Split Personality?

A gentle breeze stirred the golden leaves. The forest around Golden Branch Village lay in a terrifying silence. Apart from the maples swaying and giving off low sighs, not a sound came from any living creature. The breath of death gradually spread through the lush jungle.

"Oh my god, what happened here?!" An elf suddenly emerged from the shadows. At the sight before her, she froze in place.

Soon, a steady stream of footsteps sounded from the forest behind her. Dozens of well-equipped rangers instantly surrounded Golden Branch Village.

Or rather, its ruins...

"Looks like we're too late." Her voice arrived before she did. The rangers huddled together parted to make way, and a tall Quel'dorei walked slowly into the village.

Her leaf-green leather armor fit snugly, covering her from head to toe, yet only accentuating her proud, graceful figure. Her exquisite features were striking even by elven standards. Her lustrous golden hair, in particular, seemed to drape her in a veil of pure light beneath the sun.

The ranger's graceful figure exuded a charm that could rival even Alisa, the Succubus.

If not for the nobility and chill reflected in her sapphire eyes, and the exquisite bow in her hand, shaped like a spreading-winged falcon, every man would have been eager to flock to her side.

"Captain Alleria, we found someone."

At her subordinate's call, the elven ranger who had been standing still withdrew her sorrowful gaze from the little village and hurried forward.

"It's a survivor..." Standing beside Lanlos, the ranger seemed uncertain. She checked his breathing, then continued, "He's still breathing. He doesn't seem to be seriously hurt."

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

The elf struggled to open his eyes, roused from near-exhaustion by the commotion nearby. No one noticed the fleeting green glimmer in his once-blue eyes. "Who... are you?"

His voice sounded like a corpse whispering beneath its coffin lid. It held no emotion, yet seemed to stir the sorrow and grief buried deep in everyone's heart. In that moment, no one could answer him.

Alleria paused. After surveying the scorched earth once more, she seemed to understand something. She quickly composed herself and took a black-feathered letter from her pouch. "We're reinforcements sent to deal with the Murlocs. Elf, who are you? Can you tell me what happened here?"

At the sight of the familiar object, a spark returned to the elf's eyes. As he recalled the events of the previous night, his heart felt torn open again. But this time, his face barely changed. He slowly closed his eyes, then opened them again a moment later.

Was his heart dead from grief? No, his heart was still alive, still yearning to drive Sores's final wish into the heart of his enemy. He had a clear purpose, one so clear that he couldn't afford to lose heart. What surprised him was that during those few seconds with his eyes closed, the air seemed to stop moving. Everyone breathed carefully, afraid to disturb this wounded soul.

"Don't worry. We'll avenge them." Alleria crouched down and firmly supported his elbows, slowly helping him to his feet. "But I need to know what happened, from beginning to end."

"Could I ask you to tell me?"

Her straight golden hair fluttered in the breeze, and her kind smile made her look like a fairy who had descended to the mortal world. A faint fragrance drifted over. Staring at her beautiful face, Lanlos was stunned by a sense of comfort as soothing as a spring breeze. He had never experienced such gentleness and compassion before. A warm radiance that seemed to erase the distance between them quietly eased the burning in his chest.

He had interacted with plenty of women through work, but had never felt anything like this from any of them. It was like a bird returning to its nest: freedom, peace, safety, comfort. He didn't know how to describe it, but he knew that right now, he wanted nothing more than to throw himself into her arms and let everything out like a child.

A child? Was this what people called a mother's love?

People's joys and sorrows were not shared.

Ordinary people always smiled from the heart when they talked about a mother's love, wearing that foolish expression Lanlos had always envied. But he was an orphan. He had never known a parent's love, so he couldn't empathize. Still, he didn't hate his parents. To be precise, he had been abandoned before he was old enough to remember and had never been able to understand love or hatred toward them. After all, this feeling, so ordinary in the eyes of most people, was unique and bound by time. If you never had it as a child, you could never truly understand it.

Lanlos lowered his eyes, clearly reluctant—or perhaps unused—to meet her gaze.

"My name is Lanlos. Half a year ago, I was attacked by Trolls on the way to Golden Branch Village. I was close to death, but the village chief, Fergus, took me in. I don't know how long I was unconscious, but on the evening the messenger left because of the Murloc problem, the Trolls, the Amani, and the Darkpine Tribe, allied with demons..."

