Farewell and Heroic Relics

Peace had not come easily; the living had to keep moving forward.

At the summit of Mount Hyjal, beneath Nordrassil, the World Tree, a farewell gathering was underway.

"We will meet again. For you Night Elves, the future is not so far away," Krasus said with a smile to the elven couple before him.

Malfurion nodded and reached out to clasp Krasus's hand firmly.

"It has been an honor to fight alongside you and Master Rhonin. We will meet again in the future."

"What about those two axes..." Tyrande asked, looking at the battle axes hanging from Krasus's waist.

Krasus looked rather strange at the moment. He wore a mage's robe and carried no staff, yet two battle axes hung at his waist, making for an odd mismatch.

They were the battle axes of the Orc hero Brox.

When the Fel Portal at the Well of Eternity collapsed, it not only forcibly sucked away most of the demons in the World of Azeroth, but also spat out these two battle axes, which did not belong to the demon world of Argus.

Krasus had specifically searched the continent's coastal regions and finally found the special weapons lying quietly on a beach. He solemnly collected them and kept them on his person.

"Ah, the Horde will need these axes. The years ahead will be just as dangerous. At the very least, they will bring some hope and courage."

Krasus answered.

Rhonin walked over with a gleeful look on his face and tilted his head toward the other side, where the Dragon Aspects were crouched. The atmosphere there was incomparably awkward and oppressive.

The reason was simple: Titan Divine Lord Sarodar was beside them.

"Haha, those Dragon Aspects must be miserable right now. They never expected Divine Lord to come personally to see us off."

As he spoke, the free-spirited Rhonin gave Malfurion a huge hug, then nodded to Tyrande.

"All right, you two. I think it is time to say goodbye. See you in the future, and I hope you do not lose the fine Moonlight Wine I left with the Resistance Army."

"The Night Elves will always welcome you and Master Krasus back as guests, Master Rhonin," Malfurion said with a smile and a nod.

The group came before the Dragon Aspects on the other side. Just as Rhonin had said, the atmosphere here was damn oppressive.

"All right, all right. I told you I hate all that cumbersome, useless etiquette. I am not your babysitter, and I cannot give you any damn guidance. You need to walk your own path in the future. I only want to stay here with the Night Elves and live my own leisurely life in seclusion. Is that clear enough?"

As soon as they approached, they heard Divine Lord Sarodar impatiently lecturing them. The three Dragon Aspects had their heads lowered, meek as little puppies raised at home.

"Oh, right. I will keep the Dragon Soul for you. No objections, right? My house just happens to be missing a big round chandelier... This thing glows gold all day long. It should be pretty good for lighting."

The Dragon Aspects immediately shook their heads, indicating that they had absolutely no objections.

"As you wish, Creator... uh, Divine Lord. With the Dragon Soul in your care, we can rest easy."

Hu Feng turned around and looked at Krasus and Rhonin.

"It is time to say goodbye. We will meet again in the future, you two. You fought this war well. You have every reason to be proud."

"Thank you for your praise. This was all for Azeroth. As you said, we will meet again in the future, Divine Lord."

Krasus and Rhonin deeply bowed to Boss Hu, then turned to Nozdormu, the Dragon King of Time.

"We are ready. Send us home."

Krasus and Rhonin bade Malfurion and Tyrande one final farewell. Nozdormu then let out a loud dragon roar, but seemingly felt it was a little presumptuous and nervously glanced at the Titan's expression beside him. The latter waved his hand dismissively.

Time Sand spiraled upward, and the two men and one dragon slowly vanished from where they stood, returning to their future era.

"Do your jobs properly. I have my eyes on you, little dragons."

Hu Feng joked with a smile. The remaining two Dragon Aspects immediately nodded fiercely, then fled the place as if for their lives.

The sorrows of the world lay in parting, and this time was no exception.

The war had ended. The surviving Wild Demigods returned to the regions where they had once lived. The foreign races that had come to aid the battle also went home if they had homes, or sought new homes if they did not.

The Tauren migrated south across the Kalimdor Continent. They seemed to be planning to head to the Wailing Caverns region and establish a new homeland there.

Though the grasslands there were not as imposing as the mountains of Highmountain, the climate was pleasant at least, and the Tauren could live well there.

It was said that a race called the centaurs also lived there. Surely the two sides could advance hand in hand and coexist peacefully.

Meanwhile, the elves began a massive construction effort in the northern regions of the Kalimdor Continent.

Titan Divine Lord Sarodar had apparently heard something from Krasus about the future before he departed, and stubbornly obtained an oak seed of G'hanir, the Mother Tree, from Malfurion.

He then planted the seed on an island near the northwestern edge of the continent and used his divine power to frantically accelerate its growth.

Thus, the second World Tree was born ahead of time.

This towering giant tree was named Teldrassil. It stood on an island not far across from Darkshore, and that island was now completely covered by enormous roots, no longer visible at all.

Afterward, Divine Lord issued his latest decree: Teldrassil would become the place where the Night Elves would live and multiply.

A new capital city would rise upon the flat expanse of Teldrassil's crown, soaring into the clouds and easy to defend but hard to attack.

Darnassus—such was the name of the new capital.

In the future, Durotar. Orgrimmar, capital of the Horde.

The brazier burned dully, crackling and popping.

Warchief Thrall sat quietly before the brazier, his face clouded with concern.

The scouting party led by Brox had been missing for a long time. He had communicated with the earth elementals, yet still learned nothing.

What exactly was going on...

At that moment, Thrall narrowed his eyes and sprang to his feet. Violent bolts of lightning began dancing across Doomhammer in his hand.

"Do not be nervous, Warchief. I came... only to return something."

A Human Mage in a black robe, his face hidden beneath a hood, had appeared behind him at some point. He held out a pair of utterly plain battle axes.

"I do not recognize these axes, human... but there seems to be a very familiar aura on them?" Thrall examined the battle axes for a moment.

"These battle axes belonged to an orc warrior. He fought alongside us, and in the end, he chose to sacrifice himself to buy us precious time... Brox was a hero. He deserved to be honored by the orcs."

Thrall's eyes widened as he froze. When he came back to his senses, the axes were already in his hands, while the mysterious man had vanished.

The Warchief immediately rushed out of the Warchief's Hall. The guards at the entrance looked utterly confused and reported that no one had entered just now.

A loud dragon roar then came from the sky. Everyone looked up at the sound and saw a red Dragon gradually disappearing into the distant night.

A mental message then echoed in Thrall's mind.

"Remember him, Warchief. During the War of the Ancients, Brox personally wounded the Dark Titan Sargeras with those battle axes."