Bolvar was incredibly shocked at this moment; he felt his worldview, which had been built over many years, gradually crumbling.
Why was the man who had sacrificed himself at Blackrock Mountain and given everything for the Alliance now standing before him again?
Was this the enemy's evil magic, or a cunning illusion with ulterior motives?
But...
Even with a will as strong as his, he found it difficult to distinguish between reality and illusion.
What had happened?
Bolvar wanted to rush forward and question him; he had too many words to say, too many questions to ask.
But when he saw Lothar's familiar, unsmiling face, Bolvar couldn't say anything.
A strange knot formed in his heart, making a man of iron blood seem like a shy and inarticulate child at this moment.
Jaina stood behind Bolvar, staff in hand, her eyes, usually as calm as a lake, now rippling.
She had a vague guess, but this guess made her unsure how to face it; the complexity of the situation far exceeded her imagination.
In the end, neither of them spoke.
Instead, Varok, who had been Lothar's enemy and opponent for a lifetime, spoke first.
The old, white-haired Orc had a complex expression, clearly also impacted by past memories upon seeing this familiar yet strange face.
"Anduin Lothar... didn't you die in the Warchief's duel? Are you a vengeful spirit?"
By the end, Varok's voice was hoarse, filled with pain.
Lothar's death marked the end of an era, and he had once thought he could escape that bloody past.
"I did die," Lothar's unique, hoarse voice echoed in the tent, "but I did not return to walk the earth for such a narrow purpose as revenge.
I am now fighting to fulfill a greater will."
"You are... Undead?" Garrosh questioned Lothar's identity.
He roughly understood that this must have been a high-ranking Human general.
He glanced at Varok, who seemed somewhat distraught, and scoffed, "You're not some dark power resurrected to come and disrupt us, are you?"
With that, Garrosh raised his short-handled axe, stepped forward to Lothar, and was about to press the axe against Lothar's throat.
Lothar frowned slightly.
Although he had been stationed in the Scourge's main camp for many years, it didn't mean he was ignorant of what was happening on the main continent.
Moreover, as the overall commander of the Scourge in Silithus and Uldum, he had already learned of Garrosh's identity beforehand.
He just hadn't expected this young Orc to be even more reckless and arrogant than his father.
The Highlord's displeasure was quickly reflected in his actions.
Facing Garrosh's axe blade, Lothar advanced instead of retreating.
In Garrosh's astonished gaze, he used his forearm to directly parry the opponent's axe-wielding hand, while simultaneously gripping Garrosh's throat with his other hand.
The Death Knight's dark power spread from Lothar's hand towards Garrosh.
The strong sensation of suffocation immediately made Garrosh want to struggle, but then he discovered that his strong body suddenly weakened, and the battle axe in his hand became incredibly heavy.
He could no longer even hold the axe handle, letting the short-handled axe fall to the ground.
"Stop!"
Everything happened too fast, so much so that Varok, who had just been lost in thought, only now reacted.
He regained his composure, his eyes wide with fury, and he lunged forward to knock away Lothar's hand gripping Garrosh's arm.
"Marshal Lothar!"
Bolvar's hand also rested on his sword hilt again, but no one knew whether he was guarding against the two enraged orcs or against Lothar, who, as an Undead, had suddenly appeared in Silithus.
After Varok knocked his arm away, Lothar had no intention of continuing to trouble Garrosh.
He merely said coldly, "Although I did not come for revenge, that does not mean you can act recklessly, Orc."
Varok supported the collapsed Garrosh but did not press the attack again.
His intuition told him that Lothar was extremely dangerous, far exceeding the Nerubian commanders on the battlefield, and even far exceeding any enemy Varok had ever faced.
A moment of carelessness would lead to death at his hands.
Garrosh was still able to breathe heavily now because his opponent had shown mercy.
Varok could see this, so besides preventing conflict, he did not allow it to escalate further.
"That's enough."
Malfurion struck his oak staff twice on the ground, making a resounding "thud-thud" that drew everyone's attention.
As soon as Lothar entered, the Arch Druid felt a familiar aura from him.
He had been distracted by Garrosh's sudden attack and only now remembered that it was a power very similar to Arthas's sword.
The Arch Druid paused for a moment before continuing, "We welcome anyone who assists us now, but please do not provoke conflict here, otherwise we will consider the provocateur a common enemy."
"I certainly came to assist," Lothar nodded slightly, following Malfurion's words, "I presume you are troubled by how to break into the Nerubian's nest."
Seeing the situation gradually calm down, Bolvar slowly exhaled a sigh of relief.
No matter what, he did not wish to draw his sword against Lothar; it was a great fortune that the other party was not an enemy.
As for Garrosh, it was good that the reckless Orc suffered a bit.
Bolvar looked at Lothar and slowly asked, "Marshal, do you have any good ideas?"
Lothar shook his head, "Child, I am not a god.
You should know very well that in the complex nest beneath Ahn'Qiraj, no commander can lead a large army to defeat the Qiraji, and sending small units, with the Old Gods already on guard, is simply sending people to their deaths."
"Old Gods?"
Bolvar felt like this was the second time he had heard this term.
The last time was... at the meeting Arthas held before his expedition to Outland.
He said a terrifying dark power had risen, some Ancient God.
Were these Nerubian also being manipulated by the same evil god?
This made Bolvar feel a chill.
How many more of these terrifying evil gods were hidden in seemingly peaceful Azeroth?
They seemed to be everywhere.
Yogg-Saron was far away in Northrend in the Arctic, and this time the Ancient God behind the Nerubian was at the southernmost tip of the continent.
If one day there were such monsters beneath Stormwind, what would they do?
"Perhaps you need a more detailed understanding of your opponents, but there is no time for that now," Lothar knew that such knowledge was taboo in the mortal world, and he did not elaborate further, because one day Bolvar and the others would have the opportunity to understand the history of the Dark Empire more completely and in detail, "We actually don't need to attack the Nerubian hive.
The goal of this war is not the hive, but the Old Gods."
"But without entering the hive, we cannot achieve that," Malfurion said, "The Old Gods can safely hide underground and issue commands to the Nerubian army."
"No."
Lothar directly denied Malfurion's view, "Arch Druid, the Old Gods are not hiding underground, but are forced to stay at the core of Ahn'Qiraj.
He doesn't need to hide at all, because his power can easily destroy armies and cities.
Armies are useless before the Old Gods; the swarm is merely a means for him to buy time."
"Buy time?"
