Andreas wholeheartedly agreed with Navaz's speculation. The Dragonriding Vrykul were never good people; otherwise, they wouldn't have followed Loken, causing trouble and even daring to attack Titan Keepers like Tyr.
However, after King Ymiron's awakening, the relationship between the Dragonriding Vrykul and Loken seemed to have undergone some subtle changes.
The Iron Dwarves and Vrykul stationed in Howling Fjord had suddenly entered a state of war in recent years, a situation that left Navaz somewhat bewildered.
Both the Iron Dwarves and the Dragonriding Vrykul were Loken's subordinates, so there was no reason for them to suddenly fight amongst themselves, unless... Andreas stroked his chin and mused, 'Is Ymiron dissatisfied with Loken?'
According to the contents recorded in Andreas' memo, King Ymiron was the most ambitious and charismatic leader among the Dragonriding Vrykul. Since his awakening, the previously disorganized Dragonriding Vrykul had clearly gained greater cohesion.
The memo stated that this king would later abandon the Titan faith and defect to the then Lich King, the Second Scumbag.
There must be a reason for everything. As a descendant of the Titan Constructs, it was impossible for Ymiron to suddenly act impulsively, betraying Loken to join the Undead. There must be a deeper reason behind it.
"Prisim."
"Here."
Andreas said to the red-hooded Rogue leader who had suddenly appeared beside him, "Send people to infiltrate Utgarde Keep and eavesdrop on the reasons for the Vrykul's change in attitude towards Loken. Perhaps... we can use this to our advantage."
"Yes."
...When Andreas returned to Suramar, the initial battle report from the underground world had already arrived.
Both sides were determined to secure Ankhet, deploying considerable forces, so the outcome was not yet clear.
Ner'zhul intended to repeat his old trick, snowballing by killing Night Elves and resurrecting them as Undead, but the well-prepared Navaz did not give Ner'zhul enough opportunities.
The arcane golems on the front lines struck with heavy blows, leaving the Flesh Golem Abominations created by Ner'zhul utterly bewildered.
As constructs, Abominations, these Undead creatures, were very clumsy. Although they possessed immense strength, their intelligence was pitifully low, and Undead officers had to expend a lot of energy to control them.
The arcane golems, having undergone multiple updates and iterations, were much more agile than earlier versions. These golems, wielding greatswords and long spears, caused great chaos among the Undead after breaking into their ranks.
In the first wave of decapitation strikes, the number of Undead officers killed reached double digits. Ner'zhul realized that the nodes assisting him in controlling the overall situation were rapidly disappearing, and he hastily ordered the Undead army to temporarily retreat.
In the initial clash, the Night Elves gained a small advantage due to their intelligence, but the Undead army was not critically damaged. After stabilizing their formation, they continued a war of attrition with the Night Elves outside Ankhet city.
The underground battle's outcome was temporarily undecided, but Andreas had no intention of stopping there.
Confirming that Celeste and Shandris were both busy with their own affairs, Andreas summoned Onyxia, who had recently been staying at Obsidian Sanctum, and led a small team of twelve Black Dragons towards Icecrown Glacier.
When the towering Frozen Throne was in sight, a large number of Undead Vrykul had set up anti-air harpoon cannons around the permafrost ice mountain, clearly indicating that Ner'zhul had detected an aerial threat from previous dragon reconnaissance missions.
As Onyxia charged into the Frozen Throne's air defense zone, the Undead Vrykul immediately received orders, pressing the triggers of their large harpoon cannons with hoarse roars.
Powerful, crossbow-like harpoon bolts shot into the air, and Onyxia and the other Black Dragons hastily scattered to evade.
"Breath!"
Under Onyxia's command, the Black Dragons collectively spewed Shadowflame Dragon Breath downwards.
While many harpoon cannons were burned, within the still relatively crude camp below the Frozen Throne, a large number of grotesque statues were rapidly reactivating.
Dense swarms of Gargoyles successively rose into the air, roughly thousands at first glance, and their numbers were continuously increasing.
"Is this the Undead's usual tactic of a sea of corpses?"
Andreas, standing on Onyxia's back, frowned. Ner'zhul's caution was somewhat beyond his expectation; this guy's cowardice to such an extent was truly astonishing.
This guy must have conjured who knows how many Gargoyles. If they were surrounded by these highly defensive flying creatures, even thick-skinned, tough-bodied dragons would be in danger of being bitten to death by too many ants.
"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!"
From the side of the glacial plain where the Gargoyles took flight, arrows shot out like a barrage, and within a certain range, the newly airborne Gargoyles were shot down one by one.
A slender figure wearing a green hooded cloak continuously pulled her bowstring, almost every arrow precisely destroying a Gargoyle's core.
Under the counterattack of these Gargoyles, the hooded figure moved nimbly, seemingly about to be caught at any moment, yet she always danced on the edge of danger, toying with the Gargoyles like a fluttering butterfly.
Or rather, toying with Ner'zhul, who was manipulating the Gargoyles from behind.
Without Andreas' reminder, Onyxia consciously descended, approaching the hooded figure, destroying a dozen obstructing Gargoyles with bites and claws along the way.
"Andreas, is that person her?"
"Hmm, it should be, I didn't expect her to actually infiltrate Icecrown Glacier."
Countless tracking small Holy Light projectiles appeared near the ganir staff. Under Andreas' control, they launched separately, autonomously tracking and attacking the Gargoyles' vital cores.
Amidst flying stone fragments, large numbers of Gargoyles fell from the sky, and vaguely, their shattered core power stones on their foreheads could still be seen.
The moment Onyxia swept across the ground, the hooded figure, without any formality, leaped onto the Black Dragon Princess' back. The two quivers of arrows she carried behind her had just run out.
"Phew~"
On Onyxia's back during high-speed flight, cold winds gusted. The green hood was blown off by the strong wind, revealing golden long hair tied in a ponytail and two pointed elven ears.
Andreas sighed, "It really is you, Alleria."
"You're too reckless. If we hadn't guessed your identity, how would you have escaped from thousands of Gargoyles?"
Alleria took out a new quiver from her spatial pouch and replaced it, shrugging indifferently, "I had already prepared a retreat. These Gargoyles can't catch me."
Onyxia turned to look at the other Black Dragons, each engaged in a tough fight, "Andreas, should we retreat?"
"Hmm, let's retreat, but..."
Gazing at the large ice sculpture at the top of the permafrost ice mountain, which contained a frozen iron armor, Andreas' lips curved, "Let's leave him a surprise before we go."
Injecting magic into the staff, three giant golden Magic Arrays appeared above the Frozen Throne.
The Magic Arrays rotated into position under Ner'zhul's frantic mental warning. The three Magic Arrays formed a link, and a thick, long pillar of Holy Light shot out from the innermost Magic Array. After two enhancements, it heavily struck the Frozen Throne's protective barrier.
The sturdy permafrost ice mountain seemed to show signs of melting under the scorching Holy Light. Ner'zhul was scared out of his wits and hastily, without regard for anything else, injected his magic into the frost protective barrier above the Frozen Throne.
As this strike was delivered, Onyxia let out a clear cry, leading the other Black Dragons to turn around and begin their retreat.
Andreas gazed from afar at the gradually dissipating golden glow. The once towering permafrost ice mountain seemed to have shrunk by a section, and a large amount of water vapor enveloped the sky above the Frozen Throne, quickly turning into extremely cold ice rain falling to the ground.
"Caution to this extent can also be considered an art. It seems that small-scale raids cannot inflict a fatal blow on Ner'zhul."
The Frozen Throne's defense system is connected to the entire ice mountain. As long as the permafrost ice mountain exists, the throne's protection will be very difficult to breach.
Coupled with tens of thousands of Gargoyles and the Vrykul on the ground continuously deploying harpoon cannons, Ner'zhul's blatant appearance on the surface clearly indicated that he had made thorough preparations.
'Consider this a greeting for now, Ner'zhul. I hope you know your place, otherwise, don't blame me for flipping the table and not playing by the rules.'
Andreas' so-called "greeting" indeed gave Ner'zhul quite a fright.
A single Holy Light cannon had shaved off 12% of the Everfrost Iceberg's solid ice. If it weren't for the gargoyles and harpoon guns providing air defense and forcing the opponent to retreat, Ner'zhul would have probably had to beg Kil'jaeden for help.
