The Scout's body trembled imperceptibly for a moment, then immediately returned to normal, only now, the look in his eyes towards Arthas was no longer admiration and worship, but deep fear.
A faint green fel energy began to burn in his eye sockets, his complexion gradually turned pale, and sharp canines grew in his mouth.
Arthas frowned, watching the changes in the other party, "Tichondrius? If you've come here to die, then you've certainly come to the right place."
Even before the other party had fully dropped his disguise, Arthas had already confirmed the identity of this Dreadlords. Although he had long suspected that the Scout in front of him was an impersonation by the Nathrezim, he wasn't sure of the impersonator's specific identity.
This discovery surprised him slightly, because, logically, Tichondrius wouldn't take such a great risk to infiltrate the Azeroth to see him.
Tichondrius only slightly altered his appearance to indicate his identity, and did not fully revert to his demonic form. He now looked more like a Venthyr suffering from fel energy poisoning.
The Dreadlords's face openly displayed deep apprehension. He knew that Arthas, standing before him, was already vastly different from the fallen king of predetermined fate, and several of his kin had already been eliminated by Arthas while stirring up trouble on Azeroth.
However, he had no intention of avenging his kin. In his view, that was merely the deserved outcome for them, as they had completely failed to grasp the situation.
After Tichondrius revealed his identity and faced Arthas's questioning, he chuckled dryly, "You also know that we serve the Legion only for a grander purpose. Everything is merely a trick to temporarily deceive Sargeras."
The Shadowlands is a reflection of the real universe, a corner of the universe's original structure; the concept of time in the real universe does not apply there. However, the Twisting Nether is a very special place where the flow of time is inherently chaotic, and the unique nature of the Nathrezim race allowed them to realize the dramatic changes occurring in the Shadowlands long ago.
Although at this time, to the mortals of the real universe, the soul of Argus had not yet been cast into the Shadowlands, for special existences, everything had already become a fated fact.
Whether they intervened or not, certain things were bound to happen. So, after realizing that the outcome could not be changed, these existences could only choose to find a more comfortable "position" for themselves during the evolution process.
The Nathrezim are such a group of special, yet not special enough, existences.
They were created by the Master of the Legion and are not native creatures of the real universe, so they could perceive that the threads of fate had been drawn out and altered by an existence. However, they lacked the power to reverse this change. Therefore, after much consideration, the Nathrezim race could only take a risky and unconventional approach, coming to Arthas to try their luck.
However, Tichondrius had not even had a chance to negotiate, and in his heart, he already knew the outcome.
"Tricks? Haha... So, the countless sufferings Azeroth endured related to you, and the countless lives sacrificed because of you, can all be simply dismissed?"
Arthas sneered and raised his hand. The Holy Light, almost solidified into a physical blade in his hand, made Tichondrius's hair stand on end—even though he didn't have hair as an organ, it didn't mean he couldn't feel a similar sense of danger.
To prevent the light blade in Arthas's hand from piercing his body, Tichondrius could only brace himself and say, "Of course not. We will not ask for your forgiveness; we only want you to give us a chance."
Before he finished speaking, a stinging pain came from Tichondrius's neck. He instinctively touched the skin where the pain originated with his finger. On his neck, a small Holy Light sword mark was etched on his pale skin. As his finger brushed over the wound, he could still feel waves of stinging pain from the Holy Light.
Tichondrius's scalp tightened. He had no idea when Arthas had launched the attack. This small wound seemed to be a reminder, warning him that Arthas could take off his head at any moment.
This guy is no longer human at all!
Tichondrius was filled with mixed emotions, but at this moment, he could only thank Arthas for sparing his life, "...Thank you for your magnanimity."
In fact, Arthas hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to completely eliminate Tichondrius and the other Nathrezim, but after a moment, he made a decision—these large bats were not good at other things, but their ability to deceive, play tricks, and escape was first-rate. If they were determined to hide, it would be a troublesome matter.
Now that Tichondrius had voluntarily exposed himself to him, it was a signal that the Nathrezim were willing to change their stance; at least they no longer wished to serve the Burning Legion.
"First, tell me what you want to do? And what about the soldier you impersonated?"
