No matter how much Zalatar resisted, he was now merely a wisp of a soul, and his remaining power was insufficient to survive Gul'dan's extreme magic.
Amidst Gul'dan's roar, Zalatar didn't even have time to scream; his transparent soul body was forcefully torn in half, followed by brutal magic utterly shattering his form.
The moment this demigod fell, all natural life in Maraudon wailed, mourning the demise of this Guardian of nature and accepting their inevitable fate.
A greedy and terrifying suction erupted from the center of Maraudon, wantonly seizing the remaining energy of the cavern. Gul'dan stood at the center of this energy storm, manipulating dangerous sorcery, injecting power that could tear him to shreds into the magic circle beneath his feet.
"The most powerful Eredar, the great Lord of the Burning Legion, Archimonde, your humblest servant begs for your descent! Purify this miserable world!"
The Ogre let out a fanatical cry, his arms trembling from the power generated as space was torn by energy. He shoved all the collected souls into the ritual, hoping for enough power to summon the being he desired into the world.
Amidst obscure incantations that would make one dizzy just to hear a single phrase, a shadow was born in the shattered space. A mere glance from this shadow instantly caused creatures fleeing in Maraudon to drop dead, becoming sacrifices in the ritual.
Whether Elemental Creatures, wild animals, or those Satyrs or Centaur, the being from beyond the rift indiscriminately annihilated and crushed them, turning them into a bridge to Azeroth.
"Just... like... this... keep going... Gul'dan."
A blurry and intermittent voice was already emanating from beyond the rift, causing Gul'dan to be ecstatic. The future he sought was about to become reality.
But before he could celebrate for long, Archimonde, who was about to extend a part of his body into Azeroth, suddenly looked up at the crystal and fluorite-studded cavern ceiling.
—Something was coming?
The Eredar Warlock only paused for a moment in thought before a more dazzling light broke through the sparkling crystal-studded cavern wall. A pure yet extremely destructive beam of light crashed down, striking the center of the ritual.
"What?!"
Archimonde immediately raised his hand to block the energy impact. This highly destructive beam of light could cause him very limited damage, but the energy storm it stirred up was enough to completely destroy Gul'dan, the caster, and the ritual beneath him.
Realizing that the consequence of this outcome would be his inability to successfully descend upon Azeroth, Archimonde diverted some of his attention to shield Gul'dan from the energy storm.
But this also meant that Gul'dan could no longer maintain the teleportation magic circle he had drawn. He cowered in the safe space Archimonde had created for him, completely devoid of the arrogance and ferocity he displayed when tearing apart Zalatar. "Lord Archimonde, save me!"
"Save you?"
Archimonde was almost amused by the cowardice of this waste—fortunately, he had seen plenty of bullies who served the Legion, but now was not the time to punish Gul'dan's weakness; he had to make Gul'dan continue the ritual.
"Get back to your position immediately and ensure the ritual continues!"
Archimonde's words were like a decree, and Gul'dan could not disobey. The two-headed Ogre almost tearfully returned to his position at the head of the magic circle, and the situation was exactly as he had feared: amidst such a chaotic energy storm, the energy accumulated by the magic circle was rapidly depleting, and he simply could not stabilize the ritual, which was like a deflated ball.
"Lord Archimonde... The magic circle is out of control!, perhaps I should retreat first and then summon your descent! "
"Continue, magic circle."
Archimonde completely ignored Gul'dan's suggestion. He focused on countering the energy beam that was capable of harming him. While he had not fully descended upon Azeroth, the power he could use was limited, so this beam, which could only heavily wound a demon lord, was now causing him trouble.
But gradually, Archimonde found himself becoming somewhat powerless. Surprised, he also understood the source of this weakness—that fool Gul'dan wasn't focusing on maintaining the ritual at all; he was already thinking about how to escape!
Just as Archimonde thought, Gul'dan dared not intervene in a summoning ritual under such circumstances. The chaotic magical energies would instantly kill him. While he wanted to summon the Legion's descent, it didn't mean he wanted to sacrifice his life for it.
And he was also observing Archimonde's state. When he discovered that this unknown energy beam seemed to be suppressing Archimonde, he actually began secretly setting up a teleportation spell, intending to use the power of the void to escape from here.
He had already planned it: at worst, he would find an isolated island overseas to hide, at least then he could save his—
"Ugh ah ah!"
Gul'dan's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden surge of excruciating pain throughout his body. The pain, which almost penetrated his soul, caused his body to convulse, and he consequently lost all control over his physical form.
"You, signed the contract!"
How could Archimonde watch this foolish Ogre escape from him? That would undoubtedly tarnish his prestige. Having already failed once on Azeroth, if Archimonde were to return defeated again because of this, he dared not imagine how the Dark Lord would deal with him.
So he unhesitatingly ignited the demonic contract deep within Gul'dan's soul. Did this Ogre think he could escape from the Legion? That was merely the self-importance of a fool!
Archimonde mercilessly connected this subordinate, who was once "loyal" to him, body and soul, into the teleportation magic circle. Even if this meant that the clashing chaotic energies would instantly tear Gul'dan's flesh and soul apart, Gul'dan's strong body and corrupted soul would also become nourishment for the magic circle.
When Gul'dan was almost reduced to a charred mess, Archimonde finally held out until the right moment.
The teleportation ritual was completely finished!
"Hahaha!"
Amidst the Eredar Warlock's wild laughter, the Maraudon cavern crumbled into pieces. Archimonde waved his large hand, and the raging fel storm instantly reversed the tide. The entire space trembled at the demon's descent, and the firepower of the Azeroth itself was actually defeated by him alone.
Amidst the dark clouds and lightning of the fel storm, a shadow as tall as a mountain enveloped the mountains where Maraudon was located. Archimonde extended his large hand, forcefully severing and uprooting the mountain range. The scorching demonic power melted the shattered earth in the blink of an eye, and he gripped a spear burning with fel lava.
The Azeroth, far above in orbit, could see the towering fel light pillar. Archimonde was connecting with the Legion's army using his nearly endless demonic power, and before that, he wanted to exact a small revenge on the "flying insect" that dared to attack him just now!
