A few minutes earlier, Jaina suddenly said to Arthas, "The magical barrier I left there has been deciphered."
Arthas, who was looking through a large number of ancient texts left by the Scarlet Crusade, looked up at the words, "Is it a member of the Scourge?"
Jaina shook her head and denied, "No, from the opponent's technique, it should be a very skilled mage. The barrier I left was not particularly strong, so the opponent should be able to break it."
Arthas closed the book in his hand and replied, "Then let's go and see. Frostmourne is almost ready too."
Before leaving, Jaina glanced at the large number of precious ancient texts scattered in the fortress library and asked Arthas, "Aren't you taking these things with you?"
"Let's leave them here. I've looked through them, and since Balnazzar secretly manipulated the Scarlet Crusade, their progress has almost stagnated. The things left here are of no use to us—let's cast a simple protective spell on them. Perhaps one day, the people of this world will remember to reclaim this heritage."
Arthas had no interest in the Scarlet Crusade's treasures, as these things had limited value to them, but they might be a valuable legacy for the people of this world who had suffered catastrophe.
Perhaps one day in the future, when they encounter certain difficulties again, these remaining things of the Scarlet Crusade can help them find a way out of the darkness, or gain some comfort for the past.
After Jaina's teleportation magic brought the two back to Frostmourne's location, Arthas saw Angela attempting to use magic to activate a flare. He immediately stepped forward and pressed down on her wrist, preventing her from sending out this flare that could be seen across half of the Eastern Plaguelands from Stratholme.
"This is impossible... Shouldn't you... have died in Icecrown Citadel?"
The three Silver Hand around them had reflexively drawn their weapons, but before they could make any further moves, Arthas's gaze swept over them, and in an instant, they lost consciousness and fell to the ground.
"Jaina, have you confirmed the coordinates?"
"It's ready."
The moment Jaina's voice fell, the light of the teleportation spell enveloped the three Silver Hand, and after the light dissipated, the three were transferred out of Stratholme.
Angela watched everything happening before her in shock. Before she could even process what had happened, her elite squad was suddenly reduced to just her.
"Don't worry, Ms. Angela, Jaina has transferred the three of them to a place very close to Light's Hope Chapel. They will regain consciousness very soon and find their way back to the chapel."
Arthas released Angela's hand and sheathed Frostmourne. At this moment, Angela felt the heavy, death-like pressure gradually dissipate.
She cautiously retreated a few steps, staring at Arthas and Jaina, as if trying to discern something.
After a while, Angela said with a mixture of doubt and belief, "You... could it be... time travel? But how is that possible?"
Even as a mage, Angela found it difficult to comprehend everything that had happened in a short time, but given events like the Iron Horde invasion, the Bronze Dragon's ability to control time was no secret.
After a brief moment of confusion, Angela finally came to her senses. She began to understand that the Arthas before her was not the Lich King she knew.
But if that was the case, what about Frostmourne?
Arthas, holding Frostmourne, was not the Lich King?
Angela's just-cleared mind began to grow chaotic again, until Jaina, unable to bear it any longer, cast a calming spell on her, pulling the mage back from her tumultuous emotions.
"Shouldn't we act discreetly? Otherwise, things like this will happen every time," Jaina advised with some helplessness.
"After all, we're collecting the lingering souls from the entire Plaguelands, so a little commotion is unavoidable. The Argent Crusade will certainly react. And those guys are essentially the successors of the Silver Hand, are you sure we want to argue with them about these souls?"
Arthas's answer also gave Jaina a considerable headache. Discussing with a group of rigid paladins how to deal with the massive number of souls generated by the undead in the Eastern Plaguelands? Just thinking about it seemed impossible. Even if they could understand and approve the proposal, it would take an unknown amount of time, and clearly, they didn't have that much time to waste.
Jaina, who could only compromise, shook her head, "Forget it. Although it feels like there's always a small problem, seeing familiar faces make those expressions is still... interesting?"
She used a rather mischievous adjective.
Arthas nodded affirmatively, then looked at Angela and explained, "Ms. Angela, as you can see, we've almost dealt with the undead in Stratholme and almost the entire Eastern Plaguelands. Perhaps the Argent Crusade can consider truly beginning to reclaim this land. Please forgive us, our time is limited, but now is certainly not the time for reminiscing. We must go."
The light of a teleportation spell once again coalesced in Jaina's hand, only this time it enveloped Arthas and herself.
Angela then belatedly realized that without Frostmourne suppressing her, she could also use teleportation magic normally, but looking at Arthas, who was about to leave, she still instinctively wanted to hold him back, "Wait! I still have so many questions!"
Arthas glanced at her and chuckled, "Haven't you already solved all your problems on your own?"
Angela's outstretched hand paused, and as she watched Arthas and Jaina's figures slowly disappear, she heard Arthas's last words.
"Keep moving forward, citizens of Lordaeron, dawn will always come."
As Arthas's voice slowly faded, the magical barrier surrounding Stratholme's Slaughter Square also vanished.
The black clouds above Stratholme were torn apart by brilliant holy light, and the pure light incinerated all the defiled undead remains in the square. The undead that had plagued the Eastern Plaguelands for decades all turned to dust at this moment.
Angela stared blankly at the scene before her, the ashes and light swirling in the sky, which seemed to remind her of the countless petals that once fluttered in Lordaeron.
The last remains of the undead turned to dust and dissolved into the sky with the holy light at this moment. The unquenchable fires and black smoke that had shrouded Stratholme for decades also finally faded into extinction at this moment. This cursed city finally welcomed its first ray of sunshine after decades of absence.
During this time, Arthas and Jaina traversed almost all the major towns across the continent of Lordaeron. He was constantly collecting souls that had fallen on this land or been resurrected into the Scourge, from Eastweald to Westwealde, and then to the Tirisfal Glades, which was almost a ruin.
Actually, after the Scourge's defeat in Northrend, the Scourge in this area shouldn't have been so active, but recent strange anomalies caused those previously dead bodies to reanimate.
Arthas, of course, knew this was a consequence of The Jailer instigating Sylvanas. Now, above Icecrown Glacier, the veil between reality and death was torn by the impact of the helm of domination's destruction, and with the boundary between life and death so blurred, it formed a wave of the Scourge across Azeroth, just like the Scourge.
