Burning firmament, boiling ocean!
Standing on the top floor of Night Hold in Suramar, Elisande felt as if she had returned ten thousand years ago, when she had watched their world collapse, only able to lead the residents of Suramar to hide behind a magical shield created by the eye of aman'thul.
The shield at that time isolated the sky-obscuring tidal waves and also helped most of Suramar's urban areas withstand the violent geological activity. The ancestors of the Nightborne, who were the Kaldorei at that time, spent countless days and nights in trepidation.
They didn't even dare to remove the barrier, because they didn't know if the world after the apocalypse would still have an environment that could meet their survival needs, nor were they sure if the world-destroying apocalyptic scene had ceased.
Elisande's magical skills had long since reached perfection over these ten thousand years. She even dared to say that, apart from the Guardian Dragons and Queen Azshara, there was probably no Archmage in this world more familiar with the mysteries of Arcane than her.
Yet, even such a spellcaster, who had mastered all kinds of spells and could even use the most dangerous temporal magic as easily as moving her arm, could only look pale in the face of the disaster before her, unable to think of any solution.
Should she open the Nightwell's shield again?
Her still-intact sanity told Elisande that the disaster they faced now was far more terrifying than ten thousand years ago. Although she couldn't accurately estimate how powerful the energy of the pouring crimson sea was, she was certain that the surging power of the destroyer far exceeded the might of the Well of Eternity's explosion.
Although there seemed to be no recourse, and all living beings, even Azeroth itself, would suffer complete annihilation, Elisande still managed to steady herself amidst the chaos.
She had lived for over ten thousand years, leading her people through countless crises. For this, she would stop at nothing, even going so far as to disregard her conscience and morality, just to give her people a chance to continue.
As the Grand Magistrix of the Nightborne, Elisande gazed at the scythe of the destroyer from Argus and issued her command: "Mobilize all the power of the Nightwell, and gather all Archmage who can still move in the fortress. Even if failure is certain, we cannot give up trying!"
Leaders of other civilizations and factions shared Elisande's thoughts.
On the summit of Mount Hyjal, the Night Elves gathered. To stop the imminent apocalypse, they defied the prohibition and once again utilized the energy of the Well of Eternity.
With the help of the Druids, the Archmage of the Highborne injected the endless magical energy from the well water into the branches of Nordrassil, using this World Tree as the scepter for the ritual, condensing Arcane and natural power.
The Priestess of the Moon Goddess also gathered by the well, beginning to chant ancient Kaldorei scriptures, praying to their goddess for blessings and grace.
The moon-white light barely pierced through the red curtain in the sky, shining through the gaps onto Nordrassil's canopy. This blessing from the Moon Goddess cascaded down from the treetop like tassels, merging with the brilliantly shining Arcane and natural power.
On Quel'Danas Isle, the High Elves made the same choice as their distant relatives. Kael'thas personally stood in the temple of the Sunwell, letting its golden radiance soar into the sky. This magical well, which had nurtured the Quel'dorei for thousands of years, was completely unrestricted by Kael'thas, allowing the surging magical essence within it to transform into a sky-reaching pillar.
However, when the Sunwell's energy collided with the scythe of the destroyer, the dazzling golden light crumbled like beautiful but fragile gold foil. Although the well water continuously supplied energy, it could not stop the blade of the scythe of the destroyer in the slightest.
Kael'thas' eyes were bloodshot. He had pushed his body and mind to their limits. In just a few minutes, several Archmage collapsed in the hall from exhaustion, and immediately after they fainted, new members took their place.
Initially, there were Archmage of comparable ability to replace them, but as time went on, even the number of Archmage capable of independently supporting a corner of the magic array became insufficient. However, there were still more low-ranking Archmage and even their apprentices working together to fill their teachers' positions.
Archmage Rommath stood not far from Kael'thas. He was almost grinding his teeth. The pressure the Sunwell was enduring at this moment was being shared by them. "No... Your Majesty, we... cannot hold on for much longer!"