The fel spear transformed into a backward-flying meteor, striking directly at the starship in orbit.
Prophet Velen almost felt a burst of crisis at this moment. He looked at the screen in disbelief. "Archimonde..."
The starship was not built to counter beings of this level! If struck by Archimonde's attack, the Azeroth would undoubtedly be instantly destroyed.
He instinctively wanted to order the ship to warp away, but a hand stopped Velen.
"Don't panic, Prophet, this is also part of the plan."
Arthas's gaze almost reflected the green lightning, but he remained calm, as if it were not the angry blow of the Eredar Warlock, but merely raindrops that would not make a splash.
The Azeroth had achieved the result he had envisioned: preventing the further expansion of the ritual, ensuring that the Legion's descent had to be anchored by Archimonde himself. By anchoring the space between Argus and Azeroth, he was destined to have no chance of escape.
Green fel explosion clouds scattered across the sky of Desolace, and Archimonde looked at the fel-tainted sky, a cruel smile on his face.
But very quickly, the smile froze on his face, because he saw a golden light breaking through the air with lightning speed, punching a large hole in the sky that had been turned dark green by fel, and this attack, which had crossed an unknown distance, showed no sign of slowing down, heading straight for him.
The arrogant Archimonde, of course, did not think of dodging. He stretched out his large hand, and two colors of red and black twisted magic exploded in the air. This was his signature spell, a magic with an extremely simple principle but terrifying power.
Pure chaotic energy was compressed into a highly dense ray. Anything hit by this magic would completely bid farewell to its material form and return to its most primitive particles.
And if it were a flesh-and-blood life, it would die in extreme pain, with even its soul annihilated.
Finger of Death!
The speed of the chaotic ray far exceeded the speed of sound. Several seconds after the collision of the red and gold energies, the explosive sound of the ray tearing through the air and sky finally arrived, followed by a deafening explosion that could be heard by almost every creature in Desolace.
The storm generated by the collision of the two energies tore a large opening in the sky, allowing the normally cloud-covered Desolace to rarely see the clear blue sky from the ground.
This strange sight attracted the attention of most of the creatures in Desolace, but very quickly, a sense of fear almost etched into their souls made any creature abandon the idea of observing, and they all fled in the direction away from the Maraudon mountain range.
Whether it was the savage and fierce Centaur or the violent and bloodthirsty wild animals, their minds were left with only obedience to their survival instincts.
Archimonde looked in dismay at his palm, which had been scorched by Holy Light. For so many years, it was the first time he had been at a disadvantage in a head-on confrontation—although Archimonde was extremely arrogant, that was based on his absolutely powerful strength. He had personally twisted the necks of countless powerful enemies of the Burning Legion and crushed the hopes of countless people for survival.
A look of solemnity appeared in the demon wizard's eyes. His current opponent was not some weakling that could be easily dismissed, and this discovery made Archimonde both delighted and curious. He was delighted that Azeroth was indeed strong enough to nurture a powerful being capable of contending with him, and curious as to how the other party had achieved all of this.
"Arthas… in just a few years, you have become so powerful that even I must praise you."
"Archimonde."
Arthas shook his cloak, and a powerful storm dispersed the dust covering the land. He stood alone before Archimonde, the Light of Dawn in his hand glowing faintly.
Archimonde smiled as he smoothed the wound on his palm with fel. He was not in a hurry to attack. "With such power, you should be able to see the truth of this world—if you and I join forces, Sargeras cannot stop us, so why cling to the lives on a single planet?"
His words carried sincerity. Archimonde was a devout believer in power; all he sought was the ultimate in magical artistry and the final realm of violence. Sargeras had once shown him the tip of that power's iceberg, and he had therefore sworn allegiance without hesitation.
But for ten thousand years, what Sargeras could offer was far less than what he had promised. Archimonde was already tired of this so-called expedition. He did not care about the future depicted by the Dark Titan; he only cared whether he could occupy the highest seat in the universe's end.
If Sargeras could not do it, he would not mind betraying the Dark Lord.
Arthas pointed the Light of Dawn longsword at Archimonde's nose, his voice calm and cold, "If you don't care about life, then I can just deliver death to you."
Archimonde was slightly startled. What responded to him was no longer Arthas's words, but golden blades appearing from nowhere. Lightswords burning with holy flames cut through the void, instantly piercing through the magical barrier Archimonde had secretly set up, then immediately moved to shred Archimonde.
Archimonde, whose magical barrier had been breached, was not flustered. He crushed two lightswords with his bare hands. His skin, enhanced by fel, was even tougher than an Pit Lord's, and even the sharp blades summoned by Arthas could not easily break through Archimonde's defenses.
But that was merely an appetizer from Arthas. The moment Archimonde was restrained by the lightswords, the Light of Dawn, carrying a truly deadly threat, followed closely.
Archimonde's fel-burning large hands shattered the remaining Holy Light blades, sending out splatters of light and fel that easily crushed and collapsed the surrounding mountains and rocks, but he could no longer pay attention to the sharp edge of the Light of Dawn.
He deflected his body as much as possible, but the Holy Light blade still left a hideous scar on his chest.
At the same time, a large number of demons surged out from the spatial rifts torn by Archimonde, engulfing and forcing Arthas back, giving Archimonde room to breathe.
He glanced down at the scar on his chest, realizing that when facing Arthas, his gigantic body, reinforced by fel, had become a hindrance. This demonic body, suitable for war, was indeed useless now.
In just a few seconds, Arthas incinerated a large group of demons that had delayed him. He looked at Archimonde, whose body had shrunk to the size of an ordinary Eredar, seemingly no longer possessing his world-destroying might.
...Was Arthas also the one who attacked Niskara and rescued the prisoners there?
Archimonde wiped his hand across his chest. After the fel flames devoured the light, only a distinct sword mark remained.
He saw the state of the dead demons and seemed to recall something. A few days ago, the prison world of Niskara was invaded, and by the time the Legion's reinforcements arrived, only large amounts of demon ash were left there. These demons, killed by Arthas, reminded Archimonde of some things.
