Attack and Change

The demon army began its assault, leaving nothing but ash in its wake.

Krasus and Illidan joined forces to slay the vanguard commander of the Burning Legion: Haka the Hound King. But the Night Elf resistance soon faced an even more powerful and terrifying foe: Mannoroth the Destroyer.

This was an Abyssal Lord. A colossal body over ten meters tall, its four hooves thundering without any hint of sluggishness, both hands gripping an equally massive double-headed spear, two small wings folded on its back, a hideous head crowned with long demonic horns, its entire form ablaze with green Fel Fire.

The Night Elf army was plunged into a bitter struggle, suffering heavy casualties. However, reinforcements from Suramar City arrived just in time and joined the battle.

The Highborne mages' spells were devastating in power and wide in range. Before the endless waves of Felguards, Hellhounds, and Infernals raining from the sky could close in on the elven forces, the mages blocked them with magic and annihilated them. The Highborne's tarnished reputation gradually began to shift among the Night Elves.

Krasus sat on a rock to rest, another battle over. The ground was carpeted with the corpses of demons and elves, the air thick with stench as Fel Fire slowly died out.

Illidan approached from somewhere, bowed to Krasus, and climbed onto the rock as well. "Master, these demons seem endless. We must accelerate our advance, break into the capital, and destroy the portal—only then can we hope for victory."

The latter nodded, gazing at the Highborne mages burning bodies in the distance. "Yes, and not only that—we need to unite every force we can: Tauren, Furbolgs, Dwarves, and so on."

"I agree with your view, and things are already moving in that direction. Since Lord Ravencrest fell in battle... ah, no offense intended, but that newly appointed Garrond Shadowsong seems to have more talent for command. He's actively reaching out to those other races." Illidan also looked toward the Highborne mages. "I'm grateful most of them are on our side. Their magic is truly mesmerizing."

"But the Forest Demigod Cenarius and the Druids don't seem to welcome them much."

"Hmph, the Demigod... and my brother, who devotes himself entirely to the Druidic path, will never understand the power of magic. Gentle nature won't save Azeroth, won't save Kalimdor! I just don't get it—why does Tyrande prefer my brother over me? Ah, Master, I spoke out of turn."

Krasus smiled and waved a hand to show he didn't mind. "What concerns me more..." His gaze fixed on a female elf approaching from afar. She wore a silver-white runic robe, each pauldron set with a purple crystal, orbs of three-colored energy floating at her shoulders, and held an ornate staff two meters long. At its tip, a magical eye sparkled, blinking from time to time.

"Why would the ruler of Suramar City allow her to lead the Highborne mage forces? As far as I know, Archmage Elisande is now that one's favored consort."

"Master Krasus, you're resting here." Elisande walked over. After that eavesdropping incident, she knew full well that this Krasus was a disguised red dragon—and from the future, no less—so she treated him with great respect.

"Give my regards to the Divine Emissary, Archmage Elisande. I must say, I'm surprised His Excellency the Divine Emissary would let you come to the front lines to command."

"War is always the best way to improve, isn't it?" Elisande said with a wink.

"Your magical skill is breathtaking. Aside from Masters Krasus and Rhonin, I can't think of anyone better," Illidan spoke up. This young, fiery Night Elf had a simpler mind. He craved magic—powerful, destructive force—which was why he could never settle down to learn the gentle, slow path of nature.

But Illidan's heart was in the right place. He was willing to sacrifice everything for power to save his people—a truly tragic hero. And Krasus and Rhonin, from the future, knew all too well what kind of figure Illidan would become in that era.

Elisande's beautiful face smiled as she nodded to Illidan. "You have talent too, I can sense it. If Master Krasus would take you as his apprentice, I believe it wouldn't be long before another Archmage was born."

Illidan's face lit up with excitement. Praise and recognition from an Archmage made him overjoyed.

Krasus, meanwhile, kept glancing at the magical eye atop Elisande's staff, which spun and blinked incessantly. The eye would look back at him, offering a meaningful gaze.

"Yes, may we achieve final victory under the guidance of the Creator God." Krasus slowly rose, then bowed to Elisande and walked toward the Night Elf camp. But Illidan felt that Master Krasus wasn't bowing to Elisande—he was bowing to the magical eye floating above her staff.

The situation grew more and more deadlocked, and deadlock meant defeat. The Night Elf resistance knew this well: every day they delayed, countless new demons crossed the portal into Kalimdor.

Not long ago, the five Dragon Aspects had each contributed a portion of their essence to forge a divine artifact—the Dragon Soul.

