After the Void Golems cleared several Qiraji hives, Naxxramas recalled these rampaging behemoths. After all, they were still considered mere test "models," and the most important thing was to obtain combat data.
Gothik the Harvester ignored the terrifying Void Golems and instead focused on the piles of Qiraji corpses on the ground. "What a pity, so many good materials lost for nothing."
"Hmph, it's enough. Don't waste time. Quickly send those laborers down to move things. The Qiraji gather very quickly. If we delay, Lord Kel'Thuzad won't let us off easy." Farina, leading several Necromancer apprentices, urged Gothik to act quickly.
The Void Golems' first performance was outstanding, but the problem was that their output exceeded the Scourge engineers' expectations. The hives swept by several of these rampaging behemoths were left with only scattered Qiraji remains.
"Leftovers, I'm not interested. You can send your apprentices. I still need to go back and discipline those new recruits—a bunch of arrogant fools who can't control their own power."
Gothik withdrew his gaze, no longer eyeing the Qiraji remains. He had just observed that the Qiraji crushed by the Gronn were mostly just fragments. It would take a lot of effort to piece them together, so it was better to leave it to the Spider Wing and Abomination Wing to handle.
Before leaving, the Necromancer also stated, "If there are any living samples, bring some back. The new recruits need them."
"Don't order me around, Gothik," Farina had no common ground with this stubborn Necromancer whose mind was full of necromancy, and she somewhat disdainfully dismissed Gothik.
She summoned Nerubian and Necromancer apprentices, sending them down to collect the Qiraji remains. The Necromancer apprentices dared not defy the Black Widow's command and could only dejectedly summon skeleton laborers to accompany them on their trip below.
"Hurry up, don't dawdle, or if those Qiraji come back, you won't have to!"
The Black Widow's words invigorated the apprentices, and they jostled and squeezed into the teleportation rune.
"I'll go down and take a look too."
A muffled voice sounded behind Farina. She turned to see a massive Crypt Lord preparing to leave naxxanar.
"Why are you going down, Anub'rekhan? The battle is over." Farina was a little surprised.
"After the fall of the Aqir Empire, we and these cousins have been separated by countless centuries. Those ancient records may no longer apply to them. I need to see their various methods with my own eyes so that I can better face the upcoming war," Anub'rekhan said.
...
"So, those Nerubian are actually your cousins?" Brann asked Anub'arak with a look of surprise. "And in an older era, there was an empire formed by Aqir Nerubian? By the Mountain King… history will probably have to be rewritten again."
Lothar, however, didn't listen to Anub'arak and Brann's idle chatter. He sat on the cliff, gazing at the sea of sand below. "Uldum is hidden too deeply. We've searched for so long and found no clues at all. We only know it's somewhere where we are standing, but this is just an ordinary cliff…"
They had already circled the coordinates given by Arthas several times, and Anub'arak had even excavated a considerable portion of the underground area, yet they still hadn't found the entrance to Uldum. Behind this mountain range was an endless sea, with no trace of the legendary Uldum desert.
Brann, however, didn't mind, holding his canteen and saying, "That's perfectly normal. If it was intentionally hidden by the Titans, then there must be some big secret. Without the right method, we probably won't find Uldum in this lifetime. But… I do have an idea."
With that, Brann fumbled through his belongings until he pulled out a cube. He threw the cube on the ground, and after a brief wait, the cube began to glow with a faint blue light.
These lights quickly dissipated and reassembled until they formed a clear image.
"Ah, Brann Bronzebeard, is there something you need?" A large-headed mechanical Gnome appeared in the 3D projection.
"Mimiron, do you know how to enter Uldum?"
Brann pulled out his trump card: just ask the Titan Guardians, and it would be over, right? They should know how to get into Uldum.
"Uldum?"
To his surprise, Mimiron uncharacteristically stalled for a moment. Several sparks flew from his body, and then Mimiron returned to normal. "I'm sorry, after my original body was destroyed, the new chassis always has problems—you just said Uldum, right? I'm very sorry, but I really can't answer that question."
Brann was stunned. Mimiron and the other Guardians were currently the beings with the highest authority over Titan facilities on Azeroth. Was there something even they didn't know?
"Why?"
"Hmm… this part of the information was destroyed by my former self and not injected into this new body. However, what I can still retrieve is that Uldum is a very special area, and only the highest management authority can activate it. This authority is held by only three individuals: Ra, Odin, and Loken."
"Oh my… of those three people you mentioned, besides Loken, I haven't heard of any of the others." Brann felt a headache coming on. He had originally thought it was just another expedition like the one to Ulduar, but now it seemed to involve more. "We don't need to activate the entire area. Is there no other way besides having those guys with the keys open the door?"
"Unable to retrieve relevant information temporarily—hah, even I can't retrieve it, so it must be something really critical. If it's not necessary, I suggest not going there." Mimiron gave a pertinent answer.
Lothar and Brann exchanged glances, and the Death Knight took over, saying, "We are commanded by the Lich King to go to Uldum to find a weapon that can destroy C'Thun… If he breaks free, everything in Ulduar will be in vain."
Mimiron stalled again upon hearing this. "C'Thun? Ugh, what troublesome times. Why are these sealed-away problems all trying to break free one after another… But now that you mention it, Uldum does seem to have a weapon that can deal with Old Gods. Algalon said so too—but does Arthas have no other options? How did he defeat Yogg-Saron last time? Can't he repeat it?"
Ignoring who Algalon was, whom Mimiron mentioned, Lothar simply replied, "Perhaps we could do it again, but the consequences would probably be more severe than C'Thun breaking free."
"…"
Even Mimiron fell silent now. He truly couldn't imagine what method Arthas had used for the side effects to be even more severe than C'Thun breaking free.
However, the remaining Guardians in Ulduar would not delve into their ally's actions. As long as he did not threaten Azeroth, it was not considered a violation of the rules.
Mimiron then replied, "Then the current situation is a bit tricky. I need to search for relevant data in the Norgannon Discs. This might take some time—"
With that, Mimiron seemed to fall into a state of unresponsiveness again.
Brann slapped his thigh, "He didn't say how long—"
"Ah, I've found it—hmm, Brann Bronzebeard, you seem to have something to say. Is there additional information to add?" Mimiron looked at Brann curiously.
"No, nothing. You go on."
"Then I will continue to report my findings: the core of Uldum is, is… wait, why is all this data encrypted?" Halfway through the reading program, Mimiron discovered something was wrong.
The lights in the mechanical Gnome's eye sockets flickered several times. After confirming that the information he had searched for was correct, he answered Brann and Lothar, "How strange, the information retrieved from the Discs is all encrypted. I need some time to decrypt it—but I found this, a holographic map of the continent from ten thousand years ago. The magic on Uldum was applied later by someone. We don't know what happened inside, but with this map, if you find those mountain paths leading to Uldum, you might be able to forcefully break through the concealment magic."
As soon as Mimiron finished speaking, the cube began to vibrate rhythmically. Then, a smaller cube detached from the original and, upon activation, displayed a holographic map of the Tanaris-Uldum region from ten thousand years ago.
"Thank you. With this, we can get the weapon to deal with C'Thun faster…" Lothar thanked Mimiron, holding the map cube.
Mimiron's mechanical head swayed from side to side. "Most of Ulduar's functions are currently in a state of unresponsiveness, and the other Guardians are still injured and not fully recovered. The safety of Azeroth can only be entrusted to you for now. Goodbye, I must reorganize the data in the Discs. If I hadn't retrieved it today, I wouldn't have known that many things inside were encrypted by someone."
After getting the map from Mimiron, Brann examined it for a moment, letting out a strange "Huh?"
"What's wrong?" Lothar looked at Brann in confusion, "Can't you open it?"