Just as several people were questioning Lothar's statement, the ground began to shake violently.
An unusually severe earthquake instantly swept across a large area around Ahn'Qiraj.
Lothar's expression changed, and he quickly walked out of the tent, finding that the sky had been enveloped in darkness in just a few seconds.
The setting sun, which had originally cast a blood-red glow on the desert, was also obscured by the darkness.
But strangely, after the sun's light was swallowed by the darkness, it did not disappear from everyone's sight; instead, it became even redder, like a giant, blood-stained pupil in the sky.
From a distance came the panicked screams of soldiers clearing the battlefield.
Countless giant tentacles broke through the surface, and the obsidian structures that had stood in the desert for countless millennia were instantly entwined and covered by fleshy tentacles.
The ancient and desolate Ahn'Qiraj instantly transformed at this moment, becoming a living, man-eating monster city.
In just this short time, hundreds of soldiers were dragged into the sand by tentacles, leaving only a pile of severed limbs and bloodstains, truly as if they had been swallowed by the desert.
The sudden change left the allied forces at a loss.
The others in the tent quickly rushed out of the tent.
Malfurion stared in shock at the dramatic changes before him—he had already tried his best to overestimate the strength of the Qiraji, yet their master behind them used such a method to tell the world that they were facing a power that mortals simply could not comprehend!
"Bolvar, take your people and leave Silithus.
This is no longer a battlefield for mortals to participate in!"
Lothar urged Bolvar.
These heroes of Azeroth should not be needlessly lost to enemies they could not possibly contend with.
The awakened Old Gods were not beings that could be resisted by the number of an army.
"Damn it, these damned monsters, how dare they slaughter my soldiers?!
I will tear them to pieces!"
Bolvar, however, ignored Lothar's words.
He looked at the soldiers being slaughtered by the tentacles, angrily drew his longsword, and was about to rush into the battlefield, ready to make the Old Gods pay the price.
At this moment, Malfurion's hand rested on Bolvar's shoulder, holding him back and instantly calming his indignant emotions.
Bolvar belatedly realized, "What influenced my emotions?"
"He's right, Bolvar, this is no longer a situation we can handle."
Malfurion's expression was grim.
The last time he had spoken such heavy words was on Mount Hyjal, facing the unstoppable Archimonde.
"Then we..."
"Don't worry, taking your people and leaving quickly is the right thing to do," Lothar said calmly, just as he had instructed Turalyon when he was besieged by Ogrim back then.
"Marshal," Bolvar still hesitated, "But if we leave, who will resist these monsters?"
Lothar did not answer immediately.
He merely looked at the wildly dancing fleshy tentacles and the gathering Nerubian and N'raqi, then after a moment, he replied, "This is precisely the reason for my resurrection: to redeem life through death, and to fight darkness with darkness."
This poetic chant drifted on the wind.
The next moment, the vast desert trembled slightly again, but this time, it was no longer a prelude to the Ancient God's awakening.
It was as if, on the horizon shrouded in darkness, a silent army was approaching Ahn'Qiraj.
Following that, a voiceless whisper, yet as if in their ears, echoed in the ears of the living and the dead.
"Awaken, dead of the desert, fight for the Lich King!"
In an instant, countless skeletal arms burst forth from the desert, and transparent specters gradually solidified, brushing past the retreating allied forces.
At this moment, many Night Elves unconsciously slowed their steps.
They were astonished to find that many of the spirits heading in the opposite direction of their retreat were faces they once knew.
And among the vast army of spirits and bones, a heavily armored knight riding a skeletal warhorse and wielding a large Elven greatsword caught the attention of a masked Druid.
He gradually stopped, staring blankly at that retreating figure, until after a long while, he made a decision, quietly leaving the retreating troops and following the Undead army deeper into the front lines again.
Midway, the Druid removed the wooden mask that concealed his true face, revealing an old yet resolute countenance.
Who else could it be but Fandral Staghelm?
"Vastann, my son... this time, I will not let you be alone again."
......
"Undead, all undead."
On the watchtower of Cenarion Hold, Bolvar held a monocular telescope, gazing at what was happening on the distant front line.
At this moment, the entire Silithus was affected by C'Thun's power, and even the sun was shrouded in an invisible pollution, shaped like a blood-red pupil, staring at all life. Even though the Druids and mages in the Hold were trying their best to set up a barrier, that power was still slowly and steadily infiltrating within the barrier, making even Bolvar feel his spirit weakening and becoming irritable.
If not for the strong intervention of the Scourge, their continued stay in Silithus would only lead to one outcome: total annihilation.
"Horrifying monster," Malfurion's expression was moved, unable to believe that such a terrifying thing was buried deep beneath the land of Silithus. He had once thought that after witnessing the invasion of the Burning Legion and the collapse of the Well of Eternity, nothing in this world could shock him so much. "But this power gives me a sense of déjà vu…"
Unlike the Arch Druid who was lost in thought, the other commanders were more concerned about the current situation of the army. Varok stepped forward and said, "We had better evacuate from here quickly. This is no longer a place for the living to stay! We are not afraid to die in battle, but I cannot let my people be trapped and die here in vain."
"I agree as well. I will have the mages immediately prepare a teleportation array," Jaina also believed that the best solution at the moment was to evacuate. "I hope the space here hasn't become too chaotic. I can't imagine the outcome of retreating through the desert on foot."
After speaking, Jaina used teleportation magic to leave the high tower to arrange matters related to the retreat. Varok, seeing that his intentions had been clearly expressed, did not linger and also left in a hurry. He was still somewhat worried about Garrosh's safety; although his body was unharmed, being affected by Lothar's power, coupled with the harsh environment of Silithus now, if something unexpected were to happen, he would not be able to account for it to Thrall.
Although Garrosh was young, reckless, impetuous, and impatient, almost identical to his father, and Varok was usually very strict with him, he genuinely regarded Garrosh as his own child. He did not want the New Horde to follow the old path of the Old Horde, but how much time did these old orcs have left to correct and watch over them? They could only place their hopes on the younger generation.
Bolvar watched Jaina and Varok leave, then asked Malfurion, "You just said it was familiar… Have you dealt with these monsters before? Why didn't you tell us in advance?"
Malfurion's brows furrowed, then relaxed after a moment. "So that's it… Nightmare, Andrassil, there has never been only one Old Gods."
But soon, Malfurion spoke to Bolvar with great concern, "These Old Gods are ancient powers residing deep within Azeroth. I do not know their origins, and I only have a partial understanding of their existence. I only learned today that there is such an ancient and evil deity deep within Ahn'Qiraj. This is my dereliction of duty."
