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Soft magical radiance streamed down from the dome of Theramore City Hall, making the oak long table inlaid with Kul Tiras's anchor crest gleam. Jaina Proudmoore sat at the head of the table, her fingertips tapping the surface rhythmically as her gaze shifted between Rhonin's tightly furrowed brow and troubled expression.

"Hello, Jaina. According to the Dalaran Mage Corps' arcane retrospective analysis..." Rhonin's red hair looked like a blaze beneath the magic lamps. He adjusted the badge on his chest as the parchment report rustled in his hand. "The site registered an energy release equivalent to one hundred and thirty-two Arcane Annihilation Bombs—you insist this was merely an internal conflict among the black dragons?"

"Perhaps you underestimate that old black dragon's persistence, sir." A perfectly measured bitter smile curled Jaina's lips as her fingers absently stroked the edge of a coin pouch. "When he found out that his most beloved daughter was selling manure—pardon my crudeness—the scene was far more spectacular than any number of annihilation bombs. The Blackwing Fertilizer that's so popular everywhere now was her doing."

Rhonin's quill abruptly stopped over the "energy anomaly" notes column.

Buzz—

The Dalaran representative's eyes glazed over for a moment. That bag of coins had already been stored away in his spatial storage.

"Indeed." He rubbed his temples and absentmindedly crossed out "anomaly," replacing it with "known black dragon energy signature." "Deathwing's recent mad behavior..."

Jaina passed him a steaming teacup at just the right moment. Golden tea leaves, a specialty of Un'Goro Crater, unfurled at the bottom of the cup.

"The latest intelligence indicates that Nefarian was also involved in this conflict." The smile in her blue eyes was as elusive as waves over a shattered sea. "Perhaps the Black Dragon Legion is undergoing... a restructuring of power?"

But Rhonin had already removed his glasses and was pinching the bridge of his nose wearily. "Dalaran's three principles—do not interfere in internal affairs, do not take sides, and do not..." His gaze hesitated, and the rest became a sigh. "...do not pursue explanations that are plainly reasonable."

Outside the window, the seagulls suddenly took flight in alarm.

Jaina watched Rhonin stamp a violet crest at the end of the report, thinking that Dalaran had finally been dealt with using gold and favors.

Beneath the dome of Dragonblight Temple, Eternal Flame burned silently in an enormous bronze brazier, casting the figures of the five dragon kings onto the circular walls inlaid with Titan Runes.

Alexstrasza—the Life-Binder, the Red Dragon Queen—stood in the center of the round table, a wavering wisp of Life Fire floating above her palm. The flame should have been a blazing golden red, yet now threads of shadow coiled through it like polluted veins.

"His life is ebbing away." Her low voice echoed through every corner of the temple.

The projection of Malygos, the Blue Dragon King, solidified first. Arcane Energy formed restless arcs of lightning around him. "The magical monitoring network shows that the explosion in the Swamp of Sorrows reached epic-level energy output!" His fingers swept through the air, unfolding a holographic image—the enormous crater, blasted into scorched earth. "Destruction on this scale demands that we track down the caster!"

Ysera's projection emerged from the Emerald Dream. The Green Dragon Queen's eyes were half-lidded, dream dandelions entwined in the tips of her hair. "Deathwing's presence... has grown fainter." She murmured softly, as though still sleepwalking. "What a pity. He once had the most beautiful scales..."

The image of Nozdormu, the Bronze Dragon King, remained blurry throughout. Time flowed around him in warped whirlpools. He said nothing, merely gently stirring grains of sand with his fingertips as he observed countless possible Timelines.

Alexstrasza looked around at the dragons, disappointment deepening in her eyes. "He was once our brother." She stressed the words. "Even if he fell, even if he went mad—now that he is dying, do we not even have the courage to ask after him?"

Malygos slammed a hand on the table, and Arcane Energy burst outward in a ripple. "Of course we must intervene! Abuse of magic must be—"

The Red Dragon Queen coldly cut him off. "Human informants report that he was the one who blew up the Swamp of Sorrows."

The Blue Dragon King's voice came to an abrupt halt.

