"Where are you, beautiful?"
Arthas activated the mark by injecting magic. As the mark flickered, he seemed to sense her presence in the ethereal.
"Master, I'm on the dragon Isles. I'm leaving to find you now. I apologize, Master, I can't recall the ancient map, so I'm not sure of your exact location, but I can find you through the mark."
Sinestra's voice was full of allure. She had arrived earlier, so she already knew where this place was.
Looking out from a high vantage point, this was indeed the dragon Isles.
The home of the Chromatic dragons, after the War of the Ancients, the Well of Eternity's great explosion tore apart the ancient continent, splitting it into four large landmasses and countless islands.
The dragon Isles also went into lockdown due to chaotic magic, becoming isolated from the world. To find this place, one had to use beacons to determine the direction.
"It's fine, just come over now. I'll take a walk; perhaps I can get some information."
Arthas ended the call and rubbed his head, only to find he was already wearing a helmet similar to the Helm of Domination. The narrow slit of the face mask made it impossible to see his features clearly.
This might be a temporal protection mechanism, similar to the rescue of the red dragon queen, to prevent the red dragon queen from discovering who he truly was.
This helmet served the same purpose: he could arrive, but he couldn't reveal where he came from.
This was strange, but upon reflection, it made sense.
The previous adventuring party was led by the orc Thrall; now it was led by him, the human prince.
As I said, it's not that I'm prejudiced against orcs, but orcs are really suited to be laborers.
If you substitute orcs for those people in America, it's easy to draw a conclusion: they invade others' homes, yet insist on whitewashing themselves as saviors. How disgusting!
If the orcs had stayed honestly on Draenor, on their own planet, then cooperation might have been possible.
But this forced settlement is somewhat disgusting. Does it count as a species invasion?
Forget it, I won't think about these things anymore.
He whistled, and a black whelpling appeared out of thin air, one that had been bred in the Gryphon Aviary.
After the camp system upgrade, the Gryphon Aviary could breed various creatures as mounts, even dragons.
However, it was more cost-effective to breed them from the egg stage: low cost, quick results.
As soon as the whelpling appeared, it circled Arthas, constantly rubbing against him, giving him a sense of déjà vu, like a puppy seeing its owner and wanting to get close.
Hatched from the Gryphon Aviary, it inherently possessed loyalty and natural affection, so its behavior was not surprising.
"Let's go, Little black, fly me up and let's see where this place truly is."
The whelpling roared, and after its master mounted, it flapped its wings and soared into the sky.
Dense branches were broken as it flew upwards, passing through the canopy that blocked out the sun.
As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but a vast, dark forest of giant trees. The moonlight at night appeared exceptionally bright.
There was a large moon in the sky, and a smaller blue moon not far away.
Two moons hung in the sky, just as they did in the world of Azeroth, and in the shattered Outland.
The same two moons hung high, a phenomenon that seemed to permeate the entire universe; no matter which planet's night, this unique sight could be seen.
Gentle moonlight cascaded down, allowing even the most volatile creatures to find a moment of peace, soothing trauma and bringing forth their most serene side.
"Phew, Lady elune, what a legend she is. Although I don't worship you, I still hope you can help my Azeroth this time."
Arthas couldn't help but grumble. The Moon Goddess was the most mysterious existence; no one knew where elune was, and no one had ever seen her. Even the origin of her title was extremely vague.
But that didn't hinder the fervor of her followers. This true god truly listened to the calls of her devotees; only sincere prayers could receive the Moon Goddess' grace.
At that moment, a ray of moonlight fell upon him. Though brief, it indicated that this mysterious true god had heard him and was paying attention.
As for what would happen next, that remained to be seen.
Without a fixed destination, Arthas let Little black fly in a random direction.
He closed his eyes to rest, attempting to send signals using the whisper method he learned from the Old Gods.
After a long time, there was no response, which made him feel a little strange.
Could it be that the current seals were too strong, preventing their voices and mental energy from reaching here?
That couldn't be; at least by this time, Yogg-Saron had already corrupted his jailers and was trying to break out.
The wind howled, stinging his cheeks. Soaring through the sky felt great, but the endless forest was somewhat aesthetically tiring.
He saw no one, and nothing else.
It wasn't