Split Personality?

A gentle breeze swept through the golden leaves. The forest surrounding Golden Branch Village was cloaked in a terrifying silence; save for the sighing, low-pitched rustle of maple trees, not a single sound of any living creature could be heard. The scent of death gradually permeated the heart of this once-vibrant jungle.

"Good heavens, what happened here?!" An elf suddenly emerged from the shadows, freezing in place as she took in the scene before her.

Soon, the sound of rhythmic footsteps echoed from the jungle behind her, and dozens of well-equipped rangers instantly surrounded Golden Branch Village.

Or rather, this ruin...

"It seems we are late." The voice arrived before the person. The clustered rangers parted to form a path, and a tall Quel'dorei walked slowly into the village entrance.

Though her leaf-green, tight-fitting leather armor wrapped her body completely, it only served to accentuate her tall, proud curves. Her exquisite features were stunning even by elven standards, especially her long, golden hair, which, rendered by the sunlight, seemed to drape her in a veil of noble purity.

The charm radiating from the ranger's graceful figure was by no means inferior to that of Alisa the Succubus.

If not for the nobility and coldness reflected in those azure eyes, and the exquisite longbow in her hand that resembled a falcon spreading its wings, every male would likely have flocked to her side without hesitation.

"Captain Alleria, we have a discovery."

Hearing her subordinate's call, the elven ranger withdrew her sorrowful gaze from the small village and strode forward with swift, light steps.

"It is a survivor..." Standing beside Lanlos, the ranger seemed somewhat uncertain. After checking his breath, she continued, "He is still breathing. It appears he is not in any grave danger."

Alleria nodded and was about to order someone to take him for treatment when a faint sound caught her attention.

Struggling to open his eyes, the nearly exhausted elf was awakened by the nearby commotion. However, no one noticed that his originally azure eyes flickered with a fleeting, ghostly green light: "Who... are you?"

The voice sounded like the whispers of a corpse beneath a coffin lid. It lacked any emotional color, yet it seemed to stir the deep-seated sorrow and misery within everyone present. For a moment, no one could answer his question.

Alleria paused, took another look at the Scorch Earth, and seemed to understand something. She quickly composed herself and took a letter marked with a black feather from her pouch: "We are reinforcements sent to deal with the Murlocs. Elf, who are you? Can you tell me what happened here?"

Seeing the familiar object, a spark of life returned to the elf's eyes. Recalling the events of last night, his heart was torn open once more. But this time, there was little fluctuation on his face; he simply closed his eyes slowly, then opened them again just as quickly.

Is there any sorrow greater than a dead heart? No, his heart was still alive, yearning—yearning to drive the final will of Sores into the heart of his enemy. He had a clear goal, a goal so clear that he could not afford to collapse. What surprised him, however, was that in those few seconds he kept his eyes closed, the air seemed to stagnate, and everyone's breathing became cautious, as if they feared disturbing this scarred soul.

"Don't worry, we will have our vengeance." Alleria crouched down, her strong hands supporting his elbows as she slowly helped him up. "But I need to know the cause and effect of all this."

"Can I rely on you?"

Her straight, golden hair fluttered gently in the wind, and her kind smile was like that of a fairy fallen into the mortal realm. A faint, clean fragrance wafted toward him. Gazing at the beautiful face before him, a sense of comfort like a spring breeze left Lanlos stunned. This gentleness and pity were things he had never experienced before—a warm radiance that seemed to erase the distance between them, causing the burning sensation in his chest to quietly fade.

He had encountered many women through his work, but he had never felt such an emotion from anyone. It was like a bird returning to its nest: free, stable, safe, and comforting. He didn't know how to describe it, but he knew that at this moment, he wanted nothing more than to throw himself into her arms and vent like a child.

A child? Was this what people called maternal instinct?

Human joys and sorrows are not shared.

When ordinary people mentioned maternal instinct, they always wore heartfelt smiles. Lanlos had always envied that kind of silly expression. But he was an orphan; he had never experienced parental love, and naturally, he could not empathize with it. Yet, he did not hate his parents. To be precise, he had been abandoned before he could remember, so he could not understand love or hate for parents at all. After all, this emotion, which seemed so common in the eyes of others, was in fact unique and time-limited. If one did not possess it in childhood, one would never truly understand it.

Lanlos lowered his eyelids, clearly unwilling to meet her gaze—or perhaps, he was simply unaccustomed to it.