This guy is indeed quite troublesome.
Archimonde, realizing this fact, showed an even more joyful smile instead of fear. Although combat was not the only thing he craved, he had not encountered a truly formidable opponent in a long time.
"Hahahahaha!"
As Archimonde's laughter, imbued with massive magical power, rang out, the demon swarm in the sky fell like raindrops. Their wills were instantly stripped away by the wizard, and within a short time, they became spellcasting materials in Archimonde's hands.
Continuous fel implosions exploded around Arthas. The demons forcibly abducted by Archimonde from the Twisting Nether became excellent conduits for his spells. The demons' souls were ignited by fel, turning into countless highly unstable high-energy explosives.
Deafening explosions and the fel light spheres formed by the blasts spread across the land like clusters of grapes. The rampant fel annihilated all matter it touched, whether rock, soil, or air, reaching every corner of the sky. With the burning souls of these demons, Archimonde sought to completely block Arthas's escape routes.
Trees were uprooted by the shockwave, mountains collapsed under the impact, and nearby Centaur villages and structures were obliterated in the blink of an eye.
Just as the green fel flames almost covered Archimonde's field of vision, a point of golden light penetrated through, forcefully tearing open a path.
The uninjured Arthas's expression was normal; not even a speck of dust had touched his clothes. The Light of Dawn glowed with an even more dazzling Holy Light, tearing through the vacuum created by the demon implosions with irresistible force, almost cleaving Archimonde in half.
The battle-hardened demon wizard used fel to shape dark green chains, attempting to restrain the Light of Dawn's blade, but the chains shattered at an unexpected speed, forcing Archimonde to choose to blink away.
The moment the spatial spell was activated, Arthas had already severed all the fel chains, plowing a trench dozens of meters long and bottomless in the ground where Archimonde had originally stood.
"Pfft!"
The sound of flesh tearing came, making Archimonde look down in surprise. A scar left by Holy Light still appeared on his waist and abdomen, and green corrupted blood splattered. If he hadn't reacted quickly and continuously used magic to escape, he might have been lying on the ground in two pieces by now.
A cold sweat suddenly broke out on the demon wizard's back. He had no time to think, almost instantly using magic to seal off all the surrounding space. But even so, the icy blue sword light still penetrated the shattered space like a ghost, heading straight for Archimonde's heart.
Death spread as ice-blue light filled his vision; even Archimonde couldn't stop the seemingly slow yet incredibly resolute arrival of death. Before Frostmourne's sharp edge completely pierced his heart, the life force in his body gradually dissipated.
His tough body fractured like fragile porcelain, and a web of green cracks instantly covered his dark gray skin. Violent fel energy surged out like water from an opened floodgate.
Finally, when the pressure of the fel reached a critical point, with a loud bang, Archimonde's body was engulfed in bright flames, exploding into a fireworks display.
Frostmourne was flung back by the shockwave of the explosion, the sword humming as it flew back to Arthas's side, tumbling several times before coming to a halt next to him.
However, Arthas did not cease his attack due to Archimonde's seemingly self-destructive end. He gripped Frostmourne's hilt with his left hand, and under his wield, the two longswords tore through the terrible impact of Archimonde's explosion, even annihilating the spreading fel energy cleanly.
When the explosion's energy dissipated, aside from the massive crater left behind, Archimonde seemed as if he had never appeared in this world.
Yet, the fel storm in the sky still raged on. The number of demons escaping from the spatial cracks did not decrease but increased. They roared as they entered the real plane, attempting to vent all their fury and brutality on this planet.
After Arthas casually cut down a few suicidal demon bats that charged towards him, Velen's voice reached his ears, indicating that the people on the ship were trying to reconnect the communication network.
"That explosion just now was?! Arthas, are you alright?!"
"I'm fine, Prophet."
"I can't sense Archimonde's aura anymore. Did you win?"
"..."
Probably not yet.
Arthas thought this, but before he could reply to Velen, the briefly restored communication network was once again covered by static—the energy field had become unstable again.
He calmly parried with his sword, "coincidentally" blocking an invisible heavy blow. The impact generated by the collision scattered everything around, but Arthas's body remained motionless.
The King's gaze met a pair of astonished eyes. The opponent seemed not to have expected such a sneak attack to fail.
"What kind of monster are you, exactly?"
In the unseen void, Archimonde's voice resounded again. The Eredar Warlock, who should have been utterly annihilated in the previous explosion, once again materialized flesh and blood in the real plane.
The burning fel blade was parried by Arthas. Archimonde looked at his unmoving weapon in disbelief, momentarily unable to comprehend how Arthas had discovered his feigned death.
He had clearly "just right" used the killing intent of Frostmourne's sudden attack to conceal himself. For this, he did not hesitate to temporarily destroy his body and unleash a massive amount of magic at once. This way, even if he couldn't severely wound Arthas, he could at least confuse his senses with chaotic fel, and by hiding in the void, where even Frostmourne's death aura couldn't lock onto him, he could launch a perfect sneak attack.
However, even his fel explosion, which sacrificed a physical body, failed to inflict any effective damage on Arthas. Even his meticulously planned sneak attack was seen through by Arthas, who effortlessly parried it with a wave of his hand.
For the first time in tens of thousands of years of conquest, the Eredar Warlock felt "absurdity." It wasn't that he hadn't encountered opponents capable of rivaling him, but the recent battle made him feel that the rhythm of everything seemed to have always been in Arthas's hands. The opponent seemed capable of ending this farce at any moment but had never made a move.
Archimonde's figure flickered several times, leaving behind a fel illusion that Arthas casually cut down, then retreated dozens of meters. At this moment, he was staring intently at Arthas, a hint of cold sweat seeping from his forehead.
No... that's not right.
The power Arthas displayed shouldn't have exceeded his understanding. Whether it was the Holy Light energy he used or the dark and treacherous death magic, Archimonde prided himself on knowing them. But why... why was he sweating?!