Below the iceberg, several probing dreadlords finally emerged from the cover of the protective barrier, gazing from afar at the gradually departing black dragonflight.
One of the dreadlords asked with some trepidation, "What was that just now? Did the Army of the Light pursue us to Azeroth?"
"No."
The largest dreadlord, who was the leader, gritted his teeth and said, "I know that night elf. I didn't expect him to grow to such a degree in just ten thousand years."
Most demons possess immortal lifespans, and ten thousand years is indeed not a long time for those who roam the universe.
The dreadlord speaking was named Tichondrius, the leader of the dreadlords. Ten thousand years ago, due to a failed mission, he was thrown into the fel power core of a Legion warship by Sargeras, serving as a power source for over 200 years as punishment.
Dreadlords as a species are not particularly outstanding in combat among all demons. Even their leader Tichondrius was nothing more than a toy that couldn't fight back in front of Azshara.
Although it was just a fleeting glimpse and he couldn't accurately gauge Andreas' current strength, the superhuman power fluctuations emanating from him clearly indicated to Tichondrius that the former rookie had grown into a mortal demigod.
Tichondrius and Andreas had a "life-or-death" connection. His first failed mission during the War of the Ancients was related to Andreas, and his head being severed by Azshara later also had an inextricable link to Andreas.
From Andreas' perspective, it was the same. If not for Tichondrius' instigation, he wouldn't have been hit by Archimonde's Finger of Death and fallen into Lady Laetitia's palanquin, and Lady Laetitia's father wouldn't have died tragically due to the subsequent developments of that incident.
Although Andreas sensed fel energy from the Frozen Throne, he didn't know who was emitting those energies. Otherwise, even if he had to brave a sky full of ghouls, he would have first taken Tichondrius' head before leaving.
Tichondrius reluctantly suppressed the unease in his heart and calmly said, "Report the news of a new mortal demigod on Azeroth to Lord Kil'jaeden and await his further instructions."
...The Frozen Throne was attacked, and all undead officers connected to Ner'zhul's mind received the news. The panic that usually emanated from the enigmatic Ner'zhul also flooded their souls.
"Hmph~"
A human mage dressed in a purple Kirin Tor robe lowered his head and snorted coldly, a slight curve unconsciously forming at the corners of his mouth.
The necromancer acolyte beside him asked in confusion, "Lord Kel'Thuzad? Do you have any orders?"
"No."
Kel'Thuzad, raising his head again, resumed his cold, deadpan expression, "Continue your research. These plague concoctions will be of great use soon."
"Yes!"
Kel'Thuzad, a former member of the Kirin Tor's Council of Six, was expelled from the city by his disappointed mentor, Antonidas, for secretly researching necromancy and repeatedly refusing to change his ways.
When he was expelled from Dalaran, Kel'Thuzad was filled with resentment, believing that the common folk of Dalaran could not understand his ideas.
While continuing his research into necromancy in the suburbs, Kel'Thuzad unexpectedly received a summoning voice.
This powerful entity, whose whereabouts were unknown, called itself the Lich King, the leader of all the dead. He claimed he could help Kel'Thuzad achieve deeper mastery in necromancy.
As a former member of the Kirin Tor, Kel'Thuzad was highly wary of the inexplicable summons, as it was a common tactic used by demons.
However, the Lich King, over a period of time, proved himself to Kel'Thuzad with his vast knowledge.
Kel'Thuzad gradually began to believe that by following this Lich King, he could reach higher realms in necromancy and would one day make the common folk of Dalaran bow down and admit their mistake.
Following the Lich King's guidance, Kel'Thuzad sailed to Northrend. The Alliance's pioneering team had already established an expedition base in Howling Fjord, named Valgarde.
Upon first arriving in Valgarde, Kel'Thuzad had a good initial impression of this Arctic continent.
The climate of Howling Fjord was much warmer compared to other regions of Northrend, and the ground was covered with thick green grass. It was just those Vrykul who invaded Valgarde that were quite annoying.
Kel'Thuzad specifically captured a Vrykul for experimentation. These giants, over two meters tall, possessed significantly higher muscle density and bone strength than humans, being powerful and agile, making them a rather ideal intelligent species.
However, their barbaric and brutal customs greatly displeased Kel'Thuzad. After satisfying his curiosity, he took his self-made Undead Vrykul Unit One and continued exploring northward.
The moment he saw the Lich King in the Frozen Throne, Kel'Thuzad regretted his rash actions.
This ethereal, eerie spirit before him was by no means benevolent. He endlessly recounted his plans to Kel'Thuzad, intending to turn all of Azeroth into a paradise for the undead, thereby resisting an incredibly powerful organization.
Kel'Thuzad wanted to resist and escape, but the opponent's vast and terrifying mental power constantly locked onto and suppressed him, while also attempting to modify his thought patterns.
Eventually, Kel'Thuzad yielded. On the condition of maintaining his own sanity, he became the Lich King's most capable assistant, helping the Lich King manage and spread the Cult of the Damned, recruiting more living people to join and further expanding the cult's influence.
Including Kel'Thuzad, the current necromancer acolytes were still living people, as the Lich King needed them to infiltrate the mortal world to spread plague and undead faith.
If an undead body were exposed to Holy Light, it would quickly reveal its true form, and the stench of decay was also an issue. Preservatives were not omnipotent, and moving around in human society was somewhat inconvenient.
Although he had yielded under the Lich King's might, Kel'Thuzad had not yet fully submitted to Ner'zhul. His rebellious nature made him unable to help but laugh when he sensed the panic of the seemingly invincible Lich King.
'I wonder who made the Lich King suffer a setback. I should ask those dreadlords with ulterior motives when I have a chance.'
In Kel'Thuzad's view, those dreadlords were clearly not of the same mind as the Lich King. Although they were ostensibly assisting, their task seemed more like surveillance.
The appearance of the dreadlords further confirmed Kel'Thuzad's underlying worries: he had joined an incredibly evil and dark organization.
Although Kel'Thuzad wanted to make Dalaran regret its actions through his own efforts, this did not mean he truly endorsed the Lich King's agenda of intending to destroy the world.
While living people had many time-consuming inconveniences like needing sleep and food, only as living beings could one experience the beauty of the world. Once one became undead, all vibrant sensations would disappear, and the world would transform from colorful to a monochrome gray in the eyes of the undead.
Burying his turbulent thoughts, Kel'Thuzad put on his usual icy expression, supervising the acolytes before him as they researched and experimented with the plague.
'A world of the undead, huh...'
Kel'Thuzad's eyes flickered. 'Even if there's a reason, does such a lifeless world truly need to exist?'
News that the Lich King had been attacked sent shockwaves through the undead host; officers lost focus, their grip on the front-line undead slackened.
Navaz caught the scent of victory. Exploiting the undead's fresh confusion over the Night Elves' alien rhythms, he scrapped his timetable and struck in daylight.
Caught off-galance, the distracted undead buckled under the assault, abandoned their crumbling line, and fled.
The long stalemate cracked. Navaz drove hard into Ankhet itself, retaking a third of the city.
That third happened to hold Anub'Rekhan's hidden egg-chambers; the Nerubians returned to their secret nursery torn between hope and dread.
Finding the chambers exactly as he had left them, Anub'Rekhan sagged with relief.
Regaining his wits, he barked, "Move! Every egg goes to safety. The Nerubians must not end with us—guard our future!"
Navaz's spearhead had reached the borders of Moonglade Forest; he could read it in the fat world-tree roots threading the cavern roof.
"Press on! Drive the dead from our forest in one sweep. Think of your kin, your friends—no ambush beneath our homeland!"
Momentum lost, the Lich King roared that his throne was secure and ordered his officers back to the fight, yet against the high-spirited, hard-hitting Night Elves the underground army was slowly pushed out of Ankhet.
Vast Ankhet underlay almost all of Moonglade; reclaiming it blocked the undead from using the tunnels to strike unseen.
Fresh undead reinforcements arrived, but Navaz refused to chase. He planted his standards along Ankhet's northern marches, beat back every counter-attack, and dug in.