"No… why does it show that the Uldum region was a jungle ten thousand years ago—like Stranglethorn Vale?" Brann scratched his head, not thinking much of it, "Arthas told you Uldum is a desert, right? If he's correct, then this area might have undergone drastic climate changes."
"Then wouldn't this map be useless?"
What worried Lothar was whether this ancient map from Mimiron would still be useful after the climate change.
After Brann compared the holographic map with his own, he dispelled Lothar's worries, "It looks like only the precipitation and vegetation have changed; the general topography hasn't changed much—but after taking the small path over this mountain range into Uldum, if it really is a desert there, then this map's guiding function won't be very significant."
After countless years had passed, and undergoing such drastic changes as a jungle transforming into a desert, no one knew what Uldum would look like inside, as sand is not as fixed as soil; perhaps just a strong gust of wind could alter the dunes of the entire desert.
"First, let's use the map to find the way into Uldum; the rest is up to us." Lothar, hearing this, no longer worried; as long as they could enter Uldum, all problems would be resolved.
Although this matter still relied on Brann's help, they couldn't always depend on Brann to solve their problems. The technology and magic of the Scourge were not to be underestimated. Lothar had full confidence that once Uldum's exact coordinates were confirmed, Arthas's objective could be reached quickly.
Meanwhile, Arthas and the Guardian Dragons decided to temporarily stay in Teldrassil. Teldrassil now appeared to be growing robustly, gradually becoming a sanctuary for the Night Elves, but without the blessings of the Guardian Dragons, Teldrassil's existence could be said to perfectly embody the idiom "a tall tree catches the wind."
Ysera was worried that Xavius would make a comeback, so she asked her siblings to temporarily stay and look after the Night Elves. After all, the Night Elves had suffered heavy losses to defeat Archimonde, and at that time, the Guardian Dragons were all preoccupied with their own internal affairs and played no role in the Third War.
For this reason, the Guardian Dragons had no further objections to the Night Elves planting Teldrassil on their own. Moreover, this matter was almost entirely orchestrated by Fandral, having little to do with Malfurion, Tyrande, and other Night Elves.
During this time, Malfurion also personally went to interrogate Fandral, but ever since Xavius stopped deceiving Fandral with Vastann's illusion, he had been like a lost soul, completely unresponsive to external stimuli. No matter whether Malfurion reprimanded or consoled him, Fandral remained like a dead man, without any response.
Malfurion no longer wanted to use any more torture to punish Fandral; this was not Malfurion's style, and in Fandral's current state, perhaps twice losing his "son" was already the most painful punishment for this resilient druid.
Since Fandral was prepared to betray all of the Kaldorei, his end would be to remain in prison for the rest of his life. This was Malfurion's final arrangement for his troublesome apprentice.
But Arthas didn't think so. Letting Fandral languish in prison would only cause his mind to gradually disintegrate and descend into madness. Eventually, Fandral would become a ticking time bomb, and once someone ignited the resentment in his heart, Fandral would certainly retaliate against the entire world.
Thus, prevention is better than cure; rather than letting Fandral stay in prison, where he might one day be corrupted by evil forces, it would be better to help him out of this predicament first.
"So what do you plan to do?" Malfurion was a little disbelieving, not because he questioned Arthas's view, but because he remained reserved about whether Fandral could be restored to normal.
"To end the emptiness in Fandral's heart, one must seek the source of this emptiness," Arthas hinted, and Malfurion understood.
"Are you saying… Vastann?" Malfurion seemed to grasp something, but he still didn't know what Arthas intended to do.
Arthas merely shook his head, not planning to reveal his entire plan. He simply said, "Let me see Fandral. At least I have a way to make him talk to me."
…
"So, I'm here today, Fandral."
Arthas stood in the cell, leaning on Frostmourne. Fandral, who had been unresponsive, now lifted his head, but he didn't speak; instead, he stared at the runeblade in Arthas's hand.
Malfurion had sent the prison guards away, leaving only Arthas and Fandral in the cell.
"But it's not me who wants to talk to you, and I know you won't talk to me, but… what if it's him?"
Soon, Fandral's attention focused on the shadow behind Arthas. His gaze shifted from confusion to shock, and then to a frenzy consumed by rage.
"You blasphemer! How dare you—"
"Silence, Father, you are the blasphemer!" Vastann, clad in pitch-black saronite plate armor, roared at the father he had once deeply revered.
This roar choked all of Fandral's words back into his mouth. His lips trembled, his eyes filled with sorrow and disbelief. He had never imagined his son would be turned into an undead, nor had he expected that the son who once respected and loved him so much would curse him upon their reunion.
A flicker of sadness crossed Vastann's eyes, but it was quickly masked by an icy, emotionless expression. "Do you think you were saving me? You were harming all your kin, Father! You never taught me this way. I always held it as a creed to protect our people and our homeland at all costs—this is what you taught me!"
"No… Vastann, listen to me—"
"There's nothing to explain, Father. You've changed, becoming a selfish egoist and a coward. I am ashamed to have a father like you. Everything you did wasn't for me, but for your inner cowardice and selfishness. You should have faced the truth long ago; I am dead, but I died protecting the Kaldorei. Yet you willingly degenerated, believed Xavius's despicable lies, and persecuted our kin. Don't you know that if your abominable plan succeeded, even Leyara and Istaria would be implicated? You are destroying everything we cherish!"
Vastann walked up to the bound Fandral, glaring at him with his eyes. He practically roared out his true feelings, his deafening words making Fandral unable to meet his son's gaze.
The chest of the deceased Vastann heaved violently in anger, until finally he exhaled a cold breath. "I have nothing more to say. If I were Shan'do Stormrage, I would kill you. At least then my memory of you, Father, would still be from twelve hundred years ago."
Fandral, who had been headstrong and excessively arrogant, now completely collapsed, tearfully pleading in a voice that was almost a sob, "Kill me… Vastann, I know I was wrong. I will atone with my life…"
Vastann, however, turned and left at that moment. He summoned a Death Gate to return to the Skyhold, and at the same time, spoke in a calm, unruffled tone.
"No, Father, the crimes you committed cannot be atoned for by your death. I curse you, I curse you to live in eternal torment until you have repaid all your transgressions among the Kaldorei, until the souls of the Kaldorei kin who died because of you find peace—that is all, Fandral Deerhelm."
Finally, only silent darkness remained in the cell, along with Fandral's sorrowful sobs.
"I thought your words would be more tactful," Arthas said to Vastann behind him, his hand resting on the hilt of Frostmourne at his waist.
Vastann sighed at this, a hint of helplessness surfacing in his cold eyes. "I know my father too well. He's more stubborn than an earth elemental. If you don't completely shatter the facts he believes, he won't turn back—I'm already dead, but he's still alive. If I don't curse him with vicious words to make him live, he might choose to commit suicide."
After speaking, Vastann's expression changed, becoming unapproachable again. "I have completed my mission. When can I go to the next task?"
"Anytime. Naxxramas has already stopped above Silithus. Here are the coordinates and authorization to open the portal." Arthas turned and tapped Vastann's shoulder. "Let your sword drink deeply of the enemy's blood."
Vastann had no intention of lingering. Though Teldrassil was beautiful, as beautiful as Nordrassil and Mount Hyjal, it was no longer his world. He had returned from death, and apart from his lingering affection for his family and homeland, his hollow soul held only rage and resentment towards the Nerubian.
If he didn't go slaughter those Nerubian soon, he felt he would be consumed by this rage and become a completely mindless undead.
Of course, this was merely Vastann's own feeling. Having been resurrected by Arthas, he had the Lich King's protection. As a Champion of the Lich King, he would no longer be troubled by the drawbacks of undeath. That rage and resentment would only become a source of his endless dark power.
