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"Welcome,"
"my most trusted servant." Rex's voice brimmed with delight, a faint smile hanging on his face. This was no practiced smile, but one that came from the heart.
"What should I call you now? Archmage? Or something else?" His gaze was gentle as he looked at the old man with silver-white hair and beard, into those eyes filled with wisdom that seemed capable of seeing through everything, and spoke slowly.
"Archmage. That is the name bestowed upon me by the Creator God," the Archmage said respectfully as he knelt, his long beard trailing on the ground.
"Rise." Rex raised a hand, motioning for the Archmage to stand, satisfaction written across his face. Having a Heroic Powerhouse kneel before them in full obeisance would fill anyone with a sense of accomplishment.
In Azeroth, heroes represented the pinnacle of martial power. Kneeling in full obeisance was out of the question; at most, they would bow.
"What do you know of this world?" he asked.
"This is the Origin Land, where all things began." The Archmage's voice carried a magnetic resonance, and his bearing inspired heartfelt admiration. This was the presence of an elder.
Rex shook his head. He understood the words, but not quite what they meant. That seemingly contradictory state had become a reality.
"Can your strength still improve in this world?" Rex immediately asked the question that concerned him most.
"The Origin Land's level is too low. Only after it advances once more will that be possible," the Archmage said slowly, his