Arthas confirmed that Tichondrius had stolen the identity of an Alliance soldier to deliver a message here, and Tichondrius honestly replied, "A little hypnotic magic. Before he even set off, I made him fall asleep in the camp. After some time, his comrades will notice his presence in the tent."
"And we don't have any special purpose; we just don't want to be buried with the Burning Legion."
Tichondrius showed a hint of melancholy at this point, but Arthas did not believe his statement, "Buried with the Legion? How are you so sure the Burning Legion is doomed? You know, the battle is still undecided, and the outcome cannot yet be confirmed. Yet you are so eager to withdraw yourself and your subordinates from the Legion... Tell me, if your reason is too ridiculous, then I can only assume you wish to join your Master of the Legion sooner."
The Dreadlords dared not delay and quickly stated his reason, "Because of Sargeras."
Sargeras? The Master of the Legion has instead become the reason the Nathrezim believe the Legion will be destroyed?
"Continue."
Arthas suppressed the questions in his heart, wanting to see what other bombshells Tichondrius could reveal.
"You may not know... or rather, most demons don't even know what Sargeras truly wants to do. The Burning Legion is merely a tool the Dark Titan is accustomed to using, and when he finds a more convenient tool, he naturally won't need the Legion anymore."
Tichondrius shook his head, sighing, "The Master of the Legion sent us to infiltrate the Legion for so long, and we only just realized this. When the first Titan submitted to Sargeras's will, we knew that the Burning Legion would eventually meet its demise."
The "legacy" left by the Pantheon was almost completely under Sargeras's control, and once the gods obeyed Sargeras's commands, Sargeras would undoubtedly ruthlessly eliminate the demons—a group that had lost its value yet still posed a threat to the world itself.
Even the demons themselves didn't realize that they were also part of "civilization."
To cross the river and demolish the bridge, to kill the donkey after it has ground the mill.
This was Tichondrius's prediction for the Burning Legion's fate. As Nathrezim, their race's allegiance was never truly with the Burning Legion, so they understood Sargeras's intentions more clearly than most demon races.
Sargeras never cared for the demons, these monsters born of the Twisting Nether, from the very beginning. Before his fall, his duty was to prevent demons from entering the real universe and destroying the existing order.
But when he saw the truth of the world and turned against the Pantheon, these demons became his allies instead.
Wielding Sargeras's banner, the demons rampaged, plundered, and committed all manner of atrocities throughout the universe, thoroughly indulging their inherent violent nature. These races, born from the Twisting Nether, embodied the chaotic aspect of the universe; destruction and ruin were the foundations of their existence.
Sargeras, in turn, commanded such an army of destruction to carry out some of his 'dirty work' and 'heavy lifting'—Sargeras alone could accomplish what the Burning Legion did; he merely assigned these boring and repetitive tasks to demons who delighted in destruction.
Ever since the destruction of the Pantheon, Sargeras had been researching how to fundamentally overturn the universe's inherent flaws. He believed the Titans' methods were too inefficient; before they could spread order to every corner of the universe, this universe, surrounded by wolves, would collapse and be destroyed.
Creatures whose minds were filled with fel energy, like the demons, could not truly dictate the fate of the universe.
Sargeras, who initially used the demons' power to aid his cleansing, understood this well. Therefore, he would undoubtedly find ways to reactivate the Pantheon's might, allowing his brethren to truly control everything in this universe.
"And since you've come to me, does that mean Sargeras has accomplished all of this?"
Arthas's voice lowered slightly. If Sargeras had indeed fully corrupted all members of the Pantheon, then the pressure they would face would increase exponentially, which would undoubtedly be terrible news for them.
And this certainly aligned with Sargeras's prolonged inaction, as the Dark Titan had abandoned the idea of achieving victory through conventional means, opting instead to directly manipulate the entire Pantheon to achieve his goals.
For him, then, the defeat or survival of the Burning Legion truly no longer mattered. In fact, if the Azeroth Allied Forces could help him destroy most of the Legion's power, it would even relieve him of some cleanup burdens.