Such a massive number of the Scourge could not be fully controlled even by Bolvar, that half-baked Lich King, with the helm of domination, let alone after the helm was destroyed by Sylvanas.
If Sylvanas hadn't completely looked down on Bolvar and didn't care about his life or death, Bolvar would very likely have been the first casualty of this disaster during their confrontation at the top of Icecrown Citadel.
Compared to Arthas, who knew all these things like the back of his hand, Jaina's heart was filled more with sadness and indignation upon seeing the familiar land in ruins.
From Hillsbrad to Eastweald, and even a part of Quel'Thalas's Eversong Woods, had completely become a paradise for the Scourge. Fertile land turned into a breeding ground for plague, and prosperous cities were left with only broken ruins.
Those villages and towns became sacrifices under the Scourge's ruthless blade. Across such a vast land, Jaina could barely see a living person; only the Scourge banners still scattered throughout the kingdom and piles of white bones proved the ubiquitous tragedy.
"All of this… it's simply unbelievable."
As a mage, from the first day of becoming an apprentice, their mentors would teach them to view the world rationally. Jaina, as one of the best mages, understood this principle deeply.
But even she, upon seeing such a tragedy, found it difficult to suppress the anger in her heart.
"What exactly is that damned mastermind behind all this doing? What did our world do wrong? What did these innocent people do wrong?"
Ever since the Dark Portal opened and the orcs swarmed into Azeroth like locusts, their world seemed to have never truly known peace.
Although Jaina knew that those orcs were just a group of deceived wretches and victims, who would pity them?
"A god who fancies himself as destiny, wanting to turn all things into pawns in his hand, yet unknowingly, he himself is part of the chessboard."
Arthas had no good feelings towards Zovaal, because he could almost be considered the culprit behind most of Azeroth's tragedies. Even though he had never directly done anything to Azeroth before, behind almost every event, his ruthless hand manipulating reality could be seen.
The Arthas from the original timeline was merely his pawn, but that pawn failed to achieve The Jailer Zovaal's plan, so he was ultimately discarded.
Arthas estimated the time; The Jailer should now be attempting to create a second "Arthas," and this time, not an uncontrollable variable. He had learned from his previous lessons and wanted to create a puppet completely obedient to him.
After traversing all the necessary places in Lordaeron, Arthas finally completed his plan there. He said to Jaina, "Go to Theramore. You should be able to find the teleportation coordinates there, but you need to be mentally prepared first; the situation there is no better than here."
Jaina's heart sank, but on the surface, she remained calm and began to pinpoint Theramore in this world.
Although not the same world, the information preserved in the Arcane network was still largely similar. Normally, with Jaina's ability, she could quickly locate Theramore, but she only saw a chaotic "blank" in a large set of coordinates.
She instantly understood what kind of disaster had occurred there—only annihilation caused by high-intensity Arcane energy could lead to such a situation.
"It seems the me in this world… must have had a very difficult time."
Jaina found it hard to imagine what kind of sorrow the other version of herself in this world had experienced, and even more tragically, based on Jaina's understanding of herself, it was likely that the combined consequences of many of her own decisions ultimately led to this situation.
But Jaina harbored no ill will towards the other version of herself in this world, because she also knew very well that if she hadn't had Arthas's help from the beginning, she might very well have ended up exactly like her current self.
"I found it, although it's only near there, it should be just outside the city."
Blue Arcane light burst from Jaina's eyes. Under her skillful control, powerful magic opened the gates between two spaces. She quickly completed this teleportation journey across the entire Endless Sea with Arthas.
And the first thing she saw after teleporting was Theramore, almost razed to the ground. This fortress, built on a small island, now only had its outer remnants of broken walls. The towering landmark building in the city center, her mage tower, was completely gone, as if it had never existed in this world.
Even though she was mentally prepared, Jaina's face was quite grim. Although this was not the Theramore she ruled, seeing the city's remains still pained her.
"Who did this?" she asked Arthas.
"Garrosh Hellscream—that little tag-along next to Thrall, a brown-skinned Orc. You should remember him."
As Arthas described Garrosh's appearance, Jaina gradually recalled that during Thrall's several invited peace conferences at Theramore, there was indeed a brown-skinned Orc accompanying him, who looked like his personal guard.
"He is the son of Grommash Hellscream, Thrall's highly anticipated successor. Unfortunately, Thrall failed to teach him wisdom and humility. Garrosh, with his mind solely focused on restoring the orcs' glory, became an out-and-about warmonger."
As Arthas spoke, he led Jaina into the city. Although there was deadly Arcane radiation and residue everywhere, it had no effect on the two of them.
"To allow the Horde to occupy all of Kalimdor, he didn't hesitate to steal the artifact focusing iris from the Blue Dragon. Once filled with Arcane energy, this artifact became an out-and-out Arcane Bomb."
"Then he had the Horde army force the Alliance forces into the city of Theramore, and what happened after that, I shouldn't need to say more."
After hearing Arthas's words, Jaina's gaze turned cold, as cold as the ice magic she loved to use. "Perhaps Thrall needs a new personal guard."
"Not a bad suggestion." Arthas smiled, then his gaze grew serious. "I'll need your help when collecting the souls of the sacrificed here."
"What do you need me to do?"
Jaina trusted Arthas unconditionally.
"Their remaining souls have become fragile after being scoured by Arcane energy, but you should be able to sustain them, preventing them from dissipating in the process."
Above the ruins of Theramore, the persistent dark clouds that usually shrouded Dustwallow Marsh were, for the first time today, torn open by a large gap.
Frostmourne floated silently above the remains of what was once Theramore's mage tower; though called ruins, it was now a massive crater, as the magical tide generated by the focusing iris's explosion had equally annihilated everything here.
Whether it was bricks, soil, steel, or flesh and life, all were utterly obliterated in the massive explosion triggered by the focusing iris in its charged state.
Jaina had considerable confidence in her mage tower's defensive capabilities; ordinary siege weapons would have found it difficult to incapacitate its defenses in a short time, but upon seeing the devastation after the focusing iris's explosion, she couldn't help but consider whether to enhance the mage tower's defensive capabilities.
