Satyr

Krasus was able to remain calm and composed when facing Malygos, the Lord of Magic. But now, he struggled to keep his body from trembling and to maintain his composure in the face of the black dragon's arrival.

Krasus was heartbroken by Neltharion's current appearance; he saw once again the original form of the Obsidian Warden, whose body was covered in scales instead of steel.

But that was the past. The future Neltharion had rejected his duties, and even refused to use his own name. He changed his name from its former form to a well-known synonym for evil.

Deathwing.

In Krasus's memory, the image of Deathwing — the Worldbreaker —faintly appeared. Neltharion would ultimately become a scourge, and now he was trying to prevent the tragedy from beginning. At this crucial moment, inciting distrust among the Dragons was a tremendous risk. Krasus couldn't worry about that; he had to try.

"They've finally arrived!" Malygos looked up at the Black Dragon Aspect was slowly descending with flapping wings.

Krasus hadn't completely lost the courage to speak; he knew Neltharion would be to his disadvantage. "Black Dragon..."

'Quiet, you little bug!' Neltharion's voice boomed like thunder, but the other dragon kings didn't seem to find his unusual reaction strange. Krasus realized that the Black Dragon Aspect had invaded his mind.

'I know who you are... and what you're here for... but you can't change anything!'

Krasus cursed inwardly, trying to shoo Neltharion away. "The Black Dragonflight..."

The Red Dragon in human form grew increasingly uncomfortable under the whispered instigation. He looked at Alexstrasza; the Queen of Dragons needed a warning. Following Deathwing's lead, she would become a slave to the Orcs, and she would lose many of her children.

'Seize the opportunity, seize the opportunity!' Krasus sweated profusely, constantly reminding himself to stay focused, even though he was on the verge of fainting under Neltharion's oppressive aura.

The Black Dragon Aspect's gaze pierced through Krasus. 'You will use the facts of the future to oppose me, to make the other Dragons as hostile to me as you are. You dare to try and stop me, you pathetic little thing. I will not allow you to succeed.'

"Ms. Alexstrasza..."

'Shut your mouth!!!'

Krasus found his tongue tangled and replaced by incoherent words.

Apart from Neltharion, the other dragons craned their necks, astonished by his strange behavior. Krasus glanced quickly at Alexstrasza for help, but her expression was one of utter surprise, just like the others.

Krasus's head began to spin. The dizziness made him feel extremely uncomfortable, even making it difficult to maintain his balance. Meaningless words continued to escape his lips. But Krasus no longer understood what he was trying to say.

As Krasus bent over, dizzy and disoriented, he heard Neltharion's deathly voice.

'I warned you... future Calygros!'

"What's wrong with him?" Malygos was filled with questions after seeing Krasus's strange behavior, and he looked at Alexstrasza.

The Queen of Dragons was also very puzzled by this, and she could only temporarily send someone to take Krasus to rest.

"I can sense a powerful being descending upon this world," Cenarius said with his eyes closed, seemingly meditating or sensing something. "It's within the Night Elf royal palace!"

Malfurion nodded. "The illusions of the Emerald Dream are all real. Has Her Majesty the Queen encountered some misfortune? She cannot possibly remain inactive about this."

Even now, the lower Elf still firmly believe in Queen Azshara's authority. Nathanos shook his head helplessly; this situation was strikingly similar to the one he knew, Arthas. These people probably couldn't believe that the one who brought disaster was none other than their leader.

"Unfortunately, it is your queen who is summoning the Burning Legion!"

"What?"

"Impossible!"

"So you do know about the Burning Legion!"

Malfurion, Tyrande, and Cenarius each reacted differently to Nathanos's words.

"It's true. I was taken into her palace by her. She has turned the Doomguard into her personal bodyguards, and she seems to be summoning a 'god', who is undoubtedly a powerful being."

"We must inform the others," Tyrande shouted. "They certainly don't know about this yet."

"This will only cause panic!" Nathanos snapped, unable to believe that this impulsive Female Elf was now the leader of the Night Elf ten thousand years later. "And no one else will believe that your queen... is very beloved."

Tyrande wanted to say something more, but Cenarius interrupted her.

"Indeed," the demigod's voice rang out, temporarily silencing all the debate. "We must first find people willing to accept the doomsday prophecy. And these people must have a certain level of influence. Are there any suitable candidates?"

This question is irrelevant to Broxigar and Nathanos, but it is extremely important to Tyrande and Malfurion.

"I will try to persuade High Priestess Diganah; I believe she will believe me."

