As soon as these words were uttered, Alexstrasza, who was already in a state of shock and uncertainty, was once again stunned into speechlessness. Her full, red lips moved, wanting to say something, to question, to refute, but in the end, it all turned into a sigh.
"Nozdormu, tell me, this isn't true."
The bronze dragon Aspect gave a bitter smile. He wasn't angry; having witnessed too many things, he was no longer a dragon who could be easily provoked.
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It's no exaggeration to say that even if his consort, Soritha, were to perform a Crazy Horse show for Arthas, he wouldn't be surprised or angry. Nothing is impossible in this world, and there are infinite possibilities. Perhaps this was just a branch of fate; what was there to be surprised about?
Terrifying!
A self-disciplined dragon is terrifying, but a self-cuckolding dragon is even more terrifying.
"It's true. Neltharion's fall and his desire to destroy the world are also true. It's just that I cannot intervene to stop him; this is the predetermined timeline."
Nozdormu was, to some extent, a despicable and disgusting fellow. He knew what would happen, and even that it would cause unimaginable harm and loss to the dragons, yet he never spoke out.
To speak out would be to change the timeline, which was not allowed; it was his duty and mission.
Ysera heard the unspoken meaning in his words, and her glowing eyes filled with suspicion.
"You said you couldn't speak, so why are you speaking now? Aren't you sticking to your old, broken rules? Aren't you afraid of losing your responsibility by doing this?"
Her words were tinged with a sneer; she largely disapproved of his mystical behavior.
While she understood, it was his duty, after all, she didn't necessarily agree, nor was it very likely.
Looking at Malygos and Alexstrasza's eyes, they too held suspicion, agreement, and a hint of confusion.
Nozdormu didn't blame them. Each of the Aspect dragons (Blessed) had their own responsibilities and couldn't interfere.
Just as he wouldn't meddle with the Emerald Dream maintained by the Green dragons, nor with the magical network woven by the blue dragons, they also wouldn't interfere with the bronze dragons' work.
"Because the timeline has already been locked. Even I cannot travel through it, let alone modify it."
"Everything has changed. I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing for Azeroth, but the Titan Keepers haven't emerged, so perhaps all of this is correct."
"I am very sad. This means the bronze dragons have lost their purpose, and what they will do in the future will become uncertain."
"On the other hand, I am also very relieved that I can tell you everything I know, rather than watching things happen, unable to change or stop them, and simply witnessing tragedies unfold."
After saying all this, he let out a heavy sigh, feeling as if a great burden had been lifted.
A heavy burden weighed on his shoulders, at times making him breathless. Browsing various timelines also made him more numb, and less able to see the future clearly. Was maintaining the timeline necessarily the correct path?
That was the timeline envisioned by the Pantheon. What if this was not the path the azeroth world-soul itself was meant to take?
It was like a highly artistic person, excellent at painting and poetry, being forced to become a street sweeper. Was that truly the correct path?
He didn't know, nor did he understand; he merely mechanically maintained the predetermined timeline.
Therefore, when it all ended, he felt incredibly relieved. It was much like an undercover agent in a gang who becomes sworn brothers with the gang members, and then faces the dilemma of executing his mission versus his brotherhood.
No matter which choice he made, it would be a betrayal of the other side. Entanglement, self-reproach, shame, regret, numbness, that was probably it, becoming a walking corpse burdened by worries.
Now that it was all over, the heavy burden of maintaining the timeline was gone, which was no less than a liberation, a rebirth.
While the freedom after rebirth might bring some confusion, the ability to choose his own path in the future was not a bad thing.
While they were still silently contemplating, Deathwing was already close to being beaten to death.
As Deathwing endured the beating, he also heard words that were hard for him to believe, and his gaze towards Nozdormu was very unfriendly.
He wanted to say something, but not a single word could escape his lips.
Someone even asked him if he submitted?
If you don't submit, I'll hit you! If you still don't submit, I'll hit you again! If you still don't submit, I'll hit you until you do!
Why are you asking me, you idiot? I can't speak, I can't open my mouth, how do you expect me to say 'I submit'?
If you're so capable, stop hitting me! Constantly dizzy, constantly paralyzed, it was impossible to even admit defeat.
It wasn't that Deathwing lacked spine, but rather, hearing that he could be saved, coupled with the opponent's undeniable strength that had thoroughly subdued him, he genuinely wanted to surrender.
Seeing that he was about to be beaten to death, he didn't even use the power of the Old Gods. Perhaps his mind had already gone numb, and he didn't know what to do.
Fortunately, Arthas retracted his fists and didn't continue hitting. The madman's three thousand attribute energy points, combined with high attack power and critical hits with every strike, would have been enough to send him straight to hell, to report to the Shadowlands.
Regaining his senses, Deathwing looked at Nozdormu and questioned him in a very unfriendly tone.
"Nozdormu, tell me, my brother, can I still be saved?"
He had already accepted the fact of his impending fall, most likely adopting a 'nothing to lose' attitude, because the pressure was immense, and he had no choice but to fall. Perhaps that way, he could avoid the heavy burden and feel some relief.
He lacked the courage to commit suicide, and also had no such intention. While he hadn't completely lost his mind, he quickly sought a solution.
Nozdormu didn't want to deceive his brother. He had never seen a timeline where Deathwing was saved. From beginning to end, it was always a fall, an endless fall, an incurable madness.
He glanced at Arthas, who was wiping his fists with a rag nearby. Perhaps this mysterious person could save his brother?
From his appearance, he closely resembled the future Vrykul of flesh, a devolved form of Vrykul. Although short-lived and weak, they possessed infinite potential, even giving rise to powerhouses capable of dominating dragons.
Therefore, Nozdormu remained silent for a moment, then nodded with certainty, pointing at Arthas and saying,
"This Lord Ximen Chuixue can help you, and he is the only solution."
Speaking these words against his conscience filled him with immense shame and condemnation. This was a betrayal of his promise not to alter the timeline, a violation of the Titans' trust in him.
Hearing this, Deathwing also breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he wouldn't have to fall, wouldn't have to endure the pain of betrayal. This was good.
Alexstrasza also sighed in relief. She didn't want to be harsh on her brother either. If he endangered the entire Aspect dragons (Blessed) collective, even the closest brother would have to be killed.
Now, this was probably the best outcome.