Chapter 347 - Ocean and desert Tomb

With Prince Farondis leading the way, the ancient magical traps and undead within the Nath'alas ruins didn't pose much trouble for the Scourge army; more importantly, it saved Ogrim a significant amount of time.

Nath'alas City and Nath'alas Academy had long been reduced to ruins by Azshara's power, with many buildings and parts of the city submerged beneath the vast lake; what remained on the surface was only a small fraction of its former self.

Fortunately, the architectural antechamber leading to the Academy's treasury had not sunk with its main body into the water. After dealing with the Naga and the mindless undead along the way, Ogrim led his troops to clear a path.

Ogrim's warhammer flattened the head of a Naga guard who still tried to resist. He emotionlessly lifted his runic hammer, mixed with blood and tissue, and watched his soldiers clear out the Naga who had originally been guarding the main entrance.

"No… it seems we're still too late. The seal on the Academy's main gate has already been broken."

Prince Farondis observed the pillars in the architectural antechamber for a long time, finally coming to a less than ideal conclusion.

"The Naga went straight for their target. They seem to know a lot about Nath'alas Academy?" Ogrim examined the traces of battle left in front of the building's entrance—it was clear that they weren't the only ones obstructing the Naga's actions; there were others resisting the Naga as well, most likely the original Guardian forces stationed at Nath'alas Academy.

Unfortunately, the disparity in strength between the two sides was quite obvious. Those phantoms alone could hardly stop the Naga's advance. They seemed to have retreated steadily, eventually trying to use the Academy gate's seal to block the enemy, but ultimately failed.

Thinking of this, Ogrim looked up at Malygos, who was slowly moving around in the sky, and informed him of the situation below.

"Have your soldiers continue forward. I can feel the power of the tidestone; it hasn't been stolen yet. The magical seals in this Academy are very powerful, and the Naga won't be able to break through them anytime soon."

Malygos seemed to be busy with something. He merely told Ogrim to continue leading his people into the Academy, while he himself moved in the sky in a certain pattern, accompanied by Arcane runes that appeared out of thin air, flickering on and off.

Ogrim didn't bother with what Malygos was doing; he didn't understand much about magic. He simply glanced at Prince Farondis, who was standing outside the door, hesitating, and asked, "Aren't you coming in with us?"

Farondis looked a bit awkward upon hearing this. "I… I don't dare to go in."

Considering what this Prince had experienced in his life, he was simply worried about being scorned by his former subjects. Moreover, the undead he encountered along the way, who blocked their path, basically went mad only after seeing Prince Farondis. Ogrim also thought it might be better if he didn't go in, otherwise, he didn't know how much trouble and commotion he would cause inside.

However, just as Ogrim was about to lead his people into the Academy, Prince Farondis's call made him stop.

"Excuse me, please wait!"

"What is it?" Ogrim didn't turn his head, merely slowed his steps.

"Please do not harm those souls who haven't gone mad yet. They just… haven't realized the fact that they are already dead."

Prince Farondis's words were somewhat powerless. He knew that some conflicts were inevitable, and even if he was scorned by his subjects, he still wanted to protect them as much as possible.

Ogrim was silent for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. The phantoms inside the Academy were being beaten back by the Naga, and if most of them were as ignorant as the souls they encountered along the way, they indeed wouldn't pose much obstruction to their mission. This favor could certainly be granted.

"Alright, I'll have someone control them first, to prevent them from going mad prematurely."

"Thank you, my friend."

Prince Farondis said gratefully. So many years had passed, and it had been a long time since he had heard a voice that didn't discriminate against him.

After watching Ogrim lead his team into the main body of the Academy, which was half-submerged in the lake and underground, Farondis found a relatively flat stone brick. After using magic to remove the mud and stains, he sat on it, lost in thought. His vacant eyes looked up at the majestic Weaver in the sky, wondering what he was thinking.

He didn't know how long had passed when a deafening dragon roar startled Prince Farondis from his daze. He looked up in astonishment at Malygos in the sky, discovering that the entire sky was enveloped by some unknown power, dyed an ominous dark purple. From within the clouds, it seemed as if the gaze of some terrifying entity emanated, causing Prince Farondis's soul-form to feel cold and oppressed.

At this moment, Malygos was glowing with magical radiance. This powerful Weaver seemed to be fighting against the master of this power, and under his wrath, the shadowy halo temporarily restricting Malygos was rapidly weakening.

Malygos's angry words were also heard by Prince Farondis, "Azshara! You actually pledged allegiance to that kind of thing!"

At this moment, Prince Farondis finally realized that a figure, steeped in shadow, stood before him. His gaze immediately flickered—the posture of this figure was all too familiar to him, it was the Light of Lights, Queen Azshara herself!

"Azshara… Queen."

Even though he had been personally destroyed by her, Prince Farondis still instinctively addressed Azshara with her honorific. That Light of Lights was truly renowned among the Highborne. Standing before Azshara, Prince Farondis even felt ashamed of his own timidity.

"Ah… isn't this my 'loyal' Prince Farondis?" Azshara's ink-like shadow lips parted slightly, and that lazy yet irresistibly majestic voice echoed in Prince Farondis's ears once again after ten thousand years.

Azshara's illusion gazed at the silent Prince Farondis. She said playfully, "I don't mind giving you a second chance. Go and retrieve the tidestone, offer it to me, and perhaps I might consider forgiving you and your subjects' disloyalty?"

The Queen looked down at Prince Farondis from above, knowing his disposition well. If pledging allegiance to her again could bring about the liberation of his subjects, what choice would this Prince make?

"I… I failed my people… I failed Nath'alas. I cannot fail them again… This time… I…"

Prince Farondis murmured, his clenched fists trembling. He made a huge decision and slowly raised his hands. Azshara somewhat pleased, wanted to see Prince Farondis submit, but the next second, a huge fireball reflected in Azshara's eyes.

The high temperature generated by the explosion caused the air in front of Azshara's illusion to distort from the heat. The Queen's face slowly darkened—Prince Farondis's Pyroblast had squarely hit her illusion's face. Although this did not harm a single hair on Azshara, it still offended her majesty.

Prince Farondis was still casting spells, attacking Azshara's illusion. He also knew it was Azshara's shadow, but to him, it was more like making amends for that unsuccessful rebellion ten thousand years ago, an act of revenge for himself and his people.

Azshara's brows furrowed in anger, but her expression quickly smoothed out. She frowned slightly, glanced at Malygos in mid-air who was about to break free, and had no further intention of toying with or punishing Prince Farondis. She merely gave a faint glance at Prince Farondis, who was still trying to dispel her illusion, "Heh heh, my dear subject, I hope you won't regret your decision…"

The next second, Malygos manipulated Arcane to tear apart the shadowy energy enveloping the sky, and Azshara's phantom also dissipated like a reflection in water after a distortion, leaving only Prince Farondis, slightly out of breath, his eyes filled with the satisfaction of revenge.

He first looked at his hands in disbelief, then quickly walked towards Malygos, who had transformed into human form and landed on the ground.

"Weaver, are you alright!"

"I'm fine, hmph! Old Gods… Azshara…" Malygos replied casually, then let out a cold snort, while a hint of worry rose in his heart. No matter how angry he was, he could not deny what a dangerous combination the Old Gods and Azshara were. This matter had to be immediately reported to his siblings and Arthas, and it would be best to let the Guardians of Ulduar know about it as well.

All of Azeroth's Old Gods, except for the deceased Yogg-Saron and Y'Shaarj, had appeared at this time. This couldn't help but make Malygos worry about their upcoming plan.

Illidan swung his warblades, parrying Ogrim's heavy warhammer. His arm muscles bulged, the fel-tainted green veins clearly visible, and with a sudden surge of strength, he pushed Ogrim back.

The Orc Highlord retreated a few steps, shedding the force from Illidan's push, then gripped his warhammer with both hands again, assuming a stance. His eyes gleamed with a thirst for battle—this deceased body was good in every way, except it couldn't feel the thrill of battle that made his blood boil. He had originally thought this was a common ailment among the undead, but now it seemed he hadn't yet met an opponent who could truly awaken his soul.

Ogrim's long-dormant fighting spirit was rekindled, but Illidan only felt that the current situation was extremely dire. The injuries Illidan sustained from the Battle of Dark Temple hadn't fully recovered, and then Azshara had forced him to come and retrieve the tidestone, only for him to encounter Ogrim leading the Scourge forces…

The continuous unexpected developments gave Illidan an immense headache. He glanced around and saw that the undead were rapidly defeating Sassreen's Naga army under his command. Thoughts raced through Illidan's mind, and soon a new idea popped into his head.

Ogrim, on the other hand, had no idea what Illidan was thinking. His powerful, heavy blows came one after another; a surprisingly heavy warhammer was wielded with fierce prowess in his hands, delivering continuous, rain-like pounding. Accompanied by the Death Knight's unique dark magic, it forced Illidan into a purely defensive stance for a time.

