Farewell and Heroic Relics

Peace is hard-won, and the living must press on.

On the peak of Mount Hyjal, beneath the World Tree Nordrassil, a farewell ceremony was taking place.

"We will meet again. The future for you Night Elves isn't so very far off," Krasus said with a smile to the elven couple before him.

Malfurion nodded and extended his hand, shaking Krasus's firmly.

"It was an honor to fight alongside you and Master Rhonin. We shall meet again."

"Those two axes..." Tyrande asked at this point, looking at the battle axes at Krasus's waist.

Krasus's appearance was somewhat peculiar. He wore a mage's robe, carried no staff, but instead had two battle axes at his side, making him look rather out of place.

These were the battle axes of the Orc hero Brox.

When the Fel portal of the Well of Eternity collapsed, it had not only forcibly drawn in the vast majority of demons located in the world of Azeroth, but it had also spat out these two battle axes, which did not belong to the demon world of Argus.

Krasus had scoured the coastal regions of the continent and finally found these two special weapons lying quietly on the beach. He had solemnly collected them and carried them with him.

"Ah, the Horde will need these axes. The future holds many dangers, and they will need hope and courage."

Krasus replied.

Rhonin walked over at this moment, a look of schadenfreude on his face. He subtly gestured with his chin towards the spot where the Dragon Aspects were gathered, where the atmosphere was incredibly awkward and oppressive.

The reason was none other than the Titan Divine Lord, Sarodar, who was standing beside them.

"Haha, those Dragon Kings must be miserable right now. They never expected the Divine Lord to come specifically to see them off."

With that, the unrestrained Rhonin shared a big hug with Malfurion and nodded to Tyrande.

"Alright, you two, I think it's time to say goodbye. We'll meet again. I hope you haven't lost that excellent Moonlight Wine I entrusted to the resistance coalition."

"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 approached the Dragon Aspects, and indeed, as Rhonin had said, the atmosphere there was incredibly stifling.

"Alright, alright, I've told you I hate all that tedious, useless etiquette. I'm not your babysitter, and I can't give you any damn guidance. You need to walk your own path in the future. I just want to live my own leisurely, reclusive life here with the Night Elves. Have I made myself clear enough!"

As soon as they got closer, they heard the Divine Lord Sarodar speaking impatiently. The three Dragon Kings were now bowing their heads, as obedient as well-behaved puppies.

"Oh, and I'll be keeping the Dragon Soul for you. Any objections? My home could use a large, round chandelier... This thing is always shining brightly, it should be quite good for illumination."

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

"As you wish, Creator... uh, Divine Lord. With the Dragon Soul in your care, we are at ease."

Hu Feng then turned around, looking at Krasus and Rhonin.

"It's time to say goodbye. We'll meet again, you two. This war was fought well, and you can be proud of yourselves."

"Thank you for your praise. It was all for Azeroth. As you said, we will meet again, Divine Lord."

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

"We are ready. Send us home."

Krasus and Rhonin bid a final farewell to Malfurion and Tyrande. Nozdormu then let out a loud roar, but immediately seemed to feel he had been too presumptuous and nervously glanced at the expression of the Titan Divine Lord beside him. The latter waved his hand dismissively.

The time sands swirled around them, and the two, along with the dragon, slowly faded from their spot, returning to their future time.

"Do your jobs well. I'm watching you, little dragon,"

Hu Feng said with a smile, making a joke. The remaining two Dragon Aspects immediately nodded vigorously, then fled the scene as if escaping for their lives.

Sorrow in the world is separation, and this time was no exception.

The war was over, and the surviving Wild Demigods returned to their respective regions. The outsiders who had come to aid also returned home, or found new homes if they had none.

The Tauren migrated south on the continent of Kalimdor, seemingly intending to establish their new homeland in the Barrens region.

Although the grasslands there were not as majestic as the mountains of Highmountain, the climate was pleasant, and the Tauren could live well there.

It was rumored that a race called the Centaur also resided there, and it was likely that the two groups could work together and coexist harmoniously.

Meanwhile, the elves began a grand construction project in the northern regions of Kalimdor.

The Titan Divine Lord Sarodar, having heard some information about the future from Krasus before his departure, insisted on taking an oak seed from the mother tree G'hanir from Malfurion.

He then planted this seed on an island off the northwestern coast of the continent and used his divine power to accelerate its growth.

The second World Tree was thus born ahead of its time.

This colossal tree, named Teldrassil, stood on an island not far from Darkshore. The island was now completely enveloped by its massive roots, making it invisible.

Subsequently, the Divine Lord issued a new decree: Teldrassil would be the place for the Night Elves to live and prosper.

A new capital city would be born on the canopy plains atop Teldrassil, soaring into the clouds, easy to defend and difficult to attack.

Darnassus, this was the name of the new capital.

******

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

The brazier burned with a low crackle.

Warchief Thrall sat quietly before the brazier, a look of worry on his face.

Brox's scouting party had been gone for a long time. Thrall had communicated with the earth elementals himself, but still found nothing.

What in the world...

At this moment, Thrall narrowed his eyes, leaped up, and fierce lightning began to crackle around the Doomhammer in his hand.

"Don't be nervous, Warchief. I've come... only to return something."

A Human mage, clad in a black robe with his face completely hidden by his hood, had appeared behind him at some unknown time. He held out a pair of battle axes with an incredibly simple design.

"I don't recognize these axes, Human... but they seem to carry a very familiar aura?" Thrall examined the battle axes for a moment.

"These battle axes belonged to an Orc warrior. He fought alongside us and ultimately chose to sacrifice himself, buying us precious time... Brox was a hero, and he deserves the reverence of the Orcs."

Thrall's eyes widened in surprise. By the time he reacted, the axes were already in his hands, and the mysterious figure had vanished.

The Warchief immediately rushed out of the Great Hall. The guards at the entrance looked bewildered, reporting that no one had entered just moments before.

Just then, a loud dragon's roar echoed from the sky. Everyone looked up, and saw a red dragon gradually disappearing into the distant night.

A mental message then sounded in Thrall's mind.

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