Lord Wing the Taunter

Northrend, Dragonblight.

The war was finally over. The Dragons looked at their battered Wyrmrest Temple and felt like crying without tears.

A chunk was missing here, a section gone there. The lower levels were piled high with rocks, dead flesh tentacles, and Faceless Ones that had died in all sorts of creative ways. Wyrmrest Temple had become a towering giant landfill.

N'Zoth, the Old God from the predetermined destiny timeline, was dead. Two fists could not beat four hands, and an arm could not twist a thigh. He might have been formidable, but he was still no match for a Titan. In the end, Argus's divine power burned him to ashes, and his flesh tentacles became grilled squid strips.

If Boss Hu had been here, he would surely have carried on the glorious traditions of people from some province in some country on Earth: sprinkle them with cumin and pepper salt, skewer them, and eat them as grilled squid tentacles.

So many gigantic squid tentacles lying in the snow and ice—what a waste. Tsk, tsk, tsk... the World of Azeroth really did not know how to eat.

Back to the matter at hand: the Twilight Dragon Legion from the predetermined destiny timeline had also been wiped out by the allied Dragon forces. Now, only Deathwing, who had gone to the Maelstrom, remained, and no one knew what had become of him.

But they soon learned the outcome, because Lord Wing had returned.

The Black Dragon King's body had expanded by at least a full size, and the energy fluctuations radiating from him were more than twice as powerful. Considering what everyone had experienced and the nature of the timeline fusion, Lord Wing had likely succeeded in devouring his other self, becoming the one and only Deathwing once again—the number one