With the Nerubians' future secured and their capital half-won, Anub'Rekhan's folk worked with fierce joy.
At Andreas' word the master-builders among them threw up a rough rampart along the threatened northern border in barely a month.
The wall was still green and its mortar damp, yet if they held long enough to strengthen it, Ankhet's north would have a solid shield.
The undead could not undermine it from below; Navaz had buried moon-charged gems in the foundations, forming a field that burned any dead who approached.
Within that circle the Light's Power scorched fleshless bone; the closer they came the fiercer the flame, making a stealthy breach almost impossible.
Northrend quieted as the wall held. Seeing no profit, Ner'zhul pulled back—but left swarms of Undead Nerubians to watch for a Nerubian riposte. Almost a year of war in the north had cost Andreas dear, while the Eastern Kingdoms slid further into chaos.
One camp after another fell, swelling the Frostwolf and Warsong ranks with freed veterans; the roaming warbands soon outstripped any single kingdom's reach.
With the Frostwolf stronghold high in the Alterac Mountains, the main Horde now squatted in the Hillsbrad Foothills; Alterac's repeated sorties achieved nothing.
While King Barov begged Stromgarde, Gilneas, and Kul Tiras for aid, the Horde's new warchief wrestled with a darker riddle—where could his people go?
Go'el, schooled by Orgrim, saw strategy on a scale few orcs could match.
He read the trap behind the bright map: the northern kingdoms had not yet committed their full might.
Once humanity united under pressure, the isolated Horde would be crushed in these rich hills.
Veterans of the last war still held rank in human armies; some who had won medals now commanded platoons.
Against them, the freshly freed orcs were gaunt, the demon blood's toll still gnawing at soul and sinew.
Shamanic rites soothed the ache, but cures were only bandages on a deeper wound.
The Frostwolf Clan had revived the old ways, yet a handful of new shamans could not shepherd the swelling Horde.
The gap in strength left Gul'dan bleak; night after night he unrolled his map of the Eastern Kingdoms, hunting land where orcs might live.
There was none.
The Eastern Kingdoms were packed; every scrap of soil was claimed.
He sighed at the moon, his worry words no orc could share.
"Gul'dan."
A one-armed elder clapped his shoulder. "Why the long face? The last camp is emptied—celebrate with your people."
"Orgrim… I know what gnaws at me."
"Hah!" Orgrim drank, steam curling into the cold air. "Then don't let them see it."
He tipped the flask toward younger orcs whose furtive glances betrayed fear. Gul'dan's heart sank.
"See? A chieftain's shadow falls across the whole Clan."
Orgrim leaned against a trunk. "Stand tall. Their hearts beat to your drum."
Gul'dan exhaled, rubbed life into his cheeks, and rose wearing a stiff grin.
"Wine here! Tonight we drink—who dares match me?"
Orgrim watched him plunge back into the revel, then closed his eyes, wearied by years. Age, not merely his lost arm, sapped the Warchief's strength.
A rustle—Orgrim snapped awake. "…Grom?"
"Aye."
Grom thudded down beside him, clacking leather flasks. "Let the young roar; we old wolves drink."
He upended strong Alterac fire-water and, sprawled beneath the stars, asked, "You truly mean to hand the Horde to that Frostwolf pup?"
"I do." Orgrim chuckled. "He's no hot-blood. He has Durotan's vision and, under Drek'Thar, the Frostwolf creed—unity, coexistence."
The Frostwolf Clan's philosophy of unity and coexistence was an absolute outlier among orcs, who valued strength and power.
Most orcs were accustomed to taking what they wanted with their own hands, and they never saw anything wrong with such predatory behavior.
The law of the jungle, where the strong prey on the weak, was fully embodied among the orcs. This custom, through a long historical evolution, would eventually face a backlash, and Gul'dan's existence was an incredibly ironic proof of this.
Born with a disability, Gul'dan was subjected to cold stares and discrimination from his clansmen from a young age. The fire of hatred never left his heart, gradually twisting and darkening his mind.
This was also the deepest reason why Gul'dan, after gaining power, cared nothing for the survival of the orcs or Draenor, only seeking to become a god himself.
"Hmph~"
Grom grunted and sat up, "Do you still believe in that Frostwolf way?"
"I do," Ogrim said firmly, "Especially after the path of power and conquest proved to be a dead end. I am even more convinced that the traditional orcish ways won't work on Azeroth."
Grom fell silent. As Warchief, Ogrim had given everything for the Horde. He had demonstrated through his practical actions to all clans the outcome of resisting the combined forces of Azeroth's races.
After a long pause, Grom asked in a low voice, "If we abandon tradition, are we still orcs?"
"I don't know."
Ogrim said honestly, "Perhaps someone in the future will be able to accurately answer that question, but as remnants of an era, we are already falling behind the current tide of history."
Ogrim earnestly told Grom, who couldn't let go, "Draenor is finished, you and I both know that. But the orcs still exist here, in this new world called Azeroth."
"We cannot stand still. Even for the future of our people, we must strive to adapt to this new world with different rules than Draenor."
Turning his head to look at Go'el, who was performing a traditional orcish war dance by the campfire, Ogrim sighed softly. "Go'el once mentioned to me that if possible, he wants to reconcile with the humans."
"Hmph!" Grom sneered, "Impossible. The last great war created an intractable hatred between us. The only way for us and humans to reconcile is for one side to be completely annihilated. There is no other possibility."
Ogrim clapped Grom's muscular shoulder. "I used to think so too, but Go'el firmly believes there's a second path, and his ideas have already gained the approval of many of our people."
"Grom, we have fought long enough. After the exhilaration brought by the demon blood fades, the weary orcs desperately hope to find a stable new home to rest and recuperate."
"Go'el has been troubled by this recently. He doesn't know where to lead the orcs, and even... I don't know the answer to that question either."
Ogrim said bitterly, "This continent is too crowded, so crowded that we can't find any place to settle."
"Bang!" Grom slammed his fist on the ground, saying forcefully, "Then we'll fight for a place! We have enough troops. Pick a country and attack it; we're sure to seize some territory!"
"And then what? Be encircled and annihilated by the united nations of the Alliance, who share a common hatred?"
Ogrim shook his head in disappointment. "I've tried that path already; it doesn't work."
"The more pressure we apply, the more united the Alliance becomes, and the stronger their rebound will be."
"We need a new home, a brand new territory not under Alliance jurisdiction."
"Unfortunately, we can't find any place to settle on the Eastern Kingdoms. And across the sea, Kalimdor has an ancient behemoth that is unparalleled on Azeroth."
Grom knew very little about the situation across the sea. He asked in surprise, "You even know about the situation across the sea?"
"Heh~" Ogrim shrugged self-deprecatingly. "That was my only gain from the internment camp, I learned a lot about the lands across the sea from the idle chatter of human guards."
Ogrim took out a map drawn on a piece of animal hide from his chest and spread it on the ground. The crude drawing made Grom burst out laughing.
Ogrim's face reddened slightly. "...Shut up. If you're so good, you draw it!"
Grom quickly coughed and composed himself. "Cough~ Let's get back to business."
"Look here."
Ogrim grunted and pointed to a continent on the left with a question mark drawn on it. "This is the continent of Kalimdor. Unfortunately, I can't accurately depict its shape, I only know that an ancient race called the Night Elves lives there."
During the Second War, the orcs and Night Elves had a brief encounter. The Night Elves' formidable physique and powerful navy that dominated the seas left a deep impression on him.
"You should know the source of the fel energy Gul'dan brought, right?"
"I do." Grom nodded heavily. "It comes from a demonic organization called the Burning Legion. According to Gul'dan, the Burning Legion has conquered and destroyed countless worlds, and if we don't follow their instructions, the orcs will also be effortlessly wiped out."
Ogrim agreed, "Although Gul'dan is full of lies, at least he wasn't lying about this."
"According to some Kirin Tor mages who came to study the orcs, the Burning Legion invaded Azeroth ten thousand years ago, and it was through the valiant efforts of the Night Elves that the Burning Legion's attack was repelled."
"This..."
Grom shook his head in disbelief. "I've seen that demon lord named Mannoroth; his power is beyond what mortals can achieve."
"It's said that there are many beings of Mannoroth's strength within the Burning Legion. How did the Night Elves defeat them?"
