Dispute Over Sacrifice

The captain of the Moon Guard used Arcane Siphon once again, and this time, almost all the Moon Guard in Blackrock Spire were concentrated together.

"Illidan, no!!" Ravencrest heard the mages' cries of agony. He thought something had attacked the Moon Guard in the stands, but the culprit that was causing them so much pain was right in front of him.

"This is impossible!" Nathanos exclaimed.

"So... savage!" Broxigar was also astonished by Illidan's behavior.

"What's the difference between us and those demons?" Garrid Shadowsong, the youngest veteran on the battlefield, murmured. He wondered why Illidan would do this. Had he sided with the Burning Legion? Or was he after power?

The answer is the latter. After Illidan absorbed all the magic power of the mages present, he unleashed a terrible spell on the giant Hellfire. This spell originated from within the Hellfire, instantly causing cracks to appear on its rocky surface, like a virus consuming its interior. Then, a white light emanated from the Hellfire's body, growing brighter and brighter, as if something was about to burst forth. Finally, with a deafening roar, the entire Blackrock Spire trembled. The impact snapped the surrounding trees. The sky turned dark, and then a cold drizzle began to fall, licking the wounds of the injured.

The Hellfire was destroyed, but the matter was not over. Everyone gathered together and surrounded Illidan.

"What have you done, Illidan?! You've killed them all!" Ravencrest, riding his Night Saber, pointed at the emaciated Night Elf corpses in the stands.

"Then what do you suggest, Ravencrest? Bow and scrape to the Legion's masters and let them turn the world to ashes?" Captain Stormrage retorted.

"There must be other ways, we can..."

"What can we do? You're blind, Ravencrest. You're all blind!!" Illidan angrily threw down his staff. "This was an invasion. They almost killed everyone here and then went to take Suramar." The mage's expression clearly showed unease when he mentioned Suramar. Nathanos suddenly remembered that Tyrande was in Suramar.

"We will fight to the death, Illidan," Garrid said. "Even if we fail today, we will never try to win by sacrificing our own people."

"Sacrifice?" Illidan's rage reached its peak upon hearing those two words. "You have no idea what sacrifice is! You only know how to criticize me? My mages died to save the world, and what have you given in return? What have you sacrificed?"

He roared finally, and in his eyes, no one present approved of his actions; they all shook their heads and sighed, some even condemning him and declaring they would execute him on the spot. The best among them was Nathanos, the Undead simply stood there watching him. Illidan couldn't discern anything from his pale skin; he clenched his fists.

"You fool, Ravencrest! It doesn't matter, I have nothing more to learn from you. As long as you, a coward, are in power, we will never defeat the Burning Legion." Illidan began casting a teleportation spell. "Goodbye... good luck, next time, you might as well just beg them for your lives."

The war was over; it had been a costly defensive battle. Nathanos remained in the lounge prepared for him by the Blackrock Lord. Ravencrest's attitude towards him and Broxigar had noticeably changed in recognition of the contributions of the Undead and Orcs in the battle, but the lord couldn't afford to chat with them now; there were many post-war matters that required his attention.

Nathanos was grateful that Ravencrest wouldn't question them or praise them in front of others. He needed a quiet environment, quiet enough for him to think clearly.

He couldn't help but think about Illidan's words. Two voices clashed in the Undead's mind. One voice condemned Illidan's choice, saying his actions were no different from Arthas's; the other told Nathanos that Illidan was right, that someone always had to make the difficult choice, and that victory always came at the cost of sacrifice.

"Sacrifice?" Nathanos murmured, the word causing him immense pain. What Illidan had done today filled him with both shock and fear. He knew that sacrifice was inherently unpaid, bringing not only no reward but potentially... even disaster.

"Illidan's choice was to defeat the Burning Legion, but he chose to sacrifice others to achieve his goal. This was a mistake because... he didn't consider the Moon Guard. But if he hadn't done so, the Hellfire would have been unstoppable, Moon Guard would still have died, and even everyone in Blackrock Spire would have died."

So was Illidan right or wrong? This question remained unresolved. Nathanos tried to clear his mind by talking to himself, but he couldn't find the answer.

"Undead!" Broxigar's gruff voice nearly made Nathanos faint. All his thoughts seemed to be twisted into a tangled mess.

"You're here!" The Orcs pushed open the door and saw Nathanos staring blankly at the candle on the table. He walked over to him and offered him a fresh fruit. Nathanos reached out to take it, but suddenly remembered that he hadn't eaten in a long time and didn't need energy from food to survive. Broxigar also realized that his behavior was inappropriate, as if he were deliberately insulting Nathanos.