Lanlos told her in detail most of what he knew, but deliberately concealed anything concerning himself. At this time, anything related to Fel would surely be dealt with severely. After all, the Quel'dorei were descendants of the elves who had suffered the Burning Legion's atrocities ten thousand years ago. They would never tolerate anyone connected to demons living in their homeland.

"I understand." After a brief silence, Alleria's lovely brows drew together, and the blue war paint running across her left eye grew suddenly sharp.

Why did he avoid my gaze? What are you hiding?

Alleria had no way of knowing what Lanlos was thinking. From her perspective, the whole incident was far too strange. Would Trolls attack Golden Branch Village? It wasn't impossible, but there was no apparent strategic value or reason behind it. Anyone could see something was amiss: they had bypassed the front lines and penetrated so far into the territory, only to target a tiny village on the outskirts.

And besides.

Alleria looked back at the ruins. Her rangers were identifying the corpses and sorting them. It wasn't just the elves—the Trolls' bodies were strange, too. They looked like desiccated corpses drained of blood, and most bore severe burn marks. Quite a few had even been torn apart by impacts from explosions or something similar.

There was also the ranger's curved blade. It had been discarded by the Farstriders in the previous batch, but it was still elven craftsmanship. Its melting point and the skill with which it had been made determined the limits of its heat resistance. Yet it had still melted into that shape.

Strangest of all, this frail elf, who looked like he couldn't tell one end of a hoe from the other, was the only survivor. Adding in the way he had just avoided her gaze, Alleria couldn't help growing suspicious.

But it was only suspicion. For now, Lanlos was still a victim. She and her companions had experienced this pain of losing loved ones countless times, so they silently gave him time to recover. Almost instinctively, she softened her voice and manner, offering comfort.

This was no time to voice her suspicions. The ranger's kind smile returned at once. She took a cloak from a subordinate and draped it over the elf, then solemnly promised, "My name is Alleria Windrunner. My companions and I will track down these Trolls. Anar'alah belore, our enemies will be destroyed."

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

"You know me?" The ranger's smile grew more sincere. He had been surprised not by "Windrunner," but by "Alleria." She didn't mind others admiring her family more than her personally, but being called by her first name always felt better than being addressed by her surname.

If she had known that Lanlos had only reacted instinctively to her forceful, familiar Thalassian, she might not have thought so.

Besides.

Lanlos gritted his teeth. His first instinct was to demand why she had taken so long to arrive, but a second later, he cast the foolish question aside. As an office drone in his previous life, he had at least some judgment. Never mind that less than two days had passed since the letter was sent for reinforcements. A pointless complaint made only to vent his anger would solve nothing and cause all kinds of needless trouble.

"Everyone in Quel'Thalas must know the famous Alleria Windrunner." Correct thinking was one thing, but as an ordinary person, Lanlos couldn't entirely keep his feelings out of his words.

Fortunately, Alleria was the eldest sister in her family and very tolerant. She didn't mind; instead, she poked fun at herself. "I wouldn't dare call myself famous. My stingy little sister would never let me hear the end of it."

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

"Shh." Like a fish caught stealing food by a cat, the ranger playfully put a finger to her lips. She then tiptoed around, looking about until she was sure no one was watching, and finally relaxed. "Phew. If she finds out I've been talking behind her back, I'll be in trouble."

Lanlos laughed, genuinely. He knew which sister she meant, and he knew why this impulsive older sister was acting this way. Knowing her kindness, he smiled naturally. Of course, he didn't call out the somewhat deliberate attempt to comfort him and make him feel welcome.

"Come on, what little sister would dare bully her big sister?"

"Hey, those were your words. Don't blame me when Sylvanas comes after you." A mischievous glint flashed across Alleria's face as she casually brought up the name that rang through every Quel'dorei's ears.

"Sylvanas? The Ranger General?!" Lanlos put on a convincing look of shock and flailed his hands, trying to laugh it off. "Ahem, uh, I thought you meant Vereesa Windrunner. Please forgive me, General. I meant no disrespect."