"Unclear."
Ogrim patted the animal hide map. "These old stories aren't our main focus. The main point is that the continent of Kalimdor has been thoroughly consolidated by the Night Elves over ten thousand years."
"Although there are still many other indigenous species there, they are almost all allies of the Night Elves, walking a common path."
"The Eastern Kingdoms, Kalimdor, these two continents are the main body of Azeroth. We can't find a future on the continents, so..."
Ogrim pointed his finger to the blank area in the center of the two continents. "The only way out is to find a large enough island in the vast ocean."
"I heard from Alliance guards that the Draenei, who arrived on Azeroth before us, have settled on a barren island near Kalimdor, and they have already gained recognition from the various races of Azeroth, led by the Night Elves."
"Draenei?!"
Grom's mouth dropped open in surprise. "How did they get to Azeroth? Earlier than us?"
"Unclear. It's said they traveled in some kind of vehicle that can traverse the Great Dark Beyond, but that's not what we should be concerned about."
Ogrim propped his chin with his sole hand, gazing thoughtfully at the map. "Go'el's current worry should be this problem. We have no ships, no sea charts, and no way of knowing which islands in the sea are suitable for survival."
"Cough cough~"
"Who?!"
A sudden cough sounded from behind the two. Grom reflexively raised his axe, Gorehowl, and swung it backward, but he didn't feel the axe hit anything solid.
"Gentlemen, no need to panic. I am not your enemy."
A shadowy figure wearing a feathered hood gradually materialized. Ogrim stopped Grom's intention to continue attacking, looking gravely at the uninvited guest.
"Who are you? Why were you eavesdropping on our conversation?"
The stranger, whose body was gradually solidifying, sighed softly. "I am merely one who atones. My identity is not important. What is important is... I can guide the orcs to a new home."
Suddenly, a person inexplicably emerged from the darkness, claiming repeatedly that he could save the future of the orcs. No one with a brain would easily believe him.
If Ogrim had not held back the irritable old man beside him, who was still unsure of the stranger's true identity, Grom would have already shown this mysterious person what it meant to have an axe embedded in his forehead.
Although Ogrim admitted he had aged a lot, he was not so careless as to lose his vigilance in the wild, let alone Grom, who was still the strongest active orc warrior.
This hooded man, whose face they couldn't see, had completely evaded their senses, appearing suddenly like a ghost not of this world. Ogrim and Grom's vigilance instantly shot to its highest level.
"A new homeland for the orcs?" Ogrim's eyes gleamed coldly. "Do you think I would believe some random nonsense from a fellow who doesn't even dare to reveal his identity?"
The hooded man nodded understandingly. "It's normal for Warchief Ogrim to be so vigilant. I will tell you my suggestions. As for whether the orcs are willing to try, that is your own problem."
Under the wary gaze of the two old orcs, the hooded man continued, "Just as you discussed earlier, the Eastern Kingdoms have no place for orcs, but the continent of Kalimdor across the sea might."
"The orcs have two choices: first, to cross the sea to the continent of Kalimdor and find a barren, desolate patch of red earth on the eastern shore of the continent."
"As Warchief Ogrim knows, most of Kalimdor's habitable lands are occupied by night elves and other native races. Only this barren land, worthless to other races, is overlooked."
"That is one option. The second choice is to head north to the cold continent of Northrend."
"The Borean Tundra, located in southwestern Northrend, is still ungoverned. Although the local climate is quite harsh, it's not so cold as to be unbearable."
"For orcs, whose tradition is herding, this land has good value. However, due to its distance from the civilized world of Azeroth, choosing Northrend would pose some obstacles to the orcs integrating into the new world."
"My words are finished."
The hooded man waved his cloak, and gradually faded away under the watchful eyes of Grom and Ogrim.
"Whether you choose to believe and how you choose your base is entirely up to you. This is a decision truly concerning the survival of the orcs, so please think twice before acting."
"In a month and a half, Kul Tiras trade ships will return from Northrend with a large number of special products, docking in Southshore. If you decide to take action, please make your decision as soon as possible."
As the mysterious man's voice gradually faded, Ogrim's eyes showed a contemplative look.
"Hmph!" Grom grunted unhappily, re-slinging Gorehowl onto the weapon belt on his back. "A shadowy figure like that, not a single punctuation mark of what he says can be trusted."
Ogrim, however, was stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Leaving aside the situation in Kalimdor for now, Northrend… I seem to have heard of it."
Human pioneering teams had opened sea routes to Northrend several years ago, and many opportunists and adventurers eager to make a fortune actively participated in the Northrend pioneering teams.
During the peak of the Northrend exploration craze, Ogrim was still imprisoned in the internment camp. The guards, bored, had also mentioned this gold rush of exploration.
Ogrim's memory was excellent. He remembered that when those human guards mentioned Northrend, the most frequently spoken place names were Howling Fjord and Valgarde, not the Borean Tundra mentioned by the mysterious man.
This proved that the Borean Tundra had not attracted significant attention among human nations. At least from this perspective, perhaps the mysterious man's words were not entirely fabricated.
Grom looked at Ogrim in surprise. "Old friend, you're not actually going to believe him, are you?"
Ogrim shook his head and said, "I won't jump to conclusions without concrete evidence. Coincidentally, Thrall is going to raid Tarren Mill for food soon. When he does, he can capture some human officials to question."
'Both options have their pros and cons. If that person wasn't just talking nonsense…'
...In Shandris City, Andaria was listening to the intelligence Alleria had gathered during her time lurking in the Icecrown Glacier.
"That perpetually frozen ice mountain has existed for a long time, but the artificial throne at the top was later constructed by the undead Vrykul and undead Nerubians."
Even before the Icecrown Citadel appeared, Alleria had followed the clues left by the gargoyles all the way into the Icecrown Glacier.
This extremely cold glacial permafrost once made it impossible for Alleria to gain a foothold, forcing her to travel to Shandris to purchase cold-weather clothing and thermal magic devices.
Rangers are highly adaptable to their environment, and Alleria, who frequently traveled across the lands, was not a pampered young lady.
Although the climate of Icecrown Glacier was extremely harsh and finding food was very difficult, after a period of adaptation, Alleria stubbornly took root in this forbidden zone of life.
Initially, Ner'zhul's actions were very low-key, hiding in a cave deep within the glacier and remotely directing the battles beneath the surface.
As the undead army's snowball grew larger and larger, with the help of several "humanoid bats," as Alleria called them, the Icecrown Citadel was completely transformed within just half a month, and the large block of ice containing the armor was also moved to the top of the throne.
"Humanoid bats?"
Andaria's expression darkened slightly. "Are they bald demons with bat wings on their backs, two horns on their heads, and a sinister look on their faces?"
Alleria looked at Andaria in surprise. "That's right, you know them?"
"Heh heh~" Andaria smiled without warmth. "Of course I know them. I dealt with them ten thousand years ago. Shandris should also remember them vividly."
Dreadlords are very cunning demons. They know that their individual strength is not strong compared to other demons, and they habitually choose to act in groups most of the time.
Originally, their leader, Tichondrius, was an exception, but ten thousand years ago, he had his head twisted off by Azshara, causing him to have serious doubts about his own strength. After his punishment ended, he always maintained a group travel status.
Having just launched a raid on Icecrown Citadel, Ner'zhul should still be very vigilant. Andaria suppressed the killing intent in her heart and gestured for Alleria to continue her story.
"Previously, I scouted most of the suitable hiding places in Icecrown Glacier. There were a few tall giants living in the valleys of Icecrown Glacier."
"However, just as your scouts discovered, most giant villages were infected with a strange plague. The bodies of giants who died from the disease dug themselves out of their graves at night and gathered towards the throne under the control of some power."
Andaria nodded knowingly. "It's indeed the undead at work. That plague shouldn't just be a simple disease; it should also be mixed with the influence of some death magic."
After pondering for a while with her chin in her hand, Andaria said to Alleria, "The information you provided helped us fill in the missing pieces from before, at least allowing me to further confirm the forces behind the undead."
"Now that the undead have strengthened their vigilance over Icecrown Glacier, it's not suitable to continue lurking and exploring. You should pack up and prepare to return home."