"I'm sorry!" It should have been Broxigar who apologized, but it was Nathanos who spoke first. "I still retain the habits of the living, but I am no longer a living person."

The atmosphere quieted down. Broxigar stood motionless, neither moistening his chapped lips with the fruit in his hand nor sitting down next to Nathanos.

"You are far better than the living, Undead!"

Nathanos smiled bitterly. Broxigar was referring to Illidan, so it seemed he also disapproved of the mage's actions.

"Illidan's intention was to defeat the Burning Legion, and his intentions... were at least good."

"But he can't sacrifice his comrades! That's utterly shameful!" Broxigar slammed his fist on the table, causing the candlelight to flicker. "This kind of victory isn't a victory at all. That Elf doesn't understand that at all; he'll only be despised!"

"Indeed!" Nathanos nodded casually. Broxigar was like a prophet; at least he didn't know what Illidan's fate would be. That Elf, no, that demon, was imprisoned for ten thousand years, denied the approval of his family and loved ones, and worse, banished from his homeland, forever burdened with the title of "The Betrayer."

"Where did Illidan go? Do you know?"

Nathanos shook his head, then nodded. Broxigar was bewildered by his reaction.

"I don't know his whereabouts, but... I might be able to guess," Nathanos tried to answer Broxigar. The Orcs looked at him silently, clearly waiting for an answer.

The Undead didn't speak immediately; he was still pondering. Illidan had undoubtedly become a demon ten thousand years later, but how had he acquired Fel energy in the meantime? Nathanos immediately thought of the magic Illidan used to absorb the Moon Guard; he could use the same method to steal demonic power. But Nathanos quickly ruled out this possibility. It was impossible; Fel wasn't magic, it couldn't be obtained through Arcane power. So there was only one possibility...

"He might have gone to... Sintalari!"

A stench permeated the ruined city, yet it did nothing to deter a Night Saber rider cloaked and hooded. He rode slowly along the dilapidated streets, his gaze gentle and rational as he observed the crumbling trees and collapsed buildings with interest. The corpses along the roadside decomposed slowly; he merely glanced at them.

Suddenly, his mount let out a low growl and a hiss. He immediately tightened his grip on the reins, forcing the reluctant Night Saber to continue. He understood the Night Saber's feelings; even the beast knew the palace wasn't safe. The air was thick with the stench of blood that should have excited it, but now it made the Night Saber's legs tremble.

The hooded knight walked through the deathly silent city. He felt many eyes staring at him, but everyone remained motionless. The guards showed no interest in him; if they ignored him, he wouldn't bother them.

The mount he had coerced, which he had captured two days earlier outside the city, slowed down again at an intersection. This time, however, the rider knew it was slowing down not because it didn't want to go, but because it sensed several more voracious predators approaching.

They won't let him go; this is a trap that was planned long ago.

'A bunch of idiots!'

The three-headed hellhounds attacked him. These canine demons, with tentacles on their heads and hideous appearances, opened and closed their mouths, looking extremely hungry. However, he knew that they were not actually a real threat.

From the ruins on either side of him, two hellhounds suddenly leaped out and pounced on their prey, whom they thought was distracted. Their tentacles stretched out impatiently, ready to feast on the "lost" Night Elf.

He snorted, utterly disappointed by the ambush. The hellhound had intended to absorb the hooded elf's Elf, but instead, its own magic was being absorbed. The hellhound's body began to wither, its skin clinging loosely to its bones. A monster brimming with magic, a monster almost entirely composed of energy, was now being thoroughly enjoyed by the Elf.

Within seconds, the hellhound was drained of its life force. The monster howled and crumbled into a pile of remains. The Night Elf urged his mount onward, paying no further attention to the dead hellbeasts and struggling Doomguard beside him.

He could sense other enemies around him, but now no one dared to block his path. Thanks to the smooth journey, he quickly reached his destination—a high wall with a gate. The Night Elf guards at the wall were bowing their heads and glaring at him angrily.

He stepped forward and took off his hood.

"I come to serve Queen Azshara!" Illidan cried out. However, he wasn't addressing the guards; he was calling upon someone within the palace, "I come to serve my queen... and also to serve the leader of the Burning Legion!"

He waited quietly, his expression unchanged. About a minute later, the gate opened, its creaking sound echoing throughout the city of Sintalari, like the eerie groans of the city's dead.

The door remained closed, and Illidan calmly rode his Night Saber inside.

The door behind him closed quickly.