Boss Hu did not know that although his guess was correct—the Pantheon was indeed gone, and the Titan brothers were nearly all dead—there was still one being who received the communication from Planet Azeroth.
Nearly all and all were still different.
In a remote galaxy in the depths of the universe, a planet resembling a silent dead star floated quietly in its orbital path.
Its surface held nothing but lifeless dark gray rock, while sandstorms raged endlessly across the sky.
Such planets were known as wasteland stars. They had no value, no use, and could never nurture life.
A survivor of the Pantheon had lived here for who knew how long. Facing the sandstorms, he swung a broken sword across the barren ground, training his abilities day after day.
Though he also understood countless unimaginably powerful magical energies, he knew very well that his magic would be utterly useless against that enemy. Only the martial strength of a fellow warrior gave him any hope of defeating his foe.
Argus dragged his exhausted body back into a massive underground cavern. He sat silently on a large boulder in a daze. After a while, he habitually fiddled with an incredibly battered small Titan signal receiver. This was his entire life, every day.
The Burning Legion was currently hunting him across the universe. Sargeras wanted to capture him, torture and corrupt him, turn him into a fallen Dark Titan as well, and make him Sargeras's adjutant once again.
So Argus lived with extreme caution and had never exposed his whereabouts.
But he did not know how much longer he could endure. The future was darkness itself. Perhaps he truly could not escape Sargeras's clutches.
At that thought, Argus temporarily disabled the communicator's signal-blocking system. Though he knew there was no possibility of it,