"Look, Arthas, the power of Argus has already infiltrated Azeroth. Now that you are far away in the Seat of the Pantheon, how can you stop it?"
Sargeras' words still carried authority and arrogance. The Dark Titan no longer tried to attack Arthas. In his view, the outcome between them could no longer sway Azeroth's destruction.
He even had the leisure to conjure a fiery mist with his power, displaying Azeroth's doomsday scenario in real-time for Arthas amidst the rising flames and fel energy.
Crimson Titan power spread from the boundless deep space; that was Argus, already on the verge of collapse, fused with most of Aman'thul's power.
This Titan, who should have had deep blue metallic skin, had been torn apart by the surging power, his body turning red from the strain. Coupled with years of suffering and torment, Argus' originally noble soul had long been twisted. Now he was merely a destroyer blindly obeying Sargeras' commands, ready to bring divine wrath upon the world before him.
With Aman'thul's essence, Argus was able to dimensional travel the space twisted by the sargerite keystone, crossing countless light-years and projecting himself before Azeroth, completely unbeknownst to the allied forces.
The beings on Azeroth still didn't know that, after ten millennia, a true Titan had once again descended upon their world.
Argus was the source of those red lights. After instantly traversing an extremely long distance, the energy within him experienced a slight deficit, which instinctively made him want to plunder all surrounding energy to satisfy himself.
Coincidentally, Azeroth had a large amount of energy for him to consume, so Argus unhesitatingly enveloped Azeroth with his power. Whether it was magic floating in the air or the life force within living beings, he greedily devoured it all without refusal. If he were allowed to rampage like this any longer, Azeroth would likely face a complete biological extinction.
"Do you know how big a Titan's appetite is?"
Sargeras watched Argus devour Azeroth's energy. "We are born star souls, embodiments of mystery. If he were to open his belly, the entire Azeroth would become a part of him..."
However, Sargeras had no intention of letting Argus eat his fill for now.
He controlled Argus' will and forcibly made him stop absorbing energy. This fellow's consciousness was almost broken, operating purely on instinct. If Sargeras didn't restrain Argus, he would likely drain every bit of accessible energy on Azeroth.
This might destroy most of Azeroth's life, but it wouldn't completely kill Azeroth's essence. To prevent Argus from self-destructing under too much complex energy, leading to an inability to completely destroy Azeroth, Sargeras decided to employ a safer method.
He directly issued a command to Argus, telling the death Titan to retract the energy he had released. In a river of red, flowing like a tangible substance, Argus completely melted his body into the sea of energy, becoming a chaotic core manipulated by Sargeras.
Arthas silently watched Sargeras perform these operations. A certain understanding seemed to have developed between the two of them; at least, Arthas did not try to stop any of Sargeras' actions. He was like an observer, coldly watching Sargeras' every move.
Aman'thul's soul became Sargeras' messenger for issuing commands. He directed Argus to wield the butcher's knife against Azeroth through the father of the gods' soul essence.
At this moment on Azeroth, although the red light drawing life essence was gradually dissipating, a greater crisis was actually quietly descending. Argus in outer space had already condensed his mad, chaotic star soul power into a scythe, a weapon he instinctively manifested, a scepter representing his authority.
The blood-red scythe blade was pierced by thorns, and the burning blood-red energy on the blade resembled a strange nebula, with the trajectories of white stars flickering within it—Argus' last noble symbol as a star soul. Alas, he no longer possessed any of the inherent noble nature of a star soul. Even his reason had been squeezed into pure energy by Sargeras and the Burning Legion. Argus was now merely a self-less killing machine.
The only thing he could vent was the pain and anger that the Burning Legion and Sargeras had inflicted upon him for years. Tragically, he couldn't even choose the target of his revenge.
Injecting almost all the energy within him into this Scythe of the Unmaker, Argus murmured his title, bestowed by Sargeras, amidst a roar, "The Unmaker... will destroy all of his master's enemies!"
The crimson scythe ruthlessly plunged down. Sargeras, seeing this scene, even showed a clear smile on his face. In his opinion, once this strike landed, Azeroth would be torn in half, completely shattered into cosmic dust.
It was then that Sargeras suddenly remembered something. He turned his head and glanced at Arthas, only to find him completely still.
For some reason, an inexplicable unease rose within him. Sargeras didn't know why he had this illusion; in his opinion, all of Arthas' methods should be unable to prevent Azeroth's imminent destruction.
This life-or-death strike, containing the essence of two Titans, had already completely enveloped the entire planet in the instant before it even touched Azeroth. When the tip of the red scythe blade pierced the atmosphere, it almost set the sky ablaze.
The beings of Azeroth, in confusion and panic, could only watch helplessly as that unknown red peak fell from the sky, dyeing the planet's atmosphere blood-red.
Argus' strike was quite precise. Following Sargeras' command, he aimed for the Titan chamber buried beneath the sands of Silithus, which was the location of Azeroth's core, known as the Chamber of Heart.
Many powerful beings who sensed the anomaly now looked up at the sky in horror. Some were demigods, some were masters of magic, some were dragons over ten thousand years old, but at this moment, they all shared one common feeling—despair.
It was a power that Azeroth could absolutely not resist, a final strike beyond mortal imagination.
Besides terror, they only mourned their own weakness. Argus didn't even harbor any specific animosity towards these insignificant lives. He simply swung his scythe at Azeroth, locking the planet's tides and igniting the boundless atmosphere. And next, the entire Azeroth would turn to dust.
Doomsday had arrived.