"Even if we die of exhaustion, we cannot give up." Kael'thas' nose and mouth were already bleeding slightly, and his handsome face had become grim. "The future of Azeroth, the future of the Quel'dorei, must not be buried in our hands!"
In truth, Kael'thas didn't know how much effect their resistance would have, but the war reports from the Argus front made them realize that they were only one step away from defeating the Burning Legion.
To fall at such a time... Kael'thas cast this thought from his mind. Since they were the ones left on Azeroth to guard the rear, they must uphold their duty and never let the heroes on the front lines, after their victory, find no way home!
Just then, Kael'thas suddenly felt the invisible pressure on his shoulder lighten slightly. Although not obvious, the pressure of resisting the scythe of the destroyer was simply too immense; even a slight reduction was enough to give them time to breathe.
"Your Majesty, look!"
Rommath also shouted at the same time. His and Kael'thas' gazes turned to the distance, where a brilliant moon-white light rose into the sky like a silk ribbon, as if a goddess had extended her hands, attempting to hold back the falling scythe of the destroyer.
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The Titan power of the destroyer continuously tore at these moon-white silk ribbons, yet more light intertwined into new silk, weaving into a large net, obstructing the advance of the scythe of the destroyer.
Red and white filled their entire field of vision. A seemingly beautiful scene concealed deadly danger. Kael'thas regained his composure, guiding the Sunwell's energy with even greater focus. He knew his reinforcements had arrived.
Although he still didn't know if they could stop the scythe of the destroyer, at least, at least they saw hope.
Soon, another violet Arcane net also began to form in the sky. It didn't directly slow the fall of the scythe of the destroyer, but Kael'thas clearly noticed that when the violet light intertwined with the red power of the destroyer, the continuously pressing red glow actually showed a faint tendency to retreat.
At the same time, those moon-white silk ribbons, which had been worn away by the power of the destroyer, slowly recovered as if from nothing. Kael'thas immediately realized that this was the power of the eye of aman'thul. This artifact, created by the father of the gods, naturally contained the authority over space and time, inherited from the father of the gods.
This power greatly slowed the spread of the power of the destroyer Argus, seemingly earning a moment of respite for the beings of Azeroth.
After this brief stalemate, more powers successively joined this life-and-death battle. Ancient demigods, Guardian Dragons, Elemental Lords, and Titan Keepers—these extraordinary beings were also a part of Azeroth.
Demigods and their kin rushed through the wilderness, forming ancient rituals to resist the coming of the destroyer; the Dragonflights flew into the sky, ancient Dragon magic pouring forth, eroding the power of the destroyer; the four Elemental Lords entered the real plane, once again launching an attack against the Titan in the sky; and those ancient Titan engines also echoed one by one, only this time, they would not be fighting against elementals and the Old Gods' minions, but a Fallen Titan who wanted to completely subvert the order of the universe.
However, could the entire world of Azeroth, with all its people united, withstand the scythe of the destroyer from Argus?
The answer was cruel and realistic: no.
Even if the mortals and transcendent beings of Azeroth were united in their efforts at this moment, trying to forge courage and faith into a heaven-supporting pillar, their courage and faith were ultimately laughably fragile in front of true Titans, in front of these Star Gods materialized from entire planets.
Sargeras, observing Azeroth, slowly shook his head, "No matter how united ants are, they are still just a group of ants. When a true threat arrives, even if they huddle together for warmth, they can only end up utterly destroyed."
Indeed, as Sargeras said, the combined strength of Azeroth's living beings could only barely wear down a small amount of energy from Argus' destructive strike. Compared to a catastrophe capable of destroying all of Azeroth, it was utterly insignificant.
What Elune's blessings, Titan artifacts, or even divine boons—these things might be able to withstand a Titan's power for a moment, but they were ultimately just small fragments of power separated from higher beings. When facing Argus, the help they could provide was very limited.