After Vastann left, a tall figure emerged from the shadows of the forest.
"Vastann is a hero. He shouldn't have to endure such suffering," Malfurion said with a complex expression, gazing at the spot where Vastann had disappeared.
"Indeed, the Kaldorei did not fail him, yet the person he respected most in life did, almost turning the cause he dedicated everything to into a joke," Arthas commented. "Do you still feel sorry for Staghelm? I don't think so… He almost accomplished what even the Old Gods and the Burning Legion couldn't, all by himself."
"He is my student after all, and he once led the Kaldorei to many great feats," Malfurion said, his heart filled with mixed emotions when speaking of Staghelm. Even now, he felt as if he were still in a dream, wondering why his excellent student, in whom he had placed such high hopes, had come to this point.
"Then if the Kaldorei are willing to forgive him, it's up to him whether he's willing to forgive himself…" Arthas looked back at the prison where Staghelm was held.
He was about to leave, but Malfurion called out to him again.
"Arthas."
"Is there anything else?"
"If… if Staghelm dies, I don't expect the Emerald Dream to accept his soul. In that case, you can take him with you."
To utter these words, Malfurion seemed to have made a great decision, so much so that Arthas was somewhat surprised.
After a while, Arthas shook his head and chuckled, "You've really given me a tough one."
…
A few days later, Staghelm ultimately did not choose to end his life. He even ate the food brought by the jailer. Vastann's scathing rebuke was far more effective than anyone else's accusations against Staghelm.
He loved his son too much. Even though Vastann showed no mercy to the errant Staghelm, he truly took Vastann's words to heart… or rather, he felt he had no face to die now.
Moreover, though Vastann was now undead, for Staghelm, he was far better than a silent, unexpressive grave. While Vastann might not forgive Staghelm's betrayal, at least Staghelm still had a chance to talk and converse with his son again.
No one knew what Staghelm was truly thinking, but without a doubt, Staghelm was willing to make any sacrifice to be able to speak to his son again.
This sacrifice included everything he possessed: titles, reputation, wealth, power, and all other things.
Arthas did not inquire about how the Cenarion Circle ultimately dealt with Staghelm. This was an internal matter for the Night Elves, and resurrecting Vastann was more like a concession to help Malfurion save Staghelm.
And on this day, Arthas finally received the only good news he had gotten in a while.
"We have largely cleared out the Legion forces in Outland. Aside from some natives who remain hostile to outsiders, the Alliance can be said to fully control most of Outland. Prophet Velen is also preparing to lead his surviving people to Azeroth." Jaina's magical image always wore a smile; the long expedition was finally over. But then a hint of worry appeared on her face. "However… after the battle at the Dark Temple, Lady Maiev captured most of the Illidari, but Illidan himself is missing, and his subordinate Vashj is not on our capture list."
"Don't worry about Illidan," Arthas said, comforting Jaina, but he did not reveal the entire plan. After all, Outland was different from Azeroth; who knew if the Legion had left any surveillance behind there, or even if some Legion scouts had already infiltrated the expeditionary force. "First, stabilize the situation in Outland. In a while, the soldiers will be able to go home."
"You also need to be careful, Arthas," Jaina sighed. "Don't overwork yourself. Lordaeron says you haven't spent more than a few days in the city lately."
"It's you who truly needs a good rest, Jaina," Arthas said, regretting that he couldn't be on the battlefield in Outland. "Give my regards to my teachers. That's all for now."
Once Jaina's image disappeared, Arthas immediately sent word to inform the Guardian Dragons. Soon, the four Guardian Dragons gathered in the Moon God Temple. Tyrande had already cleared out the personnel in the Moon God Temple in advance. The four dragons and one person stood in the grand hall, appearing especially cold under the moonlight.
"Illidan has been defeated. According to the plan, he will escape back to Azeroth with the sargerite keystone. To retrieve this important item, Kil'jaeden will most likely personally pursue Illidan," Arthas informed the Dragon Aspects of the current situation.
"Excellent. Now the initiative is on our side," Malygos said with great satisfaction. "For so many years, we have passively endured the troubles of the Legion. Now we finally have a chance to take the offensive."
The other two Guardian Dragons shared the same view, only Ysera hesitated.
"Do you have any concerns, Ysera? It's fine to speak directly," Malygos noticed his sister's expression.
"The situation in Silithus seems less than optimistic. Every day, the souls of deceased druids enter the Emerald Dream. I'm worried that if this continues, Xavius will take advantage once the power of the Dream Guardian is depleted again," Ysera expressed concern about the state of the Beetle Wall.
Upon hearing this, Malygos turned his gaze to Arthas.
"Don't worry about the Qiraji and their masters. I will handle the battle there," Arthas responded after confirming Lothar's situation. "First, defeat Kil'jaeden and delay the Legion's advance. Only then will we have enough time to clear out the troubles on Azeroth."
Somewhere on a beach in Dragonblight, Northrend, Illidan's hand brushed over the new scars on his chest.
These were the 'farewell gifts' from Warden Maiev; even though the Illidari had rushed back to the Dark Temple from Mardum in the Broken Abyss and desperately tried to stop Maiev for Illidan, there were simply too many experts dispatched by the Alliance.
Maiev still seized the opportunity to leave the scars of her crescent glaives on Illidan.
Fortunately, the sargerite keystone gave Illidan the ability to travel between worlds without the aid of the Dark Portal, allowing him to escape; otherwise, he might not have been able to break free from the encirclement.
This made Illidan gain a deeper understanding of Arthas—he always left himself an out, never truly trusting him.
Seeing the relentless attacks from the Alliance powerhouses, Illidan knew that Arthas had never truly informed the Alliance leaders of his intentions.
If Illidan had been too weak and died in the siege or been captured, the sargerite keystone would have ultimately fallen into Arthas's hands.
"Lord Illidan... our forces have been defeated..." Vashj was in a terrible state at this moment; she had accompanied Illidan in holding out until the very last moment, and thus was covered in wounds, appearing even more disheveled than Illidan.
The most desperate part was that most of their personnel had fallen in the Battle of the Dark Temple; only Vashj's personal guards and some Demon Hunters, totaling no more than a few dozen people, had escaped.
In other words, they had now lost almost all their usable strength; even with the keystone in hand, they couldn't retaliate against the Legion's worlds as planned.
But this was merely Vashj's thought; Illidan, holding the keystone at this moment, had other plans.
He was pondering whether Arthas was truly trustworthy; just as Arthas wouldn't trust him without reservations, Illidan likewise dared not reveal all his intentions to Arthas.
What bound them together was the Burning Legion, their common enemy; however, times had changed, and the Alliance, represented by Arthas, had already defeated Illidan's forces and occupied Outland.
Illidan's only remaining leverage was the sargerite keystone in his hand.
"Arthas Menethil, why does an anomaly like you exist?" Illidan clenched the keystone in his hand, a half-smile on his face, muttering Arthas's name.
Before him, everything about himself seemed transparent, yet he knew very little about Arthas.
His biggest reason for not trusting Arthas was that he knew Arthas had usurped Lich King Ner'zhul's position, and he doubted whether a human could control such dark power.
What if Arthas had already been controlled by the Legion, merely acting out this play under Kil'jaeden's manipulation...?
The mere thought of the final outcome sent shivers down even Illidan's spine.
Therefore, after a brief decision, Illidan looked at his exhausted subordinates, almost all of whom were wounded, and commanded, "Prepare to depart; we'll head to the Broken Isles first."
Illidan decided he also needed to keep a trump card; he planned to go to the temple where the Dark Titan's avatar was buried and use the power of that dark avatar to achieve his goals.