"I will go to my brother Illidan. He is now the magical advisor to Lord Ravencrest of Blackrock Spire. I believe that through him, Lord Ravencrest may be prepared for what is about to happen."

"Very good." Cenarius nodded and smiled. "I will also contact the other demigods. As for Broxigar and Nathanos, where do you plan to go?"

The Orcs stared at the demigod, grinning, his attitude suggesting he'd been won over by the battle axe. "I want to help Tyrande, but she wants to return to her people, so I plan to follow Malfurion to find that Lord Ravencrest."

"I'm not familiar with this place, but I don't want to be alone. I'm going to Blackrock Spire with them, and I have someone I want to meet." Nathanos glanced at Malfurion; if it weren't for the Elf's reminder, Nathanos would have almost forgotten about Illidan.

"Then let's get moving."

Azshara held a sphere of light, a magical artifact that allowed her to see the images of Elf from a thousand different lands. When the captain of the guard entered and knelt, he saw what appeared to be Azshara's own face reflected in the sphere, but the image quickly vanished.

"Have you caught him, Varos?" the Queen asked the captain of the royal guard as he entered the palace.

The officer felt a pang of embarrassment. "Not yet, the light of light, but please forgive me for a little while. I will definitely catch that escaped... guy."

"I like to hear good news, Captain!" Azshara stood up and spoke coldly. She rarely showed such emotion, Varos knew that the Queen was not in a good mood at the moment.

"Indeed, there is good news, Your Majesty. Our master, Sargeras ..."

"He's here?" Azshara's eyes lit up.

"No, not yet. The portal, the light of light, cannot yet support the master's magnificent body... However, he has sent a powerful demon leader to help us."

"Another powerful...demon?" She took a few steps forward. "Take me to him!"

Varos followed behind the Queen. In recent days, he had done some research on the Burning Legion that had captivated the Queen so much, and he discovered that the demons did not seem to be interested in the Queen's beautiful appearance.

Azshara arrived in Sargeras's territory and found that the demon lord Archimonde had indeed arrived.

For the first time, Azshara showed signs of unease, though only for a moment. She gasped for breath, then regained her composure, though Varos, observing it, was still deeply alarmed.

Archimonde bore no resemblance to Mannoroth except for being the same height. By any standard, however, he was far more powerful. In some ways, he even resembled Mannoroth Elf. His skin was blue, and he had a terrifying tail. He was hairless, possessed a massive skull, broad, pointed ears, and deep green eyes glaring beneath narrow brow ridges. He exuded an aura of boundless magical power.

"You are Queen Azshara." He spoke calmly and clearly, yet with an air of authority, quite different from Mannoroth's hoarse voice and Haka's hissing noise. "Your master is very pleased with your loyalty."

Azshara simply nodded, speechless for some reason; it was the first time she had met someone as powerful as herself. The queen turned to Varos, staring at him intently, and said, "My master must be even more powerful."

Varos knelt on one knee and replied, "I agree with you."

Archimonde seemed to have lost interest in the two of them, turning instead to where the High Elf mages were casting their spells. A dark purple portal hung in the center of their ranks; though large, it would still be extremely difficult for even the largest demon to pass through.

"To ensure the smooth operation of the time tunnel, he will be coming out of it soon."

"Who?" Azshara blurted out, "Sargeras is coming?"

Archimonde shook his head nonchalantly and said, "No! They are the master's new servants, the Burning Legion's new warriors."

Varos glanced at Mannoroth unintentionally and was also puzzled by the sight of this fanged demon.

The edge of the black hole flickered suddenly. The High Elf maintaining the portal swayed immediately, as this required them to exert more power than ever before. Some Elf gasped for breath, but thankfully, no one collapsed.

Then a figure appeared in the portal. Although smaller than the demons, for some reason, even before his feet touched the earth, one could still feel a power comparable to that of Mannoroth.

Azshara's golden eyes noticed that those weren't feet, but hooves, just like Archimonde's. The figure approached the demon leaders and Night Elf, its legs resembling those of a rough-furred goat. Its lower body was entirely animalistic—a bare, purplish-black torso, strikingly similar to Night Elf, only much stronger. Long, bluish-black fur draped loosely over a thin face, its curved horns contrasting sharply with its elegant, pointed ears. Its eyes held a cunning glint. Streamlined red stripes adorned the centers of its black, translucent pupils—these were unmistakable. It was smarter and more perceptive than others, seemingly adept at reading the room.

Of all the people Azshara knew, only one possessed those eerie eyes. She was the first to cry out. Azshara leaned forward, pouting, staring intently at that evil face, a face both familiar and strange to her. She said, "Sargeras?"