But the Demon Hunter was capable of more than just that. His superb skill allowed him to parry Ogrim's attacks again and again, while the fel tattoos etched on his body helped Illidan resist the annoying dark magic.

Just as the battle reached its climax, a sentence rapidly burst from Illidan's mouth, causing Ogrim's continuous assault to falter. The Orc frowned, smashed Illidan away with a hammer, and stood his ground, not rashly attacking again.

"So, what do you think of my proposal?"

Illidan seized the opportunity to catch his breath. He twirled the twin blades in his hands, not rushing to launch another close-quarters attack, waiting for Ogrim's—or rather, Arthas's—response, as he knew the latter was likely watching this battle.

As expected, Ogrim quickly abandoned his plan to continue the attack. He glared at Illidan, then ignored the Demon Hunter, who was now smiling, and turned to join the encirclement of Sassreen's forces.

Illidan took this opportunity to retreat into the hall where the tidestone was hidden. Vashj was there, searching for and repairing the shattered tidestone.

When Illidan entered the hall, the repair was just reaching a critical stage, but a mountain-like figure blocked Illidan's path. It was Sassreen's servant, Hiatan, that terrifying deep-sea monster.

"Move aside, we need to withdraw. The forces outside are being routed."

Hiatan tilted his head and glanced at Illidan, making no move. Just as Illidan was growing impatient and preparing to deal with the monster in front of him regardless of the trouble, Hiatan suddenly retreated, clearing the path.

Illidan was too lazy to communicate further with such a low-intelligence beast that only knew how to obey others' commands or act on instinct. He went straight to Vashj and found that all the necessary parts of the tidestone had been found, and under Vashj's magic, these fragments were gradually forming an interconnected whole.

Although it couldn't be restored to its exact pre-shattered state, as long as the connection between the tidestone fragments could be restored, it wouldn't affect the use of this artifact.

"We should go. The undead have almost wiped out Sassreen's forces," Illidan reminded Vashj.

Vashj nodded, magically containing the tidestone, and began to chant the incantation for a teleportation spell.

Hiatan detected the precursor to the teleportation magic and also prepared to move closer. Just as they stood together, waiting for the teleportation magic to take effect, Hiatan's beast-like intuition made him feel the threat of death.

His massive body displayed an agility completely disproportionate to his size. First, he quickly leaped backward, moving away from Illidan, and then raised his arms to protect his head and chest. The next instant, scorching fel rays burst from Illidan's eyes. The Demon Hunter grinned, channeling the chaotic energy within him, charring Hiatan's arms beyond recognition.

However, this robust monster did not sustain a fatal injury; being wounded only made him more dangerous. But just as he let out a roar and prepared to pounce, intending to capture and kill Illidan, his body suddenly stiffened, followed by a painful wail.

A runic axe, strikingly similar to Gorehowl, was deeply embedded in Hiatan's back. Normally, such an injury would not be enough to fell him, but the axe was also filled with dark magic from a powerful Death Knight.

Heart Strike!

Undoubtedly, this wicked attack lived up to its name. Even without direct contact with the heart, it severely damaged Hiatan's cardiac function. Such a creature, reliant on physical activity, could barely maintain a standing posture after suffering violent trauma to its vital organs.

Of course, the Scourge's attack wouldn't stop there. Countless low-level undead and Death Knights rushed into the inner hall, pushing down and burying the mountain-like Hiatan. In the last second before the teleportation magic activated, Vashj and Illidan could see an Orc Death Knight leaping onto Hiatan's broad back and pulling out the waraxe with a 'shing' sound.

...

Hiatan fell within Nath'alas Academy, but Vashj and Illidan escaped. Moreover, since almost all the casualties in this battle were from Sassreen's forces, not only did their own power remain intact, but Azshara also suffered a silent loss.

However, looking at the tidestone in his hand, Illidan felt that this item had suddenly become a hot potato—both Arthas and Azshara were looking for it. Holding this pillars of creation was actually inconvenient...

The item he was looking for was not actually in the main crypt where Aegwynn sealed Sargeras; he could enter without the pillars of creation. Therefore, he had to consider the risks and benefits of keeping this artifact in his hands.

Vashj seemed to have grasped some of Illidan's thoughts. She suggested, "If you have concerns, I can take this stone to report back to Queen Azshara's people. You can continue with your own affairs."

She also understood the complex situation involving the tidestone, but Illidan shook his head, rejecting Vashj's plan. "We cannot give it directly to Azshara; that would bring us no benefit whatsoever."

"Then we will likely face endless pursuit from Queen Azshara," Vashj understood why Illidan wanted to do this, but the tidestone was of little use to them, and keeping it would only increase the risk daily.

"We've already screwed over Azshara and her subordinates once, and even if we hadn't... she probably wouldn't let us off the hook anyway."

Based on his understanding of Azshara, Illidan knew that this operation to steal the tidestone could not end well. However, Azshara currently seemed unable to extend her reach to the land. Illidan guessed that Azshara's search for the tidestone was mostly to extend her reach further.

But he couldn't just hand the tidestone over to the Lich King either... Illidan planned to put on a show, preferably to shift the animosity towards the Scourge, making Azshara, the Guardian Dragons, and the Lich King fight to the death, allowing him to slip away in the chaos.

...

"Lich King, why did you let that Demon Hunter go?" Ogrim was somewhat puzzled. In his opinion, it would have been better to capture Illidan.

"Let Illidan divert Azshara's attention for now. But keep a close eye on Illidan and his subordinates; just don't let him leave the Broken Isles."

Arthas's idea was simple: first, let Illidan run around with the tidestone to draw Azshara's attention away. Anyway, the pillars of creation hadn't been fully collected yet, and holding the tidestone now would only attract the Naga's covetousness. It was better to retrieve it later.

Given Illidan's personality, he wouldn't simply hand the tidestone over to Azshara. He would surely use this opportunity to seek more benefits and living space. It wasn't realistic for Arthas to get it directly from Illidan. Instead, it was better to keep a close watch on Illidan's movements and intercept him when he was about to make a deal with Azshara.

With Suramar as an anchor point, the Scourge's network of spies had already spread throughout the Broken Isles, almost as effectively as their control over Northrend. Moreover, Azshara took the tidestone to cause a huge stir, so it would be hard for her to go unnoticed.

However, Arthas did not know that 'someone'—actually a dragon—was very displeased with Illidan's actions and was preparing to personally confront Illidan.

Malygos flapped his wings, cutting through the clouds above Aszuna, chasing the traces left by Vashj's teleportation spell, pursuing Illidan and Vashj, who had just left Nath'alas Academy.

Hours later, in the strait south of Aszuna, on Warden Isle, Maiev was silently standing on the mountain outside the Warden's Vault, letting the sea breeze clear her thoughts, when she was startled by a violent magical tremor in the distance.

The Warden looked curiously into the distance, only to see the distant clouds churned by powerful magical energy. Rain poured from the inky black cloud cover, and lightning crackled and danced across the sky. This abnormal commotion made her very uneasy—Warden Isle held dangerous prisoners, and to ensure the vault's safety, Maiev decided to take people to investigate what was happening.

On the southern side of Aszuna's bay, at the edge of a steep cliff, Vashj's expression was solemn, not daring to breathe, concentrating intently on manipulating the power of the tidestone, attempting to use it to block Malygos's sharp edge.

However, even with the pillars of creation in hand, due to her own lack of strength, Vashj found it quite strenuous to use the tidestone; at the very least, she couldn't hope to face Malygos with this artifact alone.

Fortunately, Illidan was there to distract him, enduring Malygos's wrath, which also made Illidan groan in agony. Malygos showed no restraint in his attacks, unleashing various incredibly powerful spells directly at Illidan. Under the relentless bombardment of Arcane torrents, Illidan felt immense pressure.

The last time he faced a spellcaster of this caliber was perhaps ten thousand years ago, when Illidan witnessed the power of Queen Azshara. That Light of Lights, even without borrowing the Well of Eternity's magic, was one of Azeroth's most formidable existences, even earning the respect of the usually unruly Illidan.

The Weaver's power was beyond doubt, and Illidan had no desire for a meaningless confrontation with an opponent of this level. However, Malygos had no intention of letting him go, relentlessly pursuing him. If anyone else had been the target of this chase, they would have likely perished under a torrent of magic long ago.

Fortunately, the tidestone had not yet changed hands. While Illidan was distracting Malygos, Vashj was doing her utmost to activate this Pillar of Creation, attempting to conjure a storm to force Malygos to retreat.

However, using the tidestone to cast magic that influences the weather also required time. Malygos was not a fool; while suppressing Illidan with magic, he also noticed the lightning and storm continuously gathering above his head.

If Vashj continued her spell, the airspace would quickly become unsafe. Being in the very center of the clouds during such a storm was not a wise choice, and Malygos was not foolish enough to directly confront the great power of nature.

He had already set his sights on Vashj, who was hiding in the storm and manipulating the tidestone, but the storm that had gathered was too powerful, making it difficult for Malygos to pinpoint Vashj's exact location. However, during his entanglement with Illidan, he had already figured out her situation.