Would such an opponent make him sweat?!
In an instant, an inexplicable humiliation surged in his heart, but in a very short time, it transformed into endless rage. Archimonde would not allow his conjecture to become reality. His vocal cords emitted a furious roar, and the magic in his large hands increased exponentially.
Complex and vast magical energy flowed out, firmly locking down the space where Arthas stood. With just a thought, the powerful Eredar Warlock achieved a super spell unimaginable to mortal mages. He forcibly tore a part of space, even intending to further crush it, allowing the very weight of the world to completely crush and devour Arthas.
Arthas felt the cracking sounds and squeezing sensation around him, while Holy Light flames simultaneously ignited on his body—that was not an attack, but his defensive measure, indicating that while Archimonde was collapsing space, he was also continuously casting various terrifying curses on him, attempting to weaken him.
He tried to move his arm and found that his movements had indeed become much slower. It wasn't that the curses were effective, but because the space he was in was collapsing, and along with it, concepts like time were beginning to shatter. Normal physical phenomena were being stripped away from around him. Archimonde's spell was not a simple spatial disintegration, but a genuine attempt to completely erase the space he was in, along with himself.
But... did he really still have a chance to complete this spell?
"What—cough!"
Archimonde, not far away, suddenly spat out a mouthful of scorching fel blood, and his body uncontrollably stumbled, even his vision momentarily blurring.
Something attacked his mind?!
Archimonde instantly realized what kind of attack he had suffered, but how powerful were the mental protection spells he had cast on himself? What kind of being could so stealthily wound him severely?
Barely managing to keep himself from falling to the ground, Archimonde knelt on one knee, beginning to pant heavily. The spell backlash combined with mental damage meant that even he couldn't recover immediately.
But Arthas should still be trapped within that destructive domain, his time should have been slowed, he had to complete the spell... Archimonde looked up at Arthas's location, but was horrified to find nothing there but a dead silent space, no trace of Arthas.
His brain instinctively released intense danger signals, but his body had not fully recovered yet and he couldn't move at all.
This time, a sharp blade pierced Archimonde's heart from behind without deviation, pinning him to the ground. The Eredar Warlock still wanted to resist, but what he felt was not the burning pain brought by Holy Light, but a sense of powerlessness and weakness rising from the depths of his soul.
Frostmourne bit into his soul and flesh. From the wound where the blade pierced him, intricate runes lit up one after another. Archimonde could only watch in horror as his body slowly lost control.
"Primordial... runic language?! How do you know... this..."
Unfortunately, he no longer even had the right to speak. Countless chains firmly restrained his body. Archimonde realized that he had become another's prisoner, but bound by the Chains of Domination, he gradually began to lose even self-awareness and could no longer hear Arthas's subsequent words.
"Well done, Xal'atath."
Arthas stepped out of a void portal. He no longer looked at Archimonde, who had little consciousness left, but instead praised Xal'atath's perfectly timed attack.
Xal'atath emerged from the shadows on the ground, a hint of fatigue in her brows. "This approach was still a bit dangerous... If Archimonde's spell had truly materialized, even you would have encountered some trouble."
Although Archimonde's spell wouldn't kill Arthas, it could at least banish him into nothingness, in which case Arthas would probably need some time to escape.
"And perhaps you should have just killed him... As a commander of the Burning Legion, Archimonde has access to many secrets. Keeping him captive would probably require a lot of effort."
Xal'atath looked at Archimonde, whose movements were restricted by Arthas, and offered her suggestion.
"He cannot die before we reach Argus."
"Whatever you say... I need to rest for a bit. Invading the mind of a Warlock of that level almost caused me to suffer a backlash myself..."
"This is a rather dangerous decision, Your Majesty."
Prophet Velen looked at Archimonde, who was restrained by Arthas's power, with a complex expression, and at the same time, he spoke his true thoughts.
He could feel the violent energy within Archimonde. His former colleague had never given up on the pursuit of power and authority during these ten thousand years, and this had created the Burning Legion's notorious "Archimonde."
Archimonde was famous throughout the realms for his violence. As one of the Burning Legion's supreme commanders, this Eredar Warlock always enjoyed personally crushing the hopes of one civilization after another and turning them into stepping stones for his own power.
Even Velen was unsure how many worlds Archimonde had destroyed. Although this terrifying monster had been defeated by Arthas, Velen still felt that preserving his life and imprisoning him was a very risky act.
"I know that, Prophet, but there is still a need for Archimonde to survive. When we arrive at Argus, we will need a 'pass'."
"A pass?"
"You may not know what the Burning Legion has done to your homeland, but it has become the core component of the Legion's entire war engine. As the most important world occupied by the Burning Legion, Argus's defenses are far more formidable than you can imagine."
Arthas had the engineers display some footage of Argus recorded by Illidan. When the Prophet saw the image of his homeland on the projector again, even he was momentarily stunned.
The beautiful planet he remembered had completely vanished, replaced by a desolate, dark world. Parts of the crust had even peeled away from the planet Argus. The Burning Legion wantonly ravaged Velen's homeland, turning it into a cradle for demons.
"Argus… my homeland… what have they done to you?"
Velen's eyes were filled with sorrow, but his voice contained suppressed fury. During his ten thousand years of wandering, he had never given up the idea of returning home, even though his rational mind told him that he could never return to the Argus of his memories. But seeing the tragic state of Argus with his own eyes, he was still shocked.
Even the knuckles gripping his staff turned pale from unconsciously tightening, indicating how heavy the emotions Velen was suppressing truly were.
"I'm sorry to make you see this, Prophet, but the Burning Legion has completely occupied Argus and, under Sargeras's command, has established their lair beneath Argus's surface—Antorus, the Burning Throne. This is the Burning Legion's command center and where Sargeras's throne of power is located."
Arthas magnified the image. Aside from the areas still covered by mist that had not yet been explored by Illidan and his Illidari, the approximate location and shape of Antorus had been meticulously recorded by them.
In fact, most of Argus's topography had already been transmitted to Arthas by Illidan, but excluding the meaningless desolate lands, the true core area of Argus was the part he was now showing to Velen.