"What are you thinking about?"
Arthas was presiding over Frostmourne's soul-gathering ritual, and he noticed that Jaina seemed a bit distracted.
"I was wondering if those masters of defensive magic in Kirin Tor could create a magic circle capable of withstanding an explosion of this magnitude."
After voicing her thought, Jaina shook her head, dismissing her own idea. "No, for an explosion powerful enough to destroy a small island, the best solution is to evacuate before it happens."
The power of the focusing iris was astonishing; after this Arcane artifact unleashed most of its stored magic at once, it nearly leveled the island where Theramore was located, permanently altering the island's topography.
Jaina's mage tower was originally located at the highest point of the island, surrounded by sturdy inner city walls. The entire tall tower stood atop a small hill, offering a view of the entire island from its summit.
So, when the explosion occurred, most of the high-ranking officers of the Alliance army, who were defending the city, were holding a meeting in the tower.
When the focusing iris exploded, no one reacted in time except Archmage Rhonin. Perhaps Jaina had anticipated what might happen, but she couldn't believe the Horde would use such a terrifying weapon of war to indiscriminately slaughter both civilians and soldiers.
Rhonin abandoned his hope of survival, using magic to teleport Jaina and a portion of the Alliance's high-ranking officers away, but he himself lost the best chance to escape and became a victim of Garrosh's bloody crimes.
The mana bomb utterly destroyed the densely built northern part of the city, while the mage tower, being closer to the explosion's epicenter, completely vanished from the world, even the hill that served as its foundation was obliterated, transforming into the large crater that still emanates Arcane energy today.
A more cruel irony was that while buildings and natural landscapes were altered, flesh-and-blood creatures, when subjected to such high-concentration Arcane impact, would not instantly turn to dust. Instead, they would be stripped of all their flesh by a massive amount of Arcane energy in an instant, then completely transform into Arcane-infused residue.
If fortunate enough, their bodies wouldn't even be destroyed, but would instead become Arcane materialized products similar to mana crystals.
However, they would only appear intact on the outside; in reality, their internal structures would have long been completely shredded by the violent Arcane storm. At this point, any slight external disturbance could cause such an exquisite yet fragile "statue" to shatter into a pile of debris.
"When war escalates to this point, I can't even imagine what will happen next."
Jaina soothed the rampant Arcane energy within the city, while also harboring a considerable degree of fear for such a future: when warring parties become desperate, resorting to all means to destroy the opponent's forces to seize victory, the outcome is often mutually destructive.
Azeroth is not lacking in powers similar to the focusing iris, capable of easily annihilating an entire city. Whether it's the Scourge plague, demon invasions, or even geological disasters caused by elemental activity, all can instantly destroy towns the size of Theramore.
Once participants in a war begin to seek such powers, victory or defeat is no longer the most important goal; hatred and pain become the best fuel to keep the wheels of war rolling indefinitely.
"This is a warning; I should recognize that."
Jaina was about to say something when her expression suddenly changed. She warned Arthas, "It seems we're not the only ones here?"
"Hmm… I sense a suffering soul, but she's still alive. It seems this little one has been closely watching this place."
Arthas's gaze focused in one direction. Jaina understood, controlling her Arcane familiar to search among the rubble and brick ruins. Soon, her familiar pulled out a "little one" from within.
The other party was clearly not a defenseless ordinary person; she was using simple magic to resist Jaina's familiar. Unfortunately, there was a clear disparity in strength between the two. When her spell was dispersed by the familiar, she could only despairingly accept her fate.
Fortunately, Jaina had no intention of harming her. She had a Water Elemental bring this "little one" before her, but upon seeing the other party's appearance, she was surprised to find that she seemed to know her.
"You are… Turi?"
Although she might have only met her a few times, Jaina's exceptional memory as a mage still allowed her to recall the identity of this Gnome mage—or more accurately, Gnome mage apprentice—in her mind: she was Rhonin's apprentice, though in Arthas's world, she should still be studying magic in Kirin Tor.
However, the Turi before her looked much more weathered than the quirky Gnome girl Jaina remembered. Her mage robe was quite old, her hair disheveled, and she looked disheveled and dirty, not at all like a respectable mage.
"Lady Proudmoore?!"
Turi Flickerflame looked at the person who had captured her with some shock. She had considered whether it might be some evil mage coveting Theramore's legacy, but she had never expected it to be Jaina.
However, the Jaina before her also seemed somewhat unfamiliar to Turi, because Jaina's hair was still bright gold, not the pale color Turi remembered, and her robes were embroidered with the Kirin Tor's insignia, not the symbol of a Kul Tiras Naval Commander.
Jaina ordered the Water Elemental familiar to release the Gnome and asked, "Miss Turi, why are you in Theramore?"
"I—"
In front of Jaina, Turi subconsciously wanted to answer Jaina's question, but she immediately realized that she was no longer the timid apprentice in Kirin Tor. She didn't need to report her actions to Jaina.
Moreover, Jaina was closely related to the death of her teacher, Rhonin.
Thinking of this, Turi's expression darkened. She knew that Jaina was also a victim of the Theramore tragedy, but facing Jaina, she still couldn't suppress a hint of resentment in her heart.
"I don't think I need to explain this to you, Lady Proudmoore." Turi's voice grew cold.
Turi's indifferent attitude made Jaina pause slightly, as in her impression, Rhonin's student should have been a very polite and gentle child, but the current Turi was clearly very different from the one in her memory.
It seemed Rhonin's death had greatly stimulated her.
Jaina instantly understood this point, so even though Turi's attitude was not friendly, she still explained gently, "It's fine if you don't want to talk, but Theramore is still a very dangerous place. High concentrations of Arcane radiation are emanating everywhere here. Are you alright by yourself?"
Turi snorted, "It's just some trivial private matters. I can handle it alone."
Facing Jaina's goodwill, Turi still maintained her cold demeanor, and she couldn't possibly reveal her secret plan to Jaina entirely, because she knew Jaina's personality. If she told Jaina her intentions, Jaina would definitely try everything to stop her.