"Return home?"
Alleria was stunned, and her brows gradually furrowed. "Has something happened in Quel''Thalas?"
For nearly a year prior, Alleria had been almost completely cut off from the outside world, and news from Quel''Thalas had not yet reached her ears.
Andaria briefly explained to her, "To put it in one sentence, Quel''Thalas is currently on the brink of internal turmoil, and your sister Sylvanas is also at the center of the storm. You'd best go back and see for yourself."
When she learned of the upheaval in Quel'Thalas, Alleria bade Andreas farewell without a second word and, with the Highborne's help, teleported pell-mell back to Windrunner Village.
On the terrace of Suramar's Lords Palace, Andreas narrowed his eyes toward Icecrown Glacier.
"Tichondrius, I will settle that old debt—count on it."
As the subterranean war subsided, Northrend's surface calmed, yet the Lich King's sudden rise shattered the continent's fragile balance.
While the Night Elves shifted their garrisons from Zul'Drak and Howling Fjord toward the northwest near Icecrown, the Drakari Trolls first peeled troops from the western line, redoubling their assault on Grizzly Hills.
The Dragonriding Vrykul grew bolder by the day, clashing with the Iron Dwarves of the fjords while openly readying a northward march to reclaim lost lands.
Loken, long holed up in Storm Peaks, also cast off his low profile; through Titan relics left in Howling Fjord he ferried his Iron Army, intent on teaching his unruly thralls a lesson they would never forget.
Having entrusted Suramar's civil and military affairs to Governor Roddick and Navaz, Andreas returned to Astranaar after receiving an urgent message from Tyrande.
Inside the council hall stood the top commanders—Jarod, Shandris, and others—while a bad premonition gnawed at Andreas.
"What happened? Someone give me a full briefing."
Celeste sighed softly. "Three major developments—each tied to the Eastern Kingdoms. I'll explain."
"First: Quel'Thalas. The suppressed grand nobles forged an instant consensus, suspending their rivalries to confront the royalist bloc head-on."
"Though neither side has drawn steel yet, the political rift is clear. The Silvermoon Council and the Sun King have openly broken with each other; non-royal nobles now incite the populace without restraint, and Silvermoon City teeters on the brink of civil unrest."
The news hardly surprised Andreas. Kael'thas had bought time, but the nobles were no fools; under dire threat they pooled intelligence and resources.
Once they realized the Sun King meant to slice through the Gordian knot and strip them of most privileges, the normally sluggish Silvermoon Council reached unanimity at record speed, defying him.
Since Dath'Remar founded the realm, Quel'Thalas' aristocracy had stood for millennia; the people took it for granted and saw nothing odd in living under noble patronage.
Kael'thas never sought to abolish the system outright—only to curb the bloated privileges of the great houses.
Yet the nobles spun his aim into a tale that the Sunstrider Royal Family meant to impose autocracy. Thus a farce was born.
The very lords who squeezed commoners now shouted "Down with dictatorship! Forward with democracy!"—and, after lavish coin on propaganda, some folk actually swallowed it.
"Ha!"
Andreas snorted. "Feudal lords preaching democracy? That's aristocracy-and-council democracy. Can the real 'people' decide anything?"
The Silvermoon Council's wordplay might fool the gullible, but no seasoned ruler across Azeroth was deceived.
Their promised "democracy" meant future elections open to the masses—yet the ballot list was rigged from the start.
For instance, the preliminary slate offered by the Council was almost all noble puppets, with a token "people's champion" or two bought for show.
So whoever won, what changed?
Funnier still, many Quel'dorei believed it.
They thought they held free choice, yet the victor was fixed the moment the shortlist appeared—nothing but passing the parcel.
The nobles' hoarded wealth, amassed while the crown had relaxed its grip for centuries, proved staggering.
Spending without limit, they distorted Kael'thas' aims until crowds, convinced the Sunstriders craved tyranny, marched in protest under noble banners.
It was into this chaos that Alleria returned. Hearing the tale from her mother, the tempestuous ranger at once urged Sylvanas to crush the rioters without mercy.
"It's not that simple."
Andreas rubbed his brow. "Per Aurora and Feren's reports, some rioters merely vented grievances, but most were duped by the noble faction."
"If Sylvanas strikes first in Amani Forest, waverers may swing behind the Council once the nobles howl about 'butchery'."
Celeste nodded wryly. "That's what troubles little Kael. He foresaw a backlash, but never that they'd dare wrap themselves in 'the people's will'."
Andreas drummed the table. "Quel'Thalas is near the brink. Without a swift remedy it may plunge further."
Some kingdom that used a white flag for its banner and surrender for a salute once walked that road.
Memory had blurred; Andreas could only faintly recall the executed king—Louis… something?
"Set Quel'Thalas aside for now. If it comes to worst, we'll have to use the iron fist."
Kael'thas, though surprised by the ferocity of the revolt, had prepared for the worst.
In recent years, under the pretext of reforming the Vassal Army, he had slipped royal loyalists into every tier of Quel'Thalas' forces; most military power now lay with the crown.
Should order collapse, he would cut the knot first and let truth be sorted once the dust settled.
"What of the second and third matters?"
Celeste reined in her wandering thoughts. "The second concerns every northern realm of the Eastern Kingdoms."
"An unknown plague is creeping through remote hinterlands. Every kingdom has sent investigators; their reports are grim."
Andreas' eyes sharpened. "Plague, you say—go on."
Celeste's expression darkened. "It's a new ailment blending physical and arcane effects; without the right spellwork and alchemy it's nearly incurable."
"Niana warns from Lordaeron: this sickness is no natural blight but deliberate, and its purpose is surely vile."
Andreas nodded noncommittally. "And the third thing?"
"The third thing is still related to the Northern Kingdoms."
Celeste's lips curled into a mocking smile. "Terenas' orc internment camp plan is finished. This fire might even burn back onto him."
After the Frostwolf and Warsong Clans joined forces, the roaming orcs broke through all the internment camps one after another. The number of orcs snowballed rapidly, and they have now become an unmanageable force.
The aging Terenas has been unable to sleep well lately. With the plague and the orc uprising hitting simultaneously, Lordaeron, which had finally regained some strength, is once again in a state of chaos.
Entering his old age, Terenas gradually lost the ambitions of his early years under the harsh blows of reality. Even Benedictus' repeated encouragement could not bring back Terenas' departed youth.
This active Archbishop of the Light has been under the surveillance of Prisim's scouts for several years. For now, no obvious suspicious movements have been found; at this stage, he can only be described as a clergyman keen on power.
Having been disappointed by Terenas countless times, Benedictus began to spread the Great Human Unification Ideology to the maturing Prince Arthas.
Speaking of Arthas, Andreas felt a sense of powerlessness to even complain.
He wondered if this prince had a special preference for the labels 'princess' and 'female mage'. After his budding feelings for Jaina were snuffed out by Daelin, he quickly shifted his target.
Princess Jandice Barov, who also went to Dalaran to study, has been very close to Prince Arthas in recent years. Terenas had long intended to ease relations with Alterac and was happy to see his son's pursuit.
King Alex was very dissatisfied with the interaction between his daughter and the Prince of Lordaeron.
The Kingdom of Alterac was the nation most severely affected by the orc calamity, and at its root, these orc troubles were caused by Terenas.
If it hadn't been for that damn internment camp plan, the orcs would have been exterminated on a large scale long ago. How could there be today's chaos?
However, his daughter is grown, and it's impossible for Alex to follow her around every day to break them up.
Furthermore, there is no eternal hatred or intimacy between nations; it is nothing more than a matter of interests.
After Terenas took the initiative to show goodwill, expressing a willingness to help Alterac clear out the orcs, Alex could only hold his nose and tacitly allow Jandice and Arthas to date.
As several years passed, the original pattern of the four northern kingdoms uniting against Lordaeron underwent many changes.
The Kingdom of Gilneas officially began its isolation after the completion of the majestic Gryphon Guard Wall.
Genn Greymane contentedly hid behind the wall to implement his long-desired isolationism, turning a deaf ear to everything outside. His attitude naturally annoyed Archlord Darius Crowley, whose territory was located in Silverpine Forest.