Arthas continued, "The Prophet must have met Turalyon and Alleria, correct?"
"Indeed, I inquired about the Lightforged from them, but they told me the war situation was not optimistic."
"That's the problem—for thousands of years, the Lightforged have threatened worlds occupied by the Burning Legion more than once. And with the guidance of Naaru technology, their constructed starships have even breached the core airspace of other demon worlds multiple times, but they were either forced to retreat or were destroyed by the Burning Legion."
"Argus no longer has oceans or complete landmasses. If not for the Burning Legion's power holding the planet together, it would have collapsed long ago. Our traditional transport vehicles are utterly incapable of handling warfare on Argus. This is why I requested the construction of starships; only vessels capable of quickly traversing Argus and establishing teleportation coordinates can meet our needs."
"But this brings up a new problem… how can we bypass the Burning Legion's anti-air defenses when we first enter the demon-controlled airspace of Argus?"
Arthas played a video, which was of an attack on a demon world organized by the Lightforged. In the end, the Lightforged achieved their strategic objective at a heavy cost, but their ship was shot down by ground anti-air fire just as they were about to withdraw.
The footage ended there. This combat footage from within the Lightforged demonstrated the heights the Burning Legion's military technology had reached after inheriting the Titans' legacy. If an ordinary demon world was like this, then the level of defense at their main base, Argus, was self-evident.
Velen also seemed to understand Arthas's thinking; he began to grasp why Arthas had spared Archimonde's life.
Arthas looked at Archimonde, whose consciousness and power he had sealed, leaving him in a near-death state, "We need a sufficiently high level of authority to avoid the Legion's eyes and ears, and at the same time, to draw away the Legion's main forces."
"…A wise decision."
Even just through the footage left by the Lightforged, Velen gained a deeper understanding of the Burning Legion's strength. He knew very well that if they truly faced the full might of the Burning Legion, Azeroth would have no chance of victory.
The Legion's endless fleets and reinforcements would swallow all of Azeroth's hope—if demons could truly be eradicated, there wouldn't be a terrifying force like the Burning Legion entrenched in the cosmos.
Arthas deliberately left Archimonde what seemed like an exploitable window, allowing him to descend upon Azeroth, precisely because he wanted to try and capture this commander of the Burning Legion. This was something that the average person wouldn't even dare to conceive.
Even the Burning Legion probably wouldn't have thought of this. They could understand Archimonde being defeated or repelled, but they would never imagine Archimonde being captured alive.
Furthermore, Kil'jaeden's attention should currently be drawn by the "little bugs" on Argus, so Archimonde's temporary disappearance from the Legion's sight would actually cause less suspicion from others. After all, Archimonde often delved deep into the Twisting Nether to seek out various ancient secrets and treasures, attempting to enhance his own power through them.
Archimonde, as expected, acted according to Arthas's predictions. Although Arthas didn't know how Archimonde intended to descend upon Azeroth before this, as long as this outcome was achieved, they would have a chance to intercept the part of the authority that Arthas needed.
However, even Arthas hadn't expected Archimonde to be so arrogant as to enter Azeroth alone, not even sending demon armies ahead to scout. At least before coming to Desolace, Arthas had prepared to utterly devastate this already barren land.
"I have to thank Archimonde's arrogance and pride… He probably evaluated the situation based on the last Burning Legion invasion, believing that Azeroth no longer had the conditions to stop him, which is why he wanted to enter Azeroth alone."
Perhaps there were other influencing factors, but regardless, Arthas had successfully intercepted what he needed from Archimonde: the authority of a supreme commander of the Burning Legion.
But Velen still had a doubt, "To tie down the Legion's fleet, Archimonde's authority alone probably isn't enough. With the Legion's strength, it will be very difficult for us to disable their teleportation hub while simultaneously disabling Argus's ground defenses… If they react, we could very likely fall into a precarious situation."
"Don't worry, Prophet, I can assure you that the Legion's main fleet will not have any room to react before we completely destroy all of Argus's defenses."
The Burning Legion's port on Argus was the Legion's largest transportation hub across numerous worlds, where warships, guided by the Legion War Council and supported by teleportation technology, could reach any world the Legion wished to conquer in the shortest possible time.
Whether it was the Twisting Nether or the physical universe, the Burning Legion's current teleportation technology allowed easy access—with an accurate coordinate, the Legion could deploy an almost infinite number of troops to that world.
And today, the port's warship throughput reached a level that even Kil'jaeden was startled by.
"Large-scale military deployment? Who gave the order?"
Kil'jaeden asked his adjutant.
"It was Archimonde's order. He discovered a resource world, but it's being invaded by Void creatures and requires troops to be mobilized for occupation."
The adjutant picked up the panel in his hand and confirmed the troop movement information through the Burning Legion's internal magic network.
"Hmph… that fellow really can't stay still. At such a critical juncture, he still wants to do something like this… He probably got wind of some ancient secret treasure again, didn't he?"
Kil'jaeden snorted coldly, somewhat displeased with Archimonde's unauthorized actions. However, as a Legion commander of equal rank, Archimonde indeed had the authority to act without informing him, and even Kil'jaeden couldn't hold that against Archimonde.
But this did not mean Kil'jaeden approved of the military order. He ignited a brazier in front of him with magic, but what burned was not flame, but an will like a raging inferno.
The moment that existence's will appeared, Kil'jaeden's adjutant immediately lowered his head and disappeared into the darkness. For an ordinary demon like him, even one more glance would set his eyes and soul ablaze.
"What is it?"
The flame flickered slightly, becoming as active as the thoughts of a sentient being.
"Archimonde is acting on his own again. I demand that you immediately terminate this expedition. Shouldn't the current target be Azeroth?"
Kil'jaeden showed no fear facing this existence, even though his power was vastly inferior to him. However, he would never grovel due to a difference in power.
Facing Kil'jaeden's presumptuous inquiry, the flame showed no emotion, remaining calm—or rather, cold—in its reply to Kil'jaeden.
"Have you located Azeroth yet?"