Vashj said nothing; the choice she made had forever bound her to Illidan's chariot.
Now they had only one path left: follow Illidan and obey his commands.
However, a group of weary, wounded soldiers, and even Illidan himself, were completely unaware that the moment the sargerite keystone opened a portal back to Azeroth, the Scourge's eyes had already fixed upon them.
"Illidan did not proceed to Icecrown Glacier as planned; he and his subordinates have left Northrend."
This was Thassarian reporting everything he saw to Arthas from the naxxanar's observation deck.
"Illidan is indeed untrustworthy; he is the best embodiment of the word 'betrayal'." Malygos's first reaction upon receiving the news was to capture and deal with Illidan first.
"Calm down, brother; if we move against Illidan now, it will only alert Kil'jaeden." Alexstrasza felt it wasn't the right time, and the other two Guardian Dragons shared her view.
But Arthas seemed unsurprised; Illidan breaking his agreements with others was nothing new.
As long as Arthas's goal was achieved—to have the sargerite keystone appear on Azeroth—that was enough.
This in itself was a weighty enough bargaining chip; once Kil'jaeden belatedly discovered this, the enraged the Deceiver would surely understand what good deeds the truly 'two-faced' Illidan had done.
At that point, the Deceiver would inevitably abandon his illusions and personally come to deal with the Lich King and Illidan, the two 'traitors' of the Legion.
Not to mention that the sargerite keystone was in Illidan's hands, and Illidan himself had run off to Sargeras' Tomb; Kil'jaeden would not miss this excellent opportunity under any circumstances.
Being deceived again and again, even an honest good person would get angry, let alone someone called 'the Deceiver', Kil'jaeden.
No one knew what Kil'jaeden, infuriated by being repeatedly fooled like an idiot by Illidan, would ultimately do.
"Illidan's subordinates are all wounded and exhausted; it will take them a considerable amount of time to reach the Broken Isles.
During this time, we had best prepare first.
The previously planned ambush site is no longer suitable, and Illidan probably won't cooperate with us, but Sargeras' Tomb might very well be a good place to bury Kil'jaeden's ambition."
Arthas's words drew the gazes of all four Guardian Dragons.
Having spent so much time together, and having experienced battles and events of all sizes, even they had to praise the valuable suggestions Arthas put forth.
"Sargeras' Tomb? Why? That's not a good choice." Ysera was somewhat moved; she recalled the terrifying entity sealed within that tomb.
"If that dark avatar were accidentally awakened, Azeroth would face an even greater disaster."
"The seal Aegwynn set with the pillars of creation isn't that easy to break, but if Illidan starts messing around in there, it's hard to say," Malygos recalled the brilliant yet extremely arrogant human mage from centuries ago.
"Arthas is right; we should get to Sargeras' Tomb and prepare before Illidan does.
That way, even if something happens, we can deal with it in time."
"I have a question," Alexstrasza raised a doubt, "If Illidan doesn't cooperate with us, how will Kil'jaeden unknowingly step into our trap?"
"It's not only Illidan who knows how to summon Kil'jaeden's arrival—and besides, the current Illidan wouldn't dare to summon Kil'jaeden; that enraged the Deceiver would kill him first the moment he appeared."
Arthas took out a scroll of parchment; this was intelligence sent by Kel'Thuzad, detailing the movements of some undead who had rebelled against the Scourge.
Among them was also a powerful Lich, one of the Burning Legion remnants who had fortunately escaped from the Battle of Mount Hyjal, and was now entrenched in Desolace.
"Lei Ji·Donghan, a fanatical follower of the Burning Legion, disappeared after the Battle of Mount Hyjal.
Although his unit was defeated by the combined forces at the time, and he himself died in battle, his phylactery was never found.
Some time ago, my people, whom I sent out to appease and recruit active undead throughout Azeroth, discovered the existence of this Lich."
The moment Arthas received the intelligence on Lei Ji·Donghan, he immediately came up with an alternative plan for Illidan's treachery.
No matter what, Illidan wouldn't want to confront Kil'jaeden directly; given what he had done against the Burning Legion, Kil'jaeden would likely not listen to his excuses and would simply swat him dead.
Even more, Kil'jaeden might not even respond to Illidan's summons.
But if Lei Ji·Donghan were given such an opportunity, he would certainly try every means, sparing no effort, to summon Kil'jaeden's arrival.
And whether Kil'jaeden believed Lei Ji·Donghan or not, because the loss of the sargerite keystone was of great importance, with Lei Ji·Donghan giving him an excuse, Kil'jaeden would definitely come down in person.
At the same time, Kil'jaeden also had a considerable degree of self-confidence that no creature on Azeroth was his match.
....
Although the Guardian Dragons and Arthas changed the ambush location to Sargeras' Tomb, this brought up a new problem: to control Sargeras' Tomb, they needed a suitable springboard.
"That tomb is submerged at the bottom of the sea. During the Second War, Gul'dan raised it again."
Malygos extended his right hand and used Arcane magic to create a clear 3D map. "If I recall correctly, it was once part of Suramar City ten thousand years ago."
"Suramar, I haven't heard that name in a long time..." Alexstrasza's expression held a hint of nostalgia. Even a Dragon would be filled with awe at the prosperous Kaldorei Empire of ten thousand years ago.
It was a miracle, a magical marvel built upon the Well of Eternity, the jewel of Azeroth—a glorious era that could not be replicated and would never have the chance to reappear.
"That city hasn't been destroyed yet, but the bridge connecting to the original Elune's Temple broke during the Great Sundering," Ysera said, updating them on the current situation. "We should seek out the surviving Kaldorei, but part of Suramar's urban area has been surrounded by a massive magical barrier since the Great Sundering."
"A magical barrier?" Malygos seemed confused. He furrowed his brows and asked, "How come I never noticed a magical barrier large enough to cover the entire city there?"
The Arcane network nodes capable of sustaining such a massive shield would never escape Malygos's eye, but the Arcane network in the Suramar region seemed not to be extensively utilized. At least, Malygos currently felt that most of Suramar's Arcane network was in a state of natural dormancy.
"It's the eye of aman'thul, a creation artifact left over from the Titan era. The magical energy contained within it allowed them to erect a shield that has lasted for ten thousand years, and they also used it to recreate a wellspring to satisfy their need for Arcane power."
Arthas's timely explanation made Malygos understand the whole story. The Blue Dragon King shook his head slightly, "These Elves, whether High Elf or Highborne, always live in the shadow of the Well of Eternity, as if they can't survive without creating a wellspring."
But this couldn't be blamed on the Elves. The Well of Eternity's influence on them was simply too profound, and their fondness for magical wellsprings might be innate.
"So now the problem is, how do we get the Elves of Suramar to open their 'turtle shell' and then convince them to provide us with convenience?"
Malygos's intention in saying this was clear: he didn't want to waste time with empty pleasantries with Suramar's leadership. This matter was a race against time. If they wasted time and delayed the opportune moment, Azeroth would fall into a very disadvantageous situation.
So, in the Weaver's opinion, a violent breakthrough to force the Elves into submission was the approach that should be adopted right now.
He focused his attention on his two sisters—Ysera and Alexstrasza—as they were the most likely to object to his idea.
But to Malygos's surprise, neither Ysera nor Alexstrasza had any intention of rejecting his suggestion. Nozdormu said, "We don't have the right to order the Elves of Suramar to fight for us, but if they are unwilling to make some compromises, then they are allowing our world to fall into an abyss."
Arthas, however, knew that Suramar's leader, Grand Magistrix Elisande, was a prime example of someone who responded to force, not reason. If you reasoned with her, she would respond with fists. Only if your fists were big and hard enough could the arrogant Grand Magistrix relent.
