"Guardian Medivh."
Arthas was shocked; he never dreamed that Medivh would suddenly appear here. His first reaction was to raise the door-panel greatsword and slash at the Guardian.
"Haha! Overestimating yourself."
Arthas has recently spent too much energy building Frostmourne, leaving him extremely exhausted, and his strength is already far inferior.
"The Abundance of Fel."
A bloated, fungus-like green monster appeared, swallowing Arthas and imprisoning him. Arcane chains materialized in Medivh's hands, completely enveloping the bloated monster, and the Guardian personally cast a seal.
Medivh easily subdued Arthas, and as he watched the massive Frostmourne, as large as a dressing mirror, fall to the ground, he showed disgust. This was very much against Medivh's aesthetic sense.
"You're that damned Medivh?"
Muradin raised Frostmourne and hastily slashed at the Guardian. Medivh stepped forward and sneered:
"You still want to protect this sword, Dwarf?"
Without Medivh, ice spikes suddenly appeared, sending the Dwarf flying a great distance.
Muradin lay supine on the cold stone ground, a cold spear piercing his chest. He closed his eyes, his body limp and powerless, and Medivh snatched Frostmourne from his hand.
"This weapon is mine, Dwarf." Medivh looked at Frostmourne with affection. "Look at it, what a perfect work of art. Only such a magnificent artifact is worthy of the Guardian's status."
"Frostmourne, the Power of the Dead, I want them all. Frostmourne, it is time for you to drink your fill of blood."
Medivh brandished Frostmourne, slaughtering the Dwarves around the forge and Arthas's men. Under the overwhelming power of the Guardian, all resistance was futile, and blood quickly stained the ground.
Robbie stood amidst the raging snowstorm. He was puzzled. Not far ahead, the Dreadlord Mal'Ganis flapped his wings and fled for his life, abandoning his subordinates without hesitation, as if he had been prepared all along.
Something's not right. Could it be that the Dreadlord is just bait?
Robbie felt a sudden unease. He looked up at the sky and saw a Red Dragon emerging from the clouds, its silhouette appearing and disappearing.
"Oh no, it's not just the Dreadlord watching us, but also the Red Dragon hiding in the clouds, and..."
"Medivh!"
Something's happened! Robbie exclaimed in surprise and rushed back to the furnace.
Medivh was wiping the blood off Frostmourne, his eyes gleaming with a Fervor light. The Rune light of Frostmourne was blurred by the blood, illuminating Medivh's smug face.
The Guardian Medivh was wise and cautious enough that even if Robbie and Arthas joined forces, they would not be a match for him. However, he still made sure not to take any risks, which is why he sent Jaina to bewitch the Dreadlord and lure Robbie away.
Of course, Jaina's deal with the Dreadlord could proceed; Medivh was willing to bring the Orcs a powerful ally.
"It's all over."
Medivh wore a confident smile, completely satisfied; he didn't even glance at Robbie.
Robbie didn't even glance at Medivh. He bent down to examine Muradin's injuries. Holy Light appeared in Robbie's hands, melting the Ice Lance that had pierced the Dwarf and stopping the bleeding. His wounds were slowly healing.
Although the Dwarf had not yet woken up, his breathing was steady, and he seemed to be out of immediate danger.
Medivh watched all of this with indifference, without stepping forward to stop it.
"There are many strange people in this world, whose origins are unclear. Timeline silently in the darkness, and lives come and go like passersby. To be honest, I really dislike guests who disturb me without reason."
Medivh said meaningfully:
"I've seen far too many time travelers like you, trying to uncover the truth of this period of history."
"You already guessed it?" Robbie asked. As expected of Medivh, he already knew where Robbie came from.
"Anyone who attempts to uncover the Guardians' secrets must die," Medivh declared confidently.
"I have killed far too many time travelers like you, but I have overlooked you. You defeated Thrall, the Holy Light Orcs of Uther, the dragon slayer of Stratholme. You have done a great deal and deserve to die with pride."
It's not surprising that Medivh guessed Robbie's identity, after all, the Bronze Dragonflight was also one of the Guardians ' accomplices.
"And what about you, Medivh? Don't you want to know what tragic fate awaits you in the future?"
Robbie was also tempting Medivh, and sure enough, the Guardian's expression changed, and his black eyes shone brightly as he tried to probe Robbie's heart.
Suddenly remembering something, Medivh laughed heartily. He flipped his hand, and a golden tome appeared in his right hand—the "Holy Light Codex," which had always been on Arthas's person.
Medivh casually flipped through a few pages, shook his head in boredom, and stroked the pages of the "Holy Light Codex," feeling the subtle energy within them.
"I already know which time period you come from. The future me will definitely cause you a lot of trouble, won't I?" Medivh sneered. He regained his confidence, and with a forceful movement, he kneaded the Holy Light Codex, made of various precious materials, into a ball. A flash of Fel Flame, and it turned into a pile of ashes.
As expected of Guardian, he gleaned a great deal of information from just one book.
"I'm hesitating."
Robbie, not having time to feel sorry for the "Holy Light Codex," asked in bewilderment, "Your future self was arrogant and unrestrained. If you knew I would cause you trouble, why didn't you nip me in the bud?"
You know nothing about time.
Medivh explained coldly:
Time is like a quietly flowing river; only the surface is calm, while beneath it lies a turbulent undercurrent, whirlpools, reefs, sunken ships, dead fish, and utter chaos. If you throw a stone upstream, only the surface of the river remains unchanged, but the ripples will extend from the depths into the future. Until I in the future receive these ripples, no one knows what will happen.
"That's a bit complicated!" Robbie scratched his head and asked, "So, if I beat you up today, you'll lose all your memories of today, right? You'll only remember it after I return?"
"I don't like this analogy, and you can understand it that way for now, but time itself is much more complicated than that. Mortals perceive time as a straight line, but to me, time is more like a tangled ball of yarn that's impossible to untangle. Besides, you brought me Frostmourne, how could I, in the future, bear to kill you?" Medivh's smile grew even more smug.
"That puts my mind at ease." Robbie took a deep breath. "Medivh, you've overlooked one thing. I come from the future. I know Frostmourne; it doesn't belong to you."
"Ha ha!" Medivh laughed. "Have you forgotten? History is written by me. I will create an Arthas and place all the sins upon him."
"Medivh, look at this!"
A music box appeared in Robbie's hand.
The music box Kel'Thuzad left for Robbie before he died.
A beautiful chorus rang out.
This is an ancient ballad, Praise of Queen Azshara, praising her wisdom and beauty.
A magical song; Legendary has it that when this melody is played, all of Azshara's Mana Wyrm will dance.
Robbie remembered the diary left by Azazel, the Dalaran Mages.
The diary records that Prince Kael'thas stole Azazel's magical talent using the Spellstealer Wyrm.
One of the variants of the Mana Wyrm.