Ken'revar

When the Alliance sent Alliance Expedition across the Dark Portal to end the Orcs invasion, the Kirin Tor mages, led by Archmage Vargoth, established the Kirin'Var Village within the territory of the Laughing Skull Clan. However, not long after, Draenor was torn apart by Ner'zhul's magic, and the survivors, adrift between the Twisted Void and Outland, continued to live there for seventeen years.

Years later Prince Kael'thas's Blood Elf army arrived at this place, and then... Vargoth disappeared.

Sylvanas sensed that Khadgar's description omitted most of the details, but this didn't diminish the fact that Kael'thas had committed yet another crime. There was no doubt that Vargoth's disappearance was related to Kael'thas, though the Female Elf found it hard to believe. She said to Khadgar, "Kael'thas has reason to hate the Undead, reason to hate the Alliance, but the Kirin Tor ... he was once a part of them, and the Prince spent at least centuries in Dalaran. How is this possible?"

"Nothing is impossible, Sylvanas." The Archmage with the long white beard shook his head. "He would betray anyone for magical energy. Vargoth and his mages have been working on the Ley Line of Outland. Kael'thas would do anything to get their experimental data."

"If that's the case, why don't you investigate it yourself?"

"I didn't have a chance." Khadgar lowered his head slightly, looking somewhat sad and helpless. He seemed to have a good relationship with Vargoth and they were good friends. "For many years, the resistance forces in Outland have had a hard time protecting themselves. If it weren't for the help of the Azeroth reinforcements, I might still be stuck in Shattrath."

Sylvanas expressed her understanding and sympathy for his situation, and she also respected the Alliance Expedition warriors who crossed the Dark Portal. However, her priority now was not to investigate what had already happened, but to prevent a catastrophe that had not yet occurred.

"Forgive my bluntness, Adal appointed me as commander to deal with Kael'thas. I'm afraid I don't have time to find the Kirin Tor people. The most urgent task now is to Tempest Keep, or it will be too late."

You must do it!

Sylvanas's face stiffened. What did this mean? Was this mage ordering her around? Years ago, Nathanos had mentioned that Khadgar was a very interesting mage, unlike the stereotypical, rigid one. But to the Female Elf, he was nothing special; his aged appearance was merely a shell, and Khadgar's soul was far from that of an old man.

Anger reignited in Sylvanas's heart: This person... better not act like he's superior in front of her.

That's why she's not getting angry at Khadgar now, but is trying to remain calm and peaceful, hoping the mage can understand.

"If you can give me a reason to prove that this is more important than defeating Kael'thas, then I can agree to your request."

The Female Elf regretted saying those words. Even if Khadgar was incredibly arrogant, he couldn't deny his extreme intelligence. He must have already prepared his reasons, just waiting for Sylvanas to respond.

Just as she had expected, Khadgar seized the opportunity precisely, and now his lips twitched into a slight smile. "You need the Kirin Tor's help. Once Vargoth is rescued, you'll have the support of Dalaran, making it easier for you to establish yourself within the Alliance."

"What? How did you know?" Sylvanas's snow-white eyebrows furrowed, revealing a surprised expression.

"Don't forget my relationship with Danas," Khadgar replied calmly. "He mentioned you to me before you came to Shattrath."

Sylvanas growled. Khadgar simply waited patiently. Sylvanas knew this mage must think he had her weakness, but his explanation was indeed very tempting.

"Dalaran has been destroyed."

"Even I, an old man who has spent so many years in Outland, know that Dalaran has been rebuilt. Of course, this is what adventurers from Azeroth told me."

Khadgar's calm demeanor fueled Sylvanas's resentment. She could now decisively reject the mage's offer, but no matter how satisfying the outcome, she knew it wouldn't be a wise move. Sylvanas hadn't forgotten why she left her homeland, why she joined Jaina's side. In fact, she still knew nothing of Nathanos's whereabouts. She desperately wanted to find him—using every possible means at her disposal.

"I... I promise you. But before that, I need to deploy a mission to have the Starcaller and the Aldor alliance seize an opportunity to sabotage Kael'thas's plans. As for Vargoth ..." Sylvanas asked, "How do I find him?"

"On the floating island southeast of the Netherstorm outside the ruins of Kirin'Var Village, you can take this Staff Fragment I gave you and go take a look. You might find something."

Will there be any gains? No, these are not what Sylvanas wants at all, and all of this could have been completely irrelevant to her in the first place.

After speaking privately with Khadgar, Sylvanas had forgotten that two groups were still arguing. The Female Elf truly didn't want to enter the makeshift meeting tent when she returned, but unfortunately, these people needed her, and she couldn't abandon them.

"You're finally back, Commander." Kaelia was clearly getting restless. It seemed that in the short few tens of minutes that Sylvanas was gone, she had received a lot of "favor" from Sarodien, to the point that she looked like she couldn't wait to leave.

"Did the discussion produce any valuable results?" Sylvanas didn't have high hopes, and that was indeed the case.

"As you can see, madam," said Archmage Laenna, "We firmly believe that all of Kael'thas's strongholds in Netherstorm should be attacked, while they believe that Kael'thas's plans must be uncovered." All eyes turned to Sylvanas. "We now await your final decision."

My final decision? I'm suddenly tired of this war.

"Do as you say," Sylvanas said, concealing her true thoughts. "Khadgar has given me a new task." She didn't hide anything, knowing she wouldn't be able to leave alone without a clear explanation. "I must leave alone for a while. In my absence, the Aldor will focus on investigating Kael'thas's plans, and the Starcaller must destroy the remaining Manaforge. Also, I don't want any bloodshed among you during this mission. This is a warning; I will not take sides."