If he wanted to further his plan, Kil'jaeden and the Burning Legion had to be defeated once more to make them abandon the idea of returning to Azeroth for a short period.
"Let me talk to Elisande. She might agree to lift Suramar's magical shield."
"You?"
...
"Grand Magistrix, why is the Nightwell's Arcane supply becoming increasingly strained? If this continues, a large number of commoners will become weak or even die from not receiving enough Arcane power!"
Chief Arcaneist Talisra once again raised her doubts about the current Arcane supply distribution. The nobles in the city were a minority, yet they enjoyed abundant Arcane allocations, while the majority of commoners could only rely on a meager amount of Nightwell Arcane to alleviate their Arcane needs.
"We need more Arcane to maintain the shield, Talisra. As Chief Arcaneist, you should be well aware of the barrier's importance. Any citizen of Suramar would be willing to pay a small... price for it." Elisande's expression was unruffled, as if this matter concerning the lives and deaths of countless commoners was insignificant to her.
"Yes, the barrier requires a large amount of Arcane, but ten thousand years have passed since the Great Sundering, and our scouts have confirmed that the outside environment has stabilized. Why do we still need to maintain this barrier? And those nobles, even if their Arcane wine supply were reduced—"
"Talisra!"
Elisande raised her voice, cutting off Talisra's speech. The Magister's expression froze as she realized her emotions were a bit too strong and she had said something she shouldn't have. She immediately lowered her head.
"Alright, Talisra, I'm tired. Let's end today's conversation here." Elisande glanced at her Chief Arcaneist, no longer interested in continuing the discussion.
Talisra had bothered her many times about this issue, and Elisande was quite annoyed by this persistent subordinate. However, she still needed Talisra to balance the relationship between the nobles and commoners, otherwise, she would have long ago demoted Talisra to an ordinary Magister, out of sight, out of mind.
After Talisra left, Elisande felt inexplicably irritable, but because she had just dealt with an annoying subordinate, she didn't think much of it.
Meanwhile, Talisra left Night Hold and felt mentally and physically exhausted upon returning to her workstation.
Chief Portal Master Oculeus noticed that his colleague was not herself. He fiddled with his magical tools and said, "What's wrong? Another cold shoulder?"
"Don't tease me, Oculeus." Talisra rubbed her temples with both hands, looking tired.
"Heh heh, the Grand Magistrix won't adopt your suggestion," Oculeus stopped his work and looked directly at Talisra. "You should take it easy. I don't want to have to help you out someday."
"I don't want to either, but I also don't want people to suffer excruciating pain from Arcane addiction every day." Talisra looked at the various investigations and reports piled on her desk, her eyes filled with unspeakable sadness and helplessness.
These were all reports secretly gathered by her scouts from all over the city, detailing how Suramar's nobles lived in peace and prosperity, glossing over the truth while exploiting the commoners to the bone.
"If those nobles have a little less Arcane supply, at most they'll just hold fewer gatherings, but if those commoners lack this Arcane, they will truly die!" Talisra understood that her opinion was against the interests of all nobles, but her conscience prevented her from doing otherwise.
She could only place her hope in the Grand Magistrix. Only the Grand Magistrix could make the nobles give up their extravagant lives, and Talisra also believed that the Grand Magistrix's current actions were merely out of helplessness. The day the Grand Magistrix made her decision, everything would get better.
Hopefully so...
.....
"Talisra, wake up!"
Talisra, who had been dozing off at her desk, rubbed her eyes, slowly straightened her back, and mumbled, "What… Oculeus? What's wrong?"
"The Arcane Web! My instruments detected that the ancient Arcane Web, which had been abandoned, has been reactivated!" Oculeus called out to Talisra while methodically sifting through the massive data streams recorded by his instruments. "This level of usage… it's definitely not a natural phenomenon. Is there someone alive out there using the Arcane Web?! So close to Suramar?!"
Oculeus was shocked, but also a little surprised. "Talisra, it's been ten thousand years! Those Arcane Webs were abandoned after we created the Nightwell, and they haven't been activated in ten thousand years. Do you know what this means?!"
Listening to Oculeus's exuberant speech, Talisra didn't quite understand what her friend was so happy about.
Compared to Oculeus, she was more of a practical magic user, while Oculeus was more like the classical academic school of old, focusing more on research and exploration of topics.
Ever since graduating from the magic academy, Talisra no longer wanted to study those abstruse and often impractical topics. Using Arcane magic to protect her people was what she was more willing to do.
But she also knew that Oculeus was obsessed with teleportation spells and academic research, so she wasn't too surprised by his lapse in composure.
However, she quickly grasped another key point.
"You said… someone outside used the abandoned ancient Arcane Web? Could this be a fluctuation caused by an accidental leakage of Arcane magic? You know, there have been a few similar incidents before…"
"No, this time the change is different from previous years. While the Arcane Web's activity before was indeed caused by unknown reasons, it only lasted for a very short time," Oculeus said, hearing Talisra's question. He quickly grabbed his quill and started sketching something on a piece of scratch paper.
Half a minute later, Oculeus handed the scratch paper to Talisra, then snapped his fingers, activating the magic ink attached to the paper with his magic.
Watching the familiar yet strange lines and dots connect one by one under the magic, Talisra gradually realized what it was.
"The Arcane Web nodes in the area near Suramar?"
"Yes! These nodes have been manually connected, not just one, but several! If it were a coincidence, such a situation would be impossible."
Seeing that Talisra finally understood the current situation, Oculeus went on to elaborate on his new discovery, "What does this mean? It means there are living people outside! I think we should find a way to go outside the barrier and see!"
"Wait a moment, Oculeus," Talisra interrupted Oculeus, who was in high spirits. She asked back, "How can you be sure that the people who reactivated those Arcane Web nodes are friendly? What if it's demons who opened the nodes? Wouldn't we expose the existence of Suramar? Even if it's not demons, all our previous observers said that our continent has shattered, and Suramar is now an isolated island floating on the ocean. It's almost impossible for anyone who didn't hide inside the shield during the Great Sundering to have survived that disaster."
Oculeus froze, his joy and excitement seemingly doused with cold water. He instantly calmed down, returning to his usual composed demeanor. "You are right… But, I think we should still go out and see. We have been self-isolated for ten thousand years, and our civilization has almost stagnated for ten thousand years."
Although Suramar City was once one of the most prosperous cities of the Kaldorei Empire, it was still too small for an entire race. Ten thousand years of reproduction and transformation had turned the original Kaldorei into the current Shal'dorei. The Nightborne had gradually transformed into a different appearance under the nourishment of the Nightwell's power.
The Nightwell's shield prevented Suramar City from being destroyed by tsunamis and earthquakes during the Great Sundering, like other areas of Suramar, but it also prevented the Nightborne from leaving the city. Perhaps it was fine for the first few millennia, but now, limited resources and an increasing population had made the Nightborne gradually realize the difficulties of life.
The Nightwell was not the Well of Eternity after all. It could not inject vitality into the entire Kaldorei Empire like that wellspring. The Nightwell's power was already stretched thin to maintain the massive shield and ensure the people's need for magic. Furthermore, the Nightborne had always worried that the outside world had been completely destroyed, so not only did they not dare to remove the shield, but they also increased the energy supply to the shield year by year.
Talisra remained silent upon hearing this. Every Nightborne understood their predicament, and most even knew that they couldn't always cower under the protection of the Nightwell's shield, but no one had ever dared to take that step. No one knew if they were afraid to defy Grand Magistrix Elisande's orders, or if the Nightborne themselves were afraid to face a new destiny.
Finally, Talisra made a bold decision.
"Let's find a time, gather some people, and go see the place where you found the Arcane Web nodes connected."
