"With our current combined strength, how much damage do we need to inflict on Sargeras to have a chance of sealing him?"
Golganneth looked at the Holy Light projection before him and couldn't help but ask his brothers a question.
Norgannon made a quick estimate and replied, "We probably need to deplete at least thirty percent of Sargeras's strength to have a chance of successfully sealing him. To guarantee success, we would likely need to reduce Sargeras's state to less than half of his peak strength."
This number made Golganneth click his tongue. He didn't speak, but merely turned his head to look at the space enveloped by the Domination Domain, wondering what he was thinking.
"Can he really do it?" Khaz'goroth asked with some doubt.
Even among the Titans, Sargeras was the strongest in terms of combat power, otherwise the Pantheon wouldn't have suffered such a crushing defeat back then.
To be able to deplete more than half of Sargeras's strength would mean that Arthas possesses power comparable to, or even exceeding, any of them at their peak.
Aggramar gazed at the completely sealed Domination Domain. He, however, had a different opinion from his brothers at this moment. "I believe he can do it... The memories from the time I was controlled by Sargeras are very vague, but I can feel Sargeras's apprehension towards Arthas. Without a doubt, he regards Arthas as a formidable opponent and takes him seriously."
As Sargeras's former student and the second Pantheon champion specializing in combat after Sargeras, Aggramar knew very well what kind of world-destroying power his mentor possessed. Since Arthas could make Sargeras wary, it proved Arthas's undeniable strength.
"The worst-case scenario is merely that he is no match for Sargeras. But he used this level of domain to trap Sargeras within it, and some time has passed since we arrived here, yet Sargeras has not yet escaped. This already proves something."
Norgannon explained calmly. He couldn't see through the domain Arthas had constructed. He only knew that it should be a forbidden power from the Shadowlands, similar to that pendant.
Even from a certain distance, he could still feel the threat emanating from the domain's boundary. He surmised that Sargeras, trapped within the domain, would certainly not be having an easy time.
"If that's the case, why are we still standing here? Even mortals have the courage to fight Sargeras. Are we to stand by idly?"
Golganneth's voice rumbled like thunder, clearly revealing the surging anger and urgency in his heart.
After being betrayed and killed by Sargeras, the Titans hid like rats in the cold universe for a period, yet still couldn't escape the fate of falling into the Legion's clutches. They had barely escaped torment and did not want to return to the prison Sargeras had built for them.
So this time, they were determined. Even if it meant mutual destruction with Sargeras, they would not cling to life any longer, because they had tried it once, and the ultimate outcome of clinging to life was a fate more tragic than death.
As if sensing the Titans' resolve, after delivering his message, the projection Arthas left behind began to gradually dissipate, transforming into specks of light particles that merged into the pitch-black Domination Domain.
The gods took their former thrones, the supreme positions symbolizing the glory and power of the Seat of the Pantheon. Although they had gathered dust for countless eons, time could not shake this true gods' temple.
As the Titans returned to their places, their authority and primordial power began to gather within the Seat of the Pantheon. The gradually rising energy illuminated the temple, making it shine like a torch, radiating brilliant light throughout the universe.
While the Titans' pure energy was infused into the Seat of the Pantheon, they did not forget Jaina and the others in the Burning Throne. Khaz'goroth severed the connection between the Burning Throne and the Pantheon, separating the Burning Throne and making it a standalone structure once again, floating in the universe.
The vibrations arrived as expected at the Burning Throne. When this Titan structure became isolated in the universe and recombined, Jaina also realized what was about to happen next.
"Has it begun?"
She looked worriedly at the domain Arthas had conjured. She, of course, recognized Arthas's power, even though he had never before displayed such a powerful level.
However, this only made Jaina more concerned, because Arthas was using a power she had never seen before, which meant Arthas's situation was far more dangerous than any previous adventure.
"I'm afraid so." Xal'atath's expression also became solemn, no longer showing her previous ease.
At this moment, her brain and body were frantically warning her of how terrifying the "spectacle" she was witnessing truly was. Even though the domain wasn't deliberately targeting anyone, its mere emanating might made Xal'atath understand how dangerous it was.
Moreover, the Titan essence in the nearby Seat of the Pantheon was not to be underestimated. At least, Xal'atath felt that if she were still the Void Herald, she would have long since fled.
"It's truly frightening... The most terrifying things in the universe are gathered here. Only those looking for death would come here to observe."
Xal'atath's words sounded like she was mocking herself, but she suddenly noticed that Jaina's attention seemed a bit unfocused. She was looking around, as if searching for something.
"Xal'atath, did you... see that Demon Hunter?"
This question startled Xal'atath. She immediately spread out her mental tendrils, but after the tidal wave of fluctuations swept across the entire Burning Throne, she still couldn't find Illidan's figure.
"That guy isn't in the Burning Throne anymore?!"
Xal'atath, unwilling to give up, scanned several more times, but still couldn't find Illidan. The Demon Hunter hadn't tried to conceal his departure at all; in a corridor of the Burning Throne—the part that was originally connected to the Seat of the Pantheon—there were still traces of fel energy, clearly indicating someone had just passed through there.
This discovery greatly surprised Xal'atath. "What is he doing in the Seat of the Pantheon?"