The combined struggle of all beings merely delayed the countdown to Azeroth's destruction by a little.
With that, Sargeras raised his large hand, intending to have Argus speed up and quickly resolve this great trouble on his mind.
Just then, a chain entwined with the aura of death shot out of thin air, coiling around Sargeras' wrist like a snake, forcefully stopping his movement.
Sargeras turned his head, puzzled, "At this point, are you still determined to stop me?!"
A hint of anger finally appeared in the Dark Titan's tone. He didn't care about the struggles and destruction of mortal lives; mortals couldn't even earn his contempt. They would always receive only one answer: "What does your destruction have to do with you?"
But in Sargeras' eyes, Arthas was an existence similar to his own kind, possessing the qualification to stand as his equal, which was why he had repeatedly tolerated Arthas; yet now Arthas reminded him of his Titan kin.
In ancient times, his brothers and sisters had also obstructed him in this way—even though he had shown the gods of the Pantheon his discoveries and told them that the Titans' work was utterly meaningless, those stubborn fellows still insisted on stopping him.
Regarding this, Sargeras had nothing more to say, for he understood that from that moment on, he and the Pantheon were irreconcilable enemies, so he mercilessly delivered eternal death to his kin.
As it turned out, even he had underestimated the vitality of the Titans. That fel energy storm, which nearly disintegrated the Pantheon itself, only destroyed the Titans' bodies but failed to completely annihilate their souls. When Sargeras once again held the souls of his kin in his hands countless centuries later, he admitted that his feelings were complex.
The Chains of Commanding Power firmly bound Sargeras, restricting his movements. This reminded him of the life vines Eonar had once cultivated to seal him, and of himself, misunderstood by the gods.
An nameless rage smoldered in his heart, and the Dark Titan questioned Arthas, perplexed, "Why do you care about the lives and deaths of these mortals? You are not the same kind of existence as them. You can live longer than them, longer than this planet Azeroth, and witness the entire world turn to dust before you, even personally observe the heat death and rebirth of the universe! Think about it, Arthas, what will be left of these mortals you protect hundreds of thousands of years from now?!"
"You've gotten many things wrong, Sargeras, but this is where you're most ridiculously mistaken."
Arthas did not remain silent this time. He pulled on the chains that restricted Sargeras' movements, preventing Sargeras from further catalyzing Argus' scythe of the destroyer, "I am not like you; I am not some inherently great being, so I understand one principle very well: weakness is not a reason to die, and strength is not an excuse to act wantonly."
"Then be buried with your world!"
In Sargeras' fury, hellfire ignited, rapidly climbing along the Chains of Commanding Power. A bright line of fire attached itself to Arthas' palm along the Chain of Commanding Power.
Arthas remained unmoved, still firmly restraining Sargeras' body. The Dark Titan's flames, capable of igniting planets, seemed to him merely ostentatious light and shadow; besides illuminating his face, they didn't even singe a single hair on him.
Sargeras didn't understand why Arthas only stopped him at this moment. He had thought that Arthas' previous silence implied acquiescence to Azeroth's fate, and the sudden attack of the Chains of Commanding Power indeed gave Sargeras a headache.
These damned chains were not made of metal, but were a materialization of an ancient language. Faced with a language even older and more mysterious than the universe itself, even Sargeras, known as the Dark Titan of violence and destruction, found it difficult to break free in a short time.
Or rather, destroying Arthas, the caster himself, would be easier than destroying these chains.
Besides restricting Sargeras' physical body, the Chains of Commanding Power could also twist and dominate almost all creations in the universe. Fortunately, Sargeras understood that this power was not omnipotent; at the very least, it was impossible to corrupt the sanity of a full-powered Titan.
Sargeras possessed enough strength and wisdom to resist the domineering power of the Chains of Commanding Power, but even so, the physical strength of the chains still gave him a headache. As a manifestation of authority, the chains formed by Commanding Power were actually just a form of expression. To destroy the chains, there must be a corresponding deciphering language, or violence far exceeding the chain master's endurance.