Seeing his reaction, Alleria laughed too, but soon remembered that she was supposed to be comforting him. She hurriedly covered it with a light cough. "That's enough. If we say much more, she'll find out even if she doesn't want to."

Glancing from the corner of her eye at the rangers moving about nearby, Alleria turned serious. "Anyway, Golden Branch Village isn't safe to live in now, and we'll be pursuing them south. What do you plan to do?"

Lanlos didn't answer immediately. He looked around, memories of the past six months running through his mind. But soon, his expression settled. "Thanks for your concern, but I won't get in your way. I was already planning to take a ship from Sunsail Harbor to Sunstrider Isle. A few things have changed, but that doesn't affect my plans."

With that, Lanlos didn't wait for Alleria to respond. He turned and walked toward the remains of his fellow villagers, which had already been laid out. If the circumstances were different, he would have been happy to talk at length with the famous Ranger Lord, but first he had to give the dead a proper burial.

Elven funerals had no set rules, but because of the land and the war, they were usually kept simple, with burial and cremation the most common methods. Of course, unless the fighting was urgent and there simply weren't enough people, they generally didn't cremate the dead in the open air.

After the remains and personal effects of Golden Branch Village's dead had been buried and their graves marked, it was already afternoon. To Alleria and the others' surprise, Lanlos had been calm—almost unnervingly so. He hadn't taken part in every burial, but he had carved every name onto the gravestones. That was right: in just half a year, he had come to know everyone in the village.

Under ordinary circumstances, this would have been an admirable social skill. But now he had carved the name of every person he knew onto a gravestone, without missing one. For any normal person, this would have been an enormous emotional blow. Yet he seemed calm, and comparing the first strokes he had carved with the last, there was no sign that anything had changed.

To everyone else, this was a display of admirable resilience. But the experienced Alleria couldn't shake a sense of unease. "Sarell."

"Here." A short-haired ranger with a crisp, capable air hurried to her side.

"Escort Lanlos back to Sunsail Harbor."

"But aren't we tracking down the Trolls now?"

"Of course." Alleria paused, apparently considering how to phrase it without causing a misunderstanding. "Lanlos has just suffered a terrible shock. There may be important details he hasn't remembered yet. I want you to keep an eye on him as much as possible, but don't approach him yourself unless necessary. He should have memorized everyone here by now."

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

"Just in case. We can't let him feel burdened because of us."

"Understood."

Silverblade Sores

Murloc Slayer who Refused to Yield

This was the last one.

Tracing the marks carved with an awl, Lanlos fell into a long silence. Sores had been buried last because they hadn't been able to find his corpse. The Farstriders had buried everyone else, but all they had found of Sores were his clothes and other personal effects. The reason went without saying. Lanlos didn't want to think about it. More precisely, he didn't dare.

Tracing the familiar name, Lanlos felt strangely calm. More accurately, he didn't know what expression he ought to wear.

Should he blame himself? Yes. The demons had come after him. If he hadn't been so sure of himself and trespassed into Azeroth in the first place, this wouldn't have happened.

Should he regret it? Yes. If he had set aside his fear and weakness and decisively used demonic power, regardless of the Burning Legion and Azeroth's mutual hostility toward it, perhaps things would have turned out differently.

Should he grieve? Should he be angry? Should he...

There were too many things he should do. He didn't even know where to start. Sorry, I'm just lazy. All I know how to do is make excuses. But fortunately, I know there's one thing I must do now. Anar'alah belore, my friend, I'll make sure you can rest in peace.

And I swear I'll never let something like this happen again. Stupidity, weakness, fear—all of it will be...

'Destroyed!'

Silence. A long silence. Lanlos stood motionless like a statue, even forgetting to breathe for a moment.

Who are you?

'Me?'

'Hahaha!'

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

Lanlos felt a thunderclap explode in his mind. The panic and helplessness felt just like when Vihana had probed his mind after he first entered the Shattered Abyss. But before he could fly into a rage from the humiliation, the sharp voice rang out with a piercing echo, as if right beside his ear. It made his head spin, nearly knocking him unconscious.

'You surrendered to demons, became a demon, and now you're hoping to find redemption through demons?'

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

'You're shameless and devoid of virtue, ignorant and without conscience!'

