Zul's words were met with Talanji's astonished gaze, her heart instantly churning with tumultuous waves, completely unable to believe that the mockery of Zandalar she heard had come from Zul's mouth.
Zul naturally noticed the change in Talanji's expression, but the prophet no longer had the mood or strength to continue teasing the young princess; his voice seemed to have aged considerably in an instant, losing its long-held spirit, "Talanji, do you think Zandalar can truly stand forever? The chariot of history will not wait for a kingdom that lives forever in the past."
Every word the prophet spoke seemed to exhaust all his strength, "I have spent my entire life searching for a way to make Zandalar great again, and only today do I truly believe that our kingdom is destined to fall. The so-called 'Zandalar lasts forever' is nothing but a joke."
"You... how can you say that?" Every muscle on Talanji's face trembled; she couldn't even describe her own feelings.
Was it anger, or sadness, or perhaps some other jumbled emotions?
She could only mumble, stubbornly saying, "With the blessings of the Loa, Zandalar will last forever."
But her tone had already faltered considerably, making Zul unable to help but laugh, "Heh—*cough cough*... The Loa? Just a bunch of beasts with a bit of wisdom. True gods don't lose power just because they lack followers. The power of those Loa is given by us, don't you understand, Talanji?"
Such blasphemous words were too much of a shock for Talanji. She couldn't think of a retort for a long time, not because she didn't want to, but because she couldn't find the words to refute such statements.
"You—you're insane, Zul!"
Zul sighed, no longer looking at Talanji. This princess, like her father, disappointed him immensely, but it was an undeniable fact that Zandalar's rulers were by no means mediocre. On the contrary, this father and daughter possessed extraordinary courage and exceptional wisdom, yet they were tightly bound by the shackles of "tradition."
"Your prophet is indeed insane, because someone not insane enough wouldn't dare touch the power buried deep within Nazmir." Arthas interrupted the conversation between the master and servant. He had already confirmed that although Zul was not completely dominated by G'huun's power, he had used an excessive amount of corrupting power, and his body and soul were now like empty shells.
Even Arthas couldn't help but marvel at the prophet's will. If not for this extraordinary will supporting him, he would have probably long since become a corpse, resurrected as a slave by G'huun's dark, corrupting power.
The corner of Zul's mouth curled up, seemingly in a smile, "I am insane... Only a lunatic would believe that damned blood god can revive Zandalar—haha, I even forgot that we initially barely survived under the hands of these ancient beings, only achieving initial glory after overthrowing those abominable Aqir."
As he spoke, Zul continuously coughed up blood mixed with white fungus. This corruption vanished into thin air the moment it touched Arthas's Holy Light barrier. However, this Holy Light could not save Zul's life; the vitality within him was rapidly decaying, and even Arthas's barrier only temporarily slowed this process.
As soon as Zul walked out of Nazwatha, he would immediately be consumed by the blood god's corruption, completely becoming its slave. At that time, Zul's belief in "reviving Zandalar," even his cognition corrupted and twisted by G'huun, would be far from his original vision.
The argument with Talanji also seemed to have burned out the last spark of life within Zul. His eyes gradually dimmed. Perhaps the prophet, who had spent his entire life striving for prophecies, finally felt his death approaching. He took one last look at Talanji and slowly began, "Talanji, I watched you born and grow up day by day. Time is your friend, bestowing all beautiful things upon you. However, for old Trolls like me and your father, time will only cruelly strip away our beauty."
"Your father's eyes were blinded by kingship, and I am merely a foolish person chasing history. What so-called prophecies, what damned fate, were actually clearly marked for us in history long ago... *cough cough*... I no longer have a chance... But you still have a chance to change..."
The further he spoke, the weaker and softer Zul's voice became, "Zandalar flourished because of the legacy of the Old Gods, and it will eventually fall because of this legacy. But on the ruins of this old era, new things will surely blossom and bear fruit... This is something I only understand now... And you, Talanji... You must witness it, and act upon it..."
After speaking the words "act upon it," Zul's head drooped, as if a weary person had fallen into peaceful sleep. But everyone understood that this prophet, who had strived for Zandalar his entire life and given up everything, had fallen into the eternal sleep called "death."
Talanji stared at the motionless Zul, her mouth slightly agape, her cheek muscles twitching several times, but ultimately she said nothing.
Although Zul's actions were considered heretical in the eyes of most Zandalar Trolls, for Talanji, who frequently interacted and communicated with this prophet and was almost half of Zul's student, she only knew that Zandalar had forever lost a wise man and an elder.
The moment Zul's life force dissipated, Arthas clenched his right hand, compressing the Holy Light barrier into a point of light, completely purifying Zul's corrupted body and obliterating his ravaged soul as well.
Although their positions were different, Arthas deeply understood Zul's actions. He held the point of light, transformed from the barrier, in his hand and had the Valarjar release Talanji.
This chapter is not finished, please click next page to continue reading!
Talanji remained motionless, like a doll, seemingly still not recovered from Zul's sudden departure, until a golden shadow flashed before her eyes. She instinctively reached out and caught the shadow.
The touch was very cold, as if touching the skin of a dead person. Talanji opened her palm, looking at the golden ring in her palm—it was Prophet Zul's ring.
"Zul has been corrupted by the evil god's power; his body must be thoroughly purified, but this ornament has not been corrupted," Arthas calmly explained the ring's origin. "I don't know if you Trolls have similar customs, but when the deceased's body is not present, this item should serve as a symbol and a memorial."
Talanji stared blankly at the golden ring in her hand, then looked up, staring blankly at Arthas, "Why did you do that?"
"No reason. I have never been hostile to Zandalar. The fate of Dazar'alor is merely what you yourselves chose."
Arthas's gaze was like a torch, "Although Zul is indeed insane, and most of his words you can take as ravings, there is one thing he said that is correct: the chariot of history will not wait for those who live forever in the past—your father is prepared to die fighting alongside the gods he believes in, and you, what do you intend to do?"