The other party's question made Kil'jaeden frown slightly. "It just needs a little more time… I've already extracted information from those Demon Hunters—"
"Then let the Legion deal with those annoying Void creatures first."
After the fiery will interrupted Kil'jaeden, Kil'jaeden also felt that the will, vaster than the world itself, contained within the flame had departed. What remained burning there now was just ordinary fire.
Kil'jaeden remained silent, but with a wave of his hand, he extinguished the flame before him. Looking at the gradually cooling brazier, he began to control his anger, seeking a sufficiently rational way to deal with the situation.
"Kil'jaeden… should we continue to halt the military deployment?" The adjutant, seeing Kil'jaeden remain silent for a long time, could only nervously step forward to ask.
"…Forget it. Let their military operations continue."
Kil'jaeden had grown accustomed to Sargeras's attitude. The Burning Legion had, in fact, grown so vast that he and Archimonde alone could not fully command it. However, Sargeras had no intention of coordinating this Legion; from the beginning, he had only treated the Burning Legion as a convenient tool. But ever since the Pantheon was destroyed by Sargeras, the Dark Titan had lost even the desire to refine this tool.
No one knew what Sargeras was thinking. Even Kil'jaeden and Archimonde could not fully guess the Dark Titan's thoughts; even though they were the most powerful demons, they still had a world of difference from Sargeras.
How long had the Eredar toiled for that elusive promise? Ten thousand years, or twenty thousand years?
Even Kil'jaeden himself could barely remember. He had witnessed countless civilizations meet their end and personally instigated countless wars. Death and betrayal had long been commonplace for him; he was even tired of seeing stars perish.
"We toil for an absolutely grand and incomprehensible cause. Even if it means endless slaughter and destruction, we will not be swayed by worldly morals."
This was once Kil'jaeden's declaration to his kinsmen. At the time, he believed this was the Eredar's only way out, but now… Heh, not everything was as Sargeras had said.
There was destruction and slaughter, but what about the grand cause and path? Kil'jaeden now couldn't see where this path led.
He was getting a little tired. Since Sargeras said Azeroth was the key to ending all of this, then he would accelerate the process and bring this "great crusade" to a complete end.
Kil'jaeden didn't bother to think about what that brute Archimonde truly wanted to do, but since even Sargeras saw no issue with Archimonde's war proposal, he wouldn't waste any more thought on the matter. He still had plenty to do.
Dealing with the Illidari who were scurrying around Argus was just a side task; he now had to make some preparations for his return to Azeroth.
Since Archimonde had moved most of the Legion, resulting in a severe shortage of personnel Kil'jaeden could deploy, Kil'jaeden decided to first search for the whereabouts of the surviving Titan. To his knowledge, that Titan world-soul controlled powers related to life. If he could capture it, the Burning Legion could produce a vast number of new soldiers in the shortest possible time.
Although this meant that the remaining forces of the Burning Legion might also have to be moved from Argus, leaving Argus's defenses unprecedentedly empty, what existence could possibly attack the Burning Legion's main base?
For at least ten thousand years, Kil'jaeden had never had similar concerns. Whether it was the annoying Lightforged or the delusional Void creatures, they were merely pebbles on the Legion's path forward. Let alone threatening Argus, they couldn't even cause the Burning Legion the slightest hindrance.
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"Hmph… I have borrowed Archimonde's essence and mimicked this warlock to send a signal to the Burning Legion—are you sure this won't go wrong, my dear Your Majesty?"
When Xal'atath learned of Arthas's plan, even her first reaction was to stop such a crazy act.
Stealing the will of a Burning Legion supreme commander, sending erroneous commands to the Legion to lose most of their fleet in the boundless void… The idea sounded like something only a madman could conceive.
Yet Arthas had achieved all the prerequisites. He not only held the keystone to the Legion's world gate but also captured Archimonde alive and possessed enough power and authority to suppress Archimonde's will, giving Xal'atath the opportunity to read Archimonde's thoughts.
As a former Void creature, Xal'atath was undoubtedly a master of deception and disguise. With Archimonde as a living sample, she could easily mimic his power fluctuations, or even not need such a disguise at all, as Archimonde was truly in their hands, and she could directly steal Archimonde's power to complete this task.
It was just the place Arthas was leading the Burning Legion to… Xal'atath found it somewhat difficult to comment on.
"What you're doing is undoubtedly putting two bombs that could explode at any moment together, then gambling that they'll cancel each other out when they explode simultaneously instead of causing greater damage."
"Dimensius has no choice, Xal'atath. The Burning Legion comes and goes as it pleases, but he is currently trapped by the remnants of Kalesh. To avoid being completely driven back into the Void by the Burning Legion and making all his previous efforts futile, he will certainly fight the Legion with all his might."
Yes, the coordinate Arthas sent was precisely the location of the Ethereal homeworld's remains—Kalesh. If his prediction was correct, the moment the Legion arrived, Dimensius would gather all the power he could use to crush this Legion force.
The World Devourer was not yet at full strength, but he would not fear the demon army because of that. What he truly feared was the Burning Legion's master, the Dark Titan Sargeras.
"When the Legion's forces arrive in the star system around Kare, I will use the power of the Shadowlands to completely seal it off from the Twisting Nether and the physical plane. Until we destroy the Burning Legion's core, the Void Lord will help us hold off the most troublesome enemies."
Xal'atath smiled knowingly. "Though your idea is incredibly mad… I truly, hmph hmph, adore it."
Dathrohan pushed open the tavern door with a bang, waved away the two attendants following him, and walked to the bar, saying to the tavern owner, "A beer... make it ice cold."
The owner skillfully pulled out a glass, filled it with ice-cold beer for Dathrohan, and pushed the glass in front of Dathrohan. "Isn't this our busy man, Dathrohan? What brings you to my humble tavern today?"
Dathrohan grabbed the glass and chugged the cold liquid in one gulp, then let out a long breath.
The Grand Crusader first awkwardly shifted his body—his overly burly physique and the armor he hadn't had time to remove made him appear particularly "massive" in the tavern. He even sat on the high stool cautiously, worried he might break it with his weight.
