The Flowing Years

The Demon Soul was held in Malfurion's palm, shimmering brightly above the center of the Well of Eternity. The power of the Well of Eternity surged ceaselessly, about to form a stable portal.

Besides him, another being awaited with anticipation, his dream terrifying, even more primal than the demon lord's. He had waited long to regain his freedom and reclaim what was rightfully theirs. The arrival of the Demon Soul would bring him one step closer to success. With the Well of Eternity and the Demon Soul's aid, he could open a window to freedom within the prison.

Once the window is opened, it can never be closed again.

Y'sharrj waited patiently. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time, and waiting a little longer wouldn't matter.

But it won't be long...

Knowing that Sargeras was about to descend upon the world, Mannoroth immediately committed all his forces to the battlefield. He gathered demon warriors from other places, knowing that defeating the Elf army meant defeating the entire world.

The Elf army also actively engaged in battle, for they had no other choice but to fight. The Night Elf, Tauren, and other races knew that surrendering was tantamount to offering their necks to the demons' blades. Regardless of defeat, they had to fight to the death.

Demons keep dying, but more and more demons are being added to their ranks.

Broxigar stood at the forefront of the procession alongside Garrid and the legendary guardians of Kalimdor. The Orcs seemed as formidable as the demigods who fought alongside him. Broxigar laughed aloud, a laugh he hadn't had since he and his comrades had contemplated dying heroically on the battlefield. In fact, the gray-haired Warrior wished he could die right now, yet his battleaxe still wielded its power with ferocity, enemies falling one after another as if the axe itself were eager to devour demon flesh. He slew so many foes not only because his battleaxe was imbued with magic, but also because of Broxigar's exceptional martial skill. Broxigar was adept with weapons, which was why he was Warchief Thrall's first choice.

Everywhere you looked, corpses lay strewn across the ground, the soldiers' feet already piled high with bodies. Demigods, Night Elf, Tauren, and Furbolg fought side by side, all their faces bearing a grim expression.

Dragons could be seen everywhere in the sky.

There were Red Dragon, green dragons, and Bronze Dragon; they were the tribes of Alexstrasza, Ysera, and Nozdormu. Two Guardian Dragons flew in the middle of the dragons, their wingspan five times the distance between the wings of similarly sized dragons beside them.

Garrid quickly turned to the army and shouted, "Have the soldiers sound the horns, sound them for a long time, and launch the final assault. The moment of decisive battle has arrived."

A fierce storm raged above the Well of Eternity, its power felt even in the distant land of Nathanos. This was no ordinary storm, nor the kind that frequently struck this mystical waters. This storm originated from a power not found in the mortal realm, strikingly similar to the power of the Burning Legion.

Besides the Burning Legion... there are other terrifying beings.

He looked up and then around. He and Illidan were moving quickly; the Demon Hunter were closing the last portal in the tower courtyard.

"Did you sense it? Besides the Burning Legion, there seems to be another power within the Well of Eternity," Nathanos said to Illidan's retreating figure.

Illidan was busy with his work, but he responded to Nathanos's doubts with a smile, "Not one, but two forces."

"Two streams?"

"It's done!" the Demon Hunter laughed. The last Fel Crystal holding the portal in place was destroyed, and the demon reinforcements were cut off.

At that moment, the bugle call of the Burning Legion sounded again from afar.

"Very good, we should move on."

"Azshara is in the tower, how should we deal with her?"

Thinking of the Queen, Illidan's expression turned serious. He knew Nathanos was right to worry; the two of them together simply couldn't possibly defeat Azshara.

"We don't need to deal with her. We just need to take down their mages. And I'm going to cast a spell near the Well of Eternity to turn Sargeras's portal into a super Maelstrom that can suck all the demons out of Kalimdor and roll them back to their world! My brother's Dragon Soul can do that."

Illidan's deliberate concealment did not anger Nathanos. The Demon Hunter's true purpose in going to the Well of Eternity may be more than what he said; his real goal was the water of the Well of Eternity.

"I hope so." Nathanos said, glancing at the distant tower, sensing that time was running out.

Suddenly, Illidan beside him seemed to see something. He raised his twin blades and shouted, "Who's there? Show yourself!"

At that moment, a dark figure that was very familiar to Illidan suddenly appeared out of thin air. It was a Satyr, much taller than a typical Satyr, which meant that he was also much stronger.