"These monsters…" Bolvar, after hearing Malfurion's explanation, knew that the tragic sacrifices of the soldiers today were not Malfurion's fault. He then asked Malfurion another question, "Then these undead, do you know why they are helping us?"
Malfurion still shook his head, his gaze, filled with complex emotions, turned towards the most intense battlefield ahead. Many of those souls were Kaldorei; they had spilled too much blood on this desert. The corpses of Kaldorei and Nerubian stretched all the way from Silithus to Tanaris.
Now, at this most difficult moment, they unexpectedly still managed to secure a path to survival for today's warriors—yet the most helpless thing was that they could do nothing now but wait for the Scourge and the Old Gods to determine the victor.
-----------------
"How long do you estimate we can hold, Lothar?"
Arthas was at Night Hold, monitoring the battle situation in Silithus. Although they had prepared in advance, coupled with the existence of Naxxramas, which had raised a not-to-be-underestimated undead army, in reality, this force was still far from enough compared to the Qiraji and Faceless One.
C'Thun had not completely broken free from the seal; it was merely forcibly separating some power to prevent the Allied Forces from advancing, which was equivalent to a person with bound hands and feet trying to save himself while simultaneously using his fingers to crush the surrounding Qiraji that swarmed up, which would instead delay the time for him to truly escape. But even this small portion of power, if not for the timely arrival of the Scourge, the Azeroth Allied Forces would probably have been completely annihilated.
"No more than twelve hours," Lothar was not optimistic about the estimate of their available forces. "The number of undead we can summon at the same time is limited, and the input of new forces is far less than the consumption."
Relying solely on Naxxramas, although theoretically it could produce an endless supply of undead, their efficiency in utilizing corpses and souls had an upper limit. Now they were facing such a situation: the Nerubian and Faceless One pouring out of Ahn'Qiraj exceeded the limits of the Scourge army's ability to cope. Their complete defeat was only a matter of time, and that time was not very generous.
"Twelve hours… that's enough."
Arthas looked to the other side of the hall, where a giant magical projection displayed Lei Ji·Donghan's every move. He had successfully used the ancient portal to pinpoint Argus and was currently requesting permission to open a portal to Argus, which wouldn't take too long.
"The main variable is actually C'Thun. If he perceives the threat, he will definitely try to stop the activation of the Forge of Origins at all costs. Just don't let him detect the existence of the sargerite keystone," Arthas explained, but he still had some unease, "Hmm…"
"The sargerite keystone is well preserved; the probability of it being discovered before Naxxramas is shot down is extremely small, you don't need to worry." Lothar thought Arthas was worried about their intentions being exposed.
"No, it's not about the keystone," Arthas frowned. The two protagonists of this grand event were both taking the stage, but logically, there should have been a "special guest," but this guest, after performing some foreplay, suddenly disappeared without a trace.
Arthas did not believe that the other party had no intention of intervening in this major change that would soon alter the landscape of Azeroth. His current silence could only be for a more important goal.
"Can't worry about that much now…" Arthas frowned. There was no time now to investigate that guy's movements. If they missed this critical time node, it would undoubtedly be a fool's dream to find such a good opportunity again next time.
-----------------
On a certain coast, a group of Naga, under the cover of darkness, clustered around something and came ashore. The female Naga leading them, after identifying the surrounding direction, led them to disappear into the jungle on the coast.
After the group of Naga completely disappeared, a round figure jumped down from a tree in a panic. He clutched the fisherman's hat on his head, looking at the traces left by the Naga's snake tails winding on the coast with suspicion and uncertainty.
This black and white bear-like creature let out a long breath, patting his chest fearfully and muttering softly:
"Gods above… you scared me to death, I can encounter Naga just by going fishing."
.....
The dense fel energy spread like a tide across the lowest level of the temple; the originally exquisite elven-style marble pillars were quickly engulfed by viscous, dark green fel lava.
After cooling, black fel rock encased the surface of the elven architecture, consuming all its beauty.
Rage Winterchill's hollow eye sockets gleamed with the joyous dance of his soul fire; he had waited too long for this day.
Ever since his defeat at Mount Hyjal, he had been hunted like a stray dog by the Sentinel Force, forced to hide in the desolate Desolace, gathering the remnants of the Burning Legion.
However, most of the well-known Greater Demons had been annihilated in that brutal battle, and after years of effort, he had only managed to gather a group of useless, low-level demons.
Rage Winterchill could not endure such a life; the brand of spreading death and destruction was deeply imprinted in his soul, making him suffer more by playing house with a bunch of low-level cannon fodder in Desolace than by being killed.
He constantly yearned for the Legion's return, for the chance to annihilate those detestable mortals, so when he learned about Sargeras' Tomb, he immediately sought to go there without hesitation.
And today, all his hard work would be rewarded; the Lord of the Legion had answered his call, and the Burning Legion was about to return to Azeroth through this ancient portal, tens of thousands of years old.
Accompanied by a terrifying hum, the entire temple trembled violently; the moment the energy network within the portal fully converged, a swarm of demons poured out.
These hideous, bat-winged monsters, Netherwing, are the most common aerial combat units of the Burning Legion, and their gathering meant that the Legion's army was about to arrive.
Rage Winterchill could not suppress the excitement in his heart; he recited the demonic scriptures over and over again, trying to hasten the arrival of the Lord of the Legion.
Soon, other demons began to surge from the portal; Demon Guards, wielding blades and great axes, marched out in synchronized steps, followed by more demon officers.
Finally, as Rage Winterchill eagerly anticipated, a tall, crimson figure appeared in the very center of the portal—the Deceiver, Kil'jaeden!
The Lich immediately stepped forward, eager to prostrate himself and worship the terrifying entity before him.
"Great One, your humble servant awaits your arrival."
However, the expected rewards and promises of greater power did not materialize; the entire hall, apart from the chaotic shrieks and flapping wings of the Netherwing, was as silent as death.
Kil'jaeden's trusted subordinates looked at their master in terror, knowing well what the current silence implied.
"You…"
Soon, Kil'jaeden's deep voice resonated, and Rage Winterchill was overjoyed, thinking he had finally received what he desired.
However, in the next second, terrifying fel flames erupted on his body; even in his Lich form, he let out a mournful wail.
These dreadful flames from the Lord of the Legion could not only burn the flesh but also destroy the soul.