Her father... die fighting?
Talanji suddenly snapped back to reality. Her gaze constantly shifted between Rokhan and Arthas. Finally, she could only grit her teeth and ask, "What, exactly, is going on with all of this?"
"Zzzzz—whoosh—"
A stream of purple-black light grazed Rastakhan's head, and the rampant chaotic energy instantly tore the crown, symbolizing Zandalar's royalty, into pieces.
Rastakhan's hair hung down, covering his face, which was stained with blood and sweat. He stood rooted to the spot, the feeling of surviving a catastrophe causing his chest to heave violently. Despite the constant clamor of the battlefield, after the void beam brushed past him, he felt an immense quietness around him, even clearly hearing his own heartbeat.
The void ray streaked across the sky, colliding violently with the mountain behind Rastakhan. In just an instant, the ancient mountain collapsed in a fierce explosion, countless boulders sliding down its slopes, causing the demise of an unknown number of creatures living within it.
However, Rastakhan no longer had time to mourn for those natural lives; they now had a bigger problem…
Several loa had already been wounded in the chaotic battle and were forced to leave the battlefield. This wasn't because the Loa were afraid of death, but because if they died here, something even more terrifying would happen—the dark serpent still entrenched in Dazar'alor was the best proof.
The loa had sensed the danger. They could only protect the remaining faithful and temporarily break through the encirclement, while the frenzied heretics, naga, and Blood Troll, who had somehow infiltrated the mountains, had completely surrounded the mountain where the loa resided. Only a few of the faithful managed to escape.
By the time Rastakhan and his guards arrived, the heretics had already occupied the area. They were attacked by a barrage of spears, arrows, and magic before they even landed, and many elite soldiers died tragically under the hail of weapons before they could even descend.
Subsequent fierce battles caused Rastakhan's personal guards to dwindle, with most of them having already died on this chaotic battlefield.
It wasn't until his personal guards were almost completely decimated that they finally pushed into the very center of the battlefield, witnessing the most tragic sight—the ground was covered with the corpses of Zandalar Trolls, along with countless offspring of deities, their blood drained and souls extracted, all used as materials for dark rituals.
And in a place even the heretics dared not approach, two giant beasts were still locked in fierce combat: Mythrax the Unraveler and Rezan, the guardian loa of the Zandalar throne. Mythrax's carapace was covered in wounds, and almost all the appendages on his back were broken. Many wounds penetrated his internal organs, and dark purple pus continuously oozed out.
The situation for the devil saurus Rezan was even more grim. One of his eyes had been vaporized by void energy, and one of his front claws was fractured and hung limply. His chest and back were covered in bloody wounds, some even revealing his stark white bones and still-beating internal organs.
Rezan noticed Rastakhan immediately, and it was he who bit down on Mythrax's massive pincer, deflecting the fatal void ray and preventing Rastakhan from being reduced to ash.
After forcing Mythrax back, Rezan roared, "What are you doing here?!"
"I came to fight alongside you." Rastakhan gripped the longsword in his hand. He knew what kind of opponent he was about to face, but he would not show the slightest fear.
But Rezan, seeing his attitude, did not feel invigorated by the arrival of reinforcements. Instead, he let out a desperate roar, "Fool! Mythrax wants more than just my life; he wants to enslave all of Zandalar!"
"What?!"
Rastakhan was momentarily stunned, "But isn't Mythrax already severely wounded? We can defeat him now, just like Sethraliss did!"
Rezan couldn't describe his feelings, but Mythrax on the other side wouldn't give him a moment to breathe. Rezan, left with no choice, could only meet Mythrax's heavy pincers once more. He already felt his physical body nearing its breaking point; if not for the Loa's powerful life force sustaining him, he would have long since fallen in such a bloody close-quarters battle.
He could only snatch a moment to communicate the current situation to Rastakhan telepathically, "You incompetent king! The wounds on this fellow were inflicted by me and the other Loa working together—but these injuries are far from fatal to this monster! What's more, this sacred garden has already become their evil ritual ground!"
With Rezan's warning, Rastakhan noticed that under the magic of the surrounding cultists, the life essence of the dead was being converted into Mythrax's power, causing the grotesque monster's wounds to heal at a visible rate.
Rezan's voice grew more urgent, "You see it too, don't you?! This is why I made the other Loa leave quickly; if any of them fall, all our previous efforts will be in vain—damn it, how did Sethraliss defeat this monster back then?!"
Rezan, who was quite confident in his own strength, had never expected to encounter an opponent like Mythrax, who could put him at a disadvantage in a direct confrontation. Mythrax possessed recovery abilities far beyond those of the Loa, as well as monstrous strength capable of shattering even deities.
Not to mention the void rays he could fire; Rezan had personally experienced their terrifying destructive power. His left eye was instantly vaporized by void energy due to his carelessness.
Rezan and the other Loa fought together, only managing to inflict some non-fatal wounds on Mythrax. He found it hard to imagine how Sethraliss could have left this monster with such severe injuries that it would fall into a slumber for centuries.
The devil saurus Rezan gnashed his teeth and said, "You and your loyal soldiers will only become food for Mythrax!"
This chapter is not over, please click next page to continue reading!
Facing Mythrax's massive pincer, Rezan tried to use his strong and powerful back to withstand the heavy blow. However, his body ultimately had its limits, and Mythrax, sensing Rezan's weakness, ignited the hidden void energy within his pincer just before it struck, in a way Rezan never expected. The violent explosion pierced through Rezan's protective power, his flesh was instantly torn apart by the highly corrosive void energy, and even his spine was shattered by Mythrax.
Rezan was now completely incapacitated. His massive body collapsed to the ground. Mythrax cruelly clamped onto Rezan's throat and body, attempting to tear the noble Loa in half before his most devoted followers.
Rezan struggled with all his might in Mythrax's grasp, but he was no match for the Unraveler to begin with, and now, with fatal injuries, he was utterly unable to resist Mythrax's execution.
