Devouring and Being Devoured

Let's rewind time a bit, back to when Krasus and Rhonin were riding Night Sabers toward Suramar.

Illidan rode alongside them; he had come specifically to see them off.

During this time, Illidan had secretly sought Krasus's advice on many questions about magic, and had received exceedingly detailed answers every time.

Master Krasus seemed completely unconcerned about Illidan's choice to abandon the path of the Druids, and showed no hint of surprise—this made Illidan trust this foreign powerhouse even more.

"Master, we're about to leave Val'sharah. Follow the main road straight ahead and you'll reach Suramar City. Please forgive me, but I can no longer escort you further."

Krasus nodded. "It's fine. But Illidan, I want to tell you this: I know you crave great power, but never let power cloud your mind, make you forget who you are, or forget this world."

Though Illidan was puzzled as to why Krasus would suddenly say this to him, he still nodded.

"I will, Master. Everything I do is for my people, for the final victory of the Kalimdor Continent."

Krasus smiled an ambiguous smile, said nothing, and urged his Night Saber mount to speed up.

Yes... for your people...

"Wait—do you sense something?"

Rhonin on the other side suddenly frowned and spoke.

"Burning Legion! Prepare for battle!"

The next moment, a horde of Felhounds came pouring out of the forest ahead. These ugly monsters drooled as they ran, the two sucker-tentacles on their backs flailing wildly, thirsting to drain the few targets not far ahead.

Brox let out a roar, leaped off his Night Saber, and charged toward the Felhound pack. The two single-handed axes in his hands flowed with natural power.

These axes had been personally crafted and gifted to him by the Forest Demi-god Cenarius when the group had visited him last time.

Though Brox's expression had been extremely complicated at the time, looking at the Demi-god as if he were gazing at a dying man.

The Orc warrior's Whirlwind instantly stirred up a bloody storm among the Felhound pack. His two axes were unstoppable, cleaving every Felhound around him into chunks of flesh.

Krasus and the other two also dismounted. He and Rhonin raised their staves high, jointly conjuring a massive Blizzard and steering it toward the Felhound pack.

Illidan joined Brox in melee combat, wielding two standard-issue longswords of the elven army. The swords glowed with Arcane enchantment light, and his killing speed was no slower than Brox's.

"If only I had a suitable pair of weapons... I've always wanted Warglaives, but the army's craftsmen refuse to miniaturize the Moonglaives from the Glaive Throwers."

Muttering to himself, he suddenly slashed the enchanted longsword in a wide arc, and a burst of Arcane Energy Wave blasted forth, clearing the area in front of Illidan.

"Ah!"

At that moment, Krasus let out a shout. Rhonin beside him was frantically trying to help his mentor.

A Felhound had succeeded in its ambush. While the two mages focused forward, it had burst out unexpectedly from the forest on one side, immediately latching its two tentacles onto Krasus and madly draining his mana.

"Stop—don't worry about me, keep guiding the Blizzard!"

Krasus said to Rhonin, then turned his furious gaze to the Felhound feeding on him.

"You want to devour my mana? Devour a Dragon? Then have your fill!"

With that, Krasus increased his mana output.

The mana-draining Felhound was in bliss... and then, it wasn't so blissful anymore.

It had eaten its fill, but found its sucker-tentacles still firmly fixed to the target, unable to let go no matter what.

The Felhound began to struggle violently. It wanted to flee—the mana content inside it had already far exceeded its limit. If it didn't get away now...

Boom!

Well... that Felhound exploded violently. The sheer volume of mana was too much for it to bear, and it self-destructed.

"Illidan, what are you doing?"

Rhonin's shout drew Krasus's attention.

Ahead, at least a dozen sucker-tentacles were attached to Illidan's body, but the Felhounds were all struggling violently, desperately trying to escape.

"Ah... power... strong and pure power..."

Illidan wore an expression of rapture. He seemed to be using some unknown spell that reversed the entire draining process—now he was the one siphoning the Felhounds.

"A spell from the Well of Eternity era... looks like a higher-level version of Mana Burn, long lost in our future time... Oh right, Illidan, stop!"

Krasus, that ever-curious Dragon, had involuntarily slipped into knowledge-seeking mode, then snapped out of it and shouted to stop Illidan's draining.

******

Back to the present, in the Hall of the Domain at Black Rook Hold.

"That's how it was. Please give me an Escort Squad. We must continue on to Suramar. The Highborne there are an important target to win over—we can't let them fall under Queen Azshara's control either."

Krasus got the escort force he wanted, and without resting, set off again.

"Send out more messengers. Tell the lords of every region... I, Lord Ravencrest of Black Rook Hold, hereby call upon them: Our beloved Her Majesty the Queen has fallen into a dark peril. The enemy is picking us off one by one. All Night Elves must unite, form a Resistance Army, defeat those accursed demons, and drive them back through the Portal to their own homeland!"

With Lord Farondis's bloody example before him, Ravencrest no longer hesitated and immediately began implementing the most aggressive countermeasures.

But the scout did not disclose all the information to everyone present. Instead, he reported the key details privately to Ravencrest alone.

Lord Farondis of Azsuna and the elven people of his domain—the reason they had ended up in such a miserable state, cursed by the Spectral Curse for eternity—was not the work of demons. It was their beloved Queen Azshara herself who had done it.

Farondis had refused to obey Queen Azshara's decree, refused to allow the so-called "Titan Soldiers" into his lands, and had fought back. So he, the first to stick his head out, had met with the wrath of an enraged queen.

He had to stand up and resist now, or else they would be picked off one by one, and the Kalimdor Continent would have no hope left.

Vale of Eternal Blossoms, Pandaria.

The atmosphere here was equally heavy and oppressive. A vast crowd of Pandaren had gathered, silently watching the August Celestials at the center and Emperor Shaohao.

The time had come. Shaohao had made his final decision.

Pandaria had already been attacked by demonic armies. The Pandaren Dynasty could not afford to be caught between demons and the Mantid.

Pride would be erased in this moment.

"The dynasty... falls in an instant. My people, the path ahead will be yours to explore."

"I... am Shaohao, the last emperor. I offer my body to merge with this land, I offer my soul to shield this sky, to ensure the Pandaren's peace for Myriad Ages!"

"I will become one with Pandaria."

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