Just as he was about to sneak in, sounds of battle seemed to echo from within the mountains.
The wandering demons in the distance didn't seem to care, and even the satyrs, transformed from elves, were indifferent to the fighting.
The members of the Burning Legion are all demons, and there are demons fighting each other almost every moment of every day.
Some find pleasure in slaughter, some absorb the Fel energy of other demons, and some simply pick fights for no reason.
This is not a normal Legion; it's a force barely held together by sheer numbers and a fearless disregard for death, suppressed by the absolute power of the fallen Titan.
During wartime, it's fine; there are enemies to unite against and kill.
But after the war, there's no managing them. The lower-level demons have little intelligence and will fight among themselves, and the higher-ranking demons won't bother to intervene.
They meddle in others' business for nothing; if one dies, another can resurrect in the Twisting Nether, so there's no worry about the supply of troops running out.
With this premise, why bother to painstakingly manage the army?
If they like to fight, let them fight to their heart's content! Fight, fight hard! Fight to the death! Poke his eyes, kick him in the crotch! Don't be a coward, fight!
Anyone who sees such constant internal strife and slaughter would initially be surprised, but after not too long, they would become numb to it.
Let them fight, let them fight, these brainless demons, it's best if they kill each other!
"Let's go, let's go around and take a look."
Arthas commanded, then mounted the dragon queen, who was under an invisibility spell, and bypassed the defenses.
Behind Suramar City were continuous mountain ranges, said to be desolate and barren, with nothing but vast expanses of white.
The mountain paths were rugged and difficult to traverse; relying solely on walking, one might accidentally fall off a thousand-meter cliff and die before even crossing the mountains.
Between two mountains, the slopes that were once covered by forest had become completely bare.
The large trees still stood, but they were dead, their branches devoid of any leaves. If paired with terrifying ambient music, it would be enough to scare someone to death!
A blonde, pigtail-wearing gnome Archmage was frantically casting spells to deal with several attacking demon guards. arcane missiles hitting them could only push them back slightly, unable to cause much damage.
Fel itself counters many energies; Holy Light can be shielded, and arcane can be dispelled.
Conversely, each swing of the demon guard's greatsword made the pigtail-wearing gnome look utterly disheveled; they seemed in no hurry to kill her, but rather intended to toy with her.
It's like a cat playing with a mouse. The natural dominance over lower creatures often leads them to toy with their prey when they have ample time.
They make the prey run for their lives, jumping and scrambling in distress, and then, after the prey is physically and mentally exhausted and in utter despair, they devour it.
This scene before them was exactly like that.
Moreover, two Hellhounds were lurking in the distance, eyeing them menacingly. If not for the dog trainer whipping them, they probably would have pounced already.
These Hellhounds were about the size of adolescent warthogs; even well-trained soldiers could kill three or four of them alone.
Their strongest ability wasn't their tough hides, but their unique talent: they could burn mana!
For mages with abundant magic, these Hellhounds were the bane and nightmare of mages.
Often, during spellcasting, the opponent could ignite the mana within, causing the spell to be interrupted. Then, they would pounce, tearing the melee-weak mage to shreds before happily devouring them.
Even if a High Archmage could barely endure the stinging pain of mana burning to cast spells, the effectiveness and power would be greatly reduced, unable to form effective power.
A fireball spell that could kill an ordinary soldier would turn into a lighter under the interference of mana burning, good for lighting cigarettes, but not for killing enemies.
This was also why the gnome Archmage was being tossed around and made to look so disheveled; with these two banes present, her defeat was only a matter of time.
Sinestra, transformed into the appearance of a high elf, stood very close to Arthas and whispered into his ear.
"Master, it's Chromie, the bronze dragon."
dragons can see through each other's illusionary disguises at a glance; an illusion that can fool a human Archmage is nothing in the eyes of their own kind.
Oh?
He had searched high and low, only to find it effortlessly.
Swish!
Frostmourne was unsheathed; before he arrived, its power was already there.
The two Hellhounds exploded out of nowhere, splattering the dog trainer with filth.
Before he could react, a force struck him, causing him to also explode from damage beyond his physical tolerance.
The demon guards surrounding Chromie turned and charged towards the other side, abandoning the mouse before them to focus on the suddenly appearing powerful enemy.
But compared to Mannoroth and Deathwing, they were like ants compared to elephants.
If he couldn't instantly kill a BOSS, surely he could instantly kill these mere cannon fodder?
Pfft!
In less than two seconds, all the demons present were slain.
At this point, Arthas descended lightly, as if he hadn't even made a move, and the demons had all exploded out of fear.
Chromie blinked her emerald eyes, and a look of surprise appeared on her charming little face.
"Oh! You're finally here, prince, I've been looking for you for so long, I can't believe you're here!"
"This is great, Azeroth is saved! Come with me quickly, it's not convenient to talk here!"
With that, she summoned a flying carpet and patted the seat next to her.
"No time to explain, get on quickly!"
Is this girl really that bold?
The strong winds buffeted them. Even in the desolate mountains, many demons still roamed, and occasionally, wild animals could be seen being gnawed on by demons.
Rivers were dry, vegetation barren; the Burning Legion brought nothing but destruction and desolation, an extinction without any hope.
Chromie seemed very familiar with this area, always perfectly avoiding demon patrols in advance, using low, narrow ravines to travel.
Being able to fly had this advantage: maximizing mobility, avoiding ground factors like rubble and sand that would impede speed.
Arthas watched with envy; this magic carpet was a good item.
Back then, he was a famous lone wolf player, and collecting mounts was a great pleasure.
The Pandaren's unique red kites, the special sea turtle mounts, the black dragon queen's reins, it was all about the fun.
He had never collected this magic carpet before, mainly because he focused on dungeon drops.
Half a day later.
The three arrived in the mountains a thousand miles away. Thunder occasionally flashed across the sky; even though the Maelstrom had disappeared, the weather in the Broken Isles remained unpredictable.
One moment it was sunny, the next it could be pouring rain with no pattern whatsoever.
It was even possible to grow vegetables here; only those who had adapted to the extreme weather could survive.
As for those who couldn't adapt, they had long since gone extinct.
Looking at the cave before them, and following Chromie inside, these scenes looked very familiar.
"Is this Neltharion's vault?"
Chromie showed a hint of relief, her pigtails swaying a few times.
"That's right, you're so smart!"