Facing Kil'jaeden's methods, Rage Winterchill's soul and body were annihilated together, and his phylactery, hidden somewhere, also ignited at that moment, quickly meeting the same end as its master, turning into a pile of ashes.
The Lich tragically died on the spot without even the chance to be reborn through his phylactery.
After dealing with Rage Winterchill, Kil'jaeden's long-suppressed rage finally erupted.
His furious voice echoed through the hall, "Damn fool, this is a trap!"
Indeed, the moment Kil'jaeden stepped into this hall, he already sensed something was wrong.
His period of silence was spent investigating the situation here, and he quickly discovered that Rage Winterchill, that fool, had completely failed to notice that Sargeras' Tomb had been surrounded by the power of the Titans!
The Titans had already failed, Kil'jaeden knew this, and now, those wielding Titan power on Azeroth were none other than the Guardians and Guardian Dragons.
So this was not a portal at all, but a trap set by the enemy to bury them!
Kil'jaeden laughed in anger.
He had actually considered this possibility, but he never dared to believe that someone would be so bold as to actively lure the Legion into their world.
This certainly wasn't a plan concocted by those Guardian Dragons; they would never do something so reckless.
"Come out, you lowly ants! Do you think you can defeat us by trapping me and my army in this temple?"
As the Deceiver's enraged words echoed throughout, on the four upper terraces of the hall, four Guardian Dragons appeared after a flash of light.
Each held the pillars of creation best suited to their affinity.
Kil'jaeden stared coldly at these beings who had inherited the Titans' power, "You wanted to summon me? Now you have.
Next, I will make you understand what fear and death truly mean."
Before Kil'jaeden finished speaking, dark energy, never before seen by the Guardian Dragons, had already condensed around him.
Within Sargeras' Tomb, the resentful spirits and demons that had lingered for tens of thousands of years were instantly crushed and extracted.
Countless souls and energies converged in Kil'jaeden's hand; the Lord of the Legion was about to unleash his wrath upon this world.
"You cannot, Deceiver."
Malygos sharply declared, then, along with his three colleagues, used the power of the pillars of creation to completely envelop Sargeras' Tomb.
The four Dragon Aspects also poured all their strength into suppressing Kil'jaeden's power at this moment.
They had to admit that Kil'jaeden's power far surpassed theirs.
In a one-on-one situation, no Guardian Dragon would be a match for the Deceiver; even if all four of them combined their efforts, it would be difficult to control Kil'jaeden, and the battlefield would inevitably extend across the continent, leading to the destruction and death of countless lives.
However, today they had made preparations in advance, enough to confine the battlefield to the lower hall of Elune's Temple.
With the Titans' blessing and the power of the pillars of creation, even Kil'jaeden could not easily escape this cage.
Kil'jaeden instantly felt the entire space almost solidify.
The power unleashed by the four Guardian Dragons' full assault instantly annihilated the low-level demons, and even the portal itself was affected by the energy at this moment, becoming precarious.
Seeing this, Kil'jaeden frowned and had no choice but to divert some of his attention to protect the portal behind him.
The mighty power of order cleansed the evil filth in the hall.
Soon, the demons around Kil'jaeden suffered heavy casualties, but the true high-ranking demons also resisted the dragons' power.
They also began to gradually move closer to the portal, seemingly having received Kil'jaeden's command to prioritize protecting the gateway connecting the two worlds.
However, this action caused the four Guardian Dragons to secretly smile—they were actually worried that too much power would destroy the portal.
Kil'jaeden did not know that his plan played right into the enemy's hands, but even if he did, he would still have to do it, for the portal in Elune's Temple was not an ordinary astral portal.
Originally, this portal was intended to be a backup and alternative to the Well of Eternity portal.
In just a few dozen seconds, the teleportation hall transformed into a forbidden zone for mortals.
Terrifying energy surged throughout the hall's interior; the weak would turn to dust just by being there, let alone intervening in the battle.
Soon, the Guardian Dragons discovered that Kil'jaeden's power was still increasing.
It seemed that being near the portal to Argus also made him stronger.
If no one else intervened, the scales would gradually tip in Kil'jaeden's favor.
Unfortunately, the one who would tip the scales was currently gazing at the power condensing around Kil'jaeden, a terrifying magic called "Shadow of a Thousand Souls" by the Deceiver himself.
Whether dragon or deity, the outcome of being struck by this magic was only death.
Although the Guardian Dragons had tried their best to interfere with Kil'jaeden, the spell was still slowly taking shape.
To ensure he could kill these most troublesome enemies with a single blow, Kil'jaeden spared no time or effort to further enhance the power of the Shadow of a Thousand Souls.
"We have Kil'jaeden under control; the final blow is up to you."
Malygos's voice echoed in Arthas's ear.
Arthas nodded slightly; everything they had meticulously planned for Kil'jaeden was finally about to come to fruition today.
...
"Without the Earth Guardian, how can you four crippled worms resist the might of the Legion?"
Kil'jaeden mocked the four Guardian Dragons who were desperately trying to stop him. Even though the power of the Guardian Dragons was rarely rivaled on Azeroth, facing the commander of the Burning Legion, who had traversed countless realms and existed for countless eons, Kil'jaeden still proved to be beyond their reach.
Moreover, the most crucial point was that while they didn't want to destroy the portal, they had to suppress the teleportation magic Kil'jaeden was casting. Otherwise, if the Legion's army truly descended, it would also represent a terrifying catastrophe. The true strength of the Burning Legion wasn't just powerful demons like Kil'jaeden, but their endless demonic army.
Even more terrifying, the Dark Titan Sargeras was watching menacingly from the other side of the portal. The four Guardian Dragons had barely managed to obscure Sargeras' attention by using the pillars of creation left behind by the Titans. Otherwise, if Kil'jaeden were to establish contact with Sargeras, all their efforts and sacrifices would be in vain.
Fortunately, the portal here was not yet strong enough to support Sargeras' arrival, but when Kil'jaeden's power completely overwhelmed the four Guardian Dragons, the situation could rapidly deteriorate.
As the pressure from the Thousand Souls' Darkness grew immense on the four Guardian Dragons, Alexstrasza finally couldn't help but ask, "Has the Forge of Origination not finished reactivating yet? If this continues, even if we defeat Kil'jaeden, his magic will turn a large area into a complete dead zone."
"Trust Arthas. He is the one who brought new hope to our world." Malygos had immense trust in Arthas, who had pulled him from the abyss of corruption and madness. "The only thing we can do now is to ensure Kil'jaeden does not escape the cage we have set for him."