But while Turi was feigning indifference, she was also extremely confused. She wasn't sure if her decision was correct. She just...
Just as Turi was in a state of extreme internal conflict, she suddenly remembered that she had been drawn here by strange magical disturbances. How did Jaina end up asking her what she was doing instead?
"Wait, Lady Proudmoore, what are you doing in Theramore?"
Theramore was already a ruin, and the survivors had all left. In addition, the Horde's control over Kalimdor had gradually increased in recent years, and many of those who survived the Theramore tragedy had returned to Alliance towns in the Eastern Kingdoms to start new lives.
There was nothing left to linger over here. If Turi wasn't seeking revenge, she wouldn't have returned to this sorrowful place.
With this question in mind, Turi, who had finally remembered the main point, regained a mage's quick wit. She looked up at the sky, at the source of magic causing the abnormal disturbance, which had even torn a rift in the higher clouds.
It wasn't obvious at a casual glance, but when Turi strained her eyes to observe, she discovered what was hidden beneath the Arcane glow, and this discovery instantly made her thoughts come to a standstill.
"Frostmourne...?"
Turi was not very old and had not experienced the major events of the Third War, nor had she ever seen this infamous cursed sword with her own eyes.
Even in the year the Argent Crusade marched to Northrend, she was still just a young apprentice by Rhonin's side, with no opportunity to participate in the true front-line battles. She only learned from later war reports that the evil Lich King was eliminated at the top of Icecrown Citadel by the expeditionary heroes, and the demonic sword was shattered by Highlord Fording.
The Scourge clouds shrouding Azeroth should have dissipated completely that year. Logically, Turi would never have had the chance to witness this cursed sword in her lifetime.
But the unexpected had truly happened. Right above her head, the destroyed demonic sword had reappeared.
Turi didn't know why this was happening. She looked at Jaina with a terrified gaze, "That sword, Lady Proudmoore, what exactly is going on?"
All sorts of chaotic guesses formed in her mind: Had Jaina still not forgotten the tragedy that occurred in Theramore, secretly restored this demonic sword, and was preparing to use it to retaliate against the Horde?
Turi had originally thought her method of replicating the focusing iris bomb was extreme enough, but what was actually happening before her eyes made her involuntarily wonder if Jaina was planning an even more extreme method of revenge.
"Stop—!"
Jaina sighed. Even though Turi hadn't said anything, just from her expression and demeanor, Jaina could guess that she must be thinking something particularly terrifying, as Turi had gone from being indifferent to slightly shrinking back.
But after stopping Turi's wild thoughts, Jaina truly didn't know how to explain everything that was happening here. She cast a pleading look at Arthas not far away, but Arthas ignored her, as if he hadn't seen what was happening here at all.
This made Jaina quite speechless. She, of course, knew Arthas was doing it on purpose, because with his keen senses, he had found Turi's presence in the Arcane radiation in just an instant. How could he not have noticed her conversation with Turi?
Just as Jaina was thinking about how to explain, Turi spoke first, "Lady Proudmoore... your, your actions wouldn't be a bit too extreme... Could it be that the recent increase in Undead activity is also because of you?"
Turi was not a high-ranking member of the Alliance, nor was she a renowned Archmage in Dalaran. In fact, because she had secretly run away from Dalaran after Rhonin's death, she didn't even have the status of a formal mage. So she was completely unaware of the Shadowlands and Anduin's disappearance. The only thing she knew was that Jaina had indeed not been present in Dalaran recently.
Moreover, because she was fully engrossed in her revenge plan, intending to emulate the focusing iris and create a mana bomb to avenge Rhonin and Jindi, she was also unaware of other external news. If the renewed wave of the Undead Scourge had not swept across all of Azeroth, she, who was secretly developing bombs inside Theramore, might not have even known about this matter.
Jaina's expression first froze upon hearing this, and it took her more than ten seconds to realize what Turi was worried about. She reprimanded her helplessly, "What are you thinking? What do you mean my actions are too extreme? Also, why would you think in that direction? You wouldn't be staying in Theramore just to study traces similar to what the focusing iris left behind, would you?"
Turi was speechless at Jaina's words, because she was indeed there to study mana bombs similar to the focusing iris.
However, such high-power weapons had long been strictly forbidden by Dalaran, otherwise she wouldn't have secretly run away from Dalaran to this sparsely populated island of Theramore to secretly conduct her research.
It's just that her talent as a mage was completely incomparable to her teacher Rhonin's. Developing a mana bomb of the focusing iris's level was as difficult as ascending to heaven, not to mention her plan had only just begun. Currently, she only had a rough preliminary idea, and further implementation would require collecting materials and recruiting more like-minded talents.
Unfortunately, her plan hadn't even officially begun, and Turi, who wasn't even a formal mage yet, was caught here by Jaina.
Turi's nervousness and abnormal behavior made Jaina realize that her guess was probably correct: Rhonin's student was indeed thinking of developing a war-weapon-level mana bomb, and choosing Theramore as the location was, first, because there was information left by the focusing iris explosion, and second, because it was close enough to the Horde's main base.
"In that regard, she's quite similar to her teacher."
Arthas walked over at this point and interjected, "However, Miss Turi, have you ever considered that if you actually start manufacturing that kind of weapon, not only Dalaran and the Kirin Tor, but possibly even the Blue Dragonflight will come to stop you? Have you really thought about how to deal with these problems?"
Arthas's question made Turi fall silent. Clearly, this Gnome lady, who could not yet be called a mature mage, had not considered so much.
Dalaran, Kirin Tor, Blue Dragonflight.
Turi wasn't completely unaware of these; it was just that knowing them was useless to her.
For Turi, who could only be considered a half-official Archmage, all three of the above were insurmountable giants she couldn't contend with, especially the Kirin Tor. Upon learning that an Archmage from Dalaran had begun researching the strictly forbidden Arcane Bomb, they would certainly dispatch a specialized Archmage counter-unit to apprehend her.
Turi had no way to resolve such a threat, nor the ability to. The only thing she could do was research the Arcane Bomb before her plan was fully exposed, then find a way to transport it to Horde territory and detonate it.
