Oak Axe

What a quiet forest! Nathanos even felt a chill. He struggled to his feet; Medivh's teleportation spell wasn't as safe as he'd imagined.

"Why is your magic so unstable? We fell from mid-air, if it weren't for the tall trees all around us..."

Medivh watched as Nathanos brushed the dust and weeds off himself, blinked, and turned his head—of course, he was in raven form. The Guardian wasn't good at lying, and he wouldn't admit that his magical malfunction was a coincidence.

"The Well of Eternity exists in this era, and anyone who can cast spells can benefit from it, but the increase in power can become uncontrollable."

Nathanos wanted to say that he was the Guardian and that he could completely control it. But he couldn't bring himself to say it, and he swallowed the words.

"Anyway, at least you have to tell me where this place is and how I can get back to my original world?" Nathanos stretched his arms and legs to make sure that no bone in his body was out of place.

"This is Moonglade."

"Moonglade?" Nathanos repeated. "It sounds like a very sacred and important place."

Medivh nodded in agreement, then crouched down and touched the flowers and grass at his feet. "A demigod lives here, you know him, it's Cenarius."

Nathanos suddenly felt dizzy. He had just escaped Azshara, and now he had stepped into the territory of a demigod. The Undead lay down on the ground, closing his eyes until he felt better. "All I know is that the demigod was defeated by an Orcs."

"Actually, I brought you here not to see Cenarius, but because the person who went back to ten thousand years ago with you has been captured by Cenarius." Seeing that Nathanos didn't complain, he simply answered his question.

Who is it?

"You know him. You'll find out who he is once you find him."

Nathanos stood up. He looked around; the surroundings were the familiar forest.

"I just want to go back."

"What good would it do to go back?" Medivh's words hit the nail on the head, nearly driving Nathanos to a rage. He was absolutely right. What use would returning to the old Azeroth be? Where else could he go? Or rather, where could he hide?

"Then at least tell me, how would staying help me?"

"Answer me a question, Nathanos," Medivh said. "What is your value now? You are dead, your past... is gone, so why are you still struggling in the world of the living?" The Guardian chose his words carefully, avoiding the terms "family" or "lover."

It was such a simple question. Yet, Nathanos hesitated to answer. He wanted to say he wanted revenge against the Lich King, but he couldn't do it alone. What would be the point if someone else did the revenge for him? He also wanted to answer that his purpose in life was to seek redemption, to be reborn. Whenever he thought of Medivh's mother, Aegwynn's, teachings, Nathanos was filled with hope. But what about after his rebirth? Alleria rejected him, a fact that Nathanos might never be able to let go of.

Please tell me the answer.

Medivh thought he had misheard. Nathanos was asking for his help? He paused for a second before replying, "This journey can help you find the answers, Nathanos. Not only that, you will also understand that history is not static; the only constant is the outcome."

"If the outcome cannot be changed, then what is the point of the process?"

The guardian simply smiled and remained silent.

"In that case, should I go find the other transmigrators now?"

Nathanos glanced at Medivh's side; with no sunlight, discerning the way was nearly impossible, let alone finding anyone.

An unusual sound rang out in the forest, like the howl of a wolf, yet something else entirely.

"It looks like a battle is about to begin. You'd better hurry, or you won't have time to test your new weapon."

Nathanos drew Sulfuras, and when Medivh brought him out, he took the sword. Azshara must have been furious!

"Do we really have to go?" the Undead asked, but Medivh did not answer. He turned his head, and the Guardian had vanished.

"It seems so!"

The sound came from the left. Nathanos suddenly felt a little nervous, but only for a moment. He realized that he hadn't participated in a battle for a long time.

The hellhounds roamed Cenarius's territory. As the scent of their prey drew closer, their speed increased. Hunger and the sense of duty drove them to howl, seemingly venting their impatience.

But as one of the hellhounds tried to cross the fallen tree trunk, vines sprouted from another tree and entangled its leg, with more vines binding it tightly. Another hellhound, while moving forward, found its paws suddenly sinking into the muddy ground, unable to pull them out. A third hellhound was struck by a sprouting thorn bush, its Razor -sharp thorns causing it great pain.

Despite the loss of three companions, the five enormous monsters continued their advance, refusing to give up. Hunger and rage drove the hellhounds to relentlessly pursue their goal.

"Teacher! What is he?"

Cenarius, glanced at his student, his burning gaze devoid of reproach. "The demons you speak of? They followed you here. They've been following you ever since you rescued your friend."

"They came with me? Impossible! How could they..."

Broxigar interjected, his deep, guttural voice unsettling. "These hellhounds have very sensitive noses, and they can absorb magic; given enough magic, one can multiply into many."

"We must prepare for battle!" Cenarius said, turning to Broxigar. "You are a Warrior, so what is your weapon?"

"It was taken away by the Night Elf, or lost."

"Then come with me." Cenarius did not rebuke the Orcs; in fact, this was exactly what he wanted.

Cenarius found a thick tree trunk and placed it in front of Malfurion.

"Kneel before it, my student, and you kneel too, Broxigar. Malfurion, place your hands on this trunk, and then Broxigar's hands on yours."

The Orcs and Night Elf did as he instructed.

The King of the Forest commanded again, "Now, Broxigar, think of nothing but your weapon. Only think of your weapon! Time is of the essence. Malfurion, you must open your mind and let his thoughts flow into your mind."

Malfurion did as he was told. He cleared his mind and then established a connection with the Orcs. Immediately, a powerful force entered his mind. Malfurion initially tried to resist this force, but then he calmed down. He accepted Broxigar's thoughts and allowed the weapon he desired to gradually take shape.

"You see the weapon, my student?" Cenarius's voice came. "Can you sense it? What does it look like and what shape does it have?"

Malfurion certainly sensed it. He also sensed the connection between Orcs and weapons; it wasn't just a simple tool, but also a bond between the orc and the Warrior.

"Place your hand on the wood and keep the image in your mind. As it comes to you naturally, transform it into what you want."

The Night Elf's fingers began to trace patterns on the tree trunk, while Broxigar's hand rested upon it. Instantly, the wood softened and changed shape.

Guided by him, an axe with a sharp blade appeared, made entirely of oak. Malfurion was utterly astonished as he looked at the axe. A real battle axe was right before his eyes!