"Phew... only your beer hits the spot. You can see I've squeezed some time out of my busy schedule to come here for a drink. No discount for me?"
"Heh heh, no deal. As a highly respected Grand Crusader of Lordaeron, are you going to be stingy even with the price of one beer?" The owner wiped a glass, his expression unchanged as he conversed with Dathrohan.
His tavern and inn had been open in Southshore for decades. Many renowned warriors and heroes in Lordaeron's history had stayed and rested here. Although the inn had been rebuilt along with Southshore, his old customers still frequented it as before.
However, he hadn't seen Dathrohan in a long time. In the past, when these Lordaeron generals weren't so busy, they would always come here in groups of three or five to drink and eat meat during their holidays.
"You cheapskate," Dathrohan cursed with a laugh, casually pulling out a few copper coins from a pouch on his belt and slapping them on the bar. "Keep the change, consider it a tip."
The owner glanced at the copper coins, which were just enough to pay for the beer, smiled, and pushed the money back. "Well, thank you very much, but old friends haven't seen each other in so long, this one's on me—seeing as you rushed here to patronize me without even taking off your armor."
Taverns have always been one of the main places for the circulation of various news. At least the owner knew that Dathrohan had indeed been busy in Hillsbrad recently, apprehending those involved in illicit activities and heretics, and implicitly solving many problems for the townspeople.
"Looks like your business is doing well, kid, you don't even care about the price of a beer anymore? Haha!"
"Thanks to His Majesty Minai Sil, Southshore is developing well now, and my little shop is also quite prosperous."
When talking about his business, a slight smile appeared on the owner's wrinkled face. The Scourge two years ago came mercilessly, destroying almost all the life's work of Southshore's residents. He was no exception; his inn was submerged by floods and tsunamis. However, at the time, he didn't have time to think about these things but instead tried his best to help his neighbors escape from the waves.
It was only after Dathrohan's troops protected them to a safe place that he belatedly felt heartache for the fine wine in his cellar and the tavern and inn he had operated for a lifetime.
Hearing the owner's words, Dathrohan also smiled. "Yes, thanks to His Majesty... He is a truly good King, who has never forgotten any of his subjects. Even if they are in the most remote town of Lordaeron, His Majesty will ensure the kingdom's blessings still reach them."
But Dathrohan also felt ashamed because of this. The Hillsbrad matters were assigned to him by Arthas, yet so many illegal dealings and cultists rooting themselves everywhere emerged there. Although Arthas had never blamed him, Dathrohan always felt he was partly to blame.
Therefore, after Arthas tasked him with eradicating evil forces within Lordaeron, the upright Dathrohan immediately led his most elite soldiers to investigate the evil organizations hidden in Lordaeron.
He had personally interrogated several cultists caught from the Alterac border today. After walking out of the prison, the night breeze of Southshore cleared his head a bit. On his way back, he happened to pass by the old Southshore tavern and thought of coming in to see his old friend.
Although the tavern had been rebuilt, the owner had kept the original layout, which made Dathrohan feel as if he had returned to more than ten years ago, to the days when the members of the Silver Hand celebrated their victories here with drinks.
Now it's hard for them to get together. Most of them are governing their territories in their own lands or churches. But thankfully, neither war nor illness has claimed the lives of many old comrades. Not long ago, he even saw Mograine and Uther. Mograine was then pulling his two sons' ears, severely punishing them for their poor performance in combat training.
Since the Dark Portal opened, they had endured countless brutal wars, and those battles had claimed many lives, including many of Dathrohan's old friends and comrades.
Their enemies constantly changed, from the bloodthirsty Old Horde to the demonic Legion that sought to destroy everything, and the ancient gods who wished to spread dark doctrines. But their goal remained unchanged: to protect their homeland and everything they cherished.
"Dathrohan, Dathrohan?"
The owner's call brought Dathrohan back to his senses. He pointed behind Dathrohan, where the two attendants were waiting with awkward smiles.
The Grand Crusader slapped his forehead. "More news? Alright, I understand—sigh, I wanted to have a few more drinks, but it looks like it will have to wait until next time."
"You busy man, go get busy. Next time you come, let me know in advance, and I'll prepare the best liquor for you. Whether it's the craft brew from Dun Morogh or the elves' nectar, I'll find a way to get it for you."
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Upon leaving the tavern, an attendant handed him a perfectly magic-sealed letter. "Lord Dathrohan, urgent message from Lordaeron."
Dathrohan hadn't even opened the envelope, but the two seals on it made him pause for half a second. "His Majesty's private insignia and the First Legion's seal?"
Just these two seals were enough to indicate the importance of the matter. Dathrohan then wasted no more time, tore open the letter, and quickly read its contents.
The content of the letter was quite concise and clearly a general format sent to many recipients. It only mentioned one thing throughout: the senior generals of the First Legion were to quickly assemble in Lordaeron.
The extremely brief text undoubtedly revealed the urgency of the situation. It should be known that the current First Legion is not merely the army belonging to Lordaeron during the Old Alliance era. After Arthas re-integrated the Alliance's military forces, he drew the most elite portion from the military forces of various members to form the new "First Legion."
This included not only old veterans of the Old Alliance who survived the three great wars, but also elite elves who had been active on the front lines against the Legion since the War of the Ancients, as well as the few remaining ancients among the Draenei who had participated in countless battles against the Burning Legion, plus the Lightforged brought back by Turalyon and Alleria from the Twisting Nether, and countless other absolute elites. It can be said that this army represents the highest standard of conventional military power on Azeroth today.
And this Legion is the first line of defense protecting Azeroth, and also Azeroth's sharpest blade when breaking through external enemies.
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"Where is Your Majesty?"
Uther pushed through the crowd and approached Calia, asking concisely.
"He is with Jaina, at the top of the castle."
Calia answered Uther's question while discussing the allocation of supplies with the priest beside her. To prepare for the upcoming battle, abbeys and churches everywhere had already prepared a large amount of Holy Light supplies in advance, especially medical provisions. Ordinary potions and bandages, enchanted by the major abbeys and churches, could maintain an effect comparable to magical items for a period of time.