Tichondrius quickly shook his head, "It hasn't reached such an extreme situation yet. To my knowledge, Sargeras has only thoroughly corrupted one Titan, which is the World-Soul of Argus."
"If that's all, why are you so tense?"
Arthas rose from his chair and walked to a porthole on one side of the cabin, his gaze surveying Argus, while subtly inclining his head towards Tichondrius.
"You should be well aware that the Azeroth Allied Forces are indeed capable of confronting the Burning Legion's power, but no matter how hard they try, they cannot bridge the chasm between themselves and true deities," Tichondrius bowed, his voice even revealing a fervent zeal, a fanaticism for power and strength.
"Only you, you are the ultimate answer to all these problems, and we will spare no effort to provide you with all possible assistance."
"And the price?"
Arthas remained utterly calm, unmoved by Tichondrius's inflammatory words. He knew that these ruthless schemers, like their creator, would not curry favor with him without reason; they definitely had their own demands.
Arthas had a suspicion that the Dreadlords' defection was likely linked to their master behind them.
However, Tichondrius's statement surprised him, "There is no price whatsoever, Your Majesty. The Nathrezim obey your command."
No price whatsoever?
These words made Arthas immediately turn his head, his gaze sweeping over Tichondrius. He found hearing such a statement from a Dreadlord's mouth truly somewhat laughable.
After a moment, Arthas chuckled, "Then my demand is also simple: from now on, I do not wish to see any Dreadlord appear before me again."
A long silence fell in the ship's cabin, and it wasn't until Arthas was almost impatient that Tichondrius reluctantly replied, "As you wish."
With that, Tichondrius's form dissipated in a flash of fel energy. Arthas looked at the scorch marks Tichondrius left behind as he departed, his expression gradually becoming solemn, his handsome brows furrowed in thought and calculation.
The forces behind the Dreadlords were simply too complex. Arthas did not want the people of Azeroth to get involved in this murky situation. While it was true that Sire Denathrius was the creator of the Nathrezim, who could be certain that all Nathrezim still pledged allegiance to him?
Controlling a spy with a clear objective was not difficult, but dealing with an entire Legion of spies with ulterior, unclear motives was a completely different level of difficulty. Arthas lacked the energy and the time to haggle with the Nathrezim.
Moreover, they were currently at a critical juncture in the war, and they likewise couldn't spare the effort to eradicate the Nathrezim. At this time, expelling them was a more effective approach.
The agreement between Arthas and Tichondrius was not a simple verbal pact; this bond was essentially a constraint, centered on Tichondrius, that extended to all Nathrezim.
If this agreement were to be broken, the offending Nathrezim would suffer a terrible oath-breaking punishment.
The only question was, could Arthas truly guarantee that after the Burning Legion issue was resolved, Azeroth would not fall into the quagmire of other problems?
Even Arthas himself didn't know the answer to this question. He was not omniscient or omnipotent; the future path had already diverged significantly from predetermined destiny. All he could do now was to eliminate all threats from the Burning Legion with the smallest possible losses.
Minutes after Tichondrius's departure, a hurried knock interrupted Arthas's thoughts. Arthas walked to open the door and found Jaina standing outside, her face serious, with a hint of worry in her brows.
"Arthas, the ship's warning system had some anomalies just now. You didn't encounter any problems here, did you?"
"Anomalies?" Arthas glanced at the scorch marks Tichondrius left behind and shook his head, "Indeed, an unwelcome guest arrived just now. I've already driven him away."
Jaina then noticed the fel energy scorch marks inside the cabin, but there were no other signs of a struggle. This made Jaina feel a hint of confusion: a demon capable of infiltrating this ship certainly wasn't a minor character, and even if Arthas was powerful, there shouldn't have been absolutely no commotion.
If the ship's warning system hadn't suddenly alerted them for a moment, perhaps no one would have noticed the anomaly of fel energy infiltration.
Although Arthas had indicated that the problem occurred with him, Jaina and the other defense personnel on the ship were still not entirely at ease. The mages scanned the entire spaceship several times over, until their detection instruments were almost breaking down, before they finally breathed a sigh of relief.
After all, the spaceship was currently hovering over Argus. If anything truly went wrong, they dared not imagine how severe the consequences would be.