Yes, under the concealment of their power, Sargeras' Tomb had become a cage that severed all external connections. Kil'jaeden could only rely on the energy he tore from the portal behind him.
"Abandon your resistance now, and perhaps the Legion will grant you a new life—why sacrifice yourselves for a group of failed Titans? They can barely protect themselves now."
Kil'jaeden's words were filled with terrifying magic. Anyone without sufficient will and power would instantly be swayed by his words, turning into fanatical devotees of the Burning Legion, obeying Kil'jaeden's commands, and committing all sorts of insane and terrifying acts.
As the power the Deceiver drew from Argus grew stronger, these magical words even caused illusions to appear before the four Guardian Dragons' eyes. It was the end of all life, Azeroth would eventually turn into cosmic dust, and everything they loved and protected would be annihilated in the catastrophe brought by the Legion.
The four Guardian Dragons all frowned deeply. They could indeed still distinguish between illusion and reality, but if Kil'jaeden's demonic whispers continued, they couldn't guarantee they would maintain their sanity.
-----------------
The Undead army was gradually being scattered and torn apart by the Old God's army. Although the brave warriors who fought valiantly a thousand years ago were resurrected again and again, reshaping their forms to resist the surging tide of Nerubian and Faceless Ones, the Old God's creations were still gradually devouring the Undead army.
Piles of Nerubian and aberrants lay before Vastann, his runeblade even chipped and notched, yet the enemy's numbers did not dwindle. The scales of victory were gradually tilting towards the Old God.
His eyes were filled with rage and unwillingness. Could it be that the defeat of a thousand years ago would repeat itself today?
Imagining the horrifying scene of the swarm engulfing Azeroth, thinking of his wife and daughter, Vastann's resentment burned relentlessly within him. A darker and deeper aura of death coiled around him—he began to indulge in the power of death and darkness, even willing to let this power consume his sanity, turning him into a complete killing machine, in exchange for destructive combat power.
However, just before his vision was completely covered by crimson fanaticism, a familiar, ancient cry caused his movements to pause slightly. Vastann swung his sword, beheading the surging Nerubian in front of him, and simultaneously raised a massive barrier. The moment this blue-purple barrier separated the swarm, countless spiky vines shot up from the ground, instantly forming an active wall as hard as steel.
Countless Faceless Ones and Nerubian who couldn't stop their charge slammed into the thorny wall, turning into a bloody mess. The sharp, active barbs caused those who tried to climb the wall to be quickly impaled, like flies caught by a Venus flytrap, and then devoured by the thorny wall, becoming nourishment for its further extension.
"Vastann…"
Fandral stood behind Vastann, slowly taking off the mask on his face—after that conversation, he decided to come to Silithus as a warrior, even if it meant dying here. Yet, this decision, originally intended as penance, instead gave him the opportunity to face his son again.
"You shouldn't be here."
Vastann's voice was still cold, but it lacked the previous anger and aloofness. "This is a battlefield that does not belong to the living, Father."
Seeing his son willing to call him father again, Fandral's joy surpassed all other emotions, but after calming down, he shook his head. "Among the Kaldorei, I am no different from a dead man. I begged my mentor for a chance, not to be exiled or wait for death in prison, but to die in Silithus."
Since making this decision, Fandral had no intention of returning alive from the battlefield. Even if he miraculously survived the battle, he planned to disappear into the desert. Whether the Kaldorei forgot him or hated him forever, he would have no more complaints.
"Then do as you please," Vastann said no more. He now had only one goal: to kill all the enemies before him. But Fandral's appearance made him abandon the method of completely discarding himself for power.
Just then, a powerful soul fluctuation broke through Vastann's mind, and immediately after, immense power surged into his body. After a moment of shock, Vastann instantly realized whose power it was.
The Lich King!
Arthas's gaze had already descended upon this desolate desert. The Undead army, which had been steadily retreating, suddenly stabilized its position, and even showed a faint tendency to push back.
The ancient master of the desert, and also a prisoner of the jail—C'Thun—he naturally quickly discovered the anomaly. The huge eye hanging high in the sky quickly flickered, and whispers filled with distortion and strangeness spread to every corner of the desert.
"King of the Dead, you should not obstruct me."
"I never intended to obstruct you," Arthas coldly retorted to C'Thun, "I only intend to destroy you."
Arthas's voice was like a signal. Lothar unhesitatingly crushed the crystal in his hand. At the same time, a massive green curtain tore through C'Thun's domain, and a much stronger power invaded the area.
C'Thun's tentacles, spread across the desert, actually contracted for a moment. "How dare you?!"
This time, Arthas did not answer his question. The Old God's illusion covering the sky, in the next second, was like a stuck image. After a brief pause, it did not resume, but shattered with a crash like fragile glass.
The vast starry sky once again cast its light upon the Silithus desert, and the prominent bright moon in the sky seemed even more striking than usual.
Arthas, somewhat surprised, cast a fleeting, ethereal glance at the sky, but only for a moment. Because in the next second, from the depths of Ahn'Qiraj, a light far more dazzling than the stars and the bright moon erupted, as if a river of stars falling from the sky was pulled upwards, entering the rift in that green curtain.
—This was a miracle left behind by the beings called Titans for this planet.
The Origin Engine, under Mimiron's control, was outputting energy at almost its maximum power within its controllable range, enough to change the entire planet's topography.
Mimiron also secretly connected the Hall of Origination and Ahn'Qiraj's long-sealed energy pipelines, allowing this immense power to surge from the core of Ahn'Qiraj at the fastest speed before C'Thun could discover it.
And that place was precisely where C'Thun was sealed.
As an instrument designed by the Titans and personally installed by Guardian Ra, the Origin Engine possessed the power to thoroughly cleanse the Old Gods.
If not for the concern that the death of Old Gods, deeply rooted, would bring irreversible damage to Azeroth, the Titans might have personally eradicated these parasitic monsters long ago.
However, today, in order to break the seal, C'Thun had forcibly squeezed most of his power out of his sealed body.
To stop Arthas and his Scourge, he was already doing his best to quickly crush his opponent while still trapped.
This also led to his spiritual essence, which could normally extend to any part of his massive body, being concentrated in the center of Ahn'Qiraj Temple at this moment.
The fear of death immediately swept over this 'great' deity.
He clearly understood that when the Origin Engine's power swept through, his current temporary body, broken free from the seal, would be unable to withstand it.
