After dealing with Azgalor, his body was collected. The flesh and bones of such a large Pit Lord are excellent materials. If nothing else, they are top-notch for building city walls.
There were no demons on the top floor. Even the demons below were ordered not to come up, and could only pace and roar in the lower levels.
"You shouldn't have come."
Elisande shook her head, her voice ethereal. Her nearly three-meter height was quite intimidating.
"Yet, I came."
Arthas found it a bit boring. As expected of an old relic of tens of thousands of years, she only knew how to use worn-out tropes!
"Haha, yes, you came. Do you want the eye of aman'thul?"
Elisande's right hand was cupped, holding a purple orb that flew out of the light pillar. Her graceful movements, with her skirt fluttering, showed no shame at all.
"Then take it."
As soon as she finished speaking, she really threw the eye of aman'thul over, without any hesitation, so decisively that it made one suspicious.
Sinestra was still a bit doubtful, about to block this possible attack.
Arthas, however, waved his hand and directly caught the orb, which was the size of a human head. He could see that it was the genuine eye of aman'thul.
He handed it to Chromie for her to examine, while he looked at this old woman, jokingly called 'Big Sister'.
"Why?"
Elisande scoffed at the question, or perhaps dismissed it. She merely turned and returned to her lounge chair, unconcerned about any exposure, elegantly reclining and picking up a glass of Shadowberry Wine from beside her.
"The prophecy says you will succeed, and I believe in prophecy. You will rule Azeroth, becoming the emperor of this world."
"A unique emperor, something even the former Azshara couldn't achieve. Your presence here has already proven your worth."
"Haha, to pass through the heavily guarded demon lines, even the strongest demigod, Malorne the White Stag, couldn't do it."
"Go, fulfill your mission. When you return in triumph, perhaps we can still chat about the origin of life, or even do some pleasant things!"
Onyxia spat under her breath, "Shameless old woman!"
She called her an old woman simply because of her age; she was older than Tyrande, almost a contemporary of Azshara as an outstanding female.
But to say her face was old wasn't true; it was more the feeling of a muscular older sister.
"It's real. Are you ready? We're about to begin time travel."
After Chromie examined it, she was surprised to find a lot of residual time energy inside. This power could pull them into the time stream right now.
"Let's begin."
Arthas seemed to understand something. The usual grandfather paradox didn't apply here. Who could truly explain what time was?
Time moves ever forward, never backward, so why isn't that true in some places?
Certain 'two-person show' movies always make people tirelessly fast-forward, pause, rewind, and fast-forward again.
Isn't this also a way of playing with time?
Brother, a word in private!
As a flash of light passed, accompanied by a strange energy fluctuation, the three vanished from their original spot.
Elisande continued to smile as she sipped her wine. This crimson fruit wine was delicious, a fifty-year-old vintage. A single sip could even slightly boost one's mana.
A furious roar came from the sky, seemingly the voice of Sargeras.
"Mortal! You have done wrong!"
Thunderclouds rolled, attempting to materialize. A burning greatsword had already appeared in the sky, none other than Sargeras' personal sword, the weapon he used to blast World Souls.
Elisande did not, and could not, stop it. She could see through the mists of time, seeing countless possibilities. One person could wipe out tens of thousands of demon troops.
But those were wars between mortals. Demigods facing creatures below demigods were always an overwhelming force.
Occasionally, a fool might stumble, but that certainly didn't prove that demigods were weak.
Cenarius: "Say my name, you're humiliating me, aren't you!"
A demigod is still a demigod. Sargeras was already an existence beyond demigods, a higher-dimensional being whom she could not stop.
Instead of fruitlessly trying to stop a chariot with a mantis' arm, why not have another glass of Shadowberry Wine before she died?
The sword's edge fell, and an invisible shockwave tore through the earth. The entire nighthold began to crumble piece by piece. The sword's edge hadn't even arrived, yet it had already torn apart everything!
Elisande still elegantly held her wine glass, looking up at the sky. Sargeras, in outer space, was so furious, as if he had seen his beloved wife snatched away.
"Haha, what an incompetent husband!"
"Oh, no, it should be a never-successful simp, destroying what he can't have!"
These words further enraged Sargeras, hitting him where it hurt. He swore he would capture this damned ant's soul and drag it to the Coven for judgment and whipping!
But then a bizarre scene unfolded.
As the sword's edge was about to touch Elisande, it had already broken through her magic shield. The next second, this 'Big Sister'-like old woman from Suramar would meet her demise.
But the sword's edge vanished, and Sargeras' furious eyes turned to extreme terror; he himself had also disappeared.
The world, once corrupted by Fel, was now rejuvenated. Birds began to appear, fish swam freely in the sea, and flowers and trees grew anew.
It was just a distortion of time, and it was unknown how long had passed.
Perhaps it was one second, or perhaps ten thousand years.
When Arthas opened his eyes again, an endless forest appeared before him.
It was so dense it blotted out the sun. A single ordinary oak tree required ten adults to encircle it, reaching a height of a hundred meters.
There were many, many such oak trees, densely packed as far as the eye could see.
The air was filled with the scent of decaying leaves, very primal, very wild. He couldn't tell where he was at all.
Arthas looked at himself. Sometime, his azure armor had turned into white jade silver, his golden hair had become snow-white, and he wore an unremovable helmet on his head.
He took out a mirror and looked. Wasn't it the Lich King's Helm of Domination?
What the hell!
Who could tell him how he had become the Lich King?
He reached down. Good news, it was still there!
Even better news, he still had sensation!
Conclusion: he was still alive!
Phew! He was just afraid of becoming the Lich King; that would be no fun at all, just disgusting.
Who would willingly want to become a corpse?
The reason common people are common people is because being common and doing common things brings happiness.
Fine wine, delicious food, beautiful women, none could be left out!
The magic mark on his hand was still there. He tried to summon Sinestra. She had given him this mark after they had been intimate; as long as she existed, he could summon her through this mark, and even time could not stop it.
Because it was refined from a reverse scale, a primal, unique mark.