The next day, a handsome man in blue armor rode an adult black dragon out of the mist.
From a distance, the faint mist swirled, obscuring the view inside, causing even the demons of the Burning Legion to detour.
The Great Sea was filled with countless corpses: humans, murlocs, naga, and even many tentacled faceless ones.
Sinestra flew very fast, but dared not fly too high, almost skimming the sea surface.
In her words, there were Legion detectors in the high altitudes; once non-demonic creatures were detected, a tide of demons would appear, hunting any native creature.
Departing from Tirisfal Glades, crossing The Great Sea, the final destination was the Broken Isles.
The Burning Legion had established a massive camp there, incredibly pacifying the Maelstrom, which had been raging for tens of thousands of years.
The area around the Maelstrom was filled with violent energy, and no living creature could survive there; even dragons would steer clear of this massive world-scar.
The chaotic arcane energy could not be utilized even by the blue dragons, who were most skilled in magic. If not handled properly, one could be infused with chaotic energy and become an irrational fool.
Yet, in this place that no one dared to approach, the Burning Legion used unknown powers to crudely repair it, collecting the chaotic energy within.
Through sophisticated machinery and rituals, it was transformed into Fel energy, eroding the entire world, and using this method to twist the still-unawakened World Soul.
The Burning Legion had succeeded once before, successfully enslaving a not-so-outstanding Titan World Soul.
Even the weakest Titan could obliterate a planet.
With previous experience, the corruption of this world's World Soul accelerated significantly; if not stopped, the world would soon become the Burning Legion's backyard.
Unfortunately, the forces capable of resistance had been exhausted; mortals were ultimately unable to withstand such power.
When power becomes so formidable that it inspires awe, trying to suppress inner fear becomes a luxury; surrendering in despair is a genuine inner calling.
Feeling the whistling sea breeze and looking at the submissive dragon queen beneath him, it was no wonder so many people enjoyed being dragon knights; this feeling was truly exhilarating.
The closer they got to the Broken Isles, the more faceless ones there were.
In the distance, a giant mountain of flesh gradually appeared, resembling an enormous octopus or squid.
The closer they got, the more they realized that the squid's size surpassed Lordareon Royal City, even reaching the area of Eastweald.
Such an exaggerated size made it hard to imagine what kind of creature could grow so large.
The octopus tentacles were covered in barbs, and a corrosive stench emanated, making one nauseous.
After flying for a long time, they finally saw the octopus' eyes, wide open in death, but their gaze was unfocused, and a body without a soul was just a corpse.
Half of its body was crushed, indicating that the battle was not very intense.
Being crushed proved that the opponent's power far exceeded its own; if it had been an even fight, there should have been many more wounds on its body.
A familiar feeling arose, and upon closer inspection, Arthas felt a hint of suspicion; this fellow looked somewhat familiar.
"Is that Old God N'Zoth?"
Deep in The Great Sea, with an octopus-like appearance, and a body that occupied a vast area, it was undoubtedly an Old God!
He hadn't expected even N'Zoth to be dead, dragged out of its underwater prison, and its octopus head crushed.
None of the faceless ones that died in the vicinity were intact; before the Burning Legion, which had destroyed countless worlds, any number of faceless ones were just cannon fodder!
"It seems even the Old Gods' elite forces couldn't stop the Burning Legion," Arthas said calmly.
He hadn't felt this way when he defeated Mannoroth before.
But now he knew very well that Mannoroth was nothing more than a weakling.
Both Archimonde and Kil'jaeden could easily capture and beat Mannoroth; otherwise, why would the unruly demons obey them?
It must be because their massive fists made him obey commands; if he had any ability, he would never have submitted.
The essence of demons is chaos and disorder, corresponding to the order of the Titans.
"Is this an Old God? The Old God who drove Deathwing mad?"
Sinestra snorted, clearly still harboring intense hatred for Deathwing, who had nearly killed her; it would be strange not to hate him.
"Yes, this fellow is called N'Zoth, and it seems he's as dead as can be."
"Be careful, stay invisible. We need to get closer without being discovered by the Burning Legion."
Arthas frowned; to change the situation, he needed to travel through time again.
There were many time streams, weak branches and strong ones, like small creeks merging into rivers, eventually flowing into The Great Sea.
None of this was immutable; a creek could become a river, and a river could become a creek, an inversion of the natural order yet still within reason.
The current method was to find a divine artifact with the ability to travel through time, and then find a surviving bronze dragon to cast a time-travel spell.
Unfortunately, the Time Sandglass no longer existed; if it were still around, there would be hope.
Three days later.
Endless flying, nothing but seawater and corpses; the dense corpses along the way were terrifying.
God knows how many faceless ones had died here. These servants of the Old Gods, the creatures Sargeras hated most, were naturally all to be slaughtered now that The Legion had successfully invaded.
Relying on demons that could infinitely resurrect and regenerate, while precisely cutting without harming the World Soul, it was like a delicate surgical operation to remove parasites.
Many blue dragon carcasses floated along the distant coastline, and in the sky, some dragons, their bodies burning with Fel flames, patrolled back and forth.
They appeared to be dragons who had been infused with Fel energy and defected to the Burning Legion.
For surrendered enemies, as long as they had utility value and decent strength, it was easy to gain a foothold in The Legion; whether they could compete depended on their own abilities.
"Master, this is the old city of Suramar; we have arrived."
Sinestra didn't know why they were here, but she assumed her master needed something.
From afar, they could see buildings with high elf architectural styles. It should have been filled with elves, but now it had become a demon city.
The elves had transformed into demonized creatures and acquired a new name, Satyrs.
Their upper bodies were still elven, horns had sprouted from their heads, and their lower bodies had turned into hooves.
It seemed that creatures infused with Fel energy, to varying degrees, developed this demonic style; it was unknown whether this was preset or simply how it was.