She didn't suspect Illidan wanted to sabotage the Titans' plan, because that was simply unrealistic. Although the Titans were weak, they were not someone a single Demon Hunter could contend with. Moreover, the Pantheon was now fully activated, and the Titans could instantly eradicate anything that hindered them.
Furthermore, regardless of whether the Titans' seal succeeded or not, the Pantheon would become "history." Because if they succeeded, Sargeras would face an eternal seal. The Titans would submerge the Pantheon into a dimension far from reality, making themselves jailers and the temple a cage, sealed forever.
And if they failed... needless to say, the Pantheon would become the final cannonball, perishing with Sargeras.
In other words, Illidan entering the Pantheon at this moment was tantamount to seeking his own death. Xal'atath didn't believe he could escape from a prison capable of sealing Titans, nor could he survive an attack powerful enough to destroy both the Pantheon and Sargeras.
When Jaina heard this news, she suddenly felt a sense of relief.
"He really did it after all."
"Though I was mentally prepared, I still feel a pang when I hear it with my own ears."
Xal'atath couldn't be sure, but she sensed that after speaking those words Jaina's mood seemed to relax a little, no longer as taut as before.
The change made Xal'atath ask uncertainly, "You'd already guessed Illidan would act on his own?"
Jaina shook her head, rejecting Xal'atath's assumption. "It wasn't a guess; Arthas told me."
"He told you? Why would he mention something like that?"
During her two years as Lordaeron's administrator Xal'atath had learned bits and pieces about Arthas's gift of "prophecy." At first she'd dismissed it—when one is powerful enough the future can be as easy to flip through as a book.
Yet that was only what "might" happen; before the future fully arrives any vision is merely an illusion woven by time and fate.
N'Zoth had screamed all day that his visions would come true—and of course that future was possible—yet in the end every Old God was crushed into the soil of Azeroth by Arthas.
But Jaina's words gave Xal'atath a new perspective.
Prophecy can be replicated or simulated through different means; Jaina herself can craft prophetic spells with Arcane magic. Depending on the caster's strength, the futures they glimpse vary.
And when a vision concerns special, mighty beings—who possess exalted status and vast energy—the spell often distorts.
No one can see the true future completely, not even Aman'thul, father of the gods who wields time and fate; seeing the future doesn't mean you can change it. Sometimes altering a set destiny costs far more effort and power than the prophecy itself.
Back when Xal'atath was a Void Pioneer she could peer at future fragments through the Void. Some came true; most were swept into history's trash bin. That made her scorn "prophecy": some events will happen whether you look or not, while others you can see yet can't change.
Few bother to prophesy trifles; knowing too much is not always a blessing.
The more you know, the more variables appear; any tiny change can twist the future into something unfamiliar, nullifying the prophecy—or you desperately try to avert it, only to end up causing the very outcome you feared.
"With Arthas's power he must know such rules… why would he bother watching the fate of a 'small fry' like Illidan?"
That was what Xal'atath couldn't grasp. She believed Arthas could see Illidan's fate, yet thought he would never try to convey or alter it—that would only cloud a once-clear future.
"Wouldn't do it? Hah."
Jaina's soft laugh grated on Xal'atath for no reason. "What's so funny? You're an Archmage; don't you realize that telling you about Illidan's fate could twist the future unpredictably?!"
"Because he's already done it countless times."
The instant the answer left her lips Xal'atath froze like a wooden statue. She understood the meaning all too well—and that was exactly why she was stunned.
When she finally spoke again she didn't notice how hoarse and dry her voice had become. "You mean… countless times…"
Their roles seemed reversed: Jaina's blue-grey eyes were as calm as the waters of Lordamere Lake.
"Arthas said that ever since he gained the power to change people's destinies he tried it. In the end he found fate can indeed be changed—and, contrary to what we believe, people are often the hardest 'variable' to shift. Take Illidan: no matter how much his life is altered, once Sargeras planted the seed of hatred in his heart, that Demon Hunter will inevitably appear at the final stage."
"And now it has happened, hasn't it, Xal'atath?"
"From Lordaeron to Quel'Thalas, from the Eastern Kingdoms to Kalimdor; from me to my father, to any seemingly insignificant person around us—everyone's fate has already been quietly rewritten by Arthas."
"You and I are part of it."
After Jaina uttered those calm words, goosebumps rippled across Xal'atath's skin.
She suddenly realized Arthas's goal might be far more than simply dealing with Sargeras.
"You're curious what Arthas told me that day… it was simple: 'If I don't come back, Jaina, please bring them home.'"
Jaina sighed, sorrow swirling in her eyes. "I can't even recall when I began to believe Arthas was omnipotent… yet when he admitted he had no certainty, I finally felt dread—dread of how desperate I would be if I truly lost him."
"I wanted to carry out his wish, but in the end I found I couldn't; I had to entrust it to someone more reliable."
A long silence filled the Burning Throne's control chamber. When the light of the Seat of the Pantheon flared a notch brighter and forced them to shield their eyes, Xal'atath finally murmured, "There's one thing you might be wrong about: he probably foresaw this outcome."
She gazed at the flowing dominion field. "As you said, people are the least changeable variable… Knowing you as he does, he would've expected you to do this—just as he knew I'd choose to wait here for the result."
"Maybe. But I've never seen him as some prophet or hero; in my heart he's forever the steady, kind boy who could tolerate my willfulness—the one I met that first day."