And once his current body was destroyed, his exposed spiritual essence would be easily obliterated by the Origin Engine.
At that time, even if he miraculously survived, his dying self would face a fate more terrifying than death.
So C'Thun began to frantically try to escape back into the seal.
His true Ancient God body within the seal could allow him to exempt himself from the Origin Engine's damage as much as possible.
Unfortunately, this seal was no joke; it wasn't something C'Thun could enter or exit at will now.
C'Thun, skilled in manipulating schemes and tricks, never expected, even before his death, that living peacefully within the seal was also a kind of fortune—at least he shouldn't have chosen to come out at this time.
Yogg-Saron's death not only did not harm the Guardians' strength but also unexpectedly drew out a monster like Arthas, whom even the Old Gods could not comprehend.
However, before his consciousness was destroyed by the Origin Engine's power, C'Thun let out one last roar.
This roar was not directed at Arthas, nor at the Guardians controlling the Origin Engine, but at his treacherous 'colleague.'
"N'Zoth!"
The obscure and difficult-to-understand roar, filtered by Arthas, became the name of another Ancient God.
Arthas was expressionless, only watching as C'Thun's power and body turned to dust under the Origin Engine's bombardment.
As Arthas expected, the remaining Old Gods were certainly plotting something, but C'Thun was clearly being used as a pawn by N'Zoth.
That cunning deity hiding at the bottom of the deep sea had no intention of advancing or retreating with C'Thun from the start—in other words, even if C'Thun died, he would have a chance to gain greater benefits, benefits even stronger than the advantages brought by collaborating with C'Thun.
Evidently, apart from the legacy C'Thun left behind in Ahn'Qiraj after his demise, there were not many things in this world that could tempt the Old Gods.
The heart of y'shaarj, currently buried deep within Silithus, was naturally out of N'Zoth's reach, but there was one more thing that Arthas temporarily couldn't find or control…
"heart of y'shaarj…" Arthas frowned deeply, showing no joy at defeating C'Thun.
He did sense C'Thun's will and his power rapidly fading, which represented the fall of another Ancient God, but N'Zoth's absence still made him uneasy.
But this was just a guess; he couldn't be sure what N'Zoth was planning.
Perhaps all of this was just a smokescreen he threw out.
As the last surviving Ancient God, he instead held the greatest initiative.
Unfortunately, Pandaria was still covered by the mist released by the last emperor, Shaohao.
Without Deathwing bringing earth-shattering changes to Azeroth, this ethereal island would probably not appear before the world for a short time.
However, now was not the time to think about this.
Although C'Thun's threat had been eliminated, the crisis facing Azeroth was still not over.
Before retracting his gaze from Silithus, Arthas gave Lothar his final command, "Open the portal; it's time to bring this to a close."
As Arthas's illusion dissipated, Lothar also contacted Naxxramas.
Amidst a light as brilliant as a galaxy, the green rift completely tore open, and the place where the rift opened was precisely the top of the main hall directly above Kil'jaeden's head.
"It's time, Kil'jaeden, you damned demon, go back to your hell!"
Malygos felt the vast energy spreading.
He shouted loudly, urging all his magic, and the four Guardian Dragons now worked together, actually steadily suppressing Kil'jaeden.
Immense pressure came, and Kil'jaeden's body sank.
He looked up in astonishment, watching in shock the astonishing energy on the ceiling, surging like stars.
The demon lord didn't even have time to utter a word before he was defeated by this unexpected 'power of creation.'
However, a demon's soul would not end on Azeroth, so even though Kil'jaeden's body was severely damaged and he simultaneously suffered the backlash of the portal nearing collapse, he still made a final move in his last moments on Azeroth.
The long-accumulated dark magic exploded, and death waves capable of killing all life spread like a tide.
The four Guardian Dragons, at this moment, had just exhausted their previous strength and had no time or opportunity to use magic to defend against Kil'jaeden's last desperate attack.
The awe-inspiring fluctuations of the Thousand Souls' Shadow made the Guardian Dragons' expressions change.
Everyone knew that taking this blow head-on would result in severe injury, if not death.
Just at this critical moment, as the power of the Thousand Souls' Shadow was about to impact the four dragons, a golden holy light appeared out of thin air, forming a solid shield that firmly protected the four Guardian Dragons.
Even though the dark energy, unimaginable to mortals, violently impacted it, it only left a few ripples on the golden shield.
"Arthas, that was truly timely."
Malygos let out a long breath.
Even he, when escaping death, couldn't help but feel a little lingering fear.
Only by truly experiencing Kil'jaeden's desperate blow up close did he realize how terrifying that power was.
"Don't let your guard down yet.
The portal to Argus hasn't completely collapsed.
Protect the Moon God Temple; don't let it collapse, or the magic here will pour out, and the surrounding seas and lands will become dead zones!"
Arthas's expression was solemn.
The Origin energy and the impact from the Argus side were too fierce, blurring most of their senses.
Although it seemed Kil'jaeden was indeed hit by the engine's power, since he had the strength to make a final attack, who knew if he had any other tricks up his sleeve?
After Arthas helped them block the first wave of impact, the Guardian Dragons finally recovered their breath.
They began to work together to soothe the violent energy in space.
Gradually, the Origin Engine's output continuously decreased, finally turning into a trace of starlight and completely dissipating.
And the portal, originally full of demon and sulfurous breath, was also completely annihilated under such a level of energy impact.
Seeing that things fortunately went as they hoped, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, but a moment later, their expressions became solemn again.
"Lich King, Guardian Dragons… Very well, the Burning Legion will return again.
Enjoy your brief victory."
As the magic of the Thousand Souls' Shadow gradually dissipated, Kil'jaeden's low voice sounded again—he had indeed not died under the Origin Engine's impact, and the Burning Legion would not abandon its plan to destroy Azeroth because of this failure.
"But at least we bought enough time."
Arthas's single sentence re-energized the Guardian Dragons.
Yes, although the victory might be brief, they had once again made Kil'jaeden taste the bitter fruit of defeat!
.....
When Elisande saw Arthas and the Guardian Dragons finally emerge from Sargeras' Tomb, her heart, which had been in her throat, finally settled back into place.
In Suramar, which was separated from Sargeras' Tomb by the sea, she clearly felt the powerful energy that made people tremble uncontrollably; a great battle had erupted in that ancient, silent temple, and as bystanders, they didn't even have the right to intervene, with their very lives dependent on the outcome of the battle.