Malygos let out a long Dragon roar, and accompanied by the sky-shattering cry, the Arcane glow surrounding Malygos became dozens of times brighter than usual. His entire body was enveloped in blue-purple Arcane energy. Illidan's keen senses immediately detected danger, and with a flap of his wings, he rapidly moved away from the energy-gathering Weaver.

At the same time, the rapidly retreating Illidan also shot two beams of destructive chaotic energy from his eyes, intending to interrupt Malygos's actions. However, the Arcane energy was too dense; even with Illidan's full power, he still couldn't break through the Arcane shield protecting Malygos.

After the two energies collided and flickered, Illidan frowned, mobilizing all his power to further release the chaotic fel energy. His body rapidly expanded with the surging energy, and a black, almost solid halo enveloped him, manifesting a tall, ink-black demon burning with green fel flames.

Realizing that allowing Malygos to continue accumulating energy would be very difficult, Illidan no longer held back, unleashing his full strength. Just as he was about to charge forward, he was astonished to find that the magical pressure, which had not yet reached its peak, suddenly exploded. The spell erupted when he least expected it.

The Weaver had set a trap for Illidan—he knew Illidan had once been an Arcane user, and he would naturally have a habitual way of thinking about spells, assuming that the spell's runes and energy level would only erupt when fully charged to their maximum. However, for certain Dragon-exclusive spells... this was not the case. A spell did not have to be released only when it could cause maximum damage; it only needed to be enough to kill the enemy.

"Hmph..."

Malygos's cold snort was the last sound Illidan heard before he was enveloped by Arcane light that could annihilate everything. Illidan's entire body rapidly disintegrated, oozing dark green blood. The Arcane storm was quickly destroying every part of his body, yet his demon form granted him powerful regenerative abilities, preventing him from being instantly crushed into dust by Malygos's destructive magic.

At this critical moment, a stone disk containing immense storm and flood power pierced through the storm over the ocean, shooting directly towards Malygos. The Blue Dragon paused for a moment, and the next second, the cannonball-like tidestone struck him in the face.

However, Malygos's defense was always watertight; even the powerful storm energy within the tidestone failed to penetrate Malygos's newly constructed and thickened Arcane shield. But this brief defensive action caused Malygos to lose his lock on Illidan. When he grasped the tidestone in his claw, the storm over the bay, deprived of the tidestone's support, slowly dissipated, but with it, Illidan and Vashj also vanished.

Malygos, having been outsmarted, was not overly angry. The other party had clearly

cut off the tail to save the body,

and anyway, the most important tidestone was now in his hands, and Illidan had been seriously injured by his magic. Malygos was too lazy to pursue the two of them further, especially since Vashj was a Naga, and chasing her further could easily lead him into the deep sea, and he was still wary of Azshara and the Old Gods behind her.

Having obtained the tidestone, Malygos no longer lingered in this barren bay. With a flap of his wings, he disappeared into the clouds and vanished on the horizon.

...

"Mistress, is that... the Weaver?" Nasa stood beside Maiev. They were currently at a Warden outpost on the Aszuna coast. The Wardens brought by Maiev to investigate had witnessed almost the entire battle of Malygos. "Who was he fighting? The storm power the opponent gathered was also quite terrifying."

Maiev frowned. She also didn't know who Malygos was fighting, but the final outcome was clearly Malygos's victory. However, this did not prevent her from adhering to the principle of eliminating evil thoroughly, going to see if Malygos had left any dangerous creatures untreated. After such a magical storm, even if all enemies were eliminated, it was still possible for Elemental Creatures filled with destructive desires to emerge.

"Let's go, we'll check it out. The area around Warden Island must be kept safe to prevent any accidents."

Riding their Hippogryphs, the Wardens quickly arrived at the bay where Malygos and Illidan had fought. They searched the area and, finding no suspicious creatures, were about to leave when they heard a shout.

"Wait, come here quickly."

One of their members, Cordana Felsong, had made another discovery.

Maiev came to the spot Cordana indicated, and her expression immediately turned solemn. On the coastal rocks, there were obvious traces of green liquid. Maiev instantly recognized it as the blood of a demon creature from the evil aura emanating from it.

"Malygos was fighting a powerful demon creature? Are there such demons appearing in Azeroth again?" Maiev felt a strong sense of crisis. It seemed their world was not truly safe yet. However, the traces left by this demon made Maiev inexplicably think of someone.

Illidan Stormrage... could it be you?

The Warden's gaze turned cold. She waved her hand, summoning Nasa, "You go back and try to contact the Dragon ambassador. I want to know what exactly the Weaver was fighting... The rest of you, continue searching for any other traces."

....

In Stormheim, Valdisdall, a Vrykul town that had been abandoned for some years, a guest arrived.

As Arthas stepped into the small town, he noticed something unusual—it was Odin's gaze.

Valdisdall was the Vrykul settlement closest to the Halls of Valor; from the town's bell tower, one could gaze upon the exquisitely crafted Halls of Valor in the distance, a part of Ulduar that Odin had personally separated.

However, after that horrifying betrayal, Odin was forever trapped within that golden hall.

Though he could still indirectly influence the world through various means, when the Vrykul had not seen the god they worshipped for many years, after the mythical era, this town, which might have originally been used for worship, was abandoned.

In the uninhabited town, Arthas noticed smoke rising from the chimney of the town's inn.

Even though the dilapidated door eaves were covered in cobwebs, the inn's fireplace was burning brightly, and a tall figure sat at a long table near the fire, drinking alone from a goblet.

This eerie yet strangely harmonious scene would likely send timid adventurers fleeing, but Arthas felt a hint of joy at the sight—this might mean his journey would be much less troublesome.

After Arthas crossed the threshold of the inn, two black ravens on the inn's eaves flapped their wings and flew away.

In the entire town, apart from Arthas and the Vrykul before him, there was no other living creature.

"Hmm… it's been a long time since we had a guest," the elder Vrykul said slowly, his voice deep and slightly hoarse, as he drank a cup of wine.

His tone showed no surprise at the visitor, as if he was merely stating something he had long expected.

"Havi, or rather, Highkeeper Odin, which name should I use to address you?" Arthas did not stand on ceremony with the person before him.

He stepped over a long bench and sat opposite the Vrykul, finding a large wooden mug already filled with wine in front of him.

Without hesitation, he picked up the mug and drank it down.

The Vrykul, whose face was adorned with common Vrykul markings, glanced at Arthas.

His right eye shone like a torch, as if it could see through all things in the world, while his left eye remained tightly shut.

He mumbled in a drunken tone, "Heh heh, you know a lot, child.

So, are you here for Havi today, or for Odin?"

"I am here for the aegis of aggramar, to set a trap for Kil'jaeden."

Arthas stated his purpose without any pretense, getting straight to the point.

At the same time, he placed Frostmourne on the table for Odin's incarnation, the Vrykul named Havi, to examine.

Havi, or rather Odin, instantly became serious, his previously casual demeanor vanishing.

He first asked, "Where did you get this sword—wait."

Soon, he sensed something.

Odin ran his hand over the sword's hilt, and a rune, one he knew all too well, lit up.

Now it was Odin's turn to be puzzled—this was a blessing he had personally etched, and these runes were knowledge he had gained from that Death Realm by sacrificing an eye.

Yet, in his memory, he had never seen Arthas.

Odin naturally did not believe his memory had been tampered with.

He examined Frostmourne even more closely, this time using the blessed power from the Titan father Aman'Thul, and Aman'Thul's grace finally allowed him to see the truth.

The face of the Vrykul, the Highkeeper's incarnation, showed surprise, then quickly returned to normal.

"Time, then?

So that's it… It seems you have already met my future self."

Now Odin was no longer surprised that Arthas could instantly discern his identity, but he quickly frowned again, as if pondering something.

"You want the aegis of aggramar.

This is not a big problem.

Since my future self has affirmed your strength, and you have conquered this runeblade from the Shadowlands, I need not be pedantic and set challenges for you anymore, but…"

Odin hesitated, a rare occurrence for him.

He was considering whether to tell Arthas some things.

It was Arthas who reacted first; knowing the Highkeeper's nature, he would naturally find it difficult to ask for a favor.

"Are you trying to talk about Helya?"

Odin was startled at first, then remembered that Arthas had traveled through time, going to the future, so it was normal for him to know some things.

"Yes, the aegis of aggramar is stored in the Halls of Valor.

I can give you the holy shield at any time, but I want to ask you a question."

"Speak freely."

After a brief silence, Odin, who seemed to have been lost in thought, finally came back to himself.

He spoke solemnly, "I want to know what Helya is truly plotting, and who she has truly sided with."

"She has sided with Death—you should already have the answer in your heart, that magical circle, another world, that 'equivalent exchange'."

Arthas did not directly tell Odin the answer, or rather, Odin himself already knew the answer; he just wanted to hear it from someone else.

