Patrick was now like a walking Sunwell. Once the restraints on him vanished, arcane energy so dense it had become tangible surged forth like an overwhelming tide.
"Sure enough, this kid was still holding back." Illidan wore an expression that said, "Just as I thought," without the slightest concern for Chromatus in front of him.
Chromatus seethed as well. His five heads could barely land a hit on Illidan, and even when a lucky breath attack struck him, a shield of shadow or fel blocked it. He could do nothing to Illidan at all.
Medivh's expression shifted slightly. He had always considered Patrick powerful, but had never imagined he would be this powerful. Decades ago, Patrick had already astonished him, because he had been unable to observe Patrick's future through his knowledge of the School of Divination.
Now, the Highlord who had sat high above the city back then had become a being whose strength surpassed all his peers.
Whatever thoughts the others might harbor, once Patrick's strength reached a certain level, any schemer would shrink back before that tremendous power and obediently go about their work.
Deathwing did not wait. Patrick's mana was still recovering rapidly, and there was no honor on a battlefield. Striking an enemy while they were vulnerable was the surest path to victory.
Vast amounts of chaotic energy gathered. Neltharion wanted to kill Patrick on the spot before he fully recovered.
Another torrent of purple-black dragon breath surged toward him, containing at least as much chaotic energy as the previous blast.
"That trick again?" Patrick smiled and shook his head. The Discs of Norgannon appeared, accompanied by tremendous arcane energy, and blocked Chaos Breath.
A violent collision of energies was inevitable. A fierce explosion sent gales blasting in every direction. Many people on the ground