…
Outside Suramar City, in the long-abandoned High Elf town of Shal'Aran, the ruins still spoke of the glory and prosperity of the ancient High Elf Empire.
However, this town, which had slumbered in the dense forest for ten thousand years, had welcomed a group of new "residents" in the past few days.
"You stupid Ogre! I told you to pull the cart to the left, why did you hit the pillar on the right?!" Ogrim was in agony. He couldn't understand why Ogres, even after being resurrected as Undead, were still so hopelessly stupid.
Even the mindless Skeletons and Zombies were easier to command than Ogre Undead, because those mindless low-level Undead would at least completely obey your commands. The problem with Ogres was that they had brains, but not many. Many times, Ogres could perfectly "misunderstand" the commander's intentions and then perform actions you would never expect.
"I must be crazy… to come here on His Majesty's orders."
Lana'thel, wielder of the holy sword quel'delar and Kael'thas's confidante, stood on a high ground in the High Elf camp, looking utterly disheartened.
She had been assigned a crucial mission by Kael'thas. Since this mission might concern the fate of the entire High Elf race, Lana'thel had accepted the appointment without a second thought, prepared to give her all for the future of the High Elves.
But when she set sail from Quel'Thalas with grand ambitions and high spirits, she never expected that what awaited her was not an adventure of raging waves, but a Scourge naxxanar that oppressed all living beings to the extreme.
From the moment they landed on the Suramar coast, the High Elves, "escorted" by the Scourge, entered the heartland of the former High Elf Empire. Those terrifying two-headed Trolls and some gruesome-looking High Elf "mummies" were swiftly cleared away by the Undead, and then they set up camp in Shal'Aran.
Watching her subordinates, a group of trembling scholars and Magisters surrounded by Undead, Lana'thel could only sigh—she wasn't some important figure entrusted with a great responsibility after all. Her only reason for being here was that, as the wielder of quel'delar, she was probably the most capable of maintaining morale, aside from the Sun King and the former Ranger-General.
Now that the Ranger-General was missing and the Sun King would not easily leave Quel'Thalas, wasn't she the only one left to stabilize the Magisters and scholars sent to perform investigation and research tasks?
Accompanying Lana'thel was another of Kael'thas's lieutenants, Astromancer Solarian. This lady, skilled in divination and stargazing, was also assigned to this mission.
"Lana'thel, are you alright?" Solarian, holding a magic tome larger than her face, walked over to the sighing Lana'thel. "You don't seem to be in very high spirits."
"I'm just worried that those fragile scholars and academic Magisters will be devoured alive by the Undead. Nothing else." Lana'thel had a deadpan expression, but inwardly she was not as unguarded as she appeared. On the contrary, she kept her eyes on those high-ranking Undead that made her uneasy.
The one who made her most nervous was Ogrim, clad in black heavy armor, his face completely hidden. His towering, muscular build and the exaggerated saronite runic warhammer on his back exuded an aura that made Lana'thel feel immense pressure.
"I keep feeling like that guy looks familiar." Lana'thel leaned on quel'delar at her waist. Ogrim gave her a strange sense of déjà vu, but she couldn't recall where she had seen him before.
Solarian could only offer words of comfort to the somewhat nervous Holy Sword wielder, "His Majesty said we only need to focus on investigation and research. There's no need to worry about safety."
"How can I be at ease… You should know better than I how evil necromancy is." Lana'thel sighed, then was filled with doubt. "Where did these terrifying Undead come from, and why are they not hostile to us? It's as if they are our allies—ever since the Dark Portal opened, this world has become increasingly incomprehensible to me."
Solarian pursed her lips, hesitated for a moment, and then told Lana'thel some of the things she had divined, hoping to reassure her a little.
"Do you remember that Human Prince, the one from Lordaeron, Arthas Menethil?"
A handsome blonde paladin appeared in Lana'thel's mind, so she nodded. "Of course, I must say, his every move is quite impressive."
"The stars tell me… these Undead are likely very closely related to him."
.....
"Ogrim, our scouts have found a very strange… group of elves."
Grommash walked into Ogrim's dark tent, carrying his axe. The first thing he said after lifting the curtain, which was marked with the Scourge skull, made Ogrim look up.
He put down the map in his hand and asked, "Hmm… the prey has arrived. Get the soldiers ready."
"Hmph, there are only about ten of them. I can handle it myself. Why make such a big fuss?" Grommash had never been fond of those weak elves. "Let me take a few Death Knights. It'll be foolproof."
Ogrim pondered for a moment, then waved his hand, agreeing to Grommash's plan. Since Grommash was willing to take on the task, he had no intention of stopping him.
But at that moment, another figure in the tent stood up. "I'll go too."
"Kilrogg?"
Both of them uttered sounds of confusion in unison, their gazes simultaneously turning to the figure beside them. He possessed the same tall, robust physique and terrifyingly grotesque appearance as other orcs. Even as a Death Knight, he still retained the traditional orcish war paint, but none of these features were as distinctive as his hollow left eye socket.
Kilrogg Deadeye, former chieftain of the Bleeding Hollow clan, now a Death Knight.
Grommash was ordered to collect champions for the Lich King in Outland. Arthas didn't want the souls of ancient orc ancestors, but orc champions who had drunk demon blood were excellent "material."
Kilrogg was one of the champions Grommash found. After awakening, this former Bleeding Hollow chieftain did not appear as lost or conflicted as others who were reborn as Death Knights. He merely took one last look at his former homeland—the Tanaan Jungle, which had become a wasteland and was now Hellfire Peninsula—before following Grommash.
When he was resurrected, the Lich King's will and corresponding knowledge had already been infused into his mind, but Kilrogg didn't care about any of that. What he truly desired now was revenge.
"I have been training to better control my power. Now the time is ripe. I need some real combat to rekindle the feeling of being alive." Kilrogg took a runic long-handled spiked club from a nearby rack. He ran his fingers over the sharp spikes, as if savoring the feeling of combat from his past life.
Ogrim nodded. He understood Kilrogg's thoughts and said, "Then let's depart quickly. Those elves are cautious by nature and won't stay outside their shield for too long."
"We need to move faster, Oculeus—being away from the Nightwell makes them very uneasy." Talisra clutched her staff, her gaze sweeping over her subordinates.
The Nightborne possessed a strong Arcane affinity due to the Nightwell's nourishment, but the price was that if they were away from the Nightwell for too long or their connection to its waters was severed, their bodies would rapidly weaken, eventually being consumed by Arcane addiction and turning into mindless Withered.
They hadn't been away from Suramar for long, but without the Nightwell and the protection of the shield, Talisra's soldiers and mages grew increasingly uneasy.
Although they could still feel the Nightwell's presence, this only made them yearn more to return to Suramar City, rather than wandering aimlessly outside.
"Wait a little longer, let me search again!" Oculeus muttered to himself, flipping through his notebook. "It's right here… Shal'Aran, an ancient elven town, where the Arcane network was first lit."
Talisra sighed. With Oculeus so engrossed, it was highly unlikely they would finish their exploration anytime soon. Fortunately, it wasn't far from Suramar City, and there shouldn't be anything but wild beasts—
"Lady Talisra! It's Withered! They're approaching rapidly!" A sentinel issued a warning at that moment, and Talisra's squad saw dozens, even hundreds, of Withered charging madly towards them.
"Damn it, they smelled the magic." Talisra's expression changed drastically. Although they were well-equipped, they would definitely have to use magic to deal with so many Withered, and the burst of Arcane energy would only attract more Withered!
No one knew how many Nightborne had been exiled from the city over ten thousand years, nor how these Withered managed to survive in the wilderness for so long.