"No!"
Rastakhan's eyes were bloodshot. Wielding his longsword, he deftly and swiftly bypassed the cultists attempting to attack him, heading straight for Mythrax's feet. He then climbed onto the monster's body, clinging tightly to the crevices in its carapace.
He swung his longsword, furiously tearing at Mythrax's carapace and flesh—but the wounds he inflicted were minuscule compared to Mythrax's enormous body. The giant beast ignored the Zandalar king's slashes, focusing intently on tearing Rezan apart completely.
"Give up, you and your Loa will become offerings for the great blood god's revival."
Mythrax's cold voice pierced Rastakhan's mind. He shook his body, throwing Rastakhan off. His body rolled several times on the ground, finally slamming heavily against a nearby rock.
"Cough—ugh!"
Rastakhan violently spat out a mouthful of blood. He felt as if his entire body had fallen apart, unable even to lift his hand, and his vision began to blur.
He sensed the life-fire of his Loa gradually extinguishing, but he could do nothing, only wait like an ant for the fate of being crushed under Mythrax's foot.
In just a moment, Rezan let out his final wail. His strong body was finally torn apart completely by Mythrax. The sky was momentarily covered in a rain of blood, and Mythrax drank deeply of the strongest Loa of Zandalar's blood, drawing the power he needed from it.
And at the very moment Rezan died, the dragon Loa's protection over Rastakhan also vanished. He watched helplessly as Rezan's cold body fell beside him, the shadow of death gradually closing in.
"Alas…"
A sigh sounded in his ear. Rastakhan's vision was a blur of red. After losing the protection of Rezan's power, the surrounding corrupting energy began to rapidly pollute his body. Rastakhan coughed up a few more mouthfuls of blood, and he suddenly realized a terrifying truth—this curse would continue down his bloodline, never stopping until the last member of the Zandalar royal family was transformed into a corrupted apostle.
"No, it can't be like this… Talanji…"
Rastakhan finally realized he had made a terrible decision. He shouldn't have overestimated himself by trying to challenge an opponent even the Loa couldn't defeat… But at this moment, who else could help him?
"Ho ho… It seems our king needs a little help?"
On the brink of death, Rastakhan heard a voice he would have originally never wanted to hear, but at this moment, he had no choice. Just before his consciousness completely faded, he screamed with almost all his might in his mind, "Bwonsamdi, help me!"
The instant Bwonsamdi appeared, Rastakhan felt as if the passage of time had slowed to an almost infinite crawl, and his previously blurry vision suddenly became clear. His body, weakened by severe injuries, also lightened in the blink of an eye. He propped himself up and stood, finding himself no longer in that chaotic, dark battlefield, but in a gray, hazy space, shrouded in mist with no discernible boundaries.
"Yo ho, looks like someone needs Bwonsamdi's help?"
The God of Death rubbed his hands, smiling like a lewd old man, yet appearing silently behind Rastakhan.
Rastakhan jumped in surprise, turning and backing away several steps to put some distance between himself and Bwonsamdi. Although he knew this wouldn't truly guarantee his safety, it at least offered him a slight sense of calm.
Bwonsamdi said nothing about Rastakhan's wariness, instead chuckling twice more, his eerie laughter sending shivers down Rastakhan's spine.
"That fellow Rezan probably can't protect you anymore, Rastakhan," Bwonsamdi slowly floated in front of Rastakhan, waving a hand to disperse the mist around them, allowing Rastakhan to once again see the tragically deceased corpse of Rezan, the guardian Loa of Zandalar.
Even though he had already witnessed Rezan's death, seeing the deity's remains again made Rastakhan feel as if his heart was being squeezed, suffocating him. "Rezan…"
"Heh heh, I told you, Rezan could protect you for a time, but not forever. In the end, your soul will still belong to me." Bwonsamdi showed no sadness over Rezan's death. Rezan had always fiercely guarded the Zandalar royal family, preventing Bwonsamdi from acquiring those precious souls.
Rastakhan gradually emerged from his grief. Even in his current temporary form, interacting with Bwonsamdi, he could feel a terrifying curse mixing into his body. This curse would not only be etched onto his body but would also flow through his bloodline, passed down through generations. If that blood god succeeded, the entire Zandalar royal family would become the blood god's servants.
"Help me defeat that monster, Bwonsamdi. I will enthrone you as the new guardian Loa of Zandalar, just like Rezan."
Rastakhan had to make a decision. Rezan's death was a fact, and a deceased deity could no longer protect Zandalar, which was currently surrounded by enemies. He had to find a Loa worthy of this role. Although Bwonsamdi, the God of Death, wasn't an ideal choice, he had no other options.
At least Bwonsamdi's power was beyond doubt; even among the many Loa of Zandalar, he was a very special existence. Even Rezan was wary of this mysterious God of Death. It was rumored that after death, all Zandalar beings would go to this God of Death's underworld, becoming his servants and followers.
"Defeat Mythrax?"
Bwonsamdi burst into laughter as if he had heard a joke, clutching his stomach. After a long while, he pretended to wipe away tears from the corners of his eyes, even though no tears actually existed. "What do you take Bwonsamdi for, some kind of all-powerful wish-granting machine? Even if you gave Bwonsamdi all of Zandalar, this deal couldn't be completed!"
This time, Bwonsamdi wasn't joking. He himself wasn't afraid of Mythrax, but that didn't mean he could make Rastakhan strong enough to defeat Mythrax.
"I'd rather wait for you to die, then take your soul, and then go find your precious daughter." Bwonsamdi's voice instantly turned cold; this was precisely what he had come for.
But Rastakhan was not afraid of this capricious God of Death. He knew his temperament and knew he would not refuse the deal he was about to propose. "You can't do it, Bwonsamdi. That blood god's curse is spreading within my body. If you don't agree to my terms, all of Zandalar will be devoured by the evil god, and then you'll get nothing."
"Hmm?"