Odin fell silent again, his profound gaze fixed on the goblet, as if the wine within it was a bottomless abyss, the world filled with the wailing of shattered souls that he had seen with his other eye.

"Maw, The Jailer, that is where the answer lies."

Arthas spoke the truth he knew, but the silent Odin suddenly spoke, "So, is it recorded this way in another timeline as well?"

"Huh?"

Now it was Arthas's turn to be puzzled.

Could there be another hidden reason behind Helya's betrayal?

Odin picked up the goblet and drained the wine within.

"Regardless, I have failed Helya.

Never mind… This matter cannot be undone, but The Jailer and that Death God who dared to deceive me will pay the price for their actions."

Actually, another person was involved in Helya's betrayal, but that person had already died at Arthas's hands.

Odin stood up and poured Arthas another glass of wine.

"This drink is to thank you, young Prince.

Loken has already paid the price, but this matter is not over yet…"

Just as Arthas's attention was focused on the wine glass and Odin's words, his voice suddenly became ethereal.

Arthas looked up, only to find that Odin's incarnation, Havi, had vanished.

Suddenly, two ravens cried out from outside the door.

Arthas turned to look at the wooden house's entrance, where Havi stood, his back to Arthas.

He had pulled up the hood of his robe and leaned on a staff made from a branch broken off an old tree.

Havi tapped his staff, and two ravens flew down, landing on his left and right shoulders respectively.

"Farewell, Arthas."

A clap of thunder in the daylight, golden lightning exploded at the wooden house's doorway.

Arthas covered his eyes with his hands, and when he lowered them, Havi had vanished.

On the long bench where Havi had just been sitting, an ancient runic tower shield lay there.

"What? Malygos beat Illidan and stole back the tidestone?"

Arthas, who had returned to Suramar with the aegis of aggramar, was somewhat shocked to receive this news from Ogrim. Ogrim roughly described how Malygos, enraged by Azshara and Illidan's deception, directly pursued them to the Aszuna coast and snatched back the tidestone.

"Also, Onyxia has returned. She retrieved the Hammer of Khaz'goroth from a local tribe in Highmountain."

"I understand. That saves time… But are the eyes on Illidan still functioning normally?"

Ogrim shook his head. "The energy storm from the Weaver and the tidestone clashing with Illidan was too violent. We lost our lock on Illidan, and we don't currently know his whereabouts."

This news gave Arthas a slight headache. While Malygos had recovered the tidestone, he was unsure if disturbing Illidan and the Demon Hunter, who possessed the sargerite keystone, would delay their plans.

"Send more people to search. If that truly doesn't work… try to find a way to extract information from those Naga. The fact that they found Illidan at Broken Shore indicates they have another method to pinpoint Illidan and Vashj's locations."

"Yes, Lich King."

Ogrim departed with his new orders, and Arthas, having processed the information, began to consider another matter due to the events at Nath'alas Academy: Was Azshara's sudden desire to seize the tidestone her own idea, or the idea of the entity behind her?

This was arguably the crux of the problem, and it would determine how Arthas should deal with the Naga and their Old God master next.

The tidestone was a very good lure. After using it to unseal Sargeras' Tomb, perhaps it could even be used to negotiate further with Azshara.

But for now, he needed to return to Night Hold to unseal Sargeras' Tomb. Only then could the first lure, Archlich Lei Ji·Donghan, who was responsible for drawing out Kil'jaeden, be deployed.

-----------------

"Lord Illidan, are you alright!"

Vashj, who had barely escaped with her life, led Illidan to an island. She had her subordinates set up camp here in advance, just in case.

Illidan, having somewhat recovered, limped into the camp with Vashj's support. "That old dragon… he's truly formidable."

Even with the powerful regenerative abilities and magic resistance granted by his demonic form, he was still seriously injured. After all, that was magic unleashed by a Guardian Dragon in its prime. Illidan, having completely misjudged the timing for defense, couldn't possibly have emerged unscathed.

Although the journey had been almost entirely bad news, the good news was that the tidestone, a hot potato, had finally been thrown away. Illidan no longer needed to bother staging a charade to deceive Azshara. Azshara would surely sense the commotion caused by Vashj wielding the tidestone's power against Malygos.

Now, Illidan and Vashj held no further value for her. Coupled with Azshara's use of N'Zoth's power against Malygos at Nath'alas Academy, which had alerted the Guardian Dragons, Azshara was unlikely to trouble them in the short term after weighing the pros and cons.

"Indeed, a fortunate blunder," Illidan said, forcing a smile as he pushed Vashj away. He endured the pain to stretch his somewhat stiff body. "But this place is no longer safe. We'd best find somewhere else to stay quickly."

"Are we not going to Sargeras' Tomb anymore?"

"Going there now would only lead us straight into the ambush Arthas set for Kil'jaeden. Caught in the middle, we could easily become cannon fodder." Illidan knew how "unpopular" he was now. Not to mention the Dragons and the Scourge, Kil'jaeden alone wouldn't let him off easy.

Fortunately, after all the bumpy travel, the most crucial sargerite keystone was still in Illidan's hands. With this item, he had the capital to start over…

Just as Illidan was thinking this, Vashj sensed something. She glided to the beach, picked up a pile of seaweed, and found a long-dead Naga guard's body concealed beneath.

His eyes had turned white, and his scales were dry, clearly indicating he had been dead for some time. Vashj immediately realized this was a very bad sign—they were so close to their subordinates' camp, yet they hadn't encountered a single Naga sentinel for so long…

"No, Lord Illidan, an enemy found this camp before us!" Vashj called back in a low voice. Just as she was about to lead Illidan away, Illidan sighed deeply.

"Hmph… I didn't think I could hide from you even here—Maiev, it seems I underestimated you." Illidan slowly revealed his Azzinoth Twinblades, and green fel fire ignited on the broad blades once more.

Vashj finally noticed the cold glinting arrows nocked on bowstrings in the jungle along the coast. The Wardens had found this foothold before them and set an ambush.

The Warden, holding her crescent glaive, emerged silently from the trees, staring coldly at Illidan as if looking at a corpse.

"Your end has come, Illidan."

-----------------

"You're finally back, Arthas—was Odin reasonable enough?"

Malygos was studying the eye of aman'thul when Arthas, carrying the aegis of aggramar, entered the hall at the pinnacle of Night Hold. In the hall, the four Guardian Dragons and Onyxia had been waiting for some time.

Arthas tossed the shield to Elisande's personal guards who stood by, and after watching them carefully preserve the collected pillars of creation, he replied, "Being imprisoned for so long, he might indeed be more amenable than he was in your time."

"Odin is wise and far-sighted, but sometimes he can seem too unfeeling," Alexstrasza sighed with a hint of helplessness. "After temporarily resolving the Burning Legion's threat, perhaps we should go see him again. He was, after all, once the chief administrator, an invaluable asset to Azeroth."

"Let's save that for later. We have gathered all the necessary pillars of creation. What's our next step?" Malygos asked.

"It's simple. Open Sargeras' Tomb. Let the Burning Legion's followers on Azeroth discover that Sargeras' Tomb has been opened. Their noses, sharper than felhounds, will lead them directly here."

"Hmm…"

The four Guardian Dragons fell into contemplation, considering how to arrange things to ensure foolproof success. Just then, Arthas sensed a soul message from Lothar.

He quickly scanned the content, nodded to himself, and waved his hand to summon a magical projection.

However, as the figures in the projection gradually became clear, everyone, including Arthas, was stunned.

"Brann?"

"Cough, cough, can you hear me—Lothar, are you sure this thing works?… Oh, good! I can see them!" Brann Bronzebeard was tinkering with something, occasionally asking Lothar questions, until he realized his image connection with Arthas was fully established.

"So you met Lothar and the others halfway?"

Arthas was momentarily at a loss for words to describe his feelings. Despite being proficient in several languages of Azeroth, it was the first time he had felt this way.

"Yes, hehe, you know, if I hadn't met them, Lothar alone wouldn't have been able to handle the things in the Hall of Origination."

Brann wasn't boasting. His extensive exploration experience helped Lothar and Anub'arak avoid a considerable number of "traps." If Lothar and Anub'arak had entered the long-sealed Hall of Origination by themselves, it was hard to say how long it would have taken them to achieve their goal.

"Alright, alright, so can the Hall of Origination be activated after all?" Arthas asked the most crucial question, which was also the main reason he sent Lothar and Anub'arak to investigate.

To cleanly resolve C'Thun, there was no better solution than activating the Hall of Origination. This Titan-era facility contained weapons powerful enough to destroy Old Gods, and with Uldum bordering Silithus, activating the Hall of Origination also meant not having to worry about a series of subsequent secondary disasters.

As long as the Night Elves stationed there were withdrawn, the entire Silithus desert would be left with only Qiraji and a group of sneaky Twilight Cultists.