The city was dimly lit, noisy, and unbearably hot. Since its transformation, flames had burned continuously in a specific underground area. The sounds of sledgehammers striking steel and the hissing of molten iron colliding with cold cooling water were constant. A faint smell of smoke lingered in the air, but the unique structure of the vast cavern ensured that the air was always breathable. Although the inhabitants didn't need to breathe, this was Maraudon, or more precisely, Maraudon's Artisan District.

The supervisor here is currently casting a new catapult. He is carefully checking the construction drawings while shaking his head repeatedly, as if he finds something unbelievable.

"This is your latest research result, Giznok," Belmont, the leader of the assassin organization "Shadowblade," said in a hoarse voice with a hint of skepticism. "Your master is giving you more and more funding, but you are making heavy machinery smaller and smaller."

Giznok, the Forsaken's chief craftsman, disliked being disturbed, especially when he was calculating data and combining complex formulas in his mind. Even Nathanos, who sometimes cursed in a fit of rage, would smile again upon seeing the face of the Witherer, a different attitude he showed to others.

"You've disrupted my train of thought, Belmont." Giznok jumped down from the ladder, glaring at the Forsaken, not even noticing the figure hidden beneath a large black cloak behind Belmont. "How many times have I told you, don't talk to me while I'm working."

"Lord of the Witherer instructed that I would be in charge of all affairs of the Forsaken while he was away, understand, Goblins?" Belmont glared at the small green-skinned man, his head bowed. He was only satisfied when the man turned his head away defiantly. "You still haven't answered my question."

Giznok snorted. "This wasn't even my work." He gave up complaining. "These are designs sent from Orgrimmar; I was just testing them."

Belmont stopped beside the unfinished catapult, reaching out with a mixture of doubt and caution to touch the gleaming metal supports.

The iron used wasn't the best!

"It turns out the person who designed this thing is a genius," Giznok continued. "All the data—speed, dexterity, projection distance, and even the materials used—not only meet the standards, but also have low consumption and high returns." The Goblins craftsman looked at the blueprints again, unable to find any flaws. Belmont noticed his expression turn somewhat unpleasant, probably from jealousy.

"And..." Giznok placed the blueprints he was holding on a narrow table next to a small wooden box. Belmont walked over curiously. The Goblins opened the box, and Belmont peered inside with great interest. The box was lined with a cream-colored cloth, on which lay a glass test tube. Its spout was sealed with a sieve made of polished stone, and the liquid inside was dark red, much like a potion developed by Nathos. Belmont was completely bewildered; such a thing should be found in the Alchemy District and Mage District.

"What is this?" he asked. "Is it also from Orgrimmar?"

"It's a miracle that this thing didn't break on the bumpy road." Giznok exclaimed, reaching out cautiously to the object. "It's an incendiary device." He took it out of the wooden box and held it by the spout with one hand.

"If you break it, I'm sure the metal will melt as well," Giznok said. "And that's exactly what it's for. We can finally stop relying on coal to smelt metals. I've given the formula to Nathos; I hope he doesn't set his lab on fire while he's experimenting with it..."

After all that explanation, Giznok suddenly snapped out of his reverie, his messy black eyebrows furrowing, a look of confusion on his face. "Strange," he muttered, casually placing the test tube back into the wooden box. "Why did you come to see me?"

Belmont nodded and stepped to the left. Only then did Giznok notice the person in the black cloak. She was taller Belmont, almost as tall as Rassuvios, and the only thing that identified her was the Greatsword she carried on her back.

Why would she hide her appearance? In Maraudon, the Forsaken do not need to hide.

Who is this?

For a moment, Giznok blinked and inhaled a breath of air with a metallic smell.

Belmont held out a hand, which was clutching a rolled-up document.

"Take a look," the Shadowblade leader commanded the Goblins craftsman. Giznok opened the document. His fingers were exceptionally small, moving swiftly and deftly. As he read, he glanced curiously at the tall figure. He had a feeling this person could breathe.

After a careful examination, Giznok looked up at Belmont, only to find that the other man's face had become stern.

"Lord of the Witherer requests your immediate journey to the Outland." With that, Belmont handed the Goblins an extremely precise map, though the continent depicted on the map belonged to another world. "Within a week, without delay. She will go with you." Belmont gestured to the cloaked figure.

That person didn't say a word from beginning to end.

"Is she my bodyguard?"

"No." Belmont refused outright. Before he could explain, a gust of wind blew by, and the Greatsword on the cloaked man's back was already hovering above Giznok's head.

Both the Goblins and the Forsaken were stunned, not because this person was particularly audacious, but because her speed and strength defied common sense. Belmont hadn't seen her move, nor even heard a sound. Giznok, his head tilted back with his mouth agape, seemed frozen in place; his mind had ceased processing the complex data, forgotten Nathanos's commands, and he didn't even feel alive. His eyes were wide open. The Greatsword's blade was somewhat rough, with nicks, but it could easily cleave him in two. His opponent wielded it with one hand, as if the sword were weightless. Giznok's gaze followed the blade to the hilt, then to the opponent's arm...

The limbs before him were strong and muscular, brown in color. It was an Orcs, and a female Orcs at that!

The chief craftsman stiffly turned to look at Belmont, while the leader of the Shadowblade met Giznok's probing gaze and reprimanded the goblin with Goblins look, recounting the rude and offensive question that had almost cost him his life.

"She's not your bodyguard, she's just traveling with you."

Giznok swallowed hard. The Orcs woman under the cloak withdrew her weapon.

"You mean, what tasks does the master need us to perform?"

"No, your missions are separate. She..." Belmont glanced at the female Orcs with some awe. "She's going to deal with a black dragon."

A chapter of 4000 words.