Bwonsamdi stared at Rastakhan in confusion, then fell silent. Rastakhan couldn't discern any change in expression on the face covered by the voodoo mask, but the gradually dropping temperature around him told him that the God of Death was not pleased.
"It's actually true…" Bwonsamdi muttered, his voice almost trembling with barely suppressed fury. "This has ruined the price… I'll make that fool regret it, deeply regret it!"
Bwonsamdi came before Rastakhan, gripping his shoulders tightly. "I will protect your soul and remove that disgusting curse, but your terms are not enough—I want you to enthrone me as the most supreme deity of all Zandalar, and you and your descendants shall serve me forever, in life and death!"
"No, I want you to take me out of here alive."
Rastakhan immediately raised his price, "Otherwise, just let my soul be devoured by the evil god; it won't make much difference anyway."
"Arghhh—Alright, you cunning king, you win. I will take you to see your daughter alive, but your life cannot continue. Seven days after leaving here, I will come to take your soul!"
Bwonsamdi roared in anger. Rastakhan tried to speak again, but Bwonsamdi immediately stopped him. "No more bargaining! Absolutely not! Otherwise, let your daughter be buried with you; the Zandalar royal family won't have any more descendants anyway!"
The curse on Rastakhan was no small matter; otherwise, Bwonsamdi wouldn't have failed to notice it initially. To dispel this spell originating from G'huun, even Bwonsamdi had to pay a price that made him feel a pang of pain.
He was already regretting getting involved in this mess and cursed G'huun thousands of times in his heart.
But Bwonsamdi quickly calmed down, for he knew that G'huun wouldn't live much longer. A more powerful entity had grown weary of these parasites' existence; the remnants of those ancient powers would eventually be purged one by one—but he had to resolve Rastakhan's problem first. Otherwise, once this curse fully manifested, even if G'huun died, the souls of the Zandalar royal family would no longer fall into his hands.
"Begone, Death does not wish to see you for now, Rastakhan!"
As Bwonsamdi whispered, Rastakhan was enveloped by a sudden sense of weightlessness. By the time he was completely thrown out of that gray, hazy space, the pungent smell of blood no longer filled Rastakhan's nostrils, and his previously shattered bones had grown back.
He lay on a soft beach, the bright sunlight like paradise.
However, this peaceful and serene scene did not reassure Rastakhan. His mind still echoed with Rezan's dying wails and his bloody remains.
"I… failed…" Rastakhan looked down at his hands, those arms that had slain countless powerful enemies were trembling slightly. He felt fear, fear of the impending downfall of Zandalar.
Just before he fell out of Bwonsamdi's domain, the God of Death's final warning reached his ears: "Don't go back to Dazar'alor; it is destined to be swallowed by darkness. If you lose your little life again, I'll just have to go find your precious daughter!"
Yet, these words seemed like the greatest mockery to Rastakhan. In the end, he had protected nothing—his people, his city, even his god—and now, even his only daughter had been pushed onto the gambling table by his own hand, used as a bargaining chip with the God of Death.
He suddenly recalled Prophet Zul's warning to him, which made him dejectedly lower his proud head. "I really should have listened to you, Zul… You must have been incredibly disappointed in me to leave Dazar'alor…"
"Father!"
A call pulled Rastakhan back to reality. He looked in surprise to the other side of the shore; his daughter was riding a raptor towards him. Upon reaching Rastakhan, the princess hastily dismounted, completely disregarding her image, and stumbled into Rastakhan's embrace.
"Oh, thank goodness… You're alive!"
After Rastakhan met his daughter, the two exchanged information they knew, and under Rokhan's escort, it took them two days to escape the swamp's mud and return to Zuldazar, arriving at the small village where Vol'jin was located.
At this time, the village was already crowded with refugees, most of whom had fled here due to the Blood Troll invasion. Vol'jin had stayed here, trying his best to maintain order and guard against possible harassment from the Blood Troll, until Rastakhan's arrival.
"It's His Majesty!"
"Great! We're saved!"
When the first Zandalar refugee recognized Rastakhan, the entire village erupted in cheers. Rastakhan calmly comforted his people, then immediately took Talanji and the Dark Spear Tribe guards out of sight of the crowd.
He truly didn't know how to face these people, and to avoid causing greater chaos, he couldn't let these refugees know everything that was happening in Zandalar right now—at least they had to believe they could be protected, otherwise it would cause greater panic.
Vol'jin was also caught off guard by Rastakhan's sudden visit. He had been thinking about how to save the Zandalar Trolls, who were deeply mired, but Rastakhan had come to him instead.
"Hello, Vol'jin, I've heard your name from Talanji. I'm pleased that such a wise individual like you can emerge among the Trolls." Rastakhan expressed his friendliness directly, and his approachable demeanor slightly surprised Vol'jin.
Rastakhan guessed Vol'jin's thoughts, and this once arrogant king could only sigh, "You must think I'm a muddle-headed monarch—haha, you're not wrong. I was indeed blinded by the present glory, unable to see the crisis hidden in Zandalar, and this current predicament is just my own doing."
"Please don't belittle yourself; your contributions to the Troll race are evident to all of us," Vol'jin speculated that Rastakhan's change was likely related to the news he had been hearing recently, which also indirectly confirmed the authenticity of those reports. "But are those rumors true...? Recently, some refugees have fled from the south, saying that Dazar'alor has fallen and the entire city is engulfed in flames."
Even though he was mentally prepared, when Rastakhan heard the news with his own ears, his heart couldn't help but tremble violently for a moment. His voice was terrifyingly low, "I'm afraid so... Even if there are still people resisting in Dazar'alor, I'm afraid they won't last much longer."
Rastakhan didn't know how long those loyal guards could defend the city, but in a situation where they were isolated and helpless, and even the Loa couldn't descend, it was only a matter of time before Mythrax and the dark snake god resembling Sethraliss annihilated the city's defenders.
Now he hoped even more that smart people could lead them out of Dazar'alor to preserve more living forces.
