This is a world with only three colors: black, white, and gray.
When Blackmoore woke up, his first thought was that this was the afterlife.
Before me stretched an endless desert, with black and white sand forming dunes, and black clouds floating in the gray sky.
Legendary that the Jailer of the Shadowlands judges the souls of the dead.
Blackmoore has a clear conscience and nothing to fear.
Above the sky, the Infinite Dragonlord Murozond watched him silently.
"Do you have any questions, Blackmoore?"
Blackmoore asked, "Am I dead?"
Murozond shook his head. "No, you are still alive. This is a world within a time rift; I brought you here."
"Time?" Blackmoore sat on the ground, grabbing a handful of black and white sand. "I've achieved my goal. I have no attachment to this world. Do with it as you please."
"You're wrong," Murozond's voice was like flowing sand. "This world owes you. According to the normal Timeline, you should be the King of Lordaeron."
Blackmoore looked surprised. "You should know my father; he was convicted of treason."
"Your father, Admiral Edlin Blackmoore of Lordaeron," Murozond said solemnly, "Should have been a pillar of resistance against the Orcs, driving them out of the invasion, according to the normal Timeline. But he was replaced by Uther, and time has shifted, seriously deviating from the normal Timeline."
Blackmoore scratched his head. "I don't understand the laws of time."
Murozond explained, "Since Elune became a satellite of Azeroth, the Timeline of Azeroth has been forcibly altered. Time has the ability to self-correct, and it has to compromise time and time again. For example, there was originally no Orcs invasion, but Medivh opened the Dark Portal. After time compromised, the Orcs should have been driven back quickly, but the Holy Light interfered with King Terenas's judgment."
Blackmoore shrugged. "So, if King Terenas listens to my father's advice, I'll become the King of Lordaeron?"
Murozond nodded. "Your father should have driven out the Orcs and achieved great feats. Terenas abdicated, and fifteen years Dark Portal, you became the King of Lordaeron."
"Sounds good," Blackmoore chuckled. "But I'm no good King; I'd probably be spending all my time in wine vats."
"Even a drunken King is stronger than Terenas," Murozond said. "Fortunately, this world will not compromise. The one who can change the world has appeared: Prince Arthas Menethil Lordaeron. The muddle-headed King Terenas' son will change everything and end the Orcs' plan to destroy Lordaeron."
Blackmoore asked, puzzled, "What's the point of you telling me all this?"
"I can make a deal with you," Murozond said seriously. "I need you to save Arthas, and in return, I will send you to Parallel Worlds to fight for the throne of Lordaeron."
"I have no interest in the throne," Blackmoore said lazily. "But I hate Orcs, and I have a question: why am I needed?"
"You were meant to be the king of Lordaeron. Only you can save Arthas; it is the law of time," Murozond replied.
"I agree to this deal." Blackmoore didn't ask any further questions; the timeline sounded complicated.
"You will need to fight an Archmage, stronger than Antonidas," Murozond said reassuringly. "I will grant you power, but at the same time take something away from you."
Blackmoore thought for a moment, then said, "I have nothing to hold me back. Take whatever you want."
Murozond stretched out his dragon claws and reached for Blackmoore, and something was taken from him forever.
Blackmoore felt a surge of power within him. He looked at his hands as his body gradually disappeared into shadow.
"The power of shadow?"
Murozond explained, "You can't have everything; you're an assassin who wields a two-handed greatsword."
Two items appeared before Blackmoore: a black suit of armor and a jet-black two-handed greatsword.
The black armor looked somewhat familiar. Blackmoore pondered this carefully; it must be Orgrim's armor.
The two-handed greatsword is called Flesh Ripper. Blackmoore wields it with both hands, giving him a sense of complete control, as if he has been with this sword for over a decade.
Suddenly, Blackmoore understood. "What you took away was my obsession with alcohol, preventing me from drinking."
Murozond laughed, "Alcohol abuse has damaged your health and deprived you of the opportunity to push the limits of your strength."
At Quel'Danil Lodge, Jaina, disregarding the backlash of time, launched an attack on Arthas.
Her body was shrouded in a layer of blue Frost, making her look like a Freeze queen, with her hands covered in Frost that formed sharp claws.
Jaina decided to tear Arthas apart with close-quarters combat.
Arthas raised his sword to meet the attack, but as Jaina drew near, the sword, covered in a thick layer of frost, broke into several pieces.
"That's amazing."
Arthas instinctively raised his arms to protect his head and face, knowing the action was futile.
As the Frost claws were about to touch Arthas, Jaina suddenly sensed immense danger and quickly turned around, forming a thick Ice Barrier in front of her.
A black greatsword struck the Ice Barrier, sending ice crystals flying and shattering the Ice Barrier.
Jaina narrowed her eyes and quickly dodged the incoming giant sword by Blink to the side.
Having failed in his sneak attack, Blackmoore vanished in a flash.
A Stealth fighter.
Jaina remained indifferent. She had experience dealing with Stealth. With a slight wave of her hand, white frost covered the ground, leaving footprints wherever Stealth touched it.
After a long while, no footprints appeared on the ground. Jaina gasped, realizing she had encountered a formidable opponent.
"Is this the backlash of time? It seems nothing special."
Jaina's body was covered in a layer of Holy Light, forming a golden armor.
"She actually possesses Holy Light."
Blackmoore floated in the air using the Shadow power, cautiously approaching Jaina.
Jaina's body swayed, transforming into three identical Jainas, who pounced on Arthas from three directions.
Both clones possess some of Jaina's power, enough to kill Arthas.
Three streaks of dark light flashed, and Jaina's two clones were shattered, leaving only her main body to protect herself with Ice Barrier.
"A terrible enemy."
When Blackmoore appeared, Jaina, who was prepared, used Holy Light to pinpoint his location.
A bright light flashed, Blackmoore found himself above his head in a golden orb of Holy Light.
"You can't escape." Jaina laughed gleefully.
In an instant, countless arrows of Frost flew toward Blackmoore.
Blackmoore swayed, using Shadowstep to appear behind Jaina, Flesh Ripper streaked across the air with a dark flash.
Jaina quickly Blink forward, and Blackmoore followed closely behind.
Damn it!
Jaina was enraged and whirled around, lunging at the Flesh Ripper.
Blackmoore was taken aback; the Flesh Ripper struck the golden dragon claw but failed to inflict any damage.
Jaina's right arm was covered in golden scales, transforming into the arm of Holy Dragon.