Fortunately, the most desperate scenario did not occur. Azeroth once again achieved victory against the Burning Legion's iron hooves. However, the four Guardian Dragons didn't look well, indicating that their confrontation with Kil'jaeden and the demons had left them with injuries, whether light or severe.
Arthas, on the other hand, looked as normal as ever. After all, he hadn't directly participated in the battle, but rather existed as a 'failsafe' role. If any unexpected situation arose, they could only hope Arthas would once again create a miracle.
Although not injured, Arthas was currently frowning deeply, and anyone with a discerning eye could tell he was troubled by something.
Upon arriving in Suramar, Malygos, who had been watching Arthas's sour face the whole way, finally couldn't help but ask, 'Arthas, we clearly won, so why do you still look so glum?'
Malygos's question brought Arthas back to his senses. He pondered for a moment, organizing his words, 'I just find it a bit strange, like the matter of the tidestone…'
'Are you worried about Azshara and her minions?' Alexstrasza stepped forward to comfort him, 'They wouldn't dare to stir up trouble at this time. Although our power has been slightly depleted, it doesn't mean the Dragon Legion has suffered significant losses.'
'N'Zoth is behind Azshara. I thought he would participate in this grand drama, but he has yet to show himself, watching two Old Gods fall,' Arthas explained, 'There must be a greater conspiracy hidden within this, but we don't know what he ultimately wants to do.'
'Perhaps he'll send the Naga again to seize the tidestone?' Malygos mused, 'After all, it's something left behind by the Titans, and it might help him break free from his seal.'
Nozdormu, however, shook his head, 'Let's hear what Arthas has to say.'
Nozdormu's intuition told him that things weren't that simple, but even he found it difficult to clearly perceive what had originally happened after Deathwing's demise. That was supposed to be the period when they lost their Guardian power. Although losing their authority didn't strip them of all their strength, it did make them less adept at wielding their power.
'The tidestone is probably not N'Zoth's goal… The one truly coveting this item is Azshara.'
Arthas's words left everyone momentarily confused. What Azshara coveted and what N'Zoth wanted… was there any difference between the two?
'Azshara is different from other puppets completely controlled by the Old Gods; she and N'Zoth are more like using each other,' Arthas revealed the truth of the situation, 'Her pursuit of the tidestone may not greatly help N'Zoth escape, but if she obtains it, it's hard to say what kind of commotion she might cause.'
'This is truly a complex situation…'
The Guardian Dragons had no good strategy for this. Unlike C'Thun and Yogg-Saron, no one knew the exact location of N'Zoth's seal; they only knew that this Old God was likely beneath the waves of the Endless Sea.
In short, the current situation was quite difficult to handle, and no good solution could be thought of quickly. The four Guardian Dragons also departed first; they still needed to return and settle the Dragon Legion. After such a major battle and achieving significant results, they also needed to celebrate with their kin and rest for a while.
Only Arthas remained on the top floor of Night Hold, with Elisande waiting by his side. Although the Grand Magistrix was still the nominal leader of Suramar, facing the current situation, she felt it was better to ask Arthas for his opinion on what to do next.
Elisande's inquiry completely pulled Arthas back to reality. He had indeed been disconnected from the mortal world for too long during this period, even missing out on major events like the Draenei joining the Alliance.
'The fate of your people ultimately rests in your own hands. Whether you continue towards prosperity or face destruction is entirely up to your own choices,' Arthas slowly said.
'Then what… should we do, my Lord?'
When Elisande asked this, she was surprised to find that she was somewhat… anxious. It wasn't fear that such a question would bring her danger, but rather anxiety about the fate of her people.
They could actually be considered the purest surviving descendants of the ancient Kaldorei. It was only because of the Nightwell's power that they transformed into the current Shal'dorei. However, the cost was not only a change in their physiological form but also a complete isolation from the outside world for ten thousand years.
Don't be fooled by Elisande and most of the Nightborne acting arrogant; if they were truly asked to explore a world they currently knew nothing about, they would inevitably shrink back, wanting to return to the time when they were protected by the grand barrier.
However, the barrier had been removed, and recreating it was difficult. Moreover, would they truly be content to be trapped within the barrier for another ten thousand years? Perhaps the debauched nobles would be willing, but the commoners who were already struggling to survive might prefer to seek suitable places of refuge throughout the world.
'The Burning Legion will return sooner or later. Instead of locking yourselves in a turtle shell and awaiting an unknown fate to befall you, why not seek an answer outside?' Arthas looked at Elisande, his eyes seeming to pierce through all things, seeing the inner souls and wills of all living beings, 'Or do you still want to wait for others to declare your end, as you did this time?'
Elisande was silent. Pandora's Box had already been opened, and closing it easily was no longer realistic. Perhaps, as Arthas said, it was time for them to find a new way of survival.
Arthas knew Elisande had already made up her mind and said no more. He took out an emblem from his portable magic satchel and tossed it to Elisande, 'Take this. When you've thought it through, take this item and sail east, to seek the civilization of a new world.'
With that, Arthas did not linger long in Suramar. His body was enveloped in sacred light. A moment later, the light soared into the sky and gradually dissipated, and Arthas's figure also vanished, leaving Elisande alone standing on the rooftop of Night Hold, holding the gilded Alliance emblem in her hand, lost in thought.
Arthas temporarily had no mood to think about the fate of the Nightborne, and even if they were given a chance to join the Alliance, they probably wouldn't be able to bring any practical benefits to the Alliance in a short time.
After all, whether it was appeasing the citizens of Suramar after the barrier was opened or finding a way to solve the magic addiction that had plagued them for thousands of years, both would take some time.
Arthas had already taught Talisra and Solarian the method to completely solve the magic addiction, and they should now be looking for the whereabouts of that tree.
Given the almost identical arrogance and self-esteem of these two races, they probably also hoped to break free from the curse of magic addiction through their own strength.
Arthas still had more important matters to deal with; it was best to quickly handle both the investigation of N'Zoth's unknown whereabouts and the concluding work on Sargeras' Tomb.
Although the ancient portal in the Moon God Temple had been destroyed in the fierce battle, the only valuable thing left inside was Sargeras' avatar.
However, this avatar was also extremely difficult to deal with; if it could be easily destroyed, Aegwynn would not have chosen to seal it in the first place.
Of course, it was also highly possible that destroying this avatar itself might have huge hidden dangers, otherwise Arthas truly couldn't understand why Aegwynn would leave this soulless body until today.