"We need help, your compatriots need help." Rastakhan tightly clasped Vol'jin's hands, saying very sincerely, "Please help the Zandalar Trolls. With our strength alone, it will be very difficult to overcome this catastrophe—as long as you can help us restore Zandalar, whether it's power or treasure, anything I can do, I will promise you."
Vol'jin looked at his tightly clasped hands and recalled the refugees' frequent prayers and longing to return home. He also became hesitant, "This..."
"Refuse him, little Vol'jin."
A mysterious voice sounded in Vol'jin's ear, making him tremble. He instinctively looked behind him, but there was no one there, only a voodoo mask on the table—it was the ritual mask of Bwonsamdi, the Loa of Death.
It was Bwonsamdi's voice, no doubt...
Vol'jin was silent for a moment, then could only truthfully inform Rastakhan of the situation, "Your Majesty, it's not that I don't want to help you, but I am powerless to do so."
"Master Vol'jin!"
Talanji anxiously called Vol'jin's name, trying to make him change his mind, but Vol'jin had already made up his mind. He changed his expression and replied sternly, "I once arrived in Zandalar with a friendly alliance. If I had been able to meet His Majesty then, the crisis of Zandalar would have been borne by all of Azeroth, but His Majesty rejected our good intentions."
"There must still be a chance, Master Vol'jin, please ask the Alliance behind that human, or your Horde!"
Talanji spoke almost pleadingly, but Vol'jin remained silent.
Seeing this, Rastakhan sighed. He had already anticipated the current situation, and he had said everything he needed to say. "Talanji, don't make things difficult for Master Vol'jin."
"But father, what about Zandalar?"
Talanji knew that the Horde and the Alliance were probably their last straw, and if they gave up on Vol'jin's connection, they would never receive any more support.
Rastakhan shook his head. He placed his hand on Talanji's shoulder and looked at his daughter with gentle eyes, "You are an excellent heir. I am very confident in entrusting the people of Zandalar to your hands—from today on, you are the new king of Zandalar, although I cannot hold a coronation ceremony for you at this moment—take this."
He removed the sword from his waist. This was a weapon passed down through generations of the Zandalar royal family, made from the teeth of Rezan, the Dragon Loa. It symbolized both Rezan's protection and the supreme power of Zandalar.
However, now, their patron Loa had fought to the death for Zandalar, and Rastakhan, as the king of Zandalar, could not stand by and watch his people and his Loa sacrifice themselves for this nation while he himself clung to life in the rear.
Little master, there's more to this chapter, please click next page to continue reading, it gets even better!
Talanji's hand trembled slightly as she took the tusk, she already knew what her father was going to do.
Before leaving, Rastakhan suddenly leaned down and whispered something in Talanji's ear, then he no longer paid attention to Talanji's eyes, which were full of doubt and reluctance, and left alone.
Talanji did not try to stop her father. She knew that once Rastakhan made up his mind to do something, no one could stop him.
However, Talanji still had doubts about Rastakhan's final instruction. Her father told her, "You can trust Bwonsamdi, but you must be careful of him... I'm very sorry."
Her own father... apologizing to her?
And not long after Rastakhan left the village, a sudden, severe cramp shot through his heart, and he fell directly from his raptor. In his dying hallucination, he saw that sinister Loa of Death mocking his foolishness again.
"Yo, Rastakhan, you actually want to break the contract? This isn't what we agreed upon earlier."
"You broke the contract first, Bwonsamdi." Rastakhan showed no fear of the eerie Loa of Death. He clutched his chest and struggled to his feet, "If you can't save Zandalar, then you can only get my life at most."
Bwonsamdi's expression instantly soured. He reached Rastakhan, grabbing his sash, and threatened in a low voice, "You can't hide your little schemes from me, Rastakhan. Rules are rules. Since you agreed to the deal, as long as you're not dead, you have to continue!"
"Heh heh! Pfft!"
Rastakhan let out two disdainful laughs and didn't forget to spit at Bwonsamdi, "Since you want to continue the deal, then help me reclaim Dazar'alor, otherwise there will be no place to worship a Loa like you!"
Originally expecting to anger the other party again, Rastakhan didn't expect Bwonsamdi to suddenly retract his anger. Instead, he grinned and released Rastakhan's hand, "Just kidding, don't take it so seriously, you know, Bwonsamdi loves jokes—you said you want to reclaim Dazar'alor, that's simple."
"What?"
Rastakhan thought his ears were malfunctioning, or Bwonsamdi's mind was, he was a bit confused now about what this temperamental fellow was up to.
"First, you need to understand that Mythrax and that monster who took Sethraliss's remains are not working together."
Bwonsamdi chuckled as he revealed a crucial piece of information to Rastakhan, and this news instantly invigorated Rastakhan. He stared intently at Bwonsamdi, "Elaborate."
--------
With each heavy step, Mythrax left deep footprints on the ground, and after dealing with Rezan, he immediately set off towards his ultimate destination.
There was no mercy or sympathy in the monster's heart; he was a naturally perfect killing machine, the right-hand man of the God of Darkness, and a living, moving disaster. Simply traversing the jungles of Zuldazar, he plowed a death zone where almost no one survived.
But Mythrax's heart was actually filled with doubt at this moment. After separating from the Dark Serpent, according to the original plan, he was responsible for ambushing the loa's paradise, slaying Rezan, the guardian Loa of Zandalar, and attracting the Loa's attention so that the Dark Serpent could destroy the Seal of Dazar'alor.
However, he had already slain Rezan, but he still perceived that the Titan Seal was functioning normally, which meant the Dark Serpent had not acted according to plan.
But this was no longer important. Mythrax decided that once he reached Dazar'alor, he would personally destroy the final seal and release G'huun. As for that great serpent, he would receive a punishment commensurate with his negligence.
As the sun was about to dip below the horizon, Dazar'alor, burning in the fiery sunset, appeared in Mythrax's sight.