Gilneas, internally troubled, had no heart to continue opposing Lordaeron and almost completely severed ties with other nations.
Stromgarde was not doing well either. It had already suffered significantly under the raids of the Warsong orcs and now had to bear the cost of repairing Thoradins Wall.
Coupled with the Withered Trolls continuing to cause trouble within its borders, Thoras' graying hair was so stressed that not a single black strand could be seen. He had no mood to continue standing against Lordaeron.
Now that Alterac had also been won over by Lordaeron, the Kingdom of Gilneas was left standing alone. It could only turn a blind eye, avoiding the land routes of Tirisfal Glades and engaging in extensive maritime trade through its good relationship with the Night Elf Republic.
The relaxed external environment gave Lordaeron, already a powerful nation, some breathing room. Its population reached new highs following consecutive years of bountiful harvests, but because of this, Lordaeron was targeted by a certain ill-intentioned hidden figure.
The foundation for the undead to snowball is to find a nation with a large population as a springboard to complete their initial accumulation.
The Lich King had already achieved this by conquering the Kingdom of Ankhet. His next step was to place his hopes for the continued expansion of the undead army on Lordaeron.
In fact, the most populous nation in Azeroth today is not Lordaeron, but the Night Elf Republic across the sea.
Although their birth rate cannot compare to humans, a population accumulated over tens of thousands of years is no joke. Today, the total population of the Night Elf Republic has exceeded the ten-million mark.
However, the old problem facing the Night Elves remains severe: they cannot afford to lose people.
As long as they suffer heavy losses in a major war, the Night Elf Republic will not recover for at least several hundred or even a thousand years, which is completely incomparable to the human way of replenishing population like breeding pigs.
Ner'zhul did not dare to casually offend this ancient race that had once defeated the Burning Legion. After their first encounter during the war for the underground kingdom, Ner'zhul sensed how difficult these ancient elves were to deal with.
Excluding the Night Elves and Zandalar, which has been keeping a low profile while busy clearing out Blood Trolls in recent years, it is not surprising that Ner'zhul's gaze would first turn to the Kingdom of Lordaeron.
As long as he took down this strongest human nation, he might even be able to follow the trail and deal with the other northern human kingdoms all at once. It was a highly profitable deal he couldn't pass up.
Currently, the orcs led by Gul'dan are roaming around StrAhn'brad. Prince Arthas received his father's orders and, together with the paladin leader and his mentor Uther the Lightbringer, set out from Lordaeron to support his girlfriend's homeland, Alterac.
Gul'dan had received a human education as a child. Although it was only for a few years, some human values were relatively close to those of the Frostwolf Clan, and he was more or less influenced by them.
Unless absolutely necessary, he did not want to engage in full-scale war with humans.
It just so happened that Orgrim proposed leading a detachment to attack Southshore at this time.
Although Orgrim perfunctorily said he only wanted to seize the grain transported by Kul Tiras merchant ships, as the mentor who taught Gul'dan military command and situational awareness, Gul'dan, who had spent many years with him, saw through Orgrim's insincerity at a glance.
Worried about an accident befalling Orgrim, Gul'dan took this opportunity to lead the main force south to attack Southshore.
Grom was very dissatisfied with Gul'dan's attitude of avoiding battle. He volunteered to stay behind and intercept the allied forces of Lordaeron and Alterac.
Facts proved that the orcs were no longer the powerful Horde that had once swept across the Eastern Kingdoms.
Under the charge of The Knights of the Silver Hand, the orcs, who still hadn't completely shaken off their fatigue, were routed. Only the Warsong Clan wolf riders, serving as the main force, could hold their own against the paladins of the Silver Hand in battle.
Localized stalemates could not affect the overall defeat. A disgraced Grom gloomily gathered the routed soldiers and headed south, following the footsteps of Gul'dan and Orgrim.
When Andreas received the intelligence regarding Lordaeron in Astranaar, Prince Arthas had just received Terenas' second order.
Uther would lead the main force of the Silver Hand to continue pursuing the orcs, while Arthas' direct units would head north to Andorhal to investigate and attempt to cure the local plague.
Having studied the path of the Holy Light under Uther, Arthas himself was a powerful paladin. The Holy Light has a strong restraining effect on all evil energies.
Terenas' order was correct from a common-sense perspective, but Andreas had already foreseen this prince's end.
Despite his pessimistic thoughts, Andreas still wanted to try and change Arthas' fate, preventing Lordaeron from becoming a breeding ground for the further expansion of the undead forces.
"Contact King Alex and say it's my suggestion. Have him send Jandice to Arthas' side to assist in the investigation. If necessary, have Jandice persuade Arthas, so this Prince of Lordaeron doesn't stray onto an evil path from here on."
In the original history, many theories surround Arthas' tragedy, but his own character flaws undoubtedly played the decisive role.
As the crown prince of Lordaeron, humanity's mightiest kingdom, Arthas was no mediocrity after years of paladin training—yet Terenas' meticulous sheltering meant he rarely faced real setbacks while growing up.
Moreover, the kingcraft Terenas taught clashed with paladin ideals; the divergent lessons of Uther and Terenas slowly bred conflict in Arthas' mind.
He could not decide whether to follow the paladin path of justice and mercy or to rule by the ruthless pragmatism his father preached. This clash of creeds, coupled with a life of smooth sailing, left him hypersensitive to failure.
His first real setback arrived as a catastrophe that threatened not merely Lordaeron but all Azeroth, and Arthas' mind was now a tangled mess.
Fortunately Jandice arrived just then; sensing her lover's wavering, she gently encouraged him while they continued tracking the plague's source.
When Andreas dispatched Jandice as Arthas' restraining influence, he also had Prisim infiltrate Stratholme ahead of time to locate plague-tainted grain.
But Prisim's scouts arrived too late: vast shipments of infected grain had already rolled out toward settlements across the East and West Westerns.
Andreas ordered Prisim to investigate at once and, if necessary, assassinate Baron Rivendare—yet the baron had vanished without a trace.
"Moving fast, aren't we…"
Andreas rubbed his chin. "No choice—I'll go myself."
Shandris looked at her husband in surprise. "Are you sure? You've always refused to meddle in other nations' affairs."
"This is different." Andreas donned his robes with Celeste's help, expression grave. "This plague could alter the entire course of history—and…"
"the one spreading it might well be an old acquaintance of ours."
After learning from Alleria that a Dreadlord had set foot on Azeroth, Andreas immediately passed the news to Leticia.
The usually jovial Leticia's face darkened; though ten millennia had passed, she still remembered Tichondrius' wild, mocking smile the day her father died.
Queen Azshara had avenged the Moonsong clan, yet demons can revive endlessly as long as their souls endure; Leticia had long expected to meet Tichondrius again.
She volunteered to lead her personal troops to Northrend, determined to slay Tichondrius herself. With the soul-targeting Shadow Magic Andreas taught her, the fiend would not escape to the Twisting Nether this time.
Andreas had already planned to reinforce Northrend anyway; a top commander was essential.
Leticia's overexcited state worried Shandris, so Andreas transferred the main strength of Shandris' Sentinels to Northrend, placing all ground operations under Shandris' command.
With the Lich King making his move, the Burning Legion's full-scale invasion of Azeroth had begun.
This was no skirmish. Andreas left Jarod to hold Astranaar and began mobilizing the long-peaceful Night-elf host, drilling them until battle-ready.
After teleporting to Lordaeron, Andreas first met Niana, who was based in the capital.
Having governed Lordaeron for years, Niana looked far more mature than when she first took office, yet her brows were tightly knit.
"Uncle, will Lordaeron fall?"
"Oh?" Andreas raised a brow. "What makes you ask?"
Niana gave a wry smile. "I can't explain it, but this moribund kingdom, rife with hidden currents, makes me uneasy."
Moribund it was—Terenas, nearing the end of his life, had grown ever more conservative in his decisions.
Those "hidden currents" were the spreading plague and the still-enigmatic Benedictus.
Andreas ruffled her hair. "It's natural you'd guess as much. This kingdom is living proof that 'a great state that loves war is doomed to perish.'"
Drunk on its own might, Lordaeron under Terenas had once clashed with every neighbor; though relations had eased of late, torn wounds heal slowly.
The current plague was Exhibit A.