Unfortunately, even Sargeras did not know the special language to release the chains. To escape Arthas' control, he could only rely on pure strength.
The Titan's body demonstrated its superiority at this point. As Sargeras' struggles intensified, Arthas gradually felt that in a pure test of strength, he was somewhat outmatched—however, he did not mind falling behind. On the contrary, he had never expected to be able to continuously restrict Sargeras' movements from the beginning.
Just as Sargeras thought, the Chain of Commanding Power was merely a manifestation of Commanding Power. The essence of this mysterious power was a language, and this rule-level language transmission did not require traditional mediums.
In other words, when the Chains of Commanding Power wrapped around Sargeras, Arthas had already found a way to transmit Commanding Power—although he couldn't dominate a lucid Titan like Sargeras, there was indeed a confused Argus countless light-years away from them, outside Azeroth.
While Sargeras' movements and senses were restricted by Commanding Power, Arthas had already subtly influenced Argus' actions. Although the distance was immense, only a fraction of the power he could transmit back remained, but it was enough to cause a slight deviation in the scythe of the destroyer that Argus embodied.
Thus, in the eyes of Azeroth's living beings, they saw the scythe of the destroyer, in an even more forceful and direct manner, crush all their efforts and hopes into dust.
Chaotic energies of various colors violently exploded in Azeroth's sky. The crashing and shattering of countless arcane secrets and magic dispersed clouds for tens of thousands of miles, yet these energy fluctuations showed no sign of stopping, continuing to tear through Azeroth's outer space.
Until the sky above them shattered like glass, and the cracking veil spread continuously before the world's people, seemingly extending all the way to the end of the world.
—Argus' scythe, in a true sense, tore open Azeroth's firmament.
"Haha…hahaha!"
Sargeras couldn't help but let out a sinister laugh upon seeing the collapsing veil above Azeroth. "You see it too, don't you? The space Azeroth occupies is already extremely unstable. In just a few more minutes, she will completely become history."
Arthas held down one end of the chains, continuing his struggle against Sargeras.
To Sargeras' surprise, Arthas seemed completely unconcerned by Azeroth's imminent collapse. He still held the Chains of Domination steadily, focused only on restricting Sargeras' movements.
Seeing Arthas so composed, Sargeras realized that things might not be going as smoothly as he had thought—but he was currently entangled with Arthas, unable to precisely influence Argus on the other side of time and space, nor could he break free from Arthas' restraints to personally travel to distant Azeroth.
"Time's almost up, Lord of the Legion."
While Sargeras was still trying to break free from the Chains of Domination, Arthas suddenly uttered a faint remark that pierced through the halls of the Pantheon and reached Sargeras' ears.
"What?!"
Just as Sargeras believed victory was assured, and Argus' scythe needed only one more step to reduce Azeroth to ashes, the reality veil, shattered by the immense energy impact, further collapsed and disintegrated.
But what appeared before everyone was not the familiar black spatial rift, but an orange-red sky that instantly spread out with the shattered firmament. Centered on the peak of Icecrown Citadel in Northrend, Azeroth's sky was like a broken mirror, cracking piece by piece, while dead metallic spires, like reflections of the Icecrown Throne, floated above the sky.
"What is that thing?!"
As the sky shattered, the sources of power that had been stalemating Argus' power of annihilation also reached their limit. The Sunwell of the High Elves, one such source, now saw its once abundant energy temporarily exhausted.
But Kael'thas was no longer concerned with the Sunwell's condition, nor did he have time to care for the exhausted mages who had fainted around him. He suppressed the nausea brought on by his physical exhaustion, one hand pressed to his chest, the other leaning on the Sun King's golden scepter, supporting his weakened body.
Even as the strength to lift his head nearly vanished, Kael'thas still strained to look up at the sky, watching the reality space cracking inch by inch, and the orange-red sky, like an illusion.