The soldiers immediately raised their shields, encircling Talisra and Oculeus. Although being away from the Nightwell had left these Nightborne somewhat dispirited, as seasoned elites, they showed no weaknesses when facing a group of Withered.
Under the cover of spells and magical equipment, Oculeus peeked at the Withered, who were fearlessly charging their position, and came up with an idea. "The Arcane network teleportation nodes here have been opened. We can use them to quickly teleport away."
"Then what are you waiting for?!" Talisra gritted her teeth, wishing she could hit Oculeus over the head with her staff.
Knowing that Talisra was truly angry, Oculeus stopped dawdling and quickly chanted a spell, connecting to the surrounding teleportation nodes. The teleportation master's skill was, after all, undeniable. Before the Withered could gather further, Oculeus found the precise node location and led the squad out of the dangerous area with teleportation magic.
As the glow of the teleportation magic slowly faded, Oculeus was still chattering, "Ah, my research was indeed correct. These ancient Arcane network nodes are all activated. You see, now we should be in—"
Before he could finish his own sentence, he felt a bone-chilling cold sweep over him, causing the teleportation master to shiver involuntarily. At the same time, he wondered: this node should be in the temple ruins on the ground, so why did it make him feel so cold?
Soon, Talisra answered his question.
"Where did you teleport us to?!" Talisra looked at the undead walking everywhere and the Scourge banners hanging around the camp. An alarm bell rang wildly in her heart, and the coldness brought by the aura of death seemed to make her blood flow sluggish.
Grommash, who was packing his things and preparing to intercept Talisra's group, stood there with his axe, somewhat bewildered, looking at the Nightborne who had delivered themselves to him.
"What's going on?"
Kilrogg slowly walked to Grommash's side, pointing at the Nightborne who were frozen like statues in place, and asked.
Grommash, of course, didn't know what was going on, but that didn't stop him from doing what he was about to do. The warlike Warsong chieftain gripped his axe handle, a sunny smile on his face. "Who cares what's going on? They came at the perfect time. We don't even have to make a trip!"
Kilrogg clicked his tongue in wonder, and at the same time, he slammed his long-handled spiked club into the ground. A foul, evil aura instantly dispersed, outlining an anti-magic field in the surrounding area, while also restricting all means of teleportation.
Unless Kilrogg is defeated, no one, except Arcane users of Guardian level, should even think about teleporting directly out of here.
To call it a battle was an overstatement; it wasn't even a one-sided massacre. Kilrogg, clearly bored, swung his spiked club, knocking down the last soldier who was desperately shielding Talisra with his shield.
"So weak."
The Bloodhoof Chieftain's assessment was overheard by Grommash.
Grommash shook his head, kicking away a Nightborne guard who stood between him and Oculeus. "They are quite weak. These elves rely too much on magic."
In truth, the Nightborne elite guards shouldn't have been so easily defeated, but Kilrogg's evil domain severed their connection to the Nightwell. Losing the Nightwell's power, the Nightborne's combat strength instantly plummeted by more than half. It was a blessing they could even continue fighting without being driven insane by the magical thirst.
Losing connection to the Nightwell during combat for the Nightborne was like a person who hadn't eaten for days having to fight with a hungry and exhausted body. When facing Grommash and Kilrogg, who were already far stronger than them, they had no ability to resist.
If they were closer to Suramar City, or directly within Suramar's great shield, Kilrogg would have found it very difficult to completely sever their connection to the Nightwell, and then these guards would have been able to exert their full strength.
However, defeat was already a foregone conclusion. The Death Knight's powerful anti-magic abilities kept Talisra and her guards constantly suppressed. Furthermore, being in a Scourge camp, surrounded by the barriers and magic circles set up by Liches and Necromancers, the power of Arcane magic was simply difficult to exert.
Oculeus was even more useless. With his teleportation ability sealed, he was just a slightly more powerful mage. Not long after the battle began, Grommash sent him flying with a single punch, leaving him unconscious on the ground.
Kilrogg looked at Talisra, who was still maintaining her Arcane barrier, and pointed his spiked club at the last standing mage. "There's still one somewhat presentable individual."
Little did he know, Talisra was suffering in silence. Her face was incredibly pale. Using spells in a place filled with undead whispers and cut off from the Nightwell was an extremely heavy burden for her. Not to mention, she had sensed something even darker in the camp, something whose mere leaked aura significantly affected her sanity.
Talisra cursed herself for adventuring so easily with Oculeus, while racking her brain, unable to figure out where these terrifying undead had come from.
"Too bad, though. Game over, wizard."
Black lightning erupted from Kilrogg's spiked club, directly piercing through Talisra's barely sustained shield. The dual blow from physical and mental exhaustion caused the chief Arcanist to finally collapse. Her eyes rolled back, and she fainted to the ground.
...
"Talisra, Talisra, wake up!"
At Oculeus's call, Talisra slowly opened her eyes. "I can hear you, stop shaking me."
The Teleportation Master awkwardly let go. He was concerned for Talisra's safety, and the force with which he had been shaking her shoulders was indeed a bit much.
Talisra held her left hand to her forehead, feeling the stinging pain in her head had not yet subsided. She looked around and found themselves in a large hall. All the bricks and stones in this hall were pitch black, and the floor tiles were engraved with skull markings.
Then, Talisra discovered that her staff and all the magical items she carried had been taken away. She had nothing on her except a simple set of covering clothes. But strangely, after they were captured, they were not put in shackles or anything similar.
"I can still use spells," Oculeus also noticed this, but his next sentence made Talisra's fleeting hope vanish. "But don't even think about teleportation spells. All unauthorized nodes are blocked here. I might be able to break through the blockade if I were fully prepared, but you see the situation now."
He spread his hands. Like Talisra, anything with magical power had been taken away, except for the clothes on their bodies.
"Where are the others?" Talisra asked.
"I haven't seen them. I didn't wake up much earlier than you. There are only two of us here. It seems those undead discovered our unusual identities and imprisoned us separately."
Oculeus's analysis sounded reasonable at first, but Talisra still keenly detected something amiss.
"Then why didn't they separate the two of us?"
Oculeus chuckled dryly. "According to the records in books, the undead are very fond of transforming powerful living beings into their own kind—do you think this looks like a ritual room?"
Talisra looked down and found that she and Oculeus were at the very center of a runic magic circle. However, those strange runes they had never seen before were clearly not the same kind of Arcane runes commonly used by the Nightborne. Just looking at the yellowish-green light emitted by those runes made one feel uncomfortable all over.
Just as the two were conversing in low voices, trying to figure out the Scourge's intentions, the sound of metal war boots clashing against stone echoed from the corridor outside the empty hall.
The two looked back. Outside the closed iron gate, three tall figures were approaching the hall.
Talisra narrowed her eyes. She recognized two of the figures. "It's those two monsters who defeated us…"
Not far away, Ogrim, while responding to Arthas's words, walked towards the hall where Talisra and Oculeus were imprisoned. "Yes, Your Majesty, I will go and find out."
He gestured to Kilrogg and Grommash beside him. The two Orc Death Knights stepped aside, clearing a path for Ogrim. It was then that Talisra and Oculeus realized that two "smaller" individuals were following behind the three.
Of course, this smallness was relative to the stature of the three orcs. In fact, these two individuals had quite graceful and slender figures, so much so that even Talisra had to admit it perfectly matched the elven aesthetic—
"Elves?" Talisra frowned. With Grommash and Kilrogg no longer obstructing her view, she finally saw their appearance clearly.
Although their skin color was quite different from her own people, their appearance and the embroidery on their clothing bore the shadow of the Elven Empire.
"Incredible… After the fall of the Kaldorei Empire, have new races evolved?" Oculeus's eyes widened. He also noticed the two High Elf ladies.