"You wish to disturb the Queen? Defeat Perotharn first, the first Blessed One of Fel. No mortal can escape my grasp!"

This particularly disgusting remark filled Nathanos with utter revulsion. "This is the guy you were talking about?"

Illidan assumed a fighting stance and nodded in response.

"Are you sure the Fel didn't burn out his brain?"

"This question is pointless. You'd better stay away. I'll deal with him!"

The Undead glanced at Illidan. The Demon Hunter didn't need his help at all. He was doing this for two reasons: first, to show his power, and second, to ensure that Nathanos could stay in top condition and focus on dealing with Azshara's mages.

Illidan charged toward Perotharn, but just as his weapon was about to strike the Satyr, Perotharn vanished in a cloud of black mist.

After witnessing this perplexing scene, Illidan's expression grew even more grim. He removed the blindfold from his eyes, and Nathanos, standing behind him, could see a terrifying flame burning within them.

"His eyes..." Nathanos exclaimed in surprise, guessing that Illidan could see things invisible to the naked eye.

His guess was entirely correct. Illidan swung his sword at the air, and soon Perotharn's painful screams echoed through the air. Illidan smoothed his hair and arrogantly smiled at Nathanos, "Alright! We can continue now."

Blood dripped from the blade as Perotharn revealed himself, but this time he lay on the ground, black blood flowing from a gash in his head.

"The hunter has become the hunted." The Undead companion taunted Satyr's corpse before striding past. "Now we must split up and act alone."

Nathanos nodded, Demon Hunter walked to the top of the tower without looking back, then jumped onto a tree, used the momentum to jump down to the other side of the palace wall, and disappeared from sight.

The Undead ascended the steps one by one, then were stunned by what they saw. Azshara's taste was truly unique; she used specially processed glass as the floor, the pattern of which was a magnificent forest scene, featuring rare animals, idyllic landscapes, and lush trees.

"Extravagant and wasteful," he muttered, as if talking to himself. Illidan took an arrow from his quiver.

There were a few guards along the way, but they were completely unprepared for Nathanos's presence. All those who served Azshara were capable of fighting, and even the maid holding the fruit platter knew how to attack. It took Nathanos quite a while to deal with them.

Finally, upon reaching the top of the tower, Nathanos could sense just how chaotic the magical energy was. The mages chanting spells stood at the edge of the platform, seemingly unaware of the terrible folly they were committing.

'One, two, three... there are six in total!'

Nathanos calculated that he could fire a maximum of three arrows at once; to stop them, he would have to attack twice. Azshara had set up a resting platform on the ground, and was currently concealed behind a purple veil. Strangely, this important place was devoid of any guards, not even Varos.

The Undead wanted to attack Azshara directly, but stopping the portal was more important than anything else, and he couldn't guarantee he could kill the queen in one blow.

Having made his decision, Nathanos aimed his bow at the three mages furthest from him. His attack came without any warning. Before the three mages could even feel the pain after being hit by the arrows, they were pushed down by the impact and merged into the chaotic lake water.

"Enemy attack..."

One of the remaining three mages was about to shout when he became the next target of an arrow. Without time for precise aiming, Nathanos had to eliminate the remaining mages one by one; fortunately, two remained. He also knew there was no need for him to remain hidden any longer.

Another arrow was fired, poised to pierce the head of the next target, but unexpectedly, a magical barrier suddenly appeared around the remaining two mages. Nathanos's arrow was deflected like a pebble.

"Look who's here! My dear little pet has finally returned to his owner."

A languid voice came from the resting platform in the center of the platform. Azshara chuckled, and the mages she had saved knelt on one knee.

The queen emerged from behind the curtain, her golden eyes smiling like the corners of her mouth, seemingly without any intention of blaming Nathanos for ambushing and killing her trusted mage.

"Your arrows are very accurate, my dear. They would be even better used against those who defy me."

"Nonsense!" Nathanos instantly fired an arrow at Azshara. If the queen hadn't dodged, she would have been injured. But unexpectedly, Azshara simply raised her right hand, and the arrow, blessed by Cenarius, the King of the Forest, rested on her fingertips like a docile puppy. Then, the queen's jeweled hand gently circled, and the arrow slowly curved from its center, gradually turning towards Nathanos. Azshara's smile grew even more indulgent; she clenched her fist, and the arrow flew towards its master.