"My name is Lanlos. Half a year ago, while moving to Golden Branch Village, I was attacked by Trolls and nearly died. In the end, the village chief, Fergus, took me in. I don't know how long I was unconscious, but on the evening the messenger left regarding the Murloc problem, the Trolls—the Amani and the Darkpine Tribe, who had allied with demons..."

He detailed most of what he knew, but Lanlos deliberately concealed matters concerning himself. During this period, anything related to Fel would inevitably be handled with severity. After all, as descendants of elves who had suffered the Legion's atrocities ten thousand years ago, the Quel'dorei would never tolerate anyone associated with demons living on their land.

"I understand." After a brief silence, Alleria's beautiful, dark brows furrowed slightly, and the blue war-paint running through her left eye suddenly turned sharp.

Why avoid my gaze? What are you hiding?

Alleria, of course, could not know Lanlos's thoughts. From her observations and perspective, the entire incident was too strange. Trolls attacking Golden Branch Village? It wasn't entirely impossible, but it lacked any logic in terms of strategic value or significance. To bypass the front lines and travel such a long distance just to target a small, peripheral village—anyone could see the red flags.

Furthermore.

Alleria's gaze returned to the ruins. Her rangers were identifying and categorizing the corpses. Not to mention the elves, the Trolls' manner of death was too bizarre; they looked like dried husks drained of blood, and most bore signs of severe burning, with a significant portion torn apart by some kind of explosive impact.

And that ranger's scimitar—though it was a discarded piece from the previous batch of Farstriders, it was still elven-made. Its melting point and craftsmanship dictated its upper limit for fire resistance, yet it had been melted into such a state.

The strangest thing was that this frail elf, who looked like he couldn't lift a finger, was the only survivor? Coupled with his small gesture of avoiding eye contact, suspicion inevitably rose in Alleria's heart.

But it was only suspicion. At least for now, Lanlos was still a victim. She and her comrades had experienced the pain of life-and-death separations countless times, so they could tacitly remain silent to give him time to recover. She also habitually softened her tone and attitude to offer comfort.

It was clearly inappropriate to voice her suspicions at such a time. The ranger immediately resumed her kind smile. She took a cloak handed to her by a subordinate and covered the elf, promising solemnly: "My name is Alleria Windrunner. I and my companions will track the trail of these Trolls. Anar'alah belore, our enemies will surely be destroyed."

"Alleria?!" Lanlos's brow twitched slightly.

"You know me?" The ranger's smile became more genuine, as the part that surprised him was not "Windrunner," but "Alleria." Although she did not mind others recognizing her family name more than her individual self, being addressed by her given name always felt better than being addressed by her surname.

However, if she knew that Lanlos had only reacted subconsciously because of her powerful and familiar Thalassian, she might not have thought so.

Besides.

Lanlos gritted his teeth, subconsciously wanting to demand why they had arrived so late, but a second later, he cast that idiotic question aside. As a corporate slave in his past life, he still had some judgment. Regardless of the fact that less than two days had passed since the messenger was sent, such meaningless, venting complaints would not solve any problems and would only create unnecessary conflict.

"The famous Alleria Windrunner—there shouldn't be many in Quel'Thalas who don't know you." Thinking correctly was one thing, but as an ordinary person, Lanlos's emotions were still quietly hidden within his words.

Fortunately, as the eldest sister of her family, Alleria had a very strong capacity for tolerance. Not only did she not mind, but she even used it to mock herself: "I wouldn't dare claim such fame, or my stingy little sister would never let me hear the end of it."

"Stingy little sister?" Lanlos's heavy heart began to lift.

"Shh." Like a cat catching a thief, the ranger playfully made a gesture for silence, then peeked around cautiously to ensure no one was watching before letting out a sigh of relief. "Phew, if she found out I was bad-mouthing her behind her back, I'd be done for."

Lanlos laughed—a genuine laugh. He certainly knew who the sister she mentioned was, and he knew even better why this reckless sister was acting this way. It was precisely because he knew her good intentions that he smiled naturally. Naturally, he did not expose this slightly deliberate attempt at comfort and kindness.

"Nonsense, what sister would dare bully her older sister?"

"Hey, you said it yourself. If Sylvanas comes to settle the score with you later, don't blame me." A hint of mischief flashed across Alleria's face as she seemingly casually mentioned that name, which was like thunder to the ears of the Quel'dorei.