"Solarian… Hurry and ask. This naxxanar makes me feel particularly… oppressed." Lana'thel whispered into Solarian's ear. She had followed along out of concern for Solarian's safety; otherwise, she would not have taken a single step into this Scourge naxxanar.
"Lana'thel, don't worry." Solarian reassured the Holy Blade Wielder, then turned her gaze to the somewhat disheveled Talisra and Oculeus, who were trapped in the hall. "They must be Shal'dorei—they look very different from us. They must have drawn energy from something other than the original Arcane Ley Lines."
Solarian gestured to Ogrim. After Ogrim's approval, the iron gate was opened by the Death Knight, allowing her to enter the hall where the two were imprisoned.
"Greetings, Chief Arcanist Talisra, Teleportation Master Oculeus."
She used not the Saras language commonly used by the Quel'dorei today, but the ancient Kaldorei language, the predecessor of Saras. The ornaments and crests the Scourge had confiscated from Talisra indicated that she held a very high status in Suramar, and being a mage, she should have some knowledge of ancient Kaldorei language.
Talisra, of course, also understood ancient Kaldorei, as she was one of the Highborne who had survived since the Great Sundering.
She was silent for a moment, then asked her question.
"Who are you? Why are you with the undead?"
"Hmm, that's very troublesome to explain, and there are even some things that I don't know the exact reasons for, but these are not the main points."
Solarian gave this reply after some thought.
Talisra scoffed at this, "Then is there any sincerity left in such a conversation? You can't provide the useful information I want, so I can't answer your questions either."
Solarian was not annoyed by Talisra's answer; these were all within her expectations. According to the existing intelligence, Talisra's status among the Nightborne was quite high, and her capture outside was truly a very low-probability event.
Of course, Solarian did not doubt that the Scourge had the ability to flatten Suramar, but the cost and time investment required would be much higher than they anticipated.
The Lich King would not agree to such an "unprofitable" transaction. Although he seemed very restrained, in Solarian's view, he was incredibly greedy, hoping to dominate a city that had existed for ten thousand years with the least amount of effort.
Yet, his plan was steadily approaching success, which made Solarian feel more fear and awe than when facing any powerful opponent.
Solarian's current conversation was only related to the High Elves, but she also didn't mind borrowing the Scourge's name and power. So, she deliberately lowered her voice and said, "Lady Talisra, please understand one thing first: you are currently a 'guest' of the Scourge. To put it less politely, you are prisoners of the Scourge. I am not using your predicament to threaten you, and I also understand the weight of the title of Chief Arcanist. You would not let your personal life or death affect your entire race."
"If you know that, then you shouldn't even hope to get anything out of me. I won't tell you anything about Suramar," Talisra looked at Solarian with cold eyes, reaffirming her stance.
"I don't want to know about Suramar. I just want to ask if you've ever heard of 'Akandor'."
Solarian's question made Talisra momentarily unable to fathom the Starcaller's exact thoughts, because although "Akandor" was clearly spelled in ancient Kaldorei, Talisra had never heard of this term.
What were they looking for? Was it something very important? Why had she never heard of it herself?
Talisra had no clue about this, but her years of keen intuition still made her immediately respond, "Why do you think I would tell you?"
Looking at the unyielding Talisra, Solarian could only sigh. As she had expected, she could barely get any useful information from Talisra. She could only turn to leave and say to Ogrim, "I've asked my questions. Thank you for the space and time you provided."
Ogrim didn't reply, nodding dully, preparing to lead Solarian and Lana'thel away. The Holy Blade Master, who had long not wanted to stay in the gloomy, dead naxxanar, seeing that Solarian had plans to leave, also turned and strode away.
"Wait! I can take you to find Akan…dor."
Talisra looked at Oculeus with shocked eyes, baring her teeth and giving him a look: Are you out of your mind? Do you know what Akandor is?! I've been in Suramar for over ten thousand years, and I've never even heard of it. How can you take them to find it?
Oculeus naturally didn't know what "Akandor" was, but that didn't stop him from having a new idea. He pulled Talisra aside and whispered quickly and softly, "Just keep them stable for now and buy us some time. When the Grand Magistrix discovers we're gone, she'll naturally notice the anomaly here."
And just as Oculeus thought, Solarian immediately stopped in her tracks after hearing his words, turning to look at Oculeus. Her emerald-like eyes fixed on Oculeus, making the Grand Magister feel a chill down his spine.
Oculeus's heart sank at that moment. He felt as if he had underestimated the importance of "Akandor" to these pale-skinned elves. But what was said was like water poured out; now he could only bite the bullet and continue.
"I know where Akandor is, but that thing is very troublesome to find. I need to make some preparations first."
"Don't try to buy time, dark skin," Grommash was very displeased with the glib Oculeus. If it weren't for the Lich King's command, he would have turned this guy into an undead minion long ago.
"Hey, listen, this is a negotiation, isn't it?" Oculeus barely managed to keep his expression from showing too much, his hands unconsciously rubbing together. "I'll lead you to what you want, but please guarantee the safety of me and my companions, okay?"
Solarian looked at Ogrim with a slightly pleading gaze. The Orc's intuition told Ogrim that this guy was very likely not telling the truth, but thinking of the Lich King's command, he could only nod and release him, "Take him away, she stays."
"I need Talisra's help! She can't die! She's the Chief Arcanist; she can provide us with great assistance!" Oculeus still wanted to add more leverage to the negotiation.
"No negotiation. Either you go alone, or you both stay," Ogrim was relentless. He grabbed Oculeus and threw him to Lana'thel, "Watch him. If he tries to run, just chop off his legs. We can always reattach them after he dies anyway."
Oculeus had no choice but to obediently follow Lana'thel. He took one last look back at Talisra, his expression conveying: Don't worry, the most important thing now is to buy time!
After Lana'thel and Solarian disappeared from his sight with Oculeus, Ogrim glanced at Talisra, who was sitting alone against the wall in the cell. He signaled to Grommash and Kilrogg, sending them away, and then entered the cell himself.
Talisra merely glanced at Ogrim and made no further movement. Ever since she was captured here, she had resigned herself to fate; whether she lived or died was up to heaven. Her only worry was if they truly used necromancy on her to read her memories, then Oculeus and the others wouldn't survive either, because they had no idea what Akandor was.
"You, stand up."
Ogrim's command entered Talisra's ears, and her expression was quite complex—her pride and dignity told her not to stoop to obeying his command, but considering Oculeus's safety, she had no choice but to comply.
But after she stood up, Ogrim made no further movement. He was like a bedrock, a small mountain, silent and saying nothing more.
As Talisra was filled with questions, a bone-chilling coldness that penetrated her soul made her shiver involuntarily. She watched in disbelief as a huge black doorway appeared before Ogrim, this great gate like a rift to hell, exuding a terrifying aura of death.
"Creak," "Creak"
Amidst the clashing of armor, the King of the Dead descended from hell.
—This was the first thought that popped into Talisra's mind. Even without knowing his identity, the moment she saw the Lich King, she seemed to understand everything.
"Ah—Talisra, Chief Arcanist of Suramar. My servants were actually able to capture a Nightborne outside Suramar City. It seems your Grand Magistrix has finally decided to lift the veil that binds you?"
Arthas said playfully, but Talisra felt a chill in all her joints, and even her thoughts seemed to freeze—she knew that what was before her was only a magical image, not a real person, but even a mere projection of him made her feel a terrifying sense of oppression. How terrifying, then, must his true form be?
Moreover, what horrified Talisra the most was not his strength, but that this terrifying Lich King seemed to know everything about them, while they were like goldfish in a fishbowl, blissfully unaware of the outside world.