But at this moment, Mythrax stopped. A human-like expression appeared on his narrow, arthropod-like face, and even his mouthparts twisted together, for he could not comprehend what was happening before his eyes.
The Dark Serpent had indeed not failed to conquer Dazar'alor; this monster, resurrected from Sethraliss's corpse, had utterly defeated Dazar'alor's defenders and was now coiled around the towering Great Pyramid. From within this pyramid, a highly regular and stable humming sound emanated continuously, which was precisely the still-functioning Titan Seal.
The Dark Serpent seemed dead, quietly coiling around the Great Pyramid. If Mythrax hadn't been able to detect the surging dark aura emanating from it, he probably would have thought the creature was already dead.
Mythrax's mind link, like a tide, surged towards the Dark Serpent. He was extremely puzzled now, "What are you waiting for? Why don't you destroy the seal and welcome our Lord?"
However, what Mythrax received was not a response, but a mental shriek that even he found headache-inducing. Countless deranged words and painful roars converged into needles, frantically assailing Mythrax's brain.
His massive body trembled for a moment before he forcibly severed the mental communication. At this point, Mythrax had realized that the Dark Serpent before him had no unified will, because its soul itself was a jumble of countless victims, a thorough fusion monster.
But if that was the case, why had this insane Loa behaved so normally before, even able to act on command?
Mythrax was momentarily stunned by the Dark Serpent's bizarre existence, but he quickly stopped thinking about the problem. He silently accumulated power, and the appendages on his back extended to his chest, as violent void fluctuations converged into a ball under his control.
This terrifying destructive energy affected the surrounding space. Visible wrinkles appeared on the previously smooth spatial plane, and the ley lines and space itself were torn and shattered by the surging void energy.
When the void energy reached a peak, Mythrax unhesitatingly released this void bomb, powerful enough to instantly destroy the Titan Seal.
The void energy projectile moved forward steadily, not quickly, but irresistibly. All obstacles in its path were twisted and pulverized into dross. In just a few more seconds, the Titan Seal would become history, and G'huun would regain his freedom, spreading corruption to every corner of the world.
Thinking of this, even Mythrax felt excited. Soon he would witness it, that great miracle!
"Zzz—"
Just an instant before the void energy was about to blast into Dazar'alor's Great Pyramid, time seemed to slow down. The unstoppable void projectile actually froze in mid-air, unable to advance another step.
"What?"
Before Mythrax could figure out what had happened, he felt a vast and grand will sweeping across all of Dazar'alor. That terrifying mental energy even formed a visible storm vortex, and even Mythrax could only bow before such power.
"Kneel, minion, do not disturb this great sacrament."
Cold and merciless words broke through Mythrax's mental defenses. His body trembled continuously from the mental agony, and at the same time, Mythrax was shocked by the owner of this power.
"Great N'Zoth... why would you...?"
He had already identified the other's identity through this unique power, yet precisely because he knew of N'Zoth's existence, he could not understand why N'Zoth would prevent him from releasing G'huun.
But N'Zoth clearly no longer wished to explain too much to a minion. He seemed to be completely focused on doing something, with no time to spare for Mythrax.
That storm-like mental tide only existed for an instant, yet it inflicted far more severe injuries on Mythrax than he had sustained in his battle with Rezan and the other Loa. His body even began to totter, and he directly knelt before Dazar'alor.
G'huun's loyal servant should have chosen to obey N'Zoth's decision at this moment, yet after N'Zoth's gaze departed, he made an astonishing decision.
The void energy that N'Zoth had previously stopped regained its thrust. Mythrax released a second void energy projectile, blasting that destructive energy into the Great Pyramid.
Almost instantaneously, the intricate structure within the Titan Seal suffered irreversible damage, and the only remaining functional Titan Seal was finally destroyed by Mythrax.
"How dare you?!"
The Dark Serpent let out a roar. His chaotic will was instantly dominated by N'Zoth. This ancient God did not restrain his fury, but at this moment, he could do nothing but roar. He could not afford to waste his precious power on Mythrax, so he could only have the Dark Serpent destroy Mythrax on his behalf.
The Dark Serpent's will was still shattered, but his body was undeniably that of a Loa, and it was the owner of this very body who had defeated Mythrax in the past, achieving a feat that even Rezan could not.
Now, after their respective resurrections, they once again encountered what seemed to be their fated opponent.
Mythrax, propping up his body, which had been severely wounded by N'Zoth, stood up. He coldly watched the Dark Serpent, which was twisting wildly and emitting chaotic aura, muttering obscure words, "I will slay you again."
The two behemoths engaged in a life-and-death struggle atop Dazar'alor's ancient city structures. Their mountainous bodies, with just a slight touch, could crush buildings that mortals had spent years, even decades, constructing into a pile of rubble.
The ancient city, which the Zandalar Trolls had prided themselves on for ten thousand years, was being destroyed by the aftermath of their battle. Whether it was the Loa's temples or a vendor's stall, Mythrax and the Dark Serpent indiscriminately razed them to the ground.
The splendor of mortal civilization was but a fleeting moment in the eyes of these ancient and powerful beings. These ten-thousand-year-old structures were not even as old as the creatures themselves.
Mythrax swung his giant pincer, clamping onto the Dark Serpent's body. The Serpent, in pain, began to writhe frantically. Before Mythrax's other claw could grab him, he lashed out with his massive tail, capable of collapsing mountains, sending Mythrax stumbling. His claw missed, failing to lock onto the Serpent's agile tail.
The Dark Serpent took the opportunity to tightly coil his body around Mythrax, contracting every muscle with full force. The terrifying squeezing pressure instantly left deep indentations on Mythrax's body, and the crackling sound of his carapace bursting resounded continuously.
Under the Serpent's full-force squeeze, Mythrax also felt the threat of death. The immense power of the Loa's body, combined with the Serpent's body tightly pressing against him, acted like a constantly contracting elastic rope, completely restricting his ability to exert force and move.