While other realms—Alterac included—saw only minor outbreaks quickly stamped out by their governments, Lordaeron's plague only intensified.
Dalaran sensed the arcane taint within the plague and dispatched investigators; Jandice was one of them.
Yet once other nations cleansed their own lands, they turned a cold shoulder to Lordaeron's misery—payback for Terenas' earlier arrogance.
"Brace yourself."
Andreas patted her head. "If we can't stop this, your tenure as Alliance ambassador is about to end."
Niana could not yet grasp her mentor's full meaning, but she read the foreboding in his eyes.
Lordaeron's future held danger enough to destroy the kingdom outright… Andorhal, Lordaeron's linchpin city in the Western Wilds, linked Tirisfal Glades with the East-West trade routes.
Once a thriving hub, the city was now wreathed in flames by the time Andreas arrived.
From Icecrown Glacier one could see the pillar of fire; the stench of burning flesh drifted on the summer breeze, and Andreas wrinkled his nose.
"Too late?"
Shielding himself, he walked through the inferno; charred corpses lay everywhere.
They had not died in this fire.
Andreas had seen burn victims—bodies curl instinctively—but these lay flat, face-down or supine.
They had perished before the flames ever rose.
'Plague victims…'
Arthas' decision to burn the city had been correct.
Andorhal was already beyond saving; torching it was the only sure way to halt the contagion.
"Hm?"
Near the central plaza, Andreas paused; a powerful soul-flux had caught his attention.
Countless vengeful spirits—citizens who had died in agony—roamed unseen, shrieking at the living.
They hurled themselves at Andreas, only to rebound off his Light-shield, wailing in frustration.
But the flux he now sensed dwarfed those petty specters; its soul remained startlingly intact and sane.
He tapped his staff on the flagstones; a ring of Shadow rippled outward.
"Show yourself, whoever hides among these common wraiths!"
"Heh—worthy of Speaker Moonshadow indeed."
Ten paces ahead, the translucent figure of a human soul materialized, robed in violet.
The spirit had been a mage; his bald pate still seemed to gleam even in ghostly form.
The middle-aged, balding wizard bowed with courtly grace. "I am Kel'Thuzad. It is an honor to meet you in person, Speaker Andreas."
"Kel'Thuzad?" Andreas smiled meaningfully. "A former Kirin Tor Council Member, expelled from Dalaran for insisting on researching forbidden Necromancy Spells, and now one of the Lich King's most important pawns. Am I wrong?"
Kel'Thuzad was startled. He hadn't expected that just a name would allow the other party to guess his current identity.
"How does Speaker Moonshadow know I now serve the Lich King?"
Kel'Thuzad looked at Andreas with a surprised expression. Now in his soul form, he wasn't afraid of Andreas suddenly striking him down; after all, besides his soul, he had nothing left to lose.
Andreas waved his hand and said, "You don't need to know my source of information, but..."
Observing the lingering hesitation and sorrow on Kel'Thuzad's soul, Andreas tentatively asked, "You seem to have some doubts about the Lich King's plan?"
"This..."
Kel'Thuzad was speechless. He felt completely defenseless in front of the other party. If he hadn't sensed any mind-reading spells, he would have suspected that Speaker Moonshadow was monitoring his thoughts.
"Heh~" Andreas chuckled reassuringly, "Don't worry, I'm not monitoring your mind, nor is there any need to."
Ignoring the surrounding flames, Andreas found a relatively intact stone stool and sat down.
"Tell me, what are your doubts? Anyway, you are just a soul now, and matters of the Material World are temporarily irrelevant to you. Perhaps I can help you answer some questions you can't figure out."
Although the Lich King had promised to resurrect him later, that was under the premise that everything would proceed according to plan in the future.
Now, with the plan just beginning and encountering Speaker Moonshadow not far behind the target, Kel'Thuzad became quite pessimistic about the entire plan's progression.
Ordinary humans knew little about the Night Elves, only that they were distant relatives of the High Elves, lived on another unfamiliar continent, and rarely had direct contact with humans beyond trade.
As humanity's magical kingdom, Dalaran knew much more about the history of the Night Elves than the common populace, not to mention that Kel'Thuzad was once a Kirin Tor Council of Six member and had a deep understanding of the Tirisifal Council's existence.
Since the Tirisifal Council was completely wiped out by Medivh, most of the books and artifacts in Karazhan were moved to Dalaran by the Kirin Tor, who had long been waiting for them.
While inheriting most of Karazhan's legacy, Dalaran also inherited some of Karazhan's karma. Teron Gorefiend's invasion of Dalaran to seize Medivh's book was a karmic feedback.
Many High Elves were among the founders of the Tirisifal Council, and their understanding of the Night Elves was deeper than that of younger humans. Kel'Thuzad had read many glorious histories of the Night Elves from the Tirisifal Council's records.
As a powerful figure who survived the War of the Ancients and gradually became a racial leader and pillar, there would naturally be no shortage of records about Andreas.
Feeling troubled, Kel'Thuzad imitated Andreas and sat down, posing the question that had been bothering him for a long time.
"Speaker Moonshadow, to defeat the Burning Legion, is it truly only possible to resist their Fel Energy corruption with an undead body?"
Andreas raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Why would you think that? Is that the Lich King's claim?"
"Yes."
"Ha~" Andreas shook his head with a laugh. "Although it's regrettable, I must dispel your wishful thinking."
"Who said the power of death can definitely defeat Fel Energy?"
"The six fundamental forces of the universe are completely equal in terms of their power level; the only difference lies in the one who wields them."
"I can tell you responsibly that an undead body cannot completely resist the corruption of Fel Energy. On the contrary, due to hatred for the living, one's mindset will gradually warp, and one might even begin to forget the original intention of becoming undead."
Fel Energy is indeed a rogue power; its users can absorb life force to enhance their strength. While an undead body can, to some extent, curb Fel Energy users from absorbing and strengthening themselves, it is ultimately a superficial solution.
Andreas finally understood Ner'zhul's plan: this coward intended to sacrifice all life in the entire world to weaken the invading Burning Legion.
As long as there was no life on Azeroth, demons would not be able to absorb power to strengthen themselves, and their combat effectiveness would be significantly reduced.
However, Ner'zhul's plan was foolish, entirely based on his lack of understanding of the Burning Legion.
Indeed, a lifeless planet would hardly interest the Burning Legion, as their original purpose was to "purify" the void energies of the entire universe.
But Sargeras' invasion of Azeroth was not merely to "purify" her; he wanted to corrupt the azeroth world-soul, make her his own, and have her become the Burning Legion's right-hand in purifying the universe.
Once Sargeras confirmed that the planet was dead and he could not corrupt the azeroth world-soul, he would, with ninety-nine percent certainty, cut down and destroy this lifeless planet.
Ner'zhul's understanding of the Burning Legion probably still remained at the level of Kiljaeden. If he were to see Sargeras with his own eyes, this old Orc soul, who had cowered to the extreme, might just die of fright on the spot.
Andreas explained the countless flaws in Ner'zhul's idiotic plan to Kel'Thuzad in a simple yet profound way, and he could feel Kel'Thuzad's mood sinking lower and lower.
"So, the Lich King's plan is destined to be futile? If there is no healthy world-soul, the demon king has no interest in this planet at all?"
Andreas shrugged and said, "Though it sounds cruel, that is the truth."
"In your eyes, the Lich King, who possesses immense psychic power, is merely a pawn transformed by Kiljaeden. Before his death, he was the second Warchief of the Orc Horde, named Ner'zhul."
"An Orc? The Lich King is actually an Orc?"
Kel'Thuzad's brows furrowed even more. Because of the war that swept across the Eastern Kingdoms, almost all humans, except for a few ambitious schemers, had little affection for Orcs.
Seeing that the time was right, Andreas smiled and said, "Now that you know Ner'zhul's true identity and his flawed plan, what are your next steps? Continue to wait for his promise of resurrection?"
"Alas~"
Kel'Thuzad gazed at the smoke-filled sky above Andorhal and sighed faintly. "What's the point of following an Orc with such a limited vision? Indeed, I was blinded by my own obsession and rashly approached the Lich King without understanding his true identity."
"Kel'Thuzad, I have a suggestion."