Even if she couldn't infiltrate places like Orgrimmar and Thunder Bluff, and even if she couldn't escape the blast radius in time, none of that mattered to Turi once she decided to do this.
So, even though the Kirin Tor and Blue Dragonflight were like death warrants to Turi, she had no intention of stopping, because if she stopped here, she wouldn't be able to do anything at all.
Turi's spirits were low, and she murmured in an almost inaudible voice, "I didn't do anything wrong... I don't know what else to do. I miss Rhonin and Turi so much..."
She was just a weak Archmage apprentice, not an Archmage who could easily destroy a town, nor a commander who could lead armies. But she had had enough of being powerless about everything. She hated her own weakness as much as she hated the Horde.
If... if she had worked a little harder, been a little more talented, perhaps she could have changed this ugly reality.
Turi sank to the ground, staring blankly at the clouds in the sky. "Lady Proudmoore, why is there war in this world?"
She desperately wanted to seek answers from a more intelligent and charismatic leader, but unfortunately, even Jaina didn't know the answer to that question.
"I don't know, Turi," Jaina sighed deeply.
"And I'm not in a position to deny your actions, because I've also experienced the pain of losing someone important."
"But one thing I can be sure of is that Rhonin wouldn't want to see you lose everything by vengeance. If that happened, everything Rhonin did would be meaningless, wouldn't it?"
Turi had heard similar words from many people before, but she couldn't forget Rhonin's serious and meticulous guidance.
Tears unconsciously flowed from her eyes. "But... but they're gone."
Turi's answer silenced Jaina. Yes, no matter how much one comforted the living, it couldn't change the fact that the dead were gone. That void, that permanent missing part of life, needed to be filled with more.
And what Turi chose was hatred and revenge. She seemed to have embarked on a one-way path to death, even prepared to be buried with it.
Just then, Arthas came to Turi's side and extended his right hand to her.
"Can you stand up, Miss Turi?"
Turi stared blankly at Arthas's hand, unsure whether she should take it.
"If you just sit there, then whether you avenge Rhonin or not, your heart will never find peace."
Arthas's voice was firm and calm. He wasn't dissuading her, merely stating a fact. "Rhonin is gone, and your plan can't be realized at all. The Blue Dragonflight can easily detect the fluctuations during Arcane Bomb development. In other words, your plan actually had no feasibility from the beginning."
Holy light condensed in Arthas's hand, and a gentle glow enveloped Turi, revitalizing her weakened spirit. Turi seemed to understand something. She extended her hand and, with Arthas's help, stood up.
"Then what else can I do?"
"Don't dwell on it too much, Turi."
These familiar words made Turi tremble abruptly, looking incredulously at what was in front of her, but there was no one there except Arthas.
"Master Rhonin... is, is that you?"
This was Rhonin's voice; she couldn't be mistaken, absolutely not!
"Ah, this is really a terrible plan, Turi. You wouldn't think that a bomb made by Archmage apprentices like us could compare to the focusing iris, would you?"
Another voice, like that of a mischievous little girl, also began to complain about Turi's plan. "That's a Blue Dragon artifact, an artifact!"
Turi could no longer suppress the sorrow in her heart and frantically began searching for the source of the voices. "Cindy?! Where are you? Why can't I see—"
Arthas crouched down, pressed Turi's agitated shoulders, and pointed her in a direction. "Look over there."
Two ethereal figures, one large and one small, were looking at her. Although she couldn't make out their faces, Turi's soul told her: those were her master and her friend!
"Master! Cindy!"
Tears fell onto the Arcane-radiated ground, instantly evaporated by the energy emanating from it.
Turi at this moment was like a little girl who, after being lost for a long time, reunited with her family, hot tears flowing like a broken string.
"Thank you, Arthas, for giving me the chance to speak a few more words with this student of mine."
Rhonin's lingering soul thanked Arthas, then looked at his student, his gentle voice exactly as it had been years ago. "It's truly good to see you again. You've worked hard all these years."
"I heard your conversation with Jaina just now. Forgive my eavesdropping, but at that time, I couldn't chat with you like this."
"I'm very glad you still remember me. I was an unqualified teacher, but I have an excellent student."
"Turi, don't let my death become your burden. Your future path is still very long. Please forgive me for not being able to always be by your side."
"I understand your thoughts clearly, but as for revenge... since I, your master, still have the ability, please let me handle it myself."
Tears blurred Turi's vision. She could barely control her voice, speaking choked and trembling, "But Master—"
Cindy's soul gave Turi a thumbs-up and laughed, "It's already very good that you've done so much, Turi, but you can't hog all the glory! Leave the rest to me and Master Rhonin!"
Then, the Gnome girl turned her gaze to Jaina, her eyes filled with nostalgia and shyness. "Master... although I know you're not my master, can you grant me one request?"
Jaina nodded without hesitation.
Cindy's laughter was as bright as sunshine, just like her surname, a spark that brought light to everyone.
Her soul rushed towards Jaina, but flew up midway, soaring into Jaina's embrace; Jaina instinctively wanted to reach out and hug her lovely student, but it was ultimately just an echo of a soul. Cindy, maintaining the embracing posture, rushed towards Jaina until the two once again passed through each other.
"Then, goodbye, my student."
Rhonin, whose face was indistinct, was undoubtedly smiling. He nodded to Arthas, and his body became ethereal again. Before leaving, he said to Jaina, "Can you do me a favor and send Turi back to Dalaran? She still needs to complete her Archmage studies there."
Jaina solemnly agreed to Rhonin's request and pulled Turi close to her, bidding Rhonin a final farewell.
Teacher and student, after their final farewells with their students and teacher, transformed into streaks of light and flew into the sky.
"Goodbye, Master Jaina!"
Cindy's cheerful voice seemed to be their last echo in this world.
In the Theramore tragedy, Jaina lost her student, and Turi lost her master. They also both lost their friends. Although Theramore no longer exists, the survivors will always continue to support each other as they move forward.
......
"It's already been almost a week since I left Theramore?"
Jaina looked at the unchanging, endless snow in front of her and began to miss the warm and humid swamp climate.
Although Dustwallow Marsh couldn't be considered a place with beautiful scenery or pleasant climate, it was still more comfortable than the snowfields of Northrend. The only advantage of the ice and snow in this northernmost land was probably the lack of annoying insects.