Arthas certainly had the ability to go head-to-head with an Ancient God. However, this situation was different from when he faced Yogg-Saron. Northrend was far from Azeroth's two main continents, and Ulduar itself was a Titan facility primarily serving as a prison, very close to the Scourge's main base. Even the Dragon Army's station was in Dragonblight, giving them enough manpower, time, and space to confront Yogg-Saron.

However, C'Thun was entrenched in Silithus, which was not only located on the main continent of Kalimdor, far from the Scourge's radiation range, but also had a more serious problem: below Silithus lay the Chamber of Heart, the core of Azeroth's world-soul. If C'Thun had any last-ditch, mutually destructive methods that damaged or corrupted the Chamber of Heart, the consequences would be extremely severe.

As for drawing on the power of Maw again to deal with an Old God… there was no more foolish method than that. It would undoubtedly be inviting The Jailer to the heart of Azeroth and helping him open the last door to the world-soul's core.

The Jailer was no fool. He had been tricked by Arthas and couldn't recover, so he would certainly be wary of this out-of-control Lich King. Therefore, mobilizing the power of Maw could essentially only be considered a one-time method. Unless absolutely necessary, Arthas would most likely not use it a second time.

Even if the Hall of Origination couldn't be activated, Arthas believed that re-gathering forces to fight C'Thun and the Qiraji in an Ancient War of the Shifting Sands was better than crossing the red line of Maw.

"The Hall of Origination's basic facilities are still intact. I've already had Mimiron take a look," Brann said, bringing up the Guardians of Ulduar again.

Arthas paused slightly but didn't dwell on it. If the Hall of Origination were truly activated, it wouldn't be hidden from these Titan Guardians. On the contrary, having them help activate it would make the plan proceed more smoothly.

"Have the Guardians from Ulduar all arrived at the Hall of Origination?" Arthas inquired.

Brann shook his head. "Not yet. I had Mimiron control it remotely. He said that to activate the Origin Engine, it's best for him to be on-site to operate it personally, otherwise unnecessary errors might occur."

It's better to wait for Mimiron to arrive then… Errors with the Origin Engine? Arthas shook his head. More than ten thousand years ago, the Tol'vir misjudged the power of the Origin Engine. Although they used it to defeat Lei Shen and his Mogu army, it also turned the entire Uldum region into a desert. Otherwise, as a complete Titan facility, the entire Uldum would have a climate similar to the Sholazar Basin and Un'Goro Crater, with lush jungles.

Such a superweapon capable of altering an entire continent's topography was indeed better operated by Mimiron himself. Otherwise, if something went wrong, half of Kalimdor might be scorched earth, which would bring more than just regional disaster. If the planet's topography changed drastically, it could very likely lead to global meteorological disasters.

"I never thought I'd one day be troubled by environmental protection," Arthas chuckled self-deprecatingly. However, Old Gods, like maggots on a corpse, had to be eradicated; otherwise, every day they remained would bring endless trouble.

"One last thing, Mimiron said that even if he and the Guardians take over most of the Origin Engine's permissions, due to the disappearance of its builder, Ra, they will need some time to decipher and take over the highest permissions belonging to Ra. This might take some time—in other words, even if the Guardians arrive, the Origin Engine cannot be activated immediately."

Brann's addition made Arthas frown slightly. "Then how long will it take?"

"At least two or three weeks, but it shouldn't exceed a month," Brann recalled Mimiron's simulation results and stated a time frame.

This timeframe was acceptable, enough for them to resolve Kil'jaeden's matter. It was just uncertain whether Naxxramas and the defending Night Elves could hold out… Even if Naxxramas was equipped with many new weapons and research achievements, it was impossible for a naxxanar to resist the Qiraji and an Ancient God alone.

After ending his call with Brann, Malygos interjected, "It seems we still have many things to do. The Burning Legion, Old Gods… these guys just keep coming."

"Our world being favored by the Titans proves its rarity and preciousness, and fighting the enemies coveting our world will not be a short-term affair, but our eternal responsibility." Arthas sighed, looking down at his hands. While that was true, now that he possessed such power, he wanted to turn this eternal responsibility into a brief mission.

"Heh, perhaps in the past ten thousand years, I underestimated you mortals too much." Malygos's lips curved into a slight smile. The Dragon Legion perhaps shouldn't fight alone, and he didn't want the Blue Dragonflight's disaster to happen again.

"Prepare yourselves. We will unseal Sargeras' Tomb here atop the Night Hold. Although it will only be a partial unsealing, the fel fluctuations will surely alarm all Burning Legion followers still lurking on Azeroth," Nozdormu, the Bronze Dragon King, reminded them. Everyone nodded in agreement. Sargeras' Tomb held immense danger, but if handled properly, it would be an opportunity for Azeroth.

....

In Desolace, amidst a continuous stretch of ancient elven ruins, Lei Ji·Donghan, who was studying a wicked tome, felt his mind tremble. The tremor from the depths of his soul made him unhesitatingly put down the tome in his hand and look east towards the sky.

This desolate land seemed unchanged; even the heavy clouds and occasional lightning in the sky were as usual. Since the Legion's defeat at Mount Hyjal, Lei Ji·Donghan, who had retreated to Desolace, had almost grown accustomed to this deathly silence.

However, just now, he had detected a very familiar aura of destruction spreading across this wasteland. This powerful Legion follower immediately realized that it was the state of fel energy erupting.

The last time such a large-scale chaotic energy erupted was during the Battle of Mount Hyjal, when Archimonde attempted to absorb the power of the World Tree, Nordrassil, and was ultimately blasted into pieces by ancient sprites. But this time, Lei Ji·Donghan perceived that this power was even more ancient and profound; it was more like the aura of the eternal Legion ruler hidden deep within the stars…

"Has He descended?!"

Lei Ji·Donghan was instinctively ecstatic, but he quickly calmed down. With the power of the Legion's master, the world would be destroyed the moment He descended. Thinking of this, the Lich quickly cast a divination spell. The spell formed a luminous screen of images, and in it, he saw a magnificent temple spewing out massive amounts of fel energy.

Sargeras' Tomb!

Lei Ji·Donghan instantly recognized the location in the image. This tomb had been the ultimate goal of many Legion followers hidden on Azeroth, because the avatar of the Legion's master was buried within the tomb, and that corrupted Elune's Temple might also conceal an ancient Legion portal, an astral portal that could connect to the Legion's main base in the universe!

It seems Aegwynn's seal, after a long time… can no longer be maintained. Lei Ji·Donghan quickly had a rough guess. This was a rare opportunity, and he was determined to resummon the Legion to welcome his great master's arrival.

With this thought, Lei Ji·Donghan no longer intended to remain in this desolate wasteland. He immediately gathered his minions and, relying on the fel storm from Sargeras' Tomb, which was like a beacon, quickly obtained accurate teleportation coordinates.

However, Lei Ji·Donghan did not relax his vigilance. He knew the importance of this operation, and a fel storm of this magnitude would surely be noticed by more than just him. He had to enter the tomb before those troublesome Guardians of Azeroth arrived!

-----------------

The commotion from Sargeras' Tomb breaking its seal was even greater than the Guardian Dragons had imagined—and this was only a partial release. If the layers of seals on this fallen temple were completely undone, even the Burning Legion, lurking in the starry sky, would likely be able to pinpoint Azeroth's location.

Looking at the Moon Goddes Temple, eerily illuminated by dark green fel energy, Elisande's face was pale—she always felt that the actions of the Guardian Dragons and the Lich King were undoubtedly playing with fire. If the Legion were truly summoned, Suramar would undoubtedly become the first casualty before this world's destruction.

But now there was no turning back. She could only fully cooperate with the actions of the Guardian Dragons and the Lich King, otherwise, the fel storm when the Legion descended would first devour everything in Suramar.

"This commotion is indeed greater than we imagined." Arthas also seemed slightly surprised. "We must be more careful. This fallen temple is now undoubtedly a sanctuary for demons; their power will be greatly enhanced within it."

Fortunately, they were not facing the main force of the Legion, but merely a group of stragglers trapped on Azeroth due to the Legion's defeat. They were not formidable opponents, but they still needed to be constantly vigilant to prevent them from truly opening the portal completely.

However, judging by the current commotion… it seemed likely that every corner of Azeroth would be able to perceive the awakening of Sargeras' Tomb.

Just as Arthas thought, far on the other side of the ocean, Varian, who was originally in the garden with his son Anduin, also gazed at the abnormal dark clouds in the sky and the faint, unusual dark green storm on the horizon.

"Father, what's wrong?" Little Anduin gripped a wooden sword with some effort, his golden hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. Since just now, his father had stopped correcting his sword-holding posture and movements, and instead looked towards the distant sky.

Queen Tiffin, who had been sitting on the garden bench with a smile, watching her husband and son, also noticed her husband's abnormality. She stood up and came to Varian's side, also noticing the unusual layers of dark clouds.

She leaned against Varian, whispering uneasily, "Varian?"

The Queen's call brought Varian back from his gaze. He looked at Tiffin, gently put his arm around her waist, hoping to soothe her inner unease, "Don't worry… Perhaps it's just a storm."