An eerie silence fell over the temple.

Malygos's dragon eyes narrowed slightly, and his Arcane Energy wilted like a deflating balloon. He slowly sat back down and cleared his throat. "Oh... then it's fine."

Ysera gave a soft laugh. The dandelions around her fingertips suddenly turned to ash. "As he is now, with cracked scales and magma seeping out, he looks like a chewed-up piece of volcanic rock... Not elegant at all."

Nozdormu finally spoke, his voice seeming to drift from the far end of time and space. "There is a disturbance in the Timeline." His gaze swept across the dragons. "The version where the Black Dragon Father and Daughter turned on one another... is too perfect. But there is no better explanation. The Timeline is blocking my observation."

Alexstrasza's fingertips unconsciously traced scorch marks across the table. "So you do not believe it?"

The Bronze Dragon King's form began to fade. "I will go see for myself."

The Red Dragon Queen let out a long sigh and waved to dismiss the council. After the other dragon kings' projections vanished one after another, she remained alone before Eternal Flame, staring at that increasingly faint wisp of Life Fire.

"Neltharion..." she softly called that forgotten name. "What kind of being have you provoked?"

The golden sea of sand in the Caverns of Time flowed between Nozdormu's claws, reflections of billions of Timelines flickering in his pupils. His dragon claw hovered over a crucial branch—one that should have clearly revealed the truth behind the Swamp of Sorrows explosion, yet was shrouded in a strange golden mist.

"Chromie."

The Bronze Dragon King's voice made the Hourglass of Time throughout the cavern tremble faintly.

Chromie, who had been hiding behind a stalactite and secretly eating honey bread, nearly choked. In a flurry, she stuffed her pocket watch into her skirt pocket and wiped crumbs from the corner of her mouth. "Here! You called for me?"

Nozdormu did not turn around. With a light sweep of his tail, the Hourglass of Time condensed into a three-dimensional projection of the explosion site.

"Explain." He pointed at the densest part of the mist. "Why does this crucial time stream... smell like Titan's Prank?"

Chromie's little hand stealthily reached toward her waist—where the Lucky Gold Coin given to her by Azeroth was pinned.

Buzz!

The moment the coin flipped between her fingers, the light throughout the Caverns of Time suddenly softened. A warm golden glow spread over Nozdormu's scales, and even his perpetually furrowed brow unconsciously eased a little.

"Well, you see~" Chromie bounced closer, the coin spinning in her palm. "It was just a family drama! Deathwing thought his daughter selling fertilizer was embarrassing, while his daughter thought her old man was too old-fashioned, so the two of them got into a huge fight—"

Nozdormu's claw tip jabbed at the projection. "Then what are these?"

For an instant, the mist parted, revealing twelve faint streaks of metallic light.

Chromie immediately raised the coin higher, and its runes erupted with dazzling golden radiance. "Dragon Breath Ember! Look at those trajectories—such a standard black dragon breath scatter pattern!"

—Under the blessing of luck, the lie became reality.

Nozdormu's pupils dilated slightly. He saw:

Onyxia's Dragon Wings raising a storm (actually the blast wave)

Deathwing's Quaternary Armor "naturally peeling away" (actually penetrated by armor-piercing rounds)

The Bronze Dragon King suddenly shook his head, and the Hourglass of Time slipped from his claws.

"Strange..." he muttered. "It does indeed match black dragon energy signatures..."

Seizing the chance, Chromie slapped the gold coin onto the sand table. "And think about it~" She blinked her big eyes. "If some outsider had really badly wounded Deathwing, there should've been a temporal paradox alarm already, right?"

—A fatal blow.

Nozdormu's most prized time-monitoring mechanism had now become the best proof of the lie. He slowly nodded, his dragon tail absentmindedly curling around the coin and rubbing it. "You're right..."

With lightning speed, Chromie snatched the coin back. "So this case is closed, then?"

The instant the Bronze Dragon King nodded, Chromie had already skipped toward the exit. Only after passing through three Time Rifts did she collapse onto the grass, panting wildly. "Azeroth's coin... That was way too absurd, wasn't it?!"

