Sargron

"Clean up the battlefield and cremate all the Alliance corpses," Nathanos ordered, then turned his gaze to Thunder Axe Fortress not far from Yenil Outpost. The Alliance camp did indeed have a wide field of vision, but it presented a problem—they were caught between two forces.

On one side was the Thunder Axe Fortress blocking their path, and on the other side came the Sargron, east of the Yenil Camp, where, according to Belmont, a herd of creatures with split hooves, shaggy goat legs, goat-like horns, Razor- sharp claws, and a long lion's tail were stationed.

This is undoubtedly Satyr.

Nathanos hadn't anticipated that the effects of Sargeras from ten thousand years ago still lingered. Now, the Witherer had to immediately decide whether to ignore the Satyr and attack Thunder Axe Fortress directly, or to eliminate all threats first before considering the Orcs territory.

"How is the situation in Sargron?" Nathanos asked Nermont again.

"The monsters we just discovered, the ones you call Satyr, they're lurking there, but there aren't many of them. I suggest we leave them alone."

"No." Nathanos rejected Belmont's suggestion outright. He walked to the top of the wooden watchtower, making himself visible to everyone, and then proclaimed, "Forsaken! We have arrived in this unclaimed land, and we will seize control of it. Hidden in the wastelands of Wailing Caverns lies a cave teeming with life and resources, a spacious place perfectly suited for our survival. We must find it. Look there!" He pointed to the western coast. "The coastline of Wailing Caverns is smooth, and the terrain is ideal for establishing a port. But no matter how favorable the conditions, we must hold it firmly in our grasp. Currently, a group of demon-worshipping Orcs reside here; the wounds left by the Burning Legion also seek to encroach upon the land we are about to claim; the Centaur of Wailing Caverns only know how to kill each other. We will destroy them, and then take over this place!" Nathanos's gaze swept over each of the Forsaken below. He knew they all shared the same thought as him. "Only a few hundred of us Forsaken come here to carve out this world, but there are many more Forsaken are struggling in Lordaeron and deserve our salvation. They are all cursed by death, but we must never abandon them, for they are just like us. Never forget the difference between us and the Scourge. Flesh and blood may be dead, but the soul still burns."

A roar erupted. All the Forsaken brandished their weapons. Nathanos laughed; he knew many more enemies lay ahead, but they would surely take control of Wailing Caverns.

"Forsaken, prepare for action!"

Theramore

Jaina stood on the dock, awaiting the guests arriving from northern Kalimdor. Normally, she would remain in her Mage Tower, conducting magical research. But today was different; the Night Elf delegation would be arriving at Theramore Harbor, and they were very likely to formally propose joining the Alliance.

"Ms. Jaina."

"What's wrong, Tervosh?" the leader of Theramore asked with a smile. Tervosh was her advisor and, like her, a mage.

The advisor replied in a low voice, "There's something amiss. The Alliance's outpost in Wailing Caverns has suddenly gone silent."

"The Wailing Caverns." Jaina raised a questioning brow. "I remember Captain Bendigas sends a report to Theramore every week."

"Yes," Tervosh nodded. "According to the pattern, today is when he should send someone, but so far, no messenger has arrived in Theramore. I'm worried something has happened to them. Should we send someone to check?"

Jaina's gaze drifted to the sea, and she pulled her robe tighter around herself; the sea breeze was indeed chilly.

"Not for now. Bendigas may have forgotten, or the messenger may have been delayed on the way. Let's wait and focus on receiving the Night Elf's messenger first."

"As you wish, madam." Tervosh slowly withdrew.

The weather off Theramore was bad today, with a gloomy atmosphere and rolling waves. For Jaina, this kind of weather was commonplace for the people of Kul Tiras, and she hoped it would be the same for the Night Elf. Jaina had spent months negotiating with the Night Elf to secure a place for the Alliance in Kalimdor. Getting the proud Night Elf to join the Alliance wasn't easy; even Jaina herself didn't know how she had managed it.