But he still had one giant pincer firmly clamped onto the Serpent. Mythrax, at this moment, also exerted all his strength to close his claw, almost instantly causing the Serpent's scales to burst, along with his flesh and bones groaning under the unbearable pressure.
The Serpent writhed in pain but dared not release his hold on Mythrax, for once Mythrax was free, he would never find such an opportunity to restrain his opponent again.
As these two monsters fought to the death, high above Dazar'alor, the Scourge City, Naxxramas, was slowly moving forward. The Necromancer responsible for collecting signals truthfully reported everything that had just happened in Dazar'alor to Kel'Thuzad.
"This peculiar Void corruption power, it is indeed N'Zoth. It seems he still couldn't resist showing his hand."
Kel'Thuzad looked at the energy signals collected by his subordinates with satisfaction. They had confirmed N'Zoth's whereabouts, and the task Arthas had given him was finally partially completed. It was not in vain that he had put in so much effort in Vol'dun to create the current situation.
The only thing that surprised him was that the K'thir named Mythrax had not betrayed the weak G'huun; instead, he was fiercely attacking the Dark Serpent corrupted by N'Zoth.
"Ridiculous foolish loyalty. G'huun's death is already destined." Kel'Thuzad commented on Mythrax's actions, but this instead made him ponder a new problem.
The loyalty of the Old Gods' servants was much higher than he had anticipated. Before their old masters died, they seemed unwilling to submit to another Old God, even if the latter was clearly stronger than the masters they currently served.
Kel'Thuzad did not believe that these monsters, completely devoid of mortal values, would value "loyalty" so much. The only reason they were so loyal to their masters was likely that betrayal meant a fate more terrifying than death for them.
This piqued Kel'Thuzad's interest. He even considered capturing Mythrax alive to study how the Old Gods managed to drive these "loyal servants."
Just as he had this thought, a voice interrupted him.
"How is it, Kel'Thuzad?"
Kel'Thuzad was startled, turning to see Arthas had appeared in his hall at some unknown time. He immediately bowed, "Great master, you have come at the right time. We have already captured N'Zoth's aura and confirmed that he is indeed constantly observing Zandalar. Just now, he has begun to interfere with the real world, indicating that his distance from the real world is already quite close."
"The Titan Seal has also been destroyed."
Arthas tilted his head, glancing at the scene in the monitoring crystal. Dazar'alor's main city district had almost become a ruin. Mythrax was still engaged in a deadly struggle with the Dark Serpent God. It seemed that these two monsters would not stop until they had completely killed each other.
He withdrew his gaze, no longer concerned about the battle between these two monsters, and said to Kel'Thuzad, "Proceed towards Nazmir. The decisive battle should be there."
Kel'Thuzad respectfully replied, "As you wish. The rest of the naxxanar are also en route and are expected to arrive at Uldir in five hours."
The Scourge had not only deployed Naxxramas this time. Several naxxanar equipped with the latest weapons were also deployed. These naxxanar would completely control the real plane of Nazmir, preventing the Old Gods' minions from invading reality from here.
The true battlefield for the decisive battle would undoubtedly be within N'Zoth's true dream, the awakening city of the Dark Empire—Nyalotha.
"But do you really intend to bring those fellows along to participate in this war?" Arthas suddenly asked a question that made Kel'Thuzad's body stiffen.
The Archlich said somewhat awkwardly, "Can nothing escape your eyes? It's just that those Vulpera did provide us with some help regarding the Vol'dun matter, and I was merely acting on the principle of fair trade, taking them away from Vol'dun to find a new place to live. If you wish, I will immediately send someone to deal with them."
Arthas clicked his tongue in wonder. He joked, "I didn't expect you, the ruthless Archlich, to have mercy on a group of living beings? Forget it, I'm not telling you to deal with them. Place them in Zuldazar. Although it has suffered some damage, it is still safer than Vol'dun and Nazmir. It will allow them to live peacefully for a while. As for what to do with them after the battle, that's up to you."
After all, this was a war, and although the scope of involvement would not be too large, it would be too dangerous for this group of Vulpera to be caught up in it. Even with great confidence in Naxxramas's defenses, Arthas would not be so confident as to believe that this naxxanar was absolutely safe.
"Yes."
Kel'Thuzad sighed. Although the existence of the Scourge was not a secret to the high-ranking members of the Alliance, if Arthas insisted on eliminating the Vulpera who had entered Naxxramas, Kel'Thuzad would have no good reason to dissuade Arthas.
He also knew that Arthas would not have much mercy for entities not within the Alliance's sphere of influence, especially when they had a negative impact on a predetermined plan or the entire world. Arthas's cold and rational side as a monarch would be revealed without a doubt.
From the moment he began following Arthas, Kel'Thuzad understood that the monarch he served would only do what he believed was right and fight the battles he believed were just.
The eerie, terrifying Scourge City appeared above Nazmir at a seemingly slow pace. When observing the high altitude from the ground, the immense vertical distance between them made Naxxramas's flight speed appear not so fast, but this colossal naxxanar was actually advancing rapidly at a speed far exceeding that of an airship.
The clouds in the sky were torn open by Naxxramas, allowing the soldiers within this war fortress to easily see the yellow-green swamps and jungles below.
However, it was clear that the indigenous people of this jungle did not welcome the arrival of Naxxramas. Almost immediately, scattered magical spells flew into the sky from below. Those blood-red magical energies streaked across the high altitude before dissipating powerlessly. It was evident that the Blood Troll's spells were simply not enough to threaten Naxxramas high above.
But the Archlich was not one who liked to be offended, and these Blood Troll's laughable attacks, in his eyes, were a provocation to the Scourge.
"Aim the main cannon at the Blood Troll below."
He issued his command, and the skeleton engineers responsible for operating the main cannon began to adjust the aiming direction of the enormous necromantic crystal until the entire Blood Troll camp was encompassed within its kill radius.
As the dark green energy began to converge on the crystal, Kel'Thuzad was already eager to see what a small lesson this immensely powerful, deadly weapon could teach the Blood Troll.