Once the four Guardian Dragons recovered their strength, they planned to delve into Sargeras' Tomb again to see if they could find a way to permanently destroy Sargeras' evil avatar, lest it become an enemy's weapon one day.
Soon after leaving Night Hold, Arthas received a message from Lothar.
Lothar, who was currently wrapping things up in Ahn'Qiraj, had discovered some peculiar things…
-----------------
The Necromancers maintained the portal, not daring to even breathe, because at this moment, their supreme master—the Lich King—was stepping out of the portal.
Naxxramas (Floating City) was now hovering not far above Ahn'Qiraj, and a large number of undead swarmed out, collecting "trophies" in Ahn'Qiraj.
Various treasures, ancient artifacts, forbidden knowledge, and most importantly, the corpses of Nerubian and Old Gods' servants were continuously being carried out of the Ahn'Qiraj Temple and ruins by these undead servants and transported into the naxxanar.
Arthas casually picked up a dark grimoire emanating an ominous aura, flipped through a couple of pages, and then tossed it back onto a pile of similar tomes.
That pile contained countless such classics, all of which recorded forbidden knowledge that would drive mortals insane with a single glance.
Rather than letting such things fall into the wrong hands and cause unspeakable horrors elsewhere, it was better to let them gather dust in Icecrown Citadel's treasury.
Moreover, these magical knowledge, which were taboo for mortals, had minimal impact on the undead.
Coupled with the fact that the Lich King's servants were also protected by Arthas, it was undoubtedly a fool's dream for the remaining mental imprints of these dead Old Gods to try and control the undead.
Arthas looked down at the ancient city of Ahn'Qiraj on the ground.
This ancient kingdom was now silent, C'Thun's minions had turned to dust under the power of the Origin Engine, and most of C'Thun's own will had been ground away by the Origin Engine.
Arthas could still sense faint soul fluctuations now, but compared to C'Thun's previous terrifying will that covered the entire Silithus, it was simply a world apart.
C'Thun was indeed "eliminated," although his true body had not been completely destroyed, his spirit had almost completely dissipated.
A small remnant was still lingering in his true body, but given the powerful vitality of lifeforms like the Old Gods, if he were truly allowed to continue surviving like this for hundreds of thousands of years, a brand new will might recover from his body.
However, it would be hard to say whether the consciousness that recovered at that time would still be C'Thun.
Unfortunately, C'Thun no longer had such an opportunity.
Whether it was the Scourge or the Guardians taking over, it would lead to him having no possibility of a comeback, unless the sole remaining N'Zoth came to rescue him, otherwise C'Thun was no different from being dead.
And the idea of N'Zoth coming to save C'Thun was as absurd as the Burning Legion saying they would no longer destroy the universe but instead become its foremost defenders—it was an absolute joke.
Not devouring a perfectly good meal and even reviving the other party? Unless N'Zoth's octopus head was pulled off, he wouldn't do something so idiotic.
Arthas followed Lothar's aura, delving deep into the Ahn'Qiraj Temple.
Although this place had been cleansed by the Origin Engine's power, a small number of Nerubian had survived due to their strong vitality.
However, without C'Thun and the Twin Emperors to command them, they had become beasts fighting for themselves, and the bloodthirsty nature their masters had bestowed upon them was now fully evident.
Seeing Arthas venture into the Nerubian nest alone, these flesh-hungry swarms immediately surrounded him.
However, Arthas didn't even spare them a glance; a terrifying death aura naturally emanated from him.
The originally orange-yellow organic matter of the Nerubian nest beneath his feet immediately turned an ominous grayish-black, and this death aura enveloped Arthas.
Any Nerubian daring to step into it instantly decayed into a disgusting black-yellow liquid.
Moreover, under the pervasive death aura, these putrid liquids even spontaneously coalesced into oozes.
The newly born oozes were full of appetite for the Nerubian that emitted a "homologous" aura, and the Nerubian's sharp claws or mouthparts could not cause any effective damage to the oozes.
Instead, they found themselves deeply trapped and easily captured.
As they continued to go deeper, the Nerubian swarms actually became fewer.
It seemed that Lothar had led the vanguard to clear out the Nerubian inside, and the outer passages were too extensive, so they temporarily didn't have time to completely eliminate all the Nerubian nests.
At the entrance of the temple where C'Thun was sealed, Arthas finally saw Lothar, who had been waiting for a long time.
The Highlord of Death was leading his men to reinforce the soil and walls around the temple with runes.
The Scourge's banners were raised here, and they had even set up tents and brought in a large amount of construction materials.
"Lothar."
"You're finally here," Lothar immediately turned and came forward.
"We are sealing this temple to prevent the Old Gods' power from escaping—C'Thun's spiritual entity has been destroyed, but his physical body still exists, and without a matching will, his massive body will constantly affect the prison and land beneath our feet."
"What did the Guardians say?"
"Ahn'Qiraj, in their view, only has one path: abandonment.
Most of the effective facilities have been completely corrupted or destroyed by C'Thun.
They are more anxious to restore the functionality of Uldum and currently don't have the time and energy to put in the effort of almost rebuilding Ahn'Qiraj…
However, they said that if you want to take over, they can hand Ahn'Qiraj over to you."
This suggestion surprised Arthas; he had not expected the Guardians to have such a plan.
However, taking over Ahn'Qiraj was completely feasible for the Scourge.
They had a need to expand their power, and due to the nature of the Scourge, the central regions of the continent were not suitable for Scourge activities.
Instead, Silithus, which was already a desert, was very suitable.
This place was almost uninhabited, and the few scattered settlements were basically all Night Elves' outposts that had evolved.
Now that the Old Gods were gone, they no longer needed to be stationed here.
Moreover, and most importantly, Silithus was very close to Pandaria, extremely close.
If N'Zoth was truly eyeing the heart of y'shaarj, then the time required for the Scourge to react would be greatly reduced.
"Good idea.
Send a few more naxxanar from Icecrown Citadel to establish basic facilities here first," Arthas nodded, affirming the plan.
"The Nerubian and Old Gods' bodies are all usable, as are those obsidian constructs; they are products of Titan technology and are very valuable."
For the Scourge, this was merely a replication of the operations performed under the Ulduar prison.
With familiarity, Arthas quickly arranged various plans and tasks.
"There's one more thing.
We found three prisoners inside the temple; they were imprisoned by C'Thun.
We didn't dare to release them easily."
Lothar was well aware of the Old Gods' methods.
By his reckoning, those three had been held there for over a thousand years; who knew if their wills still belonged to them?