Moreover, compared to a swamp that only hid wild beasts and venomous insects, the seemingly tranquil extraterrestrial snowfield harbored even more concentrated dangers.
The extreme weather alone was enough to give unprepared adventurers a hard time, not to mention the more ferocious wild beasts and predators living there, made even more aggressive by food shortages.
Furthermore, for some time now, due to an unknown influence from Icecrown Glacier, a large number of Undead have become active in this snowfield known as Dragonblight.
Fortunately, the Dragonflights would not ignore the remains of those Dragons. After learning that abnormal energy had recently been reanimating the dead, they dispatched many personnel to various parts of Dragonblight, especially several Dragon Shrines, to guard the Dragon remains and prevent any Dragon skeletons from truly being reanimated.
The number of deceased Dragons buried in Dragonblight is immense. If even a portion of them were reanimated as Bone Dragons by death energy, let alone all of them, it could cause a devastating blow to the entire Northrend.
The Dragonflights had no choice but to strictly guard the areas around the Dragonshrine, and thus had little spare capacity to intervene in the anomalies of Icecrown Glacier.
The Dragons were not blind, nor were they foolish. Such commotion occurring in Icecrown Glacier, not far from Dragonblight where the Dragonshrine is located, naturally caught their attention.
However, noticing it was one thing; having the ability to manage it was another.
It was not only the mortal races on Azeroth who were troubled by the Undead; even the Dragons had to seriously consider the possibility of the Undead Scourge reoccurring. Furthermore, this was arguably the weakest period for the five-colored Dragonflights; they had already lost too much vital force due to the Old Gods and the Burning Legion. Compared to the once mighty Legion capable of protecting all of Azeroth, the current Dragonflights could be said to have reached its lowest point in history.
It was precisely this point that Arthas capitalized on when he proposed a deal that Wrathion and the entire Dragonflights found difficult to refuse.
Compared to the Dragonshrine, which could only be considered a stronghold and meeting room, the Dragon Isles were where the true heritage of the five-colored Dragonflights was buried. The things on that island were the best proof of the Dragon race's prime; without the Dragon Isles, the five-colored Dragons were merely a group of homeless wanderers, because their civilization was locked away on that island that even they couldn't find.
"Hiss~ The weather here is even worse than what the books described."
Jaina wrapped her thick cashmere cloak tighter around her. Even with warm clothing and magical protection, she couldn't completely block out the chill of the Dragonblight snowfield.
Fortunately, her and Arthas's destination was not far; the outline of a village had already appeared in their sight.
However, there was no smoke rising from the scattered houses, indicating that in such weather, no one would choose not to light a fire indoors for warmth. This meant that the houses in front of them, which didn't look very old, had actually been uninhabited for a long time.
As she walked into the village, Jaina looked at the familiar architectural style and thought she had returned to Lordaeron in winter.
These were buildings left behind by the Scarlet Crusade's expedition to Northrend. Farmers and civilians who traveled with the fleet built their new homes on the outskirts of New Hearthglen. However, after it was discovered that the Scarlet Crusade had long been infiltrated and controlled by Dreadlords, and even their commander, General Abbendis, had become a demon's puppet, this expeditionary force of the Scarlet Crusade finally met its end.
After General Abbendis's death, most of the civilians who had been caught up in the Scarlet Crusade's expedition fled from New Hearthglen's control and returned to the Alliance. This re-accepted group certainly wouldn't choose to remain in the freezing Dragonblight, and most returned to the Eastern Kingdoms with Alliance ships.
Although Lordaeron had been destroyed, and from Tirisfal to the entire Wild region was either a paradise for the Scourge or under Horde control, the southern continent was still under Alliance jurisdiction. They could still find more suitable places to live, and there was no need to remain with the remnants of the Scarlet Crusade and fight the Alliance to the death.
After all, most ordinary people protected by the Scarlet Crusade were not fanatics who agreed with the Scarlet Crusade's zealous doctrines. A significant portion of them were simply desperate people who had nowhere else to go under the threat of the Scourge, and only fled to the areas occupied by the Scarlet Crusade out of necessity.
Moreover, their lives under the Scarlet Crusade's rule were not good. Firstly, because they had almost no allies on the Lordaeron continent, supplies were extremely scarce, and they also faced the problem of forced conscription by the Scarlet Crusade. Secondly, the Scarlet Crusade gradually became insane and extreme. When Highlord Alexandros was still alive, the Scarlet Crusade was still a normal organization; they were united and fought for the restoration of Lordaeron.
But after Alexandros's death, this Crusade, which once fought for justice, completely devolved into a tool of violence for multiple factions, and even the ordinary people under their command were dragged into a chaotic abyss from which they could not escape.
If the Crusade's opposition had not been the Scourge and the Forsaken, who were even more inhumane in the eyes of ordinary people, the surviving people of Lordaeron would not have continued to follow the Crusade.
The village was piled high with snow, and there had been no signs of human activity here for a long time. Both the roads and rooftops were covered by snow, and the doors of many houses were open. The furniture inside was haphazardly stacked, and the biting cold wind blew through the open windows and doors, causing many areas inside the houses to be covered in a layer of ice.
"What a pity… the owners of these houses are no longer here."
"The existence of the Scarlet Crusade was destined to be a tragedy. They wanted to fight the suffering brought by fate, but fate played a small trick on them. From the very beginning, what they believed in was forged by demons."
In Arthas's view, the birth and fall of the Scarlet Crusade were inevitable. They were brave warriors who rose up against the iron hooves of the Scourge, but also cowards who wielded their swords against the innocent. After the drastic changes in Lordaeron and the death of Highlord Alexandros, in that atmosphere of despair, Balnazzar's evil scheme completely turned the Crusade into fanatical madmen.
Until everything was completely destroyed by the desolate northern winds of Northrend, Abbendis's so-called Holy Light salvation was nothing more than a demon's joke.
New Hearthglen, this sturdy fortress of the Scarlet Vanguard, was named by Abbendis in memory of Westwealde's Hearthglen, which was the Scarlet Crusade's stronghold in Westwealde and the last remaining human bastion in the Plaguelands, representing their hope.