A thick beam of energy tore through the sky. With just one extremely brief firing, the terrifying necromantic ray ploughed a shocking gash into the land of Nazmir. The Blood Troll camp, which had just been jumping around below, had been completely reduced to ruins. The crude structures collapsed into the deep trench, and the water source in the camp was instantly evaporated by the necromantic energy, turning into necromantic steam that was highly lethal to living beings. Those Blood Troll who fortunately escaped the main cannon also all died within these green mists, then transformed into mindless undead, beginning to launch brutal attacks on the remaining surviving Blood Troll.
After the ray disappeared, the immense energy also left traces of flickering green electric light in the air; that was the energy reaction left behind as extremely dense necromantic energy dissipated.
The water that had been evaporated and squeezed out by the necromantic beam began to flow back into the ploughed deep trench. Soon, a large amount of river water filled in all traces of the Blood Troll, leaving only the undead gnawing on the Blood Troll remains on the banks.
Kel'Thuzad was quite satisfied with the main cannon's performance. He eagerly said to Arthas, "Your Majesty, you see, this is the power of our latest weapon. In addition to the four necromantic crystal main cannons installed at the four main positions of Naxxramas, there are also a large number of smaller necromantic crystal towers that can cause extremely terrifying damage to flying units attempting to approach the city."
Arthas glanced at the area where the camp's original appearance was almost unrecognizable after the main cannon's strike, and nodded, "This level of power is indeed enough to pose a fatal threat to some powerful entities."
"Yes, according to our calculations, even creatures of the level of Dragons and Demon Lords would at least be severely wounded after being bombarded by the main cannon," Kel'Thuzad was full of praise for these weapons, which almost represented the pinnacle of necromantic magic and alchemy. "Moreover, the residual necromantic energy will awaken the relatively 'complete' corpses, allowing them to temporarily serve as cannon fodder to fill the battle lines."
The only thing Kel'Thuzad was not entirely satisfied with was that most of the undead generated by this necromantic energy were weak and unstable. Without external interference, they could only exist for a very short time before reverting to corpses and falling into silence.
However, this problem was not without a solution. After all, as long as the enemy's formation or defensive fortifications were destroyed by the main cannon, and then the Scourge's forces were deployed into the battle, there would be countless sources of troops for them to use.
"Alright, stop boasting about your treasures. This shot also serves as a little reminder to G'huun, to get him to react a bit."
Arthas interrupted Kel'Thuzad, who still wanted to continue prattling on about his creations, reminding him not to forget their main objective this time, "Have the rest of the naxxanar enter combat positions, restrict Uldir, and don't let whatever is inside escape."
"Of course, my master, you will not see a single vile void creature escape their prison."
Kel'Thuzad smiled genuinely, for he had been looking forward to bringing death to the Scourge's enemies for too long, and now they finally had an enemy that was durable enough, not one that would shatter at a touch.
As the monarch and his minister conversed, dragon roars echoed from the distant sky. Arthas said to Kel'Thuzad, "Release the permissions for the anti-air defense, and let the Guardian Dragons enter our airspace."
Soon, Malygos transformed into his human form and landed on Naxxramas's terrace. He didn't even have the presence of mind to comment on the incredibly terrifying magic cannon he had just witnessed, and he hastily blurted out, "Did you sense it? The corruption of the Old Gods is spreading!"
Behind him followed several wary Blue Dragon, most of whom appeared in the form of High Elf. Staying in Naxxramas at this moment made them involuntarily remain on guard. As Blue Dragon, they could feel the dreadfulness of this terrifying city even more acutely.
"N'Zoth has appeared, right in Zuldazar. He seems to have already taken G'huun as his meal," Arthas told Malygos everything that had happened in Dazar'alor.
"Then what are we waiting for? Since N'Zoth has shown his hand, let's quickly deal with G'huun first to avoid any bigger complications."
Malygos had already intercepted a trace of Nyalotha's aura before coming. He was confident that he could pinpoint Nyalotha's existence through this trace. Therefore, he now believed it was time to thoroughly purify G'huun, to prevent the spread of the blood god's corruption, or for him to be devoured and absorbed by N'Zoth, further strengthening the Corruptor's power.
"What about the other Guardian Dragons?"
Arthas asked.
"They are near Uldir, reinforcing the defenses of that Titan facility to prevent G'huun from fully breaking free."
Malygos didn't know why Arthas suddenly asked this. He only wanted to know how to thoroughly purify G'huun. "But they won't last much longer. The power of these Old Gods is quite troublesome. Even if G'huun is much weaker than other Old Gods, the stubbornness of his corruption is on par."
He was speaking the truth. Perhaps the Guardian Dragons could kill G'huun, this weak Ancient God, but they couldn't stop the spread of his corrupting power. The nature of the Old Gods' power destined this corruption to be an extremely disgusting and tenacious existence, and even the Titan had no good way to deal with it.
"Then we don't need to rush. The one who is truly anxious is N'Zoth."
Arthas had long prepared a plan for eliminating G'huun. It was not difficult to eliminate such a weak evil god. The difficulty lay in how to make G'huun a bait, to lure out N'Zoth while also avoiding the worst-case scenario.
"Before leaving Nazwatha, I had already arranged for Odin to cooperate with the Pure Saintess to restart the purification protocol inside Uldir—but that purification device has been corrupted by G'huun for too long, so we temporarily cannot activate it."
"Then why are you still so calm?!"
Malygos looked surprised. "If N'Zoth devours G'huun's power, it means we'll have to face two Old Gods at the same time!"
"Don't worry, because that purification device was only shielded by G'huun; he doesn't have the ability to destroy the purification device. And as long as G'huun's power weakens, the device can naturally be reactivated."
Malygos then understood Arthas's meaning. He narrowed his eyes, "You mean..."
"Since N'Zoth wants to devour G'huun, why don't we just add something extra to his dinner?"
(TL: It's not Loken? I think it's Loken.)