This artifact was immensely powerful, its offensive capability terrifying. The Dragon Aspects and the Night Elves agreed: during the assault on the capital Eldarath, they would use the Dragon Soul to strike the portal with full force and destroy it. But until then, the Dragon Soul would be kept by the most powerful of the Aspects, Earth-Warder Neltharion.

However, Krasus and Rhonin were deeply worried. They knew history well: Earth-Warder Neltharion had been corrupted by the four Old Gods sealed deep beneath Azeroth, gradually driven mad, and would eventually claim the Dragon Soul for himself. Then he would attack and kill the other Aspects. In the future, he would be known as Deathwing.

Thus, trying to prevent this, Krasus sent the human mage Rhonin, the orc warrior Brox, and the druid Malfurion to Neltharion's lair to steal the Dragon Soul.

Before that, Illidan vanished. His friends and his brother Malfurion had no idea where he went. Only Krasus and Rhonin sighed—what was meant to happen had happened.

Illidan had gone to the capital Eldarath, seeking an audience with the Dark Titan Sargeras to gain greater power and protect his people.

Everything he did was extreme, irrational, and understood by no one. Instead, they saw him as willingly falling into demonhood. But in Krasus's eyes, Illidan was merely a complex, tragic figure who walked his own path, misunderstood by his kin.

By now, Illidan had likely met Sargeras and received his gift—a pair of eyes made of Fel Fire. The first Demon Hunter was born. And his first mission: to find Earth-Warder Neltharion and seize the divine artifact, the Dragon Soul.

In Suramar City, Hu Feng also sensed a disturbance. He was very familiar with it—the psychic ripple of an Old God. After all, he had two Old Gods under his command, brainwashed and serving him.

So Hu Feng immediately decided to track down the source of that ripple. He wasn't keen on killing Old Gods anymore. With his power to command the Void, if he could weaken an Old God enough, he could brainwash and imprint it, turning it into a loyal underling.

Thus, after a brief flurry of activity in Suramar City, Hu Feng led a large contingent of mages out of the city, mixed with quite a few Faceless Ones, heading toward Highmountain.

Poor Neltharion—he had no idea that forces were already converging on Highmountain. Two groups were after his enchanted artifact, and another was targeting him directly.

On the main battlefield, the Night Elf resistance commander Garrond Shadowsong had successfully united Dwarves, Furbolgs, Tauren, and other races. The Moon Priestesses of the Temple of the Moon and the mages of Suramar City had also gathered under his banner. Most encouragingly, the Forest Demigod Cenarius had summoned other demigods to follow Garrond's command. The allied army was unprecedentedly strong, morale at its peak, and plans to counterattack the capital were already on the table.

Meanwhile, the capital Eldarath had welcomed a new commander.

The capital was now a hellscape of rubble and ruin, only the palace still gleaming in splendor. The waters of the Well of Eternity churned endlessly, and a massive dark green portal, burning with Fel Fire, hovered above it. At that moment, Mannoroth the Destroyer knelt on the ground, devoutly awaiting his master.

"Kneel! You insects! Welcome the arm of the god, the supreme commander of the Burning Legion, Archimonde the Defiler!"

A colossal figure stepped through the portal. His skin was blue, clad in only a few pieces of golden armor, the flames in his eyes burning savagely, tentacle-like whiskers swaying slightly. He was Archimonde the Defiler, supreme commander of the Burning Legion, High Lord of the Eredar. Countless worlds had been reduced to seas of fire beneath his feet, pleasing their god, the Dark Titan Sargeras.

"You have disappointed me, Mannoroth. This insignificant world still clings to life! The god is extremely displeased!"

The savage Mannoroth now behaved like a docile puppy, kneeling before Archimonde with his head drooping, looking like he was confessing and accepting punishment.

Archimonde gave him a cold glance, then snorted. Mannoroth was his direct subordinate, and he had no intention of punishing him. The Burning Legion was jointly managed by Archimonde and his kin, another High Lord of the Eredar, Kil'jaeden the Deceiver. The two shared power equally.

The Dark Titan paid no attention to such matters. As long as the Legion kept destroying world after world, petty squabbles over power could be ignored.

"Soon, I will personally deal with those insolent insects who dare to resist. Then I will offer this world to our master!"

Dath'Remar Sunstrider, the Highborne leader in the capital Eldarath, stood on a palace terrace, glaring hatefully at Archimonde below.

At the very top of the palace, a lazy, graceful silhouette also gazed downward. Empress Azshara was lost in her own inescapable fantasy. As long as she could become the god's wife, even if all her subjects died, it would be acceptable.

After all, she was the Light of Lights, the Empress of the Thousand Moon Light.

For her subjects to sacrifice themselves for her glory—that was their honor, wasn't it?