Uldar

Time has passed in weeks; Nathanos has given up recording time, and time is different in each region of Outland.

"How's it going?" he asked Giznok. The Goblins was currently studying the principles and structure of the Fel Cannon.

"This is a bit complicated, Master." Giznok had been focused on the work at hand and hadn't even glanced at Nathanos.

"That's not what I meant." The Witherer crossed his arms and looked down at the Chief Craftsman. "I meant the Draenei technology of Auchindoun."

Giznok looked up. He disliked one of Nathanos's traits: whenever he spoke calmly, his tone and words were never tinged with emotion. If things didn't go his way, it was impossible to predict how he would react. Giznok felt a pang of anxiety. He knew his answer would disappoint the Witherer, but would the Witherer punish him?

"Well..." the Goblins gave an awkward smile, "Actually, I already figured it out a long time ago, but your needs might be..."

"What's possible?"

"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed." Giznok's voice trailed off. "Judging from the situation at Auchindoun, the Draenei ships require a lot of energy to start up, and by extension, the ships at Tempest Keep should require the same. I personally believe that the Forsaken cannot currently support this kind of energy consumption."

He held up another blueprint, a copy of the structure of the Auchindoun spaceship. It detailed how much energy each part of the ship required and how long it could be sustained. Nathanos hadn't even seen it clearly yet, but the Goblins craftsman had already put down the blueprint, a puzzled look on his face. "Master," he muttered, pointing behind Nathanos.

The Witherer turned. A Deathstalker ran up to him, stopping only when he was right in front of him, kneeling down and offering the latest intelligence with both hands. Instinct made Nathanos tense every muscle, ready to act.

What terrible thing happened again?

The Witherer opened the document. His expressionless face immediately hardened. Giznok carefully observed, trying to glean something from his master's eyes. A flicker of determination, and a hint of...sorrow, shone in the eyes of the Forsaken leader.

"It seems we must temporarily abandon our operation against Tempest Keep." Nathanos tossed the documents into a nearby brazier for lighting. "An old acquaintance of mine has already taken that fortress."

Sylvanas stood up, swayed twice, then collapsed back down, coughing incessantly, her face deathly pale.

The battle was over. She gasped for breath, her eyes fixed on Kael'thas's corpse. Quel'delar had pierced the Prince's heart; he couldn't possibly have survived.

I too am branded a kingslayer. The Ranger thought to herself, though she knew her actions were justified and she never truly considered Kael'thas her king. But he was of Dath'Remar blood, the blood of the Sunstrider family flowing through his veins. That was undeniable.

Sarodien ran to Sylvanas's side. The Ranger could only hang her head wearily, coughing incessantly. Tiny shards of crystal drifted around her, gradually disappearing.

"We won, ma'am. You succeeded," Sarodien said nervously. He was still unsure of the other party's situation.

Sylvanas took a deep breath and lifted her face. Her eyes regained their clear blue-grey. For a moment, she simply smiled at Sarodien, pleased that he was still there, still alive, and that so were the others.

"This isn't a war I'm fighting alone," she said. "Do you still have the strength?"

"Yes, ma'am." Sarodien nodded quickly. "What do you need me to do?"

Sylvanas's gaze slowly shifted elsewhere. Sarodien followed her gaze and saw Kael'thas's Sun King's Scepter lying on the ground, having been tossed aside by the Prince while he was hovering in mid-air.

"Take it, go to the front lines, and show it to everyone. Kael'thas is dead. It's all over."

Sarodien was eager to embark on his new mission. Many around him had not yet risen, some perhaps never would, but many others were worth saving, and the Shattrath allies resisting Kael'thas's army on the front lines needed to know this.

After resting, Sylvanas stood up and slowly approached Kael'thas. The Prince was kneeling, head drooping, his face and a strand of golden hair stained with blood.

"May your soul be forgiven by your ancestors, Prince Highness," Sylvanas murmured, then mustered her courage, grasped the hilt of Quel'delar, and forcefully pulled it from Kael'thas's body.

The Prince lay motionless on the ground, with only red blood spreading from beneath his body.

Sylvanas gazed for a long time. Kael'thas was dead, and this news had to spread, all the way to Quel'Thalas. She picked up one of the magical orbs that had fought alongside Kael'thas. After its master's death, the three small orbs had also lost their power.

"Consider it proof." The female Ranger held the emerald green orb in her palm. She ordered the others to take the fallen squad members back, and she also wanted to take Kael'thas's body away, but after all, he was Prince, and his people deserved to give him a dignified funeral.

"Akama!"

The deafening shouts jolted the leader of the Ashtongue Deathsworn to his feet. Illidan's minions were here again, to see if their master's most hated Wardens had gone mad.

"I await Lord Illidan's command." He knelt on one knee, head bowed, the scythe on his body clanging against the ground.

"How is that woman?"

Akama replied respectfully, "Please tell your master that there is no trouble here. With Akama and the Ashtongue Deathsworn under his guard, the woman cannot escape."

The Demon Lord clearly didn't trust Akama. Only after personally confirming that Maiev was still in her cage did he feel slightly relieved. "Do your job well, and don't play tricks on me, Akama. Lord Illidan instructed me to keep a close eye on Maiev at all costs. If I find out you've been hiding anything from me, I'll kill you like an ant!"

The demon turned and left.

After a long silence, a cold voice echoed from inside the cage, "If we share the same goal, Akama, you must set me free! If Illidan must die, he shall die by my hand!"

"The time is not yet ripe, Wardens. I have spent years trying to get out of this situation, and I don't want my plans to fall apart."

"You deserve to die, Akama! I'm not a pawn you can manipulate... I have my own plans. I'll vent all my resentment on Illidan, but that won't do you any good for your foolish schemes!"

"Then you can stay here," Akama snapped. The other fell silent. Coward, wimp, call her whatever you want. The leader of the Ashtongue Deathsworn didn't care. He sat back in his chair and continued meditating, but something seemed to be interfering with him. There was an unusual atmosphere in the air.

"Who is it?" he shouted, weapon already gripped in his hand. Was it Illidan's spy? Then what he and Maiev had just said...?

"Relax, old friend."

Akama was startled; his suspicion instantly turned to joy. He recognized the voice.

The other person quickly appeared before him. Although the hood covered his face, the tentacles on his chin and the strange body allowed Akama to confirm the newcomer's identity.

"Uldar?"