They could face a war that would decide the fate of Azeroth at any moment, but this time they were not on the defensive. The initiative of the war was in their hands, and everyone was doing their utmost to prepare for this great battle.
After bidding farewell to Calia, Uther made his way to the top floor of the castle. He had met Minethil II there a long time ago, but today, the person standing there was the old King's son.
"Your Majesty, I have arrived."
"Teacher, you've come at a good time. How are the troops preparing?"
Arthas, who was talking with Jaina and several other Archmages, turned his head.
"All units of the First Legion in Lordaeron have assembled. They are currently setting up defensive fortifications and various facilities at their designated positions outside the city."
"Very good."
Arthas did not have all the troops from other Alliance members stationed within Lordaeron, because they would need to use fixed teleportation gates to enter Argus on the other side of the stars for combat. Apart from the elites who needed to board starships for the first wave of landing operations, other troops could be deployed via teleportation devices.
While the troops were being mobilized, basically all major towns or bases that could house troops had activated full-scale magical defense systems. Although Arthas had made preparations in advance, it was unlikely that the Burning Legion would invade Azeroth in reverse through the portal, but to be safe, they did not skip the deployment process of this system.
As long as the teleportation channel remained in their hands, and with the existence of the magical defense system, it was virtually impossible for demons to pose any threat to Azeroth itself.
And deploying the troops separately was the last line of defense, ensuring that each area had enough combat power to deal with the worst-case scenario that no one wanted to happen, and also preventing a large number of concentrated troops from being severely damaged all at once in case of a reverse invasion by the enemy.
Apart from each unit needing to dispatch a senior commander to Lordaeron to facilitate real-time monitoring and adjustment of the battlefield situation, at other times they would maintain a magical communication network sufficient to cover Azeroth to ensure communication.
After all aspects of the problem had been thoroughly considered, Arthas and his team were now dealing with the last issue, which was the timing of opening the portal to the Argus star system.
Xal'atath held a Soul Orb, a fragment cut from Archimonde's soul, used to ensure that the connection with the demon Archmage's main body was not severed.
As for Archimonde, he had already been thrown into the Maw by Arthas and placed under strict guard. The Torghast prison was sufficient to imprison this Eredar, not to mention that Arthas had already stripped him of all his power and will. Apart from a still-active body remaining to ensure that the Legion did not detect any abnormalities, Archimonde could now be said to be enjoying more luxurious treatment than the Primus.
Jaina and the Archmages of Dalaran were already preparing to activate the sargerite keystone ritual. To avoid the potential impact of opening such a large-scale teleportation gate, they deliberately stayed away from magic net centers like Dalaran and Quel'Thalas, choosing to tear open the space between the Burning Legion and Azeroth in Lordaeron.
"The Burning Legion's fleet is entering our designated airspace as planned, Your Majesty."
Xal'atath used the orb to project an illusion of Archimonde, ensuring smooth communication with the Burning Legion fleet's commander. In the eyes of the Burning Legion, Archimonde should have been near Kalesh observing Dimensius's situation.
Xal'atath understood the World-Devourer better than anyone. She effortlessly described the true state of a powerful yet trapped Void Lord, unable to move in the rift between reality and the Void, to the Burning Legion's demons. Even if the Burning Legion sent scouts to investigate, they would only come to the same conclusion.
The only truth she concealed was that due to the imbalance of cosmic energy, Dimensius had already partially revived his will. The Burning Legion did not know that they were stepping into a trap prepared for them.
"I have informed Dimensius of the Burning Legion's imminent arrival through the Void using disordered information flow. As long as his mind hasn't completely broken, he will realize the threat of the Burning Legion."
Xal'atath let out a somewhat pleased chuckle. As long as Dimensius suffered misfortune, her mood would be joyful. No matter how much Dimensius prepared countermeasures in advance, his current half-dead state would require an extremely painful price to devour most of the Burning Legion's main force.
And this was already enough to render Dimensius's preparations over tens of thousands of years futile. If everything proceeded according to plan, Dimensius would likely fall into an even more profound silence after this great battle.
Although death was almost impossible for an existence of Dimensius's level, the Burning Legion could at most expel him from the real plane, and it was unlikely to completely destroy him, but that was completely sufficient.
Although the Burning Legion was the enemy of all life in the real universe, they were merciless when dealing with Void creatures. Any race might succumb to the will of the Void, but the demons of the Burning Legion would not compromise. These war machines, already tamed by Sargeras, faced Void creatures in only one way: a desperate, life-or-death battle.
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This was a conflict of their core interests, and neither side could back down, because there could only be one force that could dominate the real universe. The demons would never allow any Void creature to lay claim to the real universe, which they already considered their own.
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"Lord Mannoroth, our warship is about to reach the designated airspace."
"Continue to penetrate. Lord Archimonde's signal is ahead. He must have already destroyed most of the Void's living forces. As for the remaining Void Lord... Heh heh, we can deal with him slowly."
A cruel smile appeared on Mannoroth's bloated and ugly face. He loved violence and destruction, and he enjoyed the process of destroying the enemy's will. In his opinion, even Archimonde had already delved deep into the enemy's rear. Now, they were merely embarking on another expedition destined for victory.
As the Burning Legion's forces fully entered the star system around Kare, Mannoroth glanced at the scattered star fragments around him. "Give the order: have all units land on suitable debris and send all these boring Void creatures back to their homes."
"Yes, Lord Mannoroth!"
Just as the herald began to relay the command, Mannoroth's peripheral vision suddenly caught a strange, purplish light flashing in the dark purple starry sky outside the warship.
"What?"
Before he could react to what it was, a black-purple beam of light directly pierced through another Legion warship. The warship, whose engine was penetrated by the beam, did not even explode. A Void black hole that gushed out from its energy core instantly swallowed the warship.
"Enemy attack!"
Mannoroth's roar echoed through the Burning Legion's warship battle group.