"Lord Medivh, do you have a plan to defeat the Burning Legion?" Rhodes asked, turning to the Prophet.
"I returned to Azeroth specifically to deal with them," Medivh replied. "We must stand together. Mount Hyjal will be the site of our final stand. You are the world's last hope."
"Please, Mr. Medivh, tell us exactly how you're going to help," Rhodes pressed. "We're prepared to fight. We'll set up defenses on the mountain, and if necessary, sacrifice the Night Elves' World Tree to destroy Archimonde with the ancient wisps. But what can you provide?"
"I have gathered you here. I have united you," Medivh stated simply.
"..." Malfurion stared. "..." Tyrande blinked.
"So, Guardian, you don't intend to provide any substantial help? Like, using your legendary magic?" Rhodes challenged. As the Guardian, Medivh wielded the most terrifying arcane power in Azeroth. He should be raining fireballs or setting up massive magical traps, not just acting as a talent scout.
"Jaina is right, Lord Guardian," Rhodes continued, after Jaina mentioned his vast mana reserves. "If you truly wish to save Azeroth, you should fight with us, not just assemble us and watch." You can't just lie there like a corpse and avoid work, Rhodes thought.
"I... I am powerless," Medivh sighed. "I am a figure of the past. This war belongs to the future—to you."
"A figure of the past? Please," Rhodes pointed at Malfurion and Tyrande. "If we're talking about age, you're a toddler compared to these two. They're over ten thousand years old."
Even Thrall, who had been listening intently, was curious. Unlike other Orcs, Thrall had been raised by humans and was exceptionally sharp. He had assumed the Prophet lacked combat ability, but hearing the others talk, it seemed this man was a powerhouse. "Great Prophet, we followed your guidance to Kalimdor. We wish to fight by your side," Thrall said diplomatically.
"I truly wish to join," Medivh finally admitted the truth. "But I can only maintain a semblance of being alive. I am dead. Though I possess immense mana, I cannot cast any offensive spells. Not even a spark."
He explained that after his resurrection by his mother, Aegwynn, he found himself unable to connect to Azeroth's Ley Lines (the Ley Map). His vast mana could only sustain his temporary existence in this world. He was a battery with no outlet.
"I see. I misunderstood you, Prophet," Malfurion said. "In that case, leave the war to us. In the name of Cenarius, we shall prevail."
"In Elune's name." "For the Light." "For the Horde."
As the others shouted their slogans, Rhodes rubbed his chin. "Guardian, you said you have the mana but can't connect to the Ley Lines, right?"
"Yes, child. I have tried, but I am truly helpless."
Rhodes reached into his bag and pulled out a spell scroll. "Lord Medivh, look at this. Can you use the magic recorded on this scroll?" It was a scroll for Lightning Bolt.
The magic from Heroes of Might and Magic didn't require a connection to Azeroth's Ley Lines. It was self-contained; it only consumed the caster's personal mana.
"This is a scroll given to Rhodes by a Titan Watcher," Jaina added. "It contains Titan magic. You don't need the Ley Lines; you just need to provide the power."
Medivh looked at Rhodes meaningfully. He had shadowed Rhodes before, trying to figure out which "Titan Watcher" was backing him. He knew of Odinn and Tyr, but the spells Rhodes used—and the magic-immune golems—were unlike anything he had ever seen.
Medivh took the scroll. Suddenly, the knowledge of Lightning Bolt flooded his mind. He realized this spell scaled directly with the caster's power. He channeled a fraction of his Guardian-level mana into the scroll.
BOOM!
The sky instantly darkened with thunderclouds. A massive pillar of lightning, thick as a house, slammed down from the heavens, completely vaporizing a distant mountain peak.
Rhodes jumped back, startled. Are you kidding me? The power of Medivh's Lightning Bolt was at least ten times stronger than his own.