A barrage of familiar cadences exploded through his mind, catching Lanlos completely off guard. There was no voice in his mind, of course, but he knew what it was: Chinese!

His shock even eclipsed what he'd felt with Vihana. Could this really be another me? Do I have split personality?!

But so what?

Shut your damn mouth!

'?!'

Are you done yet?

'I'm you. How dare you...'

Fuck off with that bullshit!

If you're me, don't you know who I am? I'm the orphan master, the king of verbal smackdowns, the lone flower admiring itself, the undefeated solitary one! What makes you think you're qualified to spout shit in front of me?

'You, I...'

CNM, you damn plunger. I've been looking for somewhere to vent, and my old trash-talking skills have been getting rusty. You're a second-generation orphan, an orphan among orphans. Right when you charge into my line of fire, you want to compete to be the loneliest? How about calling me Dad, and I'll make you Linghu the Lone? Otherwise, insulting you won't even be satisfying.

'Holy shit...'

C you, you telephone pole that grew legs and turned into a reverse R, digging up graves to claw out your ancestors. You never do anything useful, all day long dreaming of dropping dead on the spot and ascending to heaven.

Skr~

'You're uneducated and useless. After living two lives, all you've learned is how to be a shameless lowlife!'

You want to talk to me about the way of the gentleman? Your key's broken? I can get it copied for you. Are you even qualified?

'I'm you...'

I'm your grandfather! You little shit that fell out of a fire hydrant's ass...

Ahem, I've taken damage from that counterattack. Forget it, I'm tired. Since you have your own ideas and want to talk about my path, I'll give you a proper test.

'Test your mother...'

Exactly, test me. You said you're me, didn't you?

Cut the crap and listen up. Elder Ma had an idea: what is the whole of non-instrumentality?

'A person is an end, not a means.'

You fucking know that? Then you have no right to keep running your mouth. According to your argument, treating demons as a means bothers you? Are demons people? Is it unethical to pursue redemption through demons? Sounds like you're all worked up because you need to take a shit, and it's taking you all your might.

'You bastard, you set a trap for me!'

Oh? The governor can burn down the house, but the common folk can't even light a lamp? What lofty office do you hold, sir? What an impressive official you are.

Lanlos let out a sarcastic snicker. His apparently agitated emotions quickly settled, and he silently 'listened' as the voice in his mind cursed in that familiar language, with familiar words and familiar 'politeness'. After waiting a long while, the last trace of hope in his eyes finally vanished, leaving only calm and disappointment.

I did set a trap for you, but not that one.

"A person is an end, not a means." Kant said that.

The voice in his mind fell silent. The 'two' Lanlos sat in silence, thinking about completely unrelated things, tasting feelings neither could understand in the other.

Actually, I kind of hoped you really were me.

Lanlos's voice was utterly calm, as if the glib, crude, and irreverent hothead from just now had been nothing but an illusion. Yes, if there really could be two of him, then in this lonely world, at least he could keep himself company by talking to himself in his own mind.

What a shame...

'Yeah, heh, what a shame.' The voice dropped its pretentious politeness. Its sinister, mocking laughter was full of derision and amusement. 'You'll be the loneliest being in the entire Void, in the entire material universe, until the end of time. You're an orphan of society, and an orphan of the world. Your birth and your end are both destruction. This world has no future for you.'

'But destruction is the soil that nurtures hope. We are born toward death, blooming amid the ashes.'

The voice slowly, slowly revealed a mysterious allure, something irresistible and inviting.

'All the worlds across the cosmos will be reborn through fire! This is the Burning Legion's mission, and the highest honor of us all!'

In a daze, Lanlos felt a hand slowly materialize before him, palm held open and facing up—a hand of immense size, a hand he could not resist.

'We are the flashes of light in the endless Void, the dusk and dawn of all worlds. We are the Burning Legion. We are destruction and rebirth, pain and hope.'

'Together, we will melt the shackles of fate and burn fiercely in the boundless darkness at the end of all things!'

'All things return to the Void; the Burning never dies.'

'The ambition of the dark Void will eventually be torn apart by the will of Lord Sargeras.'

'The Burning Legion is eternal.'

'Join us, and your future, your fate, will finally be yours to command!'

The hand drew nearer. His vision went dark.