Nathanos was surprised by this change. He did a backflip to avoid Azshara's "return gift." Even more terrifying, the arrow began to slowly disappear, turning into dust at a visible speed from the fletching to the arrowhead.

'Such powerful magic actually crushed my arrows.'

"You dodged it? Lucky you." Azshara raised an eyebrow and slowly walked towards Nathanos. The Undead found themselves unable to move.

'What kind of bizarre magic is this?'

"I forgot to mention. Welcome..." The Queen playfully gestured for Nathanos to shut up. "I'm delighted you could join the celebration, though I'm very hospitable, but I have more important matters to attend to now."

No matter how much she struggled, it was all in vain. But instead of executing Nathanos, Azshara brushed past him and came to the edge of the platform. As if everything had been planned, Varos rode a giant bat to Azshara's side.

"I pledge my allegiance to you, my Queen." The captain of the royal guard's gaze lingered on Azshara. Azshara smiled at him, then waved goodbye to Nathanos. Varos looked at the man who had captured the Queen's attention with envy; what a twist of fate! That man was the one who had slashed his own face with a sword.

"We should go, Varos." The Queen's voice came again. She had quietly sat down behind him, which Varos considered the highest honor of his life. But he would not forget the dead man below who was valued by the Queen. The captain of the guard thought to himself that he would deal with this barbaric thug when he returned.

The spell was dispelled, and Nathanos, with no time to stretch, immediately turned his attention to the two mages abandoned by Azshara. Compared to magic, the power of arrows was utterly inadequate, and Nathanos realized he was on the defensive. At the same time, his gaze fell upon the platform ahead, and he was surprised to find a golden disc hovering above the Well of Eternity.

"Dragon Soul?" Nathanos dodged a scorching fireball and understood why Azshara had suddenly chosen to leave. When had Malfurion placed the Dragon Soul here?

The energy refracted from the disc impacted the Well of Eternity. The sky was no longer in the hands of the demons; the arrival of the dragons instantly changed the situation, but also made the battle even more unpredictable.

"There's no time. I have to defeat these two mages." Nathanos drew his Sulfuras, preparing to attack the mages at close range. However, his thoughts and reality were two different things. He couldn't get close enough to attack them, and beside the Well of Eternity, the mages' mana would be constantly replenished, making it impossible to wait until their mana was depleted. Most importantly, one of the mages was proficient in fire magic, and the other could control Arcane. Nathanos knew that if he were hit by either of them, his body, which had no self-healing ability, would be ruined.

'I think we should meet.'

"That sound?"

Nathanos stopped, standing rooted to the spot. Who had disturbed him at such a tense moment? At the same time, the two mages also ceased their spellcasting, though not voluntarily like Nathanos. Their appearances began to change, wrinkles appearing on their faces. Not only Nathanos, but even the two mages themselves were bewildered by what was happening.

Their doubts couldn't stop the change. Their hair began to turn gray, their once straight bodies gradually bent, and they, in the prime of their lives, suddenly became hunched old men. But it wasn't over yet. Their bodies grew weaker and weaker, more and more emaciated. In Nathanos's memory, the Night Elf were incredibly long-lived; he had never seen Elf grow old. And now, he witnessed it all.

The mages cried out in despair, reaching out a hand to Nathanos, hoping he would stop their transformations, but none of this was done by the Undead, and he too was puzzled as to what had happened.

In the end Nathanos watched helplessly as the two Elf turned to ashes, just like the arrow that Azshara crushed into dust.

"Who is it?" he asked, and someone immediately responded.

"All life will eventually turn into dust..."

Nathanos turned and saw a bare-chested High Elf, much stronger than the average High Elf. His hair was as black as an abyss, and his body was etched with black patterns. He wore a dragon-head shoulder armor on his right arm, filled with dry, white sand. His chainmail and trousers were the same color as his hair, except that they flickered with blue lightning. His eyes were a deep blue, fixed on Nathanos's every move.

This is a complete stranger.

"But death is not controlled by time."

"Who... who are you? Those two Elf... did you do it?"

"Obviously!" the Elf said arrogantly.

"You can manipulate time?" Nathanos took a step back warily. The fact that this elf could so easily control other people's time made him realize the Elf's identity.

"Are you Nozdormu, the Time Lord?"

"The guy you're talking about is currently trapped inside the Well of Eternity."

"What? Then you..."

"I am indeed him, but my name is not Nozdormu!"