Abbendis clearly intended for this place to be the Scarlet Vanguard's land of hope, leading them to crush the Scourge and respond to the "revelation of the Light" she had seen.
Unfortunately, her so-called revelation was merely a fatal joke by Mal'Ganis; after feigning defeat to Arthas many years ago, Mal'Ganis had infiltrated Azeroth and seized the opportunity to possess Admiral Barean Westwind of the Scarlet Crusade.
When the Scarlet Vanguard established New Hearthglen, Barean, possessed by Mal'Ganis, arrived there as a triumphant hero, and using Barean's prestige and his evil schemes, he usurped Abbendis' command; after being far from the Scarlet Crusade's roots in Tirisfal and Westwealde, the isolated and helpless Abbendis fell into his trap and became a complete puppet of Mal'Ganis.
Mal'Ganis made the Scarlet Vanguard even more radical and fanatical than the Crusaders in Lordaeron; some of them even directly embraced the Shadow, becoming known as "Dark Raven Priests," and declared that they would spare no cost or sacrifice to annihilate the Scourge.
In reality, these fanatics, whose minds had been burned out by "faith," had long lost their sanity; their New Hearthglen was located on the long coastline of Dragonblight, a considerable distance from the areas controlled by the Scourge.
And their so-called fight against the Scourge was actually a confrontation with the Forsaken forces stationed not far away.
The Forsaken troops, calling themselves the "Hand of Vengeance," were stationed in Blightmaw, a mountain forest not far from New Hearthglen; from this position, they could monitor Northwatch Hold and Northwatch Outpost, established by the Alliance Expeditionary Force.
After Naxxramas descended over Northwatch Hold, and its main city was almost completely overrun, they maintained a considerable degree of tacit understanding with the Alliance forces in Northwatch Outpost; while balancing each other, they also did not forget to eliminate Naxxramas's undead army.
The Scarlet Vanguard had always regarded the Forsaken as remnants of the Scourge, so they, not surprisingly, launched an attack on the Forsaken in Blightmaw.
The Forsaken commander realized that to gather forces and conquer Naxxramas, they absolutely could not allow the Scarlet Vanguard to cause trouble behind them.
The Alliance and the Horde, at this time, showed astonishing tacit cooperation; they temporarily set aside their past grievances, and with the help of the Argent Crusade, they jointly destroyed New Hearthglen and annihilated the Scarlet Vanguard stationed there.
In this battle, Abbendis was assassinated, and Mal'Ganis, seeing the unfavorable situation, also took the opportunity to escape; the leaderless Scarlet Vanguard could only make a last stand, relying on New Hearthglen, but after losing their leader and Mal'Ganis's dark magic, the isolated Scarlet Vanguard could not escape their demise and were quickly defeated by the combined forces of the Horde and the Alliance, led by the Argent Crusade.
A small portion of Scarlet members escaped, but by this time, the Scarlet Crusade's vanguard forces were no longer a significant threat, and after the Lich King was completely defeated by the Argent Crusade, some members of the Scarlet Crusade recognized their past mistakes and returned to New Hearthglen, willing to sacrifice their lives to atone for the grave errors they had committed.
However, all of this happened during the Burning Legion's third invasion; by now, New Hearthglen has been completely reduced to ruins, with traces of the fierce battles still remaining on many buildings and streets.
"Nathrezim are best at weaving lies and conspiracies; the fanaticism of the Scarlet Crusade made them perfect targets for Nathrezim's evil plans."
Arthas felt no pity for the Scarlet Crusade; when faith disregards right and wrong, good and evil, they have already become the very entities they once swore to destroy.
But from the outcome… these Scarlet Crusaders indeed completely annihilated themselves.
"Although their crimes are too numerous to count, they are, after all, merely victims of a grand conspiracy, and the souls of these fanatics are quite useful."
No one would defend the mistakes made by the Scarlet Crusade, but as an organization composed of many elite soldiers and devout believers, their souls are far more resilient than those of ordinary people.
Jaina had some questions, "Actually, I've wanted to ask for a long time, if a realm of the dead truly exists, why are there so many souls still remaining in the living world on Azeroth?"
"Except for some extremely powerful souls, most mortal souls cannot travel to the Shadowlands on their own." Arthas explained this to Jaina while collecting souls, "You should know about the special undead called Valkyrie, right?"
Jaina nodded, "They are like reapers in Vrykul mythology, specifically guiding people to the realm of the dead."
"In reality, the Valkyrie's original form comes from the Shadowlands; these mysterious soul creatures have always existed in the gap between reality and death, observing the world and responsible for guiding the deceased souls to the afterlife."
Arthas paused, then continued, "However, the Shadowlands has not been peaceful recently, and combined with the special nature of Azeroth, a large number of souls always remain in the living world, unable to leave."
"We've been collecting souls like this, yet the Shadowlands shows no reaction at all?" Jaina found it hard to imagine such a thing, "How much trouble have they really encountered?"
"Actually, the trouble isn't important; rather, the very nature of the Shadowlands' existence means they will inevitably leave a large number of souls in the living world.
"Because the Shadowlands is unique, but the timelines are not.
"To use a slightly more vivid analogy, different timelines are like individual fibers in a rope; countless such fibers are bundled and twisted together to form the rope of the timestream, and the Shadowlands exists at the end of this rope that has neither a beginning nor an end."
"This is truly difficult to… understand; are you saying there's a rope that has neither a beginning nor an end, but the Shadowlands is precisely at the end of this rope with no head or tail?"
Even with Jaina's intelligence, she found this analogy somewhat strange and forced, but Arthas continued to explain, "Don't dwell on it too much, because it's just an analogy, not entirely accurate; the actual situation is far more complex."
"You just need to know that the Shadowlands is not bound by time; in other words, our concept of time simply does not exist there."
"But precisely because of this characteristic, it allows us to accomplish certain things without drawing attention."
Arthas calmly watched the souls being consumed by Frostmourne; over the years, the number of souls sustained within this sword was countless, and besides Arthas himself, no one knew that such a terrifying power was hidden in the living world.