Little Anduin also noticed the dark green storm in his parents' line of sight. His innate, extraordinary talent for the Holy Light gave him some "revelation" at this moment. He stared blankly into the distance, yet seemed to see a fierce battle before his eyes, and heard shouts of killing and wails in his ears.

Then, he saw his… father, covered in wounds, kneeling on the ground. Before Varian was a shadowy figure. Little Anduin watched in horror as the figure grinned and poured destructive fel energy into Varian's body, and after a painful wail—bang!

"Ah!"

Little Anduin fell to the ground, tears involuntarily streaming from his eyes. He hugged the wooden sword, crying out helplessly, "Father! Mother!"

Varian and Tiffin quickly picked up their son. Tiffin held the little prince in her arms, gently patting his back, comforting him, "It's okay… It's okay, Mommy's here, and Daddy's here too."

Little Anduin's abnormal behavior tightened Varian's already taut nerves even further. A deep sense of unease also surged within him, as if he was about to lose something… The firm disposition of a warrior quickly helped him shake off this strange feeling, but then he also realized—his son had possessed an extraordinary affinity for the Holy Light since childhood. He had most likely "foreseen" something from this storm to be so frightened.

Thinking of this, Varian quietly comforted the Queen and Prince, then summoned a guard and instructed, "Go tell Bolvar to come see me."

-----------------

In Theramore, Jaina was leisurely recording her recent magic insights in her notebook with a quill, but suddenly a pang in her heart made her instinctively clench her fingers. With a "snap," the quill broke, and the ink from the barrel spilled onto the paper and her fair fingers. Looking at her notebook, ruined by ink, Jaina frowned. She cast a spell, set the stained quill aside, and used magic to clean the stains.

"Thump thump"

Two dull thuds made Jaina stop her movements. She looked up at the other end of the table, where Aegwynn stood holding a wooden staff. The sounds just now were from her striking the ground with the staff.

"Teacher Aegwynn?" Jaina was startled—although Aegwynn was nominally her close attendant, most of the time, this powerful mage always liked to "disappear."

Not being found for important matters and not needing to be found for minor ones could best describe Aegwynn's whereabouts during this period. But just because you couldn't find her didn't mean Aegwynn wouldn't find Jaina, and often, when this female mage came, it was never for anything good.

Seeing Aegwynn's solemn expression now, and recalling her own sudden premonition just now… Jaina realized that something big was probably about to happen, which was why she had such a feeling.

Just as Jaina thought, Aegwynn spoke startlingly, "The seal on Sargeras' Tomb has been broken, and the Legion… might be returning."

A bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, its brilliant white light illuminating the profiles of Aegwynn and Jaina, followed by a thunderous clap.

"Boom!"

This thunder interrupted the silence in the room. Jaina slowly rose from her seat, walked to the window, looked at the storm clouds gathered in the sky, and turned back to ask Aegwynn, "How much time do we have to prepare?"

Aegwynn shook her head. She actually knew nothing about the situation of Sargeras' Tomb. At the moment the seal broke, she was more surprised and puzzled—how could the seal that had sealed the temple for ten thousand years with the pillars of creation, and which she had reinforced, suddenly disappear?

However, no matter how the seal was broken, it heralded a storm coming to Azeroth.

-----------------

On Azuremyst Isle, west of Kalimdor, High Priest Faol, who was conversing with Prophet Velen, suddenly stopped speaking. A few seconds later, he looked at Prophet Velen and found that he, like himself, was looking somewhat lost in a certain direction.

"Light above… you felt it too?" Prophet Velen recovered and said with considerable solemnity.

Faol nodded. Although he was undead, he had not experienced discrimination from the Draenei during this time. On the contrary, the Draenei highly respected him as a Holy Light High Priest, almost everyone treated him with courtesy, including the Draenei leader, Prophet Velen, who treated Faol like an old friend.

Now, both of them had almost simultaneously detected the massive change on Azeroth. Velen did not want their hard-won new home to turn into a wasteland trampled by the Legion again. He had to warn the Alliance allies.

At the same time, Velen also planned to consult with the Naru for guidance. He said to Faol, "I must go see the Naru and seek the Holy Light's guidance."

"I also need to do some things," Faol replied. During this time, he had learned a lot from the Draenei, and had even seen the Naru a few times. However, he was not overly excited, because he found that the Naru should not be the "Path of the Holy Light" he admired, but this did not prevent him from believing that these Naru who helped the Draenei were noble beings.

A turning point that would affect the fate of all Azeroth was approaching, and he should no longer hide in this remote place.

"Eitrigg, how have the Barrens outposts been doing these days? I seem to hear very little from them."

Thrall sat on the Warchief's seat, handling state affairs while asking his old friend beside him.

"Warchief, the friction along the border of Ashenvale and the Barrens has decreased significantly recently. Those Elves seem to have vanished, so there's nothing worth reporting… However, the Tauren in the southwest of the Barrens have been increasingly active. They seem to be gathering people and heading towards Thousand Needles."

"Hmm…" Thrall fell into thought upon hearing this. After a long moment, he slowly said, "Even if those Elves temporarily disappear, make sure to keep your people in check. Don't let them escalate conflicts. There's no need for us to provoke the Kaldorei. As for the Tauren's movements, do you have any further confirmed news?"

Upon hearing Thrall's inquiry, Eitrigg began to open the collected reports. "No, Warchief, but those Tauren have always loved peace and have trade relations with us. They shouldn't be gathering forces to deal with our people."

Thrall rubbed his brow wearily. Although the orcs had gained the Dark Spear Trolls and some Gnomes as allies, this only barely allowed them to gain a foothold in Durotar and the northern Barrens. Compared to the Alliance, whose influence radiated across two continents, the New Horde was like a weak infant, needing to act cautiously in everything.

Fortunately, the Alliance had no intention of wiping them out. Perhaps it was due to their contributions in the Battle of Mount Hyjal, as the Night Elves even let go of some previous conflicts. However, the Horde's desire to further harvest timber from Ashenvale would still be met with resistance from the Sentinel Force.

Therefore, the Horde had to expend great effort to harvest timber in the more dangerous Feralas. To ensure that the vulnerable Peons were not devoured by Feralas' ferocious beasts and terrifying vengeful spirits, Thrall could only send people to protect the Peons' lives and also spent a large sum of money to purchase a batch of logging tools from the Gnomes to improve efficiency. Otherwise, Peons who went missing or died due to accidents could very likely halt their already troubled timber harvesting work.

Although the Horde's situation was extremely difficult, Thrall still believed that the resilient orcs could overcome these setbacks, temper their will, and establish a firm foothold in Kalimdor. At the same time, due to the agreement with the Alliance, Thrall summoned more Orc tribes from Draenor who wished to settle in Azeroth, bringing much more life to the previously somewhat empty Orgrimmar.

Overall, the New Horde was steadily improving, and Thrall also needed to further consider his relationship with the Alliance—the orcs had almost provoked all the races and forces of the Eastern Kingdoms during the First and Second Wars. Whether it was Humans, Dwarves, Gnomes, or High Elf, all had a blood feud with the orcs, making it incredibly difficult to mend relations with them.

Even more tragically, upon arriving in Kalimdor, the unfamiliar orcs provoked the continent's overlords, the Night Elves. Grommash, having been tricked into drinking demon blood, even slew the demigod Cenarius. Now, the Elves also viewed the orcs as mortal enemies. Had it not been for the Third War easing relations between the Horde and the Alliance, the Elves would likely have marched south, directly towards Orgrimmar.

The only Tauren who hadn't yet formed an enmity with the orcs were also preemptively won over by the Alliance as allies. The orcs could only band together with the equally displaced Dark Spear Trolls to ensure their people weren't swallowed by the dangerous, unfamiliar lands—Boar People and Harpies had occupied this land for a long time, and the newly arrived orcs and Trolls had suffered considerable losses at their hands.

"Alas…" Thinking of this, Thrall couldn't help but sigh. All things considered, the orcs' history destined them to be treated "unreasonably" in Azeroth, but what was even more disheartening to Thrall was that they had brought it upon themselves.

From the loss of Draenor onwards, almost every step the orcs took was on the path of self-destruction. It was precisely because of this that Thrall clearly realized that the orcs no longer needed ambitious leaders, but rather a Warchief who could lead the Horde to stable development.

Eitrigg looked at Thrall, who was lost in thought, and couldn't help but worry about Thrall's health—their Warchief was still very young and strong, but he worried about the Horde's future every single day. He was very concerned that Thrall might fall ill from overwork.

Their people who had migrated from Draenor still needed time to integrate into the new environment, and there was no one in the tribe who could take over Thrall's duties. More than anything else, Eitrigg hoped that Thrall would pay more attention to himself.

Just then, a heavy footsteps sounded. Thrall and Eitrigg both looked up. They looked towards the fortress gate, and a tall figure walked in. His hair was already white, but his posture showed no sign of stooping, still as straight as a tower.

