At the majestic entrance to the "Lava Layer," crafted from Obsidian, space rippled like water.
A portal made of five-colored flowing light quietly opened, and Ekseltus's dazzling figure was the first to step out, followed closely by Nefarian.
The future Lord of Blackwing, his appearance now was completely different from before.
He still maintained his elegant and dangerous Black Dragon form, but his demeanor had undergone an earth-shattering change.
His signature red vertical pupils, still sharp, were surprisingly clear.
The madness and desire for destruction inherent in Deathwing's bloodline deep within his eyes, as well as the whispers like maggots clinging to bone… had vanished.
In their place was an unprecedented, slightly bewildered clarity, and a strange sense of freedom, as if he had broken free from invisible shackles.
"How do you feel?" Ekseltus asked, his voice clear, with a unique echo.
Nefarian flicked his tail, lowered his head to examine himself, then turned his gaze to the slowly closing portal.
He was silent for a moment, his voice low and complex: "It's hard to say. If I had to describe it, it's an extremely painful sense of clarity."
"Pain and clarity are not contradictory," a deep and authoritative voice came from the lava pool, like muffled thunder echoing in the Lava Hall. "The process of stripping away rotten flesh is always accompanied by intense pain."
Nefarian's gaze instantly shifted from Ekseltus to the source of the voice—the churning depths of the lava.
He caught the distinct qualities of this voice compared to Ekseltus: deeper, heavier, containing undeniable authority.
"You two…" Nefarian's voice held a strong desire to inquire, temporarily overriding his discomfort at being scrutinized. His gaze swept back and forth between the dazzling multicolored dragon and the lava pool, as if observing two rare and intriguing phenomena.
"What is your relationship?" He carefully chose his words, eventually looking at Ekseltus, who seemed less "natural."
"Are you… His creation?" His mind even quickly flashed through several possible directions for forbidden experiments.
"I am Ekseltus, your mentor," the multicolored dragon's voice carried a hint of gentle admonition.
"And I," the authoritative voice in the lava pool spoke again, "am Obsidian."
Nefarian's red pupils constricted slightly, scrutinizing the strange pair before him.
He certainly couldn't tell that the two were the same dragon, but this only made him more fascinated. However, compared to Obsidian, his curiosity about the multicolored dragon was even greater.
"Can I study you?" Nefarian instinctively, with a scholar's fervor, looked at Ekseltus. "Your form… is too unique. Perhaps I can find something from it…"
"No," Obsidian's voice cut him off decisively.
"Focus on what you need to do, Nefarian," Ekseltus interjected, his tone carrying a mentor's reminder. "Studying me is not the purpose of your trip."
"Let's get back to business, about your father," Obsidian's voice pulled the conversation back.
Upon hearing the word "father," Nefarian's expression abruptly changed. The corners of his mouth turned down slightly, his pupils subtly constricted, and his black dragon wings involuntarily tensed a little.
"...No matter what he has become, in my eyes, he will always be the Guardian Dragon of the Black Dragonflight."
Nefarian's voice lowered, his tone gaining a few points of steadiness and dullness, "I once thought he was always right, but now it seems that was merely an instruction NZoth implanted in my mind."
"I don't deny that he made many mistakes, but the moment he went mad... was not betrayal, but collapse."
As he said this, a complex and suppressed emotion showed in his eyes—not just regret, nor just pain, but a mixture of awe, mourning, and stubborn unwillingness.
Obsidian did not interrupt him, only watched him quietly.
Ekseltus then slowly said, "That's why you must go in person. You need to see the process of his fall to find a way to save him."
Nefarian did not answer immediately.
He was silent for a long time, his gaze wandering through the divine palace where fire and shadow intertwined, as if weighing something, or questioning himself.
Finally, he raised his head, his tone tinged with hesitation and probing, and asked,
"Can't you just bring him here, like you did with me? Burn him with that white flame? Perhaps…"
"No," Obsidian's voice was firm and decisive, cutting off Nefarian's words.
There was no room for negotiation in his tone. "The corruption on you is like fresh dirt, only adhering to the surface."
"Neltharion is different. NZoth's madness has long been completely integrated with his power as a Guardian Dragon, his profound despair, and his obsession, becoming the foundation of his power and existence. Forcibly burning that 'rotten flesh' would likely incinerate his very essence along with it."
The glimmer of hope in Nefarian's eyes instantly dimmed, but then he keenly caught the contradiction in the Dragon God's words.
"Since you claim he is deeply entangled with corruption and beyond saving," his voice returned to calm analysis, "then why did you previously mention finding a way to save him?"
Obsidian nodded slightly, a hint of approval flashing in his red pupils.
"Very observant," he said. "I do have a way to save your father, but it requires your investigative findings."
This was, of course, just an excuse; Obsidian didn't need this information at all. He just wanted Neltharion's research results on the Dracthyr, and then he would try to improve them himself.
Nefarian's heart trembled, and his red pupils lit up again.
"How do we begin?" he asked, his tone urgent yet restrained. "Can you tell me this method?"
"No," Obsidian refused very straightforwardly. "This matter is very complex, and you cannot know it now."
Obsidian's target was a very specific time point.
At that crucial moment, Neltharion would leave Azeroth, temporarily out of NZoth's control.
This was undoubtedly the best time to act.
However, there was still a long time until that moment, so there was no need to tell Nefarian now.
Obsidian looked back at the bowed Nefarian and said, "Your target is the Forbidden Reach. Neltharion's laboratory before his fall is there. Get the core files and research records from the laboratory."
"That's impossible," Nefarian retorted almost instinctively.
The Forbidden Reach is part of the Dragon Isles.
"The Dragon Isles were sealed off on the eve of the War of the Ancients," he explained, assuming Obsidian knew nothing about it. "Using Titan technology, even the Red Dragon Queen cannot find its location now."
Ekseltus, who had been silent for a long time, now slowly curved his lips into a meaningful smile:
"Nefarian, little Black Dragon, have you ever considered why Titan technology can seal a dragon's perception of their own homeland's location?"
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