"Sylvanas? The Ranger-General?!" Lanlos was 'naturally' shocked, waving his hands in a panic and laughing it off, trying to muddle through. "Ahem, well, I thought you were talking about Vereesa Windrunner. My apologies, General, please, no offense taken."

Seeing Lanlos's reaction, Alleria laughed aloud, but soon realized she was supposed to be the one comforting him, so she quickly coughed to cover it up. "Stop there. If you say any more, she'll find out even if she doesn't want to."

Glancing at the rangers pacing nearby, Alleria straightened her expression. "That said, Golden Branch Village is currently uninhabitable, and we will be heading south to pursue the enemy. What are your plans?"

Lanlos did not reply immediately. He scanned the area, his mind retracing the events of the past six months, but his expression soon returned to calm. "Thank you for your concern, but I will not interfere with your mission. I was already planning to depart from Sunsail Harbor for Sunstrider Isle. Despite these unfortunate events, that remains unchanged."

Without waiting for Alleria's response, Lanlos turned and walked toward the remains of his fellow villagers that had been laid out. If the circumstances were different, he would have been happy to engage in a long conversation with such a renowned Farstriders leader, but for now, he had to ensure the victims were properly laid to rest.

There were no strict regulations for elven funeral rites, but due to the scarcity of land and the ongoing war, they were generally kept simple, favoring burial or cremation. Of course, unless the situation was dire and manpower was critically low, open-air cremation was rarely chosen.

By the time the remains and personal effects of the Golden Branch Village victims were interred and the headstones erected, it was already afternoon. To the surprise of Alleria and her team, Lanlos remained remarkably calm—perhaps even abnormally so. Although he did not participate in every burial, he personally carved the names onto every single headstone. Indeed, in just half a year, he had come to know everyone in the village.

Under normal circumstances, this would undoubtedly be a social skill worthy of praise, but now, he was carving the names of everyone he knew, one by one, without omission. For any normal person, this would be a source of immense psychological trauma. Yet he appeared perfectly composed; even comparing the strokes from the first to the last, there was no sign of wavering.

To others, this appeared to be a display of admirable resilience, but the experienced Alleria felt a subtle, lingering unease. "Sarell."

"Present." A sharp-looking ranger with short hair stepped quickly to her side.

"You are responsible for escorting Lanlos back to Sunsail Harbor."

"But aren't we supposed to track down the Troll party next?"

"Of course." Alleria paused, seemingly considering how to phrase her request to avoid ambiguity. "Lanlos has just suffered a massive shock; he may have missed some necessary details. I want you to keep an eye on him, but try not to intervene directly. He has likely memorized the faces of everyone here."

"Really? I haven't even made eye contact with him."

"Just as a precaution. We cannot let him develop any further psychological burden because of us."

"Understood."

Sores Silverblade
The Murloc Slayer who would rather die than submit

This is the last one.

Tracing the marks carved with an awl, Lanlos fell into a long silence. The reason Sores was the last to be buried was that his body could not be found. The Farstriders had buried everyone else, but they had only recovered Sores's personal effects. The reason went without saying, and Lanlos did not want to dwell on it—or rather, he dared not.

Touching the familiar name, Lanlos felt an unusual calm within. To be precise, he didn't know what expression he should be wearing.

Should I blame myself? Indeed, the demons were chasing me. If I hadn't been so arrogant as to break into Azeroth, none of this would have happened.

Should I regret it? Indeed, if I had ignored the mutual hostility between the Burning Legion and Azeroth toward this power, cast aside my fear and weakness, and decisively used the demonic energy, the outcome might have been different.

Should I be sad? Should I be angry? Should I...

There are too many things I should do, and I don't even know where to start. Sorry, I'm just a lazy person who only knows how to make excuses. But fortunately, I know there is one thing I must do now. Anar'alah belore, my friend, I will definitely let you rest in peace.

At the same time, I will never let such a thing happen again. I promise you, stupidity, weakness, and fear—I will...

'Destroy them!'

Silence. A long, heavy silence. Lanlos stood as still as a statue, even forgetting to breathe for a moment.

Who are you?

'Me?'

'Haha!'

'I am Duan Ming, and I am Lanlos. I am you, and you are me!'

Lanlos felt a thunderous roar in his brain. This sense of panic and disorientation was as powerless and humiliating as when he had first entered the Shattered Abyss and had his mind probed by Vihana. But before he could even flare up in anger, that sharp, piercing voice echoed right against his ears, screaming so fiercely it left him dizzy and on the verge of fainting.

