps. The Elves had no capital to engage the Nerubian in the wild and could only remain confined within the Hold, relying on the terrain and walls to defend against the Nerubian's attacks.
As for the Beetle Wall deeper in the desert, the Hold's commander had indeed sent scouts to investigate, but none of them returned. Initially, they could send Hippogryphs to scout from the air, but in recent days, the number of swarms had increased, and the sky was no longer safe. There were Qiraji everywhere in the sky, and Hippogryph riders would easily be surrounded by the insect tide, then turn into two skeletons falling from the sky and shattering into pieces.
The Kaldorei, preoccupied with fighting the Nerubian, were completely unaware that above the cloud sea formed by the insect swarms, several gigantic naxxanar were already positioned. Plagues and death, devouring all life, spread in the sky, and any insects attempting to approach would instantly become fuel for the Scourge naxxanar's engines.
"Ah, compared to those headache-inducing constructs, I still prefer dealing with these flesh-and-blood creatures," Gothik the Harvester said with a terrifying smile on his pale face. As Scourge spellcasters, they were not very effective against constructs and Iron Dwarves. During the siege of Ulduar, it was mostly the Scourge constructs and Death Knights who were at the forefront.
But now, they finally had a place to show their skills. Those endless insect swarms might be a severe test for the Kaldorei, but low-level insects, lacking in quality, were almost like readily available materials and resources for Necromancers.
Several high-ranking Warlocks in Naxxramas's Construct Quarter were already excited. Ever since Arthas overthrew Ner'zhul and became the new King of the Scourge, he had strictly forbidden his subordinates from hunting the Nerubian of Azjol-Nerub. This led to a temporary halt in some research related to the Nerubian, but precisely because of this decree, Anub'arak and his Nerubian were incredibly loyal to Arthas.
The Necromancers were fascinated by the physiological structure and life characteristics of the Nerubian. This was a race completely different from other creatures on Azeroth, as if they and other races were shaped by different creators.
This time, the Scourge's arrival in Silithus, besides resisting the tide of Qiraji, was also to test a large number of achievements and technologies gained from the War of Ulduar.
The data in Ulduar was undoubtedly a huge treasure trove for the Scourge's academic personnel. Due to Arthas's alliance and good relationship with the Guardians of Ulduar, they obtained a copy, which greatly improved the Scourge's technology tree during this period. Whether it was construct technology or energy utilization, they had reached new levels.
More importantly, the Scourge Legion had acquired a complete Old God corpse. Yogg-Saron's soulless but still active body was like an underground mine for the Scourge Legion, but what was extracted from it was not ore, but extremely precious active materials—flesh, bones, and even more terrifying things that would drive mortals insane and demented just by looking at them.
The construct soldiers made from Old God flesh, combined with the brutal souls salvaged from the River of Souls, and finally merged, were weapons of war that even Kel'Thuzad praised profusely.
Moreover, the Old God's body had other unexpected uses. The research area in Icecrown Citadel was working day and night to develop Old God-based Scourge technology. Yogg-Saron's corpse had far greater potential than Mannoroth, so Scourge scientists' utilization of Old God creations was more profound than their research on demons.
Now, hearing that there was another ancient deity in Silithus, and even a complete race of Nerubian dependents, the fanatical Scourge surprisingly developed a "morale" that should not have existed. They drove their naxxanar thousands of miles from the Arctic to the skies above Silithus, implementing their King's will.
"Several destroyed Night Elves villages detected, Archlich Kel'Thuzad."
The information from the cold wraith brought the contemplative Kel'Thuzad back to his senses. He was toying with an orb emitting a chilling coldness. With a light tap of his bony finger, he said, "Deploy a few Void Golems and test their combat capabilities."
After the Archlich's command was issued, the naxxanar's engines roared. Accompanied by the roaring of the engines, violent shadow fluctuations gathered beneath the naxxanar. When the energy converged to its peak, a purple pillar of shadow light, like a spear wrathfully thrown by a god, mercilessly pierced deep into the earth.
On the ground, at the ruined Elven outpost, countless Qiraji crawled on the streets, houses, and towers, building new insect nests. Worker ants, guided by some advanced consciousness, were dragging the corpses of fallen Kaldorei soldiers into the insect nests, intending to turn them into nutrients for larvae and eggs.
However, when the shadow pillar pierced the earth, the buildings and organic matter of the insect nests below instantly annihilated. The attacked swarms immediately mobilized, and countless Qiraji soldiers emerged from caves and sandy ground, gathering towards the area struck by the shadow, intending to tear their enemies to shreds.
But soon, these brutal swarms were torn to pieces by even more violent Void tentacles. A Gronn, covered in Void energy and with a broad back full of wriggling tentacles, roared and charged into the insect tide. With every step of his powerful legs, a terrifying Void tremor followed, instantly taking the lives of weaker insects, while other Qiraji also paused, as if losing control of their bodies, swaying in place or running aimlessly.
The Void Golems would not show mercy because of this. He had long been modified into a pure weapon of war by Scourge technicians. Although he still had the appearance of a Gronn, he was actually more accurately described as a construct, a construct fused with Old God flesh and Gronn flesh, then reshaped and artificially matured, completely under the control of the naxxanar.
After several roaring Gronn and sweeping Void tentacles rolled over, the already ruined Elven village was completely leveled. Ordinary Nerubian, without the leadership of Qiraji commanders and priests, were no different from ants on the ground when facing Void Golems, and they didn't even have the ability to approach these behemoths.
And every time the Gronn killed an insect, his tentacles would absorb their flesh, and the insects' souls would be extracted by the small Soul Engine hidden within the Gronn.
Kel'Thuzad watched everything displayed on the magical image expressionlessly. This was just a preliminary test. If all the weapons could achieve the desired effect, then that would be truly exciting for him.
At that time, even if the Lich King did not personally act, he could lead Naxxramas and the Scourge soldiers, and have the opportunity to achieve the feat of "God-slaying"...