Andreas' face showed a mysterious smile. "Since you can't think of anything to do for now, you can stay here and wait for Ner'zhul to fulfill his promise."
Kel'Thuzad asked, puzzled, "I can, but what's the point?"
Andreas patiently explained, "Although Ner'zhul's plan is full of flaws, his arrival has indeed brought a series of irreversible changes to Azeroth."
'Such as his miraculous helm of domination...'
Before his transmigration, Andreas happened to see the preview CG for Warcraft 9.0, and who the hell knew that the helm of domination created by Kiljaeden was actually a key connecting the Material World and the Shadowlands.
In other words, Ner'zhul unknowingly became the lock connecting to the Shadowlands. It's just unknown whether Kiljaeden knew about the connection between the helm of domination and the Shadowlands when he made it, or if it's another case of Blizzard retconning?
Although he didn't know the exact situation of the mysterious Shadowlands yet, by controlling the helm of domination, Andreas could hold the key in his own hands.
And the helm of domination was a crucial item for the "there must always be a Lich King" dictum. If there was an insider to help Andreas keep an eye on it, no matter who became the next lock, this important key would always be under his surveillance.
'Poor Ner'zhul.'
Andreas felt pity for this old Orc, whose intelligence gathering was extremely inadequate. 'He probably won't know what that thing on his head really is until his soul dissipates, thinking he's the chess player, but not knowing he's just an insignificant pawn in someone else's hands.'
To be chosen as one of the Kirin Tor councilors in Dalaran, Kel'Thuzad's wisdom and magical attainments were undoubtedly high.
The Lich King was an orc, and his so-called grand plan was destined to be nothing more than a mirage. Kel'Thuzad, who was already suspicious, lost some motivation under the blow of these sudden bad tidings.
But this wouldn't allow his brilliant mind to sink with his mood. Andreas' meaning was clear: he wanted Kel'Thuzad to stay by the Lich King's side and become a spy for the Night Elves.
However, Kel'Thuzad couldn't understand the point of doing this. Since the Lich King's plan was full of holes, why not gather forces early and simply defeat him?
Kel'Thuzad believed that if the Night Elves brought out their elite, the Lich King, who had not yet taken Lordaeron, would be unstoppable.
Andreas' focus was not on Ner'zhul, nor even on the potential second-generation Lich King in the future. He was concerned about the Shadowlands key, the helm of domination, whose principle was still unclear.
Even though Kel'Thuzad's emotions were at an all-time low, simply lecturing wouldn't convince a mage with excellent logical thinking.
Andreas had his own understanding of human relationships.
To maintain good relationships between people, relying solely on either emotion or self-interest is difficult to sustain long-term.
In his previous life, he had heard a widely circulated joke: to destroy the friendship between drinking buddies, you only need two words – 'lend money'.
Although this statement is somewhat absolute, friends who are not deeply connected fear encountering demands without any emotional foundation the most, and this is not limited to money.
Andreas and Kel'Thuzad had only met by chance. To make Kel'Thuzad easily agree to become a high-risk spy, Andreas' resounding reputation alone was not enough; the provision of benefits was indispensable.
"Kel'Thuzad, I know what you pursue."
Andreas didn't frown at Kel'Thuzad's questioning. He still said gently, "You want Dalaran, which once expelled you, to recognize your research."
"Before that, you must first understand a premise: why is Dalaran so wary of research into Fel Energy, death, and Shadow Magic?"
As a former Kirin Tor councilor, Kel'Thuzad had permission to read many valuable documents that ordinary mages could not access.
He had also heard about the difficulties Dalaran faced in its early days, as the abuse of Arcane and the study of negative energies like Fel Energy and shadow attracted countless enemies.
If the Tirisifal Council had not been established in time, whether Dalaran, this magical city-state, could have survived to this day would be a question mark.
"Fel Energy attracts demons, and Shadow Power also attracts the attention of Void Creatures. I can understand all of this, but death..."
Kel'Thuzad rubbed his bald head in his soul form, perplexed. "Forgive my ignorance, but I've never heard of anyone attracting evil creatures by studying necromancy."
"Really?" Andreas smiled meaningfully. "Didn't you attract the Lich King? And the Lich King is not the pinnacle of all the dead, as he claims."
"Have you heard of the Shadowlands, or rather, the Land of Shadows?"
Kel'Thuzad was stunned for a moment, then nodded and shook his head, replying, "I've heard of it, but only 'heard' of it."
"The Shadowlands is rumored to be the destination of all departed souls, controlled by the Goddess of Death, Helya, but no one has ever truly encountered it."
"Helya?"
Andreas couldn't help but laugh, covering his forehead. "You overestimate her. Her title of Goddess of Death has a lot of exaggeration. There's more than one demigod with the title of God of Death in Azeroth that I know of."
For example, a certain talkative and foul-mouthed loa of death.
"Helya controls only a very small part of the vast Abyssal Depths. Although I don't know the exact principle, it's most likely a sub-space she intercepted from the Shadowlands."
Seeing Kel'Thuzad's mixed expression of surprise and anticipation, Andreas tempted him with a smile that met expectations, "Don't you want to personally delve into the true Shadowlands and research the deeper secrets of death energy?"
...Kel'Thuzad was finally persuaded by Andreas to remain in Andorhal and await further developments, posing as a loyal servant awaiting the Lich King's summons.
Andreas did not tell Kel'Thuzad the secret of the helm of domination, but he deliberately vaguely pointed out that the Lich King was the key to entering and exiting the Shadowlands.
For Kel'Thuzad, who wanted to make a name for himself and show Dalaran what it meant to 'never underestimate a youth in poverty,' enticing him with the higher-level secrets of death energy he valued most would achieve twice the result with half the effort.
Leaving Andorhal, Andreas continued to follow Arthas and his group's tracks eastward from the sky.
The once prosperous Eastern Wilds had become quite desolate due to the plague. The villages and towns along the way looked lifeless, and local residents could be seen burying the bodies of plague victims almost everywhere.
In Azeroth, a world where zombies and skeletons can be raised, burial is undoubtedly a bad custom.
Not to mention the resurrection of the undead, burying people who died of plague is inherently unsafe. Viruses could seep from the soil, contaminate the surrounding water and land, and then affect nearby residents.
From the moment the Lich King openly declared his name, Andreas issued orders to the Northrend towns, led by Suramar: from now on, all people who die for any reason must be cremated.
Night Elves do not die of old age when their lifespan ends, but this does not mean that Night Elves are immortal.
Before magical mechanization became popular, Andreas had personally witnessed an unfortunate woodcutter accidentally die while chopping wood in Moonshadow's Rest.
His axe, due to poor maintenance, detached and bounced back when it struck the tree, the blade precisely hitting his forehead, ending his life.
Nowadays, most of the Night Elves' heavy labor is handled by civilian arcane golems, which has greatly freed up the workforce. However, various bizarre death incidents still emerge endlessly, with many ways of dying being unimaginable.
Soldiers who die on the Northrend battlefield are all sprinkled with Holy Moonlight Water. Unless Ner'zhul appears in person, ordinary necromancers cannot break through the protection of the Holy Water to raise corpses.
In the battle against the undead in the underground kingdom, Ner'zhul, accustomed to the undead's snowball tactic, for the first time found that the undead's forces were dwindling with each battle.
The undead cannot reproduce offspring. If Ner'zhul's troops cannot sustain themselves through war, they will eventually fall into this vicious cycle of dwindling numbers.
Ner'zhul, whose resources were not yet very abundant, could not afford this kind of attrition, which was one of the main reasons he chose to retreat and cease hostilities, giving up Ankhet City.
The memorandum recorded Arthas' whereabouts after leaving Andorhal: he should have followed the clues of the plague-infected grain shipment, passing through the path along the Sodrial River directly to the largest city in the Eastern Wilds—Stratholme.
"Ugh~"
Recruiting Kel'Thuzad took Andreas a considerable amount of time. When he arrived in Stratholme, the prosperous city was already ablaze.
"Too late... hmm?"
While circling above the city in his Golden Eagle form, Andreas suddenly noticed a small team of anxious mages standing at the gate of Stratholme. The bright young woman leading them, with a worried expression, was someone he knew.
"Jandice Barov?"