'Submit to demons, become a demon, and then try to rely on demons for salvation?'

'Your words are unforgivable, your heart deserves death!'

'You are immoral and shameless, ignorant and unrefined!'

A string of familiar tones exploded in his mind, catching Lanlos completely off guard. Without a doubt, even though there was no sound in his head, he knew: this was Chinese!

The shock even eclipsed his fear of Vihana. Could this really be another version of me? Do I have a split personality?!

But, so what?

Shut your dog mouth!

'?!!'

Are you done cursing?

'I am you, how dare you...'

Shut the hell up!

Since you are me, don't you know who I am? A master of isolation, a king of keyboard warriors, a narcissist, a man who finds no equal—what right do you have to spew your filth in front of me!

'You, I...'

Go to hell. I was just looking for a place to vent, and my old-life talent for trash-talking was feeling lonely. You, a second-rate loner among loners, choosing to run into the muzzle of a gun right now—if you really want to compete for the title of "loner," why don't you call me "Dad"? I'll grant you the name Ling Guchong; otherwise, there's no sense of achievement in cursing you.

'What the...'

Go screw yourself, you pole-dancing freak, digging up your own ancestors' graves because you have nothing better to do than sit around waiting to drop dead.

Skr~

"You, you are unlearned and unskilled. Having lived two lifetimes, you have only managed to master the behavior of a rogue and a scoundrel!"

You want to talk to me about the way of a gentleman? If your key is broken, I can help you get a new one, but are you even qualified to have one?

"I am you..."

You are my foot! You piece of... you are just a fire hydrant that fell out of an asshole...

Cough, cough, that backfired. Forget it, I'm tired. Since you have ideas and want to discuss my path, then I will properly test you.

"Test your m..."

That's right, test me. Didn't you say you are me?

Cut the useless talk and listen up. Elder Ma had a viewpoint: what is the whole that is not a means?

"Man is an end, not a means."

You damn well know it! Then what right do you have to sit there and nag? According to what you said, does it bother you that I treat demons as a means? Are demons human? Is it unethical to achieve the goal of salvation through demons? I think you're just full of hot air and talking shit.

"Bastard, you set a trap for me!"

Yo, so the magistrate can burn down houses but the commoners can't even light a lamp? Where do you hold office, your lordship? Such grand official authority you have.

Throwing out a sarcastic sneer, Lanlos's seemingly agitated emotions converged rapidly in that instant. He silently "listened" to that voice in his head cursing in a familiar language, using familiar phrasing and familiar "refinement." After waiting for a long time, the trace of expectation that had originally existed in his eyes completely dissipated, leaving only calmness and disappointment.

I did set a trap for you, but it wasn't that one.

"Man is an end, not a means" was said by Kant.

The voice in his head suddenly went quiet. The "two" Lanlos were silent, thinking about completely unrelated things and tasting things the other could not understand.

Actually, I really hoped that you were me.

Lanlos's voice was so calm, as if the image of the witty, eccentric, and base angry youth from just a moment ago was merely an illusion. Yes, if there could be two of himself in this lonely world, he could at least find solace in chatting with himself inside his own head.

What a pity...

"Indeed, heh, what a pity." That voice also discarded its pretentious fake refinement, its sinister, strange laughter full of mockery and ridicule. "You will be the loneliest existence in the entire Void and the entire material universe, forever. You are an orphan of society, and even more so, an orphan of the world. Your birth and your end are both destruction; this world simply has no future for you."

"But destruction is the soil that nurtures hope. To live toward death, to bloom amidst the ashes."

That voice slowly, slowly revealed a mysterious quality that was yearning and an irresistible temptation.

"The heavens and myriads of worlds shall all march toward rebirth in the flames! This is the mission of the Burning Legion, and it is also our supreme glory!"

In a trance, Lanlos felt as if a hand were slowly appearing before his eyes—a hand with its palm spread upward, a hand of immense size, a hand that could not be resisted.

"We are the flash in the endless Void, the dusk and dawn of the heavens and myriads of worlds. We are the Burning Legion; we are destruction, and we are rebirth; we are pain, and we are hope."

"We shall break the shackles of fate together and burn fiercely in the boundless darkness of the final end!"

"All things return to the Void; the burning shall never be extinguished."

"The ambition of the Dark Void shall eventually be torn apart by the will of Sargeras."

"The Burning Legion is eternal and undying."

"Join us, and your future, your destiny, shall finally be mastered by yourself!"

That hand drew near, and his vision went black.