"Saurfang? Why are you here?" Thrall asked calmly.

"Warchief, a guest wishes to see you." Saurfang turned to point behind him.

Thrall also saw the "guest" behind Saurfang, who was even taller than an Orc. He greeted him with some surprise, "Arch Druid Hamuul?! It's been a long time, old friend. Our last farewell was a few years ago on Mount Hyjal, wasn't it?"

"Greetings, Warchief of the orcs. Please forgive my sudden visit." Hamuul Runetotem bowed slightly to Thrall.

Although they belonged to two different factions, the relationship between the Alliance and the Horde was not that tense at the moment, and the Tauren and orcs also maintained normal trade relations. Thrall's character and strength had earned the recognition of most people on Mount Hyjal, so Hamuul still maintained respectful etiquette towards this Warchief.

"Forgive? No, I'm delighted. It's been a long time since I've hosted former comrades. Come, sit here," Thrall stepped down from the Warchief's throne and led Hamuul to a nearby table and chairs to sit down.

After Eitrigg brought them a pot of water, he and Saurfang stood together by the main gate inside the fortress, guarding them. However, they also paid attention to Thrall and Hamuul's conversation.

After Thrall poured Hamuul a cup of water, he noticed that the Tauren's cloak was covered in dust. "You came in a hurry? Has something happened? If a friend of the Shu'halo needs help, please speak freely."

Hamuul looked at Thrall with some surprise. He had originally thought that the Orc Warchief would not be so easy to talk to, but now he seemed unexpectedly warm.

This barely concealed expression naturally did not escape Thrall's keen eyes, but he remained calm, waiting for Hamuul's reply.

"Apologies, please forgive my rudeness, but it's not that we've encountered trouble… To be precise, all of Kalimdor is in trouble." Hamuul realized his lapse and quickly said, "The Horde should also have dealings with the Gnomes in Gadgetzan. Has the Warchief not noticed that those Gnomes have become very restrained recently?"

There was such a thing?

Thrall frowned, recalling the recent trade situation, and found that it seemed to be just as Hamuul said. The shipping routes from Ratchet to Gadgetzan seemed to have decreased significantly. Some of the Horde's exported goods and imported commodities seemed to have been stuck on the routes between Gadgetzan and Ratchet for a while. They even had to raise prices to find merchant ships, but the Gnomes, who used to be greedy for money, uncharacteristically refused to take orders.

Finally, the price was raised to their maximum acceptable limit before they found a mercenary fleet, half pirate and half merchant, to complete their trade mission.

Thrall had initially dismissed this matter as a very minor market fluctuation, but judging by Hamuul's meaning, there was a more serious problem behind it, even one that threatened the entire Kalimdor?

Hamuul saw that Thrall probably already had an impression, so he slowly recounted the events concerning Silithus and the Ancient War of the Shifting Sands. By the time Hamuul was parched from speaking, Thrall had fallen into a deathly silence.

"So that's it…"

No wonder the Elves had disappeared recently, no wonder those Gnome companies had fled Tanaris… Thrall quickly assessed the threat of the Qiraji. He looked into Hamuul's eyes and asked in a low voice, "So, does the Cenarion Circle want to ask us for help?"

To Thrall's surprise, Hamuul shook his head. "No, quite the opposite, Warchief. We just want to inform you to be prepared, whether for defense or escape, because if the front line falls, we don't want any race to become fodder for the Qiraji."

As Hamuul said, he didn't stay long in Orgrimmar; after informing Thrall of the potential disaster, he left in a hurry—he still had other places to notify.

Within the vast fortress, only the silent Thrall, Saurfang, and Eitrigg remained, along with the silent Kor'kron elite guards outside the door.

After a while, Thrall was the first to speak, "What do you think, Saurfang?"

Saurfang turned to look at Eitrigg, and seeing Eitrigg nod slightly, he probably knew that the other person had similar thoughts to his own, so he said, "I think... we must send troops to reinforce, and we must go all out, immediately."

"Why?" Thrall asked thoughtfully.

"Because this is our last home, we have no way back. If Silithus falls, the Night Elves and Tauren civilians can still seek refuge with the Alliance in the old world, but our people only have Orgrimmar left." Saurfang spoke of the heavy and cruel reality in an indifferent tone, "If we don't want the orcs as a race to completely perish, we must go all out in this battle for survival."

"..."

Eitrigg also echoed, "I think pretty much the same as Saurfang, Warchief."

Thrall rubbed his temples with his two large green hands. He also understood that this war, which seemed to have nothing to do with the Horde, actually concerned the future fate of the Horde—it would be fine if the Night Elves won, but once they failed and the front line collapsed, the next ones to suffer would be the Tauren and the Horde.

Silithus seemed quite far from Durotar, but Hamuul had clearly told Thrall that once the front line collapsed, the Nerubian would sweep through half of Kalimdor in less than a month. This amount of time would absolutely not allow the current Horde enough time to evacuate.

Moreover, from Hamuul's tone, the situation on the front line was very grim. A thousand years ago, during the Ancient War of the Shifting Sands, the Night Elves still had the help of their Dragon allies and only barely won at a heavy price. This time, the Guardian Dragons hadn't even appeared on the battlefield, and no one knew how long the Kaldorei could hold on with just their courage.

This meant that the Horde actually had no choice. The orcs would not sit in Orgrimmar and wait for the outcome of the Silithus battle, so the only option left was to go to the front line and fight alongside their former enemies.

However, Thrall also understood a principle: enemies and friends are not eternal, especially since Azeroth still has many common enemies, whether it is the Burning Legion or these ancient bugs that appeared from who knows where. So, there was only one answer left.

"Mobilize! We will rush to Silithus."

Thrall's face was illuminated by the brazier in the fortress, the shadows outlined by the flames dancing on his face.

...

A few days later, Theramore.

Jaina looked at the travel-worn Arch Druid Hamuul and brought him a glass of water to quench his thirst.

"The Ancient War of the Shifting Sands... I seem to have read records about those Nerubian in some ancient texts. They also seemed to have similar disputes with the Trolls in ancient times—hmm, I'm not sure how many people we can send to support Silithus."

Jaina had already learned about Silithus from Hamuul, but she was clearly more troubled than Thrall.

For no other reason, Aegwynn had told her about Sargeras' Tomb a few days ago, and now the complex situation made Jaina hesitant. Should she fight the Burning Legion or support the Night Elves? It seemed neither side could be neglected.

So she chose to help Hamuul relay the message to the Eastern Kingdoms first, hoping that they could spare some manpower to fight the constantly emerging swarm of Nerubian.

"Silithus is a desert surrounded by mountains... otherwise, I might have been able to persuade my father to deploy Kul Tiras' naval forces." Jaina was also very helpless. At present, the only Alliance force that had suffered almost no losses during the Outland expedition was Kul Tiras, which had previously had little use. As a result, when new trouble arrived, Kul Tiras was still beyond reach.

"It's alright, Lady Proudmoore, actually, all of this was within my expectations." Hamuul did not complain because of this, "But I still hope you prepare. The situation on the front line is worsening, and I don't know how long the Cenarion Circle and the Sentinel Force can hold on."

"The Burning Legion wouldn't have conspired with these bugs... damn it," Jaina uncharacteristically used some unrefined words. The recent emergencies were getting more and more severe, and even she found it hard to maintain her composure.

Aegwynn urged her to quickly find a way to contact allies to deal with the Burning Legion, while she herself had already gone to the Broken Isles to investigate the situation. But now, like this...

Just as a strange silence filled the room, a few "thump-thump" sounds were heard. Jaina looked up and saw a jet-black raven pecking at the Mage Tower's glass with its sharp beak.

"Excuse me, please wait for me."

Jaina quickly got up and opened the window, letting the raven in. She said with a hint of helplessness, "Teacher, can't you use the front door next time?"

"Time is pressing, do you think I want to use the window?" A pleasant female voice came from the raven's mouth, and then its feathers rapidly transformed into a simple linen robe, and its form returned to human shape, "It seems we have a guest?"

"Good day, Lady, I am Hamuul Runetotem, Arch Druid of the Cenarion Circle." Hamuul was not clear about Aegwynn's exact identity, but seeing Jaina address her as 'teacher' and with great respect, he naturally knew her identity was extraordinary.

"Cenarion Circle? It seems we have other troubles. Let me introduce myself, I am Magna Aegwynn, hmm... perhaps you are more familiar with the title of the previous Guardian of Tirisfal?"

Aegwynn even had the leisure to introduce herself in a jocular manner, without any of the tension she had when she left. Jaina noticed this and immediately realized that her teacher might have brought back some good news.

"Teacher, it seems there are no major problems in the Broken Isles? Is it really just the seal aging?" Jaina guessed that the Legion had not discovered the corrupted temple.

Aegwynn said in a rather playful tone, "That's not it. Someone did break the seal I set, and the outside of that temple is already full of snarling demons..."