The Night Elf were undoubtedly a powerful ally, and thinking of them naturally reminded Jaina of the High Elf of yesteryear. Quel'Thalas's fate was similar to Lordaeron's, only narrowly avoiding annihilation. Jaina had heard from the Night Elf that Kael'thas had followed a demon. She felt utterly helpless. That noble Prince, also blond like herself, had once sought help from the Alliance, but for various reasons, Kael'thas no longer placed his hopes on them. Jaina could only hope he wouldn't follow in the Alliance 'Arthas footsteps.

The female mage's gaze fell on Isulia, the Female Elf beside her. Isseria was a High Elf mage and had been ordered by Jaina to become the portal trainer of Theramore.

Besides humans and Dwarf, this port city also has a group of High Elf, but these are all mages from Dalaran who came here to settle with her.

"Isulia, are you alright?"

"Of course, ma'am." Isulia was puzzled by Jaina's question. She was considering that today's class might have to be postponed.

"I've heard the Night Elf say that the High Elf seem to be quite unpopular with them."

The Female Elf blinked after hearing this, then indicated her disagreement with Jaina's words. Her voice was icy, just as she usually did with everyone else, "The Night Elf don't dislike us, they dislike magic."

The human female mage froze for a moment, then nodded in agreement.

Nathanos was about to kill a man Kaelen Kel'Thuzad. He proclaimed himself Prince, claiming to be the son of Sargeras. The Witherer coldly watched this Satyr. All the others who resembled him were dead. Most died by assassination, a few, like Kaelen, at least died after seeing Nathanos's appearance.

Veronalara had initially strongly opposed Nathanos's solo operation, but the Forsaken needed to concentrate their forces on attacking Thunder Axe Fortress. To avoid unnecessary losses, the Witherer decided to take only his two Blight Hounds to eliminate the Satyr of Sargron. He proved correct; this rabble was easier to deal with than Nathanos had imagined. They lacked any sense of teamwork, simply wandering around searching for any magic they could absorb, even arguing about it. Therefore, when Nathanos launched his attack, the Satyr were completely unaware that their companions were dwindling one by one. Kaelen was the last.

As dawn broke through the clouds, it cast long, scattered patches of light on the ancient ruins. Satyr's body lay reflected in the grey marble.

"An Undead?" The speaker was naturally Kaelen. He stared intently at the blade in Nathanos's hand, certain it was crafted by the Night Elf. However, he was more concerned that Nathanos might bring Sulfuras closer, for the sword was now pressed against his neck. "An Undead here? Must you do this? I believe you are an undead Undead from the attack on Mount Hyjal with Lord Archimonde. Listen to me, we are all creations of the Burning Legion!"

"Of course," Nathanos replied. "The demons created the Lich King, and the Lich King created us. But that doesn't mean we will be loyal to the Legion."

Nathanos stepped forward and raised Sulfuras in the air with both hands—a sign that Kaelen was about to die. Kaelen was enraged, as Nathanos showed no intention of letting him go and displayed utter contempt for the Burning Legion.

"You will regret this, Undead. You rotting flesh that should have been rotting in the ground!"

Nathanos involuntarily clenched his teeth, but he immediately suppressed his disgust. Emotions cannot be controlled by the other party. Otherwise, Nathanos wouldn't be able to calmly interrogate this Satyr, and thus wouldn't get the answers he wanted.

"The reason you're still alive is because you still have some use," Nathanos said. "When I attacked this place, the other Satyr were fighting over the magical resources, but you were huddled in a corner performing some kind of ritual. What were you doing?"

"Ha! You think I'd tell you?" Kaelen said. "I am Kaelen, son of Sargeras."

"These words can be left on your tombstone," Nathanos interrupted him.

He ignored the Satyr's childish attempt to provoke him. "As far as I know, the transformation of Night Elf into Satyr is an extremely painful process. I'll give you one more chance; answer my question, and I might let you go. If you still refuse, I'll make you suffer ten times the pain of becoming what you are now!"

"Are you threatening me?" Kaelen looked at Nathanos with a smug expression. "Do you think I'm afraid?"

He was clearly not afraid, the Witherer knew that, but he would make this Satyr afraid.

"You made a mistake," Nathanos murmured to him. He sheathed his sword and turned to give his "pet" a wink.

The Blight Hounds, who were already impatient, immediately pounced on Kaelen... They craved flesh and blood!