Argus' power of annihilation should have descended the moment the firmament shattered, destroying their world, but now this destroyed reality veil had instead become their protective shield. Argus' power could no longer penetrate into the interior of the planet Azeroth; instead, like falling into an abyss, it rapidly plunged towards the world on the other side of the sky.
The now irrational Argus could not comprehend the effects of the veil's change. He continued to numbly release his power, burning his life essence along with it, hoping to burn through whatever was obstructing his power with this simple and brutal method.
But no matter how much energy Argus poured into the gloomy veil, no matter how he swung his scythe, the radiating power of annihilation was like striking the void, causing no reaction whatsoever.
"Are you insane, Arthas?!"
Sargeras immediately understood what had happened: the high-energy impact generated by the collision of Argus' power with Azeroth's defenders' shields had torn the veil of the real universe, and Arthas had seized this opportunity to directly envelop Azeroth with The Maw, while isolating Argus outside.
Now Azeroth was gradually surrounded by The Maw, but Argus, who should have been falling towards Azeroth, began to rapidly plummet into The Maw because of The Maw separating him and Azeroth.
The Maw was exposed over a large area in the real universe, leading to a violent collision with the laws of the real universe. The real universe would naturally instinctively reject the existence of The Maw and attempt to repair the rift in The Maw surrounding Azeroth.
Thus, Argus, trapped in the gap between the surface of The Maw and the real universe, due to his continuous downward plummeting trend, was also treated as part of The Maw by the real universe, which began to push him into The Maw.
Sargeras' eyes blazed with fury—this had hit Argus'
"Achilles' heel." This Titan, driven mad by Aman'thul's power, could not maintain his sanity, nor could he use his innate Titan nature to strengthen his connection with the real universe to escape The Maw's pull. Argus, now a manifestation of chaos, instinctively resisted the real universe's "push," and the more he resisted the universe's pressure, the more the universe repelled him.
On the other side of The Maw, Arthas had clearly made preparations beforehand. Even though Argus was not meant to fall into The Maw, The Maw was now like it was devouring souls trying to escape it, frantically dragging Argus' body.
In his continuous struggles, Argus slowly sank deeper and deeper into The Maw. He was like a person who had fallen headfirst into water, his body slowly disappearing into the dead, empty borders of The Maw.
Sargeras was powerless to stop Argus' disappearance. He could only watch as his most trusted weapon vanished into the darkness of The Maw.
Only when he could no longer sense Argus' presence did Sargeras look at Arthas in disbelief, "How dare you throw Argus into The Maw?! Are you not afraid that the entire Shadowlands will collapse under the Titan's power?!"
A faint smile finally appeared on Arthas' face, "There is indeed such a risk… but it's only a risk!"
Unable to accept this fact, Sargeras, in a fit of rage, swung his flaming greatsword, striking the Chains of Domination again and again. Each of his heavy blows severed a section of the chain, but the severed chain only shortened slightly, and before Sargeras could break free, the broken ends reconnected.
He chose the simplest method to erase the Chains of Domination: if he couldn't break free directly, he would use his own power to gradually erase the chains, even if it took a lot of time.
Arthas was slowly pulled closer by the shortening chains. When Sargeras' greatsword was close enough to reach Arthas, the Dark Titan, without hesitation, raised his single hand high and brought the sword's edge down.
"Bang!"
The Light surged from below, easily deflecting Sargeras' heavy blow amidst the radiant wash. The fires of destruction were separated by the Light, surging outwards in all directions. Arthas stood beneath the light curtain, also holding the Light of Dawn with one hand, firmly wedging Sargeras' sword edge with the hammerhead.
"After I destroy you, I will personally pierce the heart of Azeroth," Sargeras growled, lowering his body, his expression savage.
Arthas paused slightly, not intimidated by Sargeras' words, but because in that split second, he suddenly noticed an interesting detail—and this might help him completely defeat Sargeras.