Jaina's smile instantly froze, "Then—"

"But don't worry, Suramar, which is across the sea from that ancient Moon Goddes Temple, is quite lively... Guess what I found? Four Guardian Dragons, and their Legion, and your little boyfriend are all there."

"Arthas? Is he alright?" Jaina thought of her lover whom she hadn't seen in a long time, "Since the Northrend incident, he has always been secretive about his whereabouts. Even Uncle Terenas said he doesn't act like a prince at all, more like an adventurer, often putting himself in danger. He even wanted to pass the throne to Calia."

This was, of course, just Terenas's joke. Although Arthas rarely stayed home, he was almost perfect as an heir. Terenas would beg Arthas to become the next King of Lordaeron.

"Don't worry about your prince for now. I also took the time to visit Dalaran. Antonidas finally realized that he was indeed old. Now the Speaker of Dalaran has been replaced by Khadgar. Antonidas no longer cares about political affairs and is focused on studying his magic." Aegwynn's emotions were quite complex when she brought this up, especially when she saw the familiar staff in Khadgar's hand. This reminded her of her and her poor son's ill-fated lives.

Although she didn't particularly care for most of Dalaran's mages, it had to be said that Khadgar, this "grand-disciple," was quite to Aegwynn's liking. Although Khadgar appeared serious on the surface, he actually harbored a rebellious heart against rigid magical traditions. It was not in vain that Medivh, during his few lucid moments, had also diligently taught this apprentice.

Khadgar's magical achievements had almost surpassed most of Dalaran's magic masters throughout history. Among the younger generation, apart from Jaina and Kael'thas, no one could probably compare to him. It was precisely such achievements that made Aegwynn have no objection to Khadgar wielding the Guardian's staff.

After briefly understanding the situation in Silithus, the relaxed and pleasant expression on Aegwynn's face disappeared. During her early travels across the continent, she had some vague understanding of ancient civilizations even older than the Elven era. She clearly knew what kind of evil existence was hidden behind those Nerubian. In other words, it was a danger as terrifying as the Legion.

Unfortunately, Aegwynn had not fully unearthed the existence of those Old Gods. Now, it seemed it might be a good thing, otherwise, accidentally breaking the seals left by those Titan Guardians and allowing those ancient deities to reappear on the continent would be a disaster no less than the Legion's arrival.

"It seems I have to make another trip," Aegwynn said, "I originally thought I wouldn't have to go back to the Blue Dragon to retrieve my talkative staff."

"Since we don't have to worry about the Broken Isles anymore, I must immediately relay the situation in Silithus to the kings again." Jaina now said to Hamuul with great certainty, "We will never lose the battle of Silithus. The blood of our Kaldorei and Shu'halo allies will not be shed in vain."

....

"Malfurion, you cannot go! This action is too reckless and dangerous. If those Nerubian knew of your existence, they would definitely launch a frantic attack on your location at all costs!"

Inside the Moon Goddess Temple, Tyrande strongly opposed Malfurion's proposal. He absolutely could not go to the front lines. The fates of Vastann and Fandral were clear. Malfurion's presence was like a target; as soon as he arrived in Silithus, he would be locked onto by the Nerubian.

"I must go. Our kin and comrades need our help." Malfurion's brows were tightly furrowed. He, of course, knew the danger of such an action. If he were to be harmed, the morale of all resistance members in Silithus might plummet.

The Beetle Wall, as a magical barrier jointly set up by the Elves and the Guardian Dragons, had blocked the Qiraji for a considerable period. However, when the Qiraji reappeared outside the wall through unknown means, this wall became an obstacle for the Cenarion Circle's offensive.

They repeatedly suppressed the main force of the Nerubian to the Beetle Wall, but because they could not enter the sealed Ahn'Qiraj fortress, they could not completely solve the Nerubian problem. Once they made a move to return to their camp, the Nerubian would suddenly appear from under the yellow sand, attacking their rear.

If they continued to allow the Qiraji and the Cenarion Circle to engage in such a tug-of-war, the Qiraji, who were not afraid of attrition, would make the Cenarion Circle pay an unacceptable and heavy price. They had to turn from defense to offense, open the Beetle Wall, and curb the Nerubian's madness at its source.

As long as those high-ranking Nerubian generals and priests were killed, the lower-ranking Nerubian would immediately fall into chaos, and might even completely lose their ability to reproduce, turning into some low-risk mutated beasts.

"I have already requested the fragments of the Scepter of the Shifting Sands, hidden in the hands of the four-colored Guardian Dragons. This key will be reforged soon."

Malfurion's expression was resolute, showing no fear or retreat. "At that time, I will personally strike the Scarab Gong and break the seal."

"Shandris, let me go. It's better for you to remain in Teldrassil. If anything goes wrong…"

Shandris volunteered to complete this dangerous task in Malfurion's stead, but the Arch Druid of the Kaldorei shook his head. "Shandris, you are better at leading armies than I am. Our army needs your coordination."

"But—"

"No more words." Malfurion glanced at Tyrande, who was about to speak, walked up and embraced her. After a brief moment of tenderness, the Arch Druid let go and bid farewell, "I'm leaving now. We cannot let the sacrifices of our kin be in vain."

Until Malfurion transformed into a Storm Crow and disappeared into the sky outside the Moon Goddess Temple, Tyrande remained silent. She merely watched Malfurion's figure with her eyes until he was no longer in sight.

"Mother." Shandris tried to comfort Tyrande but didn't know where to begin. Tyrande and Malfurion were such a couple, supporting each other, relying on each other, and going through countless storms, sharing hardships.

For Tyrande, every separation from Malfurion was painful, but the reunion after separation always brought her comfort. How she wished for such peaceful days to continue forever.

However, now they had no choice but to separate again. No matter how reluctant Tyrande was, she had to stay in Teldrassil and look after the Kaldorei homeland.

The Priestess waved her hand, "I'm fine, Shandris. You go and pack your belongings too—be safe, child."

…

By the port of Gadgetzan in Tanaris, a fleet bearing the blood-red Horde banner was docked. Varok Saurfang, riding a dire wolf, was the first to leap off the deck and stand on the pier.

Normally, the goblins here would immediately rush over to ask Saurfang if he needed various "paid" services. However, Gadgetzan had been quite peaceful recently. The goblins were hurrying, and all the sailors and passengers, whether boarding or disembarking, looked flustered, as if this was an extremely dangerous place they needed to leave quickly.

"I thought all these goblins were people who loved money more than their lives." A slightly younger, gruff voice sounded behind Saurfang, with a hint of mockery and disdain in his tone.

"You earn it to spend it. No matter how much you love gold, you have to make choices. These little guys are smarter than you think, Garrosh." Saurfang carried his axe and led his troops forward. Their vanguard had already arrived in Tanaris three days ago and had set up an outpost here.

To ensure smooth logistics, Gadgetzan was very important. There was no time to build a new port now, and it just so happened that the goblins were hastily evacuating from Tanaris, leaving enough space in the port for the Horde's ships to dock, allowing the Horde's army to land in this desert.

Garrosh and Saurfang walked along the somewhat desolate streets of Gadgetzan. The young Orc warrior was very curious about the local customs. He walked to a notice board and found that it was covered with a large number of bounties written in various languages, including the common tongue and Orcish. Besides pirates and bandits, there were Qiraji appearing everywhere.

"It seems that Tauren didn't lie to us. These Qiraji are indeed running all over the place." Garrosh snorted, "My axe hasn't tasted blood in a while—hey, I wonder if those Qiraji even have blood to shed."

Garrosh's remark caused the big, crude Orc soldiers behind him to burst into laughter, and Garrosh himself joined in. Saurfang glanced at Garrosh, thinking to himself: This guy really bears some resemblance to his father. It seems the Warsong Clan's brawn continues to be passed down.

Unfortunately, the orcs now do not lack powerful warriors, but rather wise individuals who can offer advice for the Horde's development. The catastrophe of Draenor almost severed the orcs' traditions. Fortunately, Thrall and the Frostwolf Clan brought the shamanic path back to the Horde, but they still lost the wisdom of the ancestral spirits of Draenor. The orcs themselves abandoned this most precious "treasure."

"Everyone check your freshwater and food supplies. We must cross this great desert and reach Silithus in the shortest possible time!" Saurfang issued his first order after all the soldiers had stood on the shore.

Saurfang was met with the high-pitched war cries of the orcs. The green tide quickly moved away under Saurfang's leadership. However, what all Horde members failed to notice was that at the entrance of a sand-brick house selling drinks nearby, a goblin wrapped in a headscarf observed the entire process of the Horde landing.

After the Horde army disappeared from sight, the goblin quickly scurried into the shop, pulled out a pile of tools from a hidden secret door, and then took out paper and ink from among them, rapidly writing something on the page.

Soon, he finished writing the last word, then took out a specially made stamp from the hidden toolbox and affixed a magical seal at the end of the letter. In the dim room, this seal glowed with a faint light, allowing one to discern some of the text within.

—"SI:7"