Outside New Hearthglen, Wrathion slowly descended onto the fortress's open ground after seeing the signal left by Arthas. It was fortunate that he was still only a whelp, otherwise New Hearthglen would not have been able to accommodate him.
"I hope I didn't interrupt your little rendezvous?"
Wrathion, who had transformed back into his human form, still had that cynical look, but this time, facing Arthas, he seemed much more confident than last time.
Jaina was unfazed by Wrathion's teasing. She was there to accompany Arthas anyway, and to prevent him from doing anything dangerous that would be unbecoming of a king. Moreover, she was no longer the little girl who was still studying in Dalaran; she wouldn't feel shy because of such words.
Arthas was sitting on a tree stump in a corner of the open ground. He poked the bonfire in front of him with a branch, watching the sparks fly. Only when Wrathion approached did he slowly say:
"You came quite quickly. It seems you've been staying at Dragonshrine and haven't left."
"Don't think I'm slacking off at Dragonshrine. I mobilized the power of all dragons to help you collect what you want—how about it, is that enough sincerity?"
Arthas didn't want to bother with Wrathion's sweet talk. This guy was just like that; if you hit him with a stick, as long as it didn't hurt him, he would immediately take advantage of it.
But none of that mattered. He only cared if Wrathion could get the things he wanted. "Perhaps. Gather the items as quickly as possible."
Wrathion narrowed his eyes and chuckled, "What's wrong? Is time running out?"
Arthas glanced at him, throwing the wooden stick in his hand into the fire. "To be precise, it's your time that's running out."
This sentence made Wrathion's smile freeze on his face. His expression instantly darkened. "What do you mean, our time is running out?"
"You wouldn't really be so naive as to think that Sylvanas destroyed the Helm of Domination and shattered the dimensions of reality and the beyond just to vent her dissatisfaction, would you?"
Arthas looked towards the northern sky. Under layers of clouds, New Hearthglen, at the southernmost tip of Dragonblight, couldn't actually see the anomaly there, but Arthas could easily sense the world beyond located there.
"Although Bolvar is only a half-baked Lich King, Sylvanas, as a banshee, is naturally a head shorter than him. It's not easy for an undead creature to ignore the influence of the Helm of Domination."
"And after the Fourth War, even if the dragons weren't involved, you should have been able to sense some of Sylvanas's intentions, right?"
Arthas walked over to Wrathion and patted his shoulder. From his tense body, it was clear that the Black Prince was not at all relaxed right now.
"I'm not Sylvanas. How would I know what the Banshee Queen is thinking?" Wrathion forced a smile. "Perhaps she's just like Garrosh, simply a warmonger?"
"If only it were that simple," Arthas said. "So-called war always has a purpose. The Burning Legion wants to destroy Azeroth, and the Old Gods want to seize Azeroth. What about Sylvanas?"
Wrathion didn't know why Arthas suddenly started talking to him about these things, but he noticed that Arthas used two rather extraordinary forces to compare with Sylvanas, which meant...
"She has a power behind her on the same level as the Burning Legion?"
As he said this, Wrathion's face had already become incredibly grim.
Arthas nodded with satisfaction, "It seems you're not particularly dull, just that you haven't thought in this direction at all? If, and I mean if, the person behind Sylvanas even regards the Burning Legion as pawns…"
"That's absolutely impossible!"
Wrathion subconsciously retorted, but when he saw the intriguing expression on Arthas's face, he completely didn't know what to say.
Arthas then continued, "Do you still want to continue searching for the whereabouts of the Dragon Isles at this time? If the champions on the other side who are stopping Sylvanas fail, even if you find the Dragon Isles, can you deal with another Burning Legion?"
"What exactly do you want to say?"
Wrathion understood. Arthas knew all the inside information. This mysterious King of Lordaeron, who should clearly be from an earlier point in time, why would he know all of this better than them?
Wrathion even began to wonder if the things he was asked to find about the Burning Legion and the Old Gods were truly what the other party needed.
However, at this moment, Wrathion could only force himself to calm down. He realized something and said, "The realms of the beyond will certainly not sit idly by in such a catastrophe. What you said may not all come true, otherwise you wouldn't be so calm."
Wrathion guessed correctly. The four most important realms of the Shadowlands would certainly not ignore The Jailer's rebellious actions. For countless years, the worlds of life and death have coexisted yet remained separate. There was no reason for their reality to suddenly be destroyed today.
There must be some power in the Shadowlands that would restrict those who intend to alter reality, so they don't need… Yes, they shouldn't have to worry about such things!
Wrathion tried to convince himself with this reasoning, but upon thinking of a power capable of overturning the entire real universe accumulating in the shadows, Wrathion felt uneasy—he had already experienced such powerlessness before N'Zoth, but at that time he still had a weapon that could break N'Zoth's shell, and allies strong enough to defeat N'Zoth.
But now, they were completely in the dark, knowing nothing.
Wrathion frowned. He hated this feeling of being manipulated, whether by Arthas or the so-called mastermind. "What exactly are you seeking?"
"It's simple. Our enemies are seeking power to subvert reality, so to stop them, wouldn't it be enough for us to also obtain such power?"
Arthas stated a simple truth, but in Wrathion's eyes, it was merely a better-than-nothing explanation. Yet, he had no way of dealing with Arthas. After much hesitation, he still tossed a dragon scale to Arthas.
"Some of what you want is in here."
Wrathion decided to take a gamble. He had done many similar things before, and his current intuition told him that he should trust Arthas. "I just hope I haven't trusted the wrong person this time."
Arthas took the dragon scale and immediately read what was recorded inside. A smile instantly appeared on his face. "Very good, it seems the first phase of our transaction has been completed."
He waved his hand, retrieving something from the void. Although it couldn't be seen with the naked eye, as a Black Dragon, Wrathion still sensed something. He quickly took out the scroll Arthas had given him and found that half of the seal on it had disappeared.
But the scroll was still firmly locked, only this time he could clearly feel what power was locking the scroll.
"Death."
Wrathion abruptly looked up, only to find that Arthas and Jaina had already disappeared, leaving only a sound in the air that seemed etched into his soul.
"Wait patiently. The moment the seal disappears, the Dragon Isles will naturally emerge."