"Can't get in?" Illidan flew up behind Patrick and looked at the Halls of Origination, protected by dense magical energy. "Need my help?"
"How?" Even Patrick was surprised. Did Illidan actually have a way to open the Halls of Origination?
"Simple." Then fel rays gathered in Illidan's hands and shot straight into the energy shield around the Halls of Origination. The shield showed no reaction at all; every bit of energy Illidan released vanished without a trace.
"..." Patrick was speechless. This was what you meant? Breaking through the protection by brute force?
With ten thousand years of experience behind him, Illidan was a very intelligent elf, but his values were founded on martial might. He had always believed in absolute strength. With absolute strength, everything else was inconsequential.
It could not be said that Illidan's thinking was wrong. In fact, it was not, but reality was cruel in the end. There were no coincidences, no lucky breaks, and certainly no beings who could look down on everything from the moment they appeared. Back in the Black Temple, Illidan had swallowed his pride and secretly amassed strength, hoping to escape Kil'jaeden's control. Yet the chasm between their power had left him with no choice but to hole up in the Black Temple.
"How is this possible?" Looking at the shield before him, which had not so much as rippled, Illidan also felt powerless. Its defenses exceeded his imagination.
[Stop wasting your strength. You can't force your way in.] Elune's voice rang out in Patrick's mind. [This is a special laboratory built by Aman'Thul, an important device meant to ensure that all of Azeroth develops according to his predetermined requirements. How could he let you enter as you please? Even I cannot enter without Aman'Thul's authorization. Even those Old Gods have