The Night Elves kept their heads down, developing Kalimdor Continent and boosting production. Peace and tranquility reigned within and without, while Divine Lord Sarodar continued living his exceptionally leisurely, carefree life of idling away his days.
Meanwhile, on the Eastern Kingdoms across the Endless Sea, a magnificent drama was unfolding with the passage of time.
The matter had originally begun in the far northern land of Northrend.
The Curse of Flesh of the Old Gods was spreading like a plague, rapidly infecting the Titan steel constructs across Northrend.
A great many Iron Vrykul were gradually corrupted by this curse. Their incomparably hard steel bodies slowly softened, eventually becoming fragile bodies of flesh that bled and felt pain.
Moreover, once beings of absolute order, they gradually developed psychological emotions known as feelings. They could act impulsively, throw everything aside, feel jealousy and greed, or risk their lives for so-called love. To the Titans, these were manifestations of chaos and disorder.
The Vrykul suffered greatly because of this. Their Iron Vrykul kin no longer accepted them and exiled them to remote regions of the continent such as the Borean Tundra and Howling Fjord.
But their suffering was far from over. The Vrykul discovered, to their horror, mutations appearing in their descendants.
Many children were exceedingly frail. Whether in height or musculature, they fell far short of their elders.
The Vrykul made an incomparably cruel decision: they would abandon these substandard children and leave them to fend for themselves amid the boundless snowfields.
Yet, having acquired the emotions of flesh-and-blood creatures, the parents of these children could not bear to do such a thing. Looking at children who could never become powerful Vrykul warriors, they felt not the slightest disgust, only emotions known as paternal and maternal love.
Thus, they left with their children of their own accord, calmly accepting the fate of eternal exile.
These Vrykul boarded ships provided by their kin and sailed into the vast Endless Sea, heading toward the southeastern waters.
Much like the High Elves of old, after enduring countless hardships and pains, they finally set foot upon the Eastern Kingdoms.
There, they established new homes. Primitive clan villages rose one after another, expanding toward the southern regions of the continent.
Time passed. The elder generation of Vrykul had died away, but their descendants continued without end.
Humans. That was their name.
They averaged only around 1.78 meters in height and had to gain their strength-giving muscles through arduous training. Their facial features gradually became gentler as well, losing the Vrykul's sharp and imposing appearance.
The humans lived this divided clan-based existence until one clan rose to prominence.
Within the Arathor clan of the Arathi Highlands emerged a chieftain who was both wise and skilled in battle. Under his leadership, the Arathor clan built its own great city: Stromgarde.
Afterward, they abandoned clan society and became the first—and most glorious—kingdom.
Emperor Thoradin led his armies into war. The people stood united, and the soldiers were of one mind as the Arathor Empire spread the glory of humanity abroad.
Their armies swept through human clans large and small, unifying them all beneath the rule of the Arathor Empire.
The chieftains also accepted Emperor Thoradin's wise rule, honoring him as their supreme king.
For the first—and last—time in this era, humanity entered a period of complete unification. No longer divided by clans or regimes, all humans were glorious citizens of the Arathor Empire.
Quel'Thalas, neighboring the rising Arathor Empire on the continent, naturally received the news at once. They completely sealed the gates of the Wall of Quel'Thalas, guarding strictly against a human invasion.
The High Elves had little interest in this newly born young race and disdained to communicate or interact with them.
Emperor Thoradin had once led troops in an attempt to attack those long-eared elves, but without understanding their enemy's true capabilities, the human army suffered a disastrous defeat.
Magic...
It was humanity's first encounter with this unknown power, one that utterly shocked them.
Siege engines were reduced to charcoal amid the ravages of Flame Storms, while soldiers became ice sculptures beneath the assault of Blizzards. Military doctors relying on ordinary physical treatment methods were utterly helpless.
Thus, after their first clash ended, the two sides returned to peace. Emperor Thoradin attempted to establish friendly contact and exchange with the High Elves.
The High Elves finally began to view humanity, this young race, with some respect. Though the human army had suffered a crushing defeat, its fearless, all-out style of attack left a deep impression on the High Elves.
After the humans withdrew, the High Elves thoroughly repaired their Wall of Quel'Thalas, which had been battered to the point of near collapse.
So... they would make contact.
The two sides formally began peaceful diplomacy, each sending ambassadors for exchange.
The Human Empire began steadily importing large quantities of High Elf luxuries: all manner of enchanted trinkets and knickknacks, as well as enchanted armor and blades.
The High Elves, meanwhile, imported raw mineral materials, various furs, and exotic wines from the Human Empire.
With each side taking what it needed, they got along rather pleasantly and harmoniously. Emperor Thoradin gradually gave up the idea of conquering this foreign race.
Though the desire for conquest faded, another desire arose in its place.
Magic. Humanity had to master this power as well!
The High Elves did not agree. They refused to teach humans the power of magic.
This was not merely because they had to consider whether humanity, once it mastered magic, might become their enemy again.
There was another important reason: humans possessed extremely poor affinity and sensitivity toward magical energy, poor comprehension, and poor capacity to channel magic through their bodies.
Thus, the time, effort, and cost required to train a single Human Mage could likely have produced five or six elven mages.
And, to put it bluntly, who would be willing to patiently teach a stupid pig how to converse with refined manners?
Therefore, Emperor Thoradin's wish remained unfulfilled, and the wrangling between the two sides over this matter never ceased.
But soon, an opportunity worthy of being called a turning point of fate arrived.
Though the once-glorious Troll Empire had long since fallen apart, the troll tribes scattered throughout the world after The Great Sundering still possessed considerable strength and posed a major threat.
If there was anyone the trolls hated most, it was naturally the elves. This was a blood feud of national and racial extermination.
Thus, the High Elves began to worry. Deep within Eversong Woods, in Quel'Thalas, a troll clan was sharpening its blades, preparing to fight their mortal enemies.
The Amani clan occupied Zul'Aman, a city deep in the forest. After lying dormant for so long, they had finally recovered their strength just as the High Elves had, and immediately prepared to launch a battle to the death.
The Troll Wars were on the verge of erupting.
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