Watching the Nightborne turn into spectators and gather behind Suramar City's main gate to watch the show, Herad shook his head speechlessly.
The number of Withered wandering outside had dropped drastically, and the danger they posed to the city was almost nonexistent.
But these people, who had become thinner and darker than Night Elves under the influence of the Nightwell's concentrated Arcane energy, refused to leave the city they had holed up in, even if it killed them.
The Nightborne had not set foot outside Suramar City for over ten thousand years.
They had even forgotten what a normal sky looked like.
In their minds, blue skies and white clouds had probably become purple skies and purple clouds.
In fact, the High Elves' magical barrier was not transparent either.
Its faint purple tint also changed the color of the blue sky and white clouds.
However, the High Elves' magical barrier was nowhere near as extreme as Suramar City's.
The sky over Quel'Thalas was still blue, and the white clouds only had a very faint purple tint.
So in Herad's eyes, the Nightborne were a bunch of pathetic creatures huddling inside a purple turtle shell, who had never even seen blue skies and white clouds.
As the Withered west of Suramar City grew fewer and fewer, Herad began to get a headache again.
The Withered mainly wandered the lands west of Suramar City.
The ground there was the most intact, and it was also relatively safer.
The mountains to the north and the beaches to the west were occupied by savage, warlike Vrykul.
They were the ancestors of humans, a powerful race whose strength surpassed that of mortals.
Though the Nightborne were powerful too, they would gain no advantage against the Vrykul.
Besides, those Vrykul were extremely combative and would certainly