Chromie wiped away a cold sweat. "Done! He's convinced now that Deathwing blew up his daughter's beloved toy, then got beaten half to death by his own daughter! It's melodramatic, but believable."

The morning mist over the Swamp of Sorrows had yet to disperse when a gilded airship tore across the sky, its tail venting colorful smoke that trailed an ostentatious streak across the sea. The words "Prince Rivendare" were painted on its side in fluorescent paint, every letter set with reflective crystals.

Before the hatch had fully opened, a green-skinned figure impatiently leaped down—

Splat!

Goblin Prince Rivendare landed face-first on the scorched earth. His gem-studded belt buckle flew off with a snap, clattering into the blast crater.

"My limited-edition Blood Sail Pirates Commemorative Edition belt buckle!!!" He wailed as he scrambled up, his Gold-rimmed Monocle crooked to one side. Without bothering to straighten it, he grabbed the nearest goblin accountant. "Where's our fertilizer?! Where's our production line?! Where's our money tree?!"

Trembling, the accountant pointed at the enormous crater nearby. "It's... it's all in there, Boss..."

Rivendare stiffly turned his head toward the charred abyss nearly a hundred meters across. The once-thriving fertilizer workshops, the stockpiled raw materials, even the transport ships docked at the pier—all gone.

His lips trembled twice, then suddenly—

"AAAAAH——!!!"

The heart-rending scream sent every bird within five miles flying.

When Deren and Chromie rushed over at the sound, they found Rivendare kneeling beside the crater, digging through the scorched soil with his bare hands in an attempt to find any sellable wreckage. The heels of his custom crocodile-leather boots had melted from the heat, his premium silk shirt was covered in soot, and his carefully groomed mohawk had been singed into curls.

"Calm down!" Deren jogged over. "The business can keep going!"

"Keep going?!" Rivendare whirled around, jumping three feet into the air as he grabbed Deren by the collar and sprayed his face with spit. "Do you know how much GG Fee I poured into the Black Dragon High-Yield Fertilizer brand?! Front page of the Eastern Kingdoms Agricultural Report! Title sponsor of the Stormwind Harvest Festival! Even the Dungeon Trolls ordered our products! And now it's all gone!!!"

Standing on tiptoe, Chromie poked the Goblin Prince's elbow. "But what if..." She lowered her voice mysteriously. "Theramore is willing to provide a new site, Nefarian is willing to supply sulfur at a low price, and Lady Jaina is willing to offer a political guarantee?"

Rivendare's sobbing stopped abruptly.

His eyeballs visibly turned into the shape of gold coins. "...Tell me more?"

Deren took the chance to break free and wiped the spit from his face. "Lady Jaina has just signed the cooperation agreement. The old shipyard on Theramore's eastern coast can be converted into a new workshop, and—"

"—And there'll be no taxes for the first three years!" Chromie rushed to add.

The Goblin Prince's ears perked up. "Tax exemption?!"

"And!" Deren pulled out a roll of parchment from his coat. "Nefarian is willing to supply volcanic sulfur from Blackrock Mountain long-term at ninety percent of market price."

Rivendare's breathing quickened. He snatched the contract, and a series of complex accounting formulas flashed across the lens of his monocle. Suddenly, he jerked his head up. "Wait... What if Deathwing comes back to kill us?"

Onyxia's voice drifted over from behind them. "Then tell him—"

At some point, she had already appeared behind the group, flipping the Lucky Gold Coin between her fingers. Sunlight reflected off its surface in a blinding gleam that shone straight into the goblin's eyes.

"—his children will beat him up again."

Rivendare's pupils instantly filled with gold coins. He broke into a grin, revealing a mouthful of gold teeth. "Brilliant! Fake military spending: swords and armor! Real military spending: gold coin dividends!"

He turned and frantically waved to his subordinates on the airship. "Quick! Signal the board of directors! Increase the investment! I'm going to build the Theramore Fertilizer Plant into the biggest in all Azeroth—"

Before he could finish, Jaina suddenly coughed in the distance.

The Goblin Prince immediately lowered his voice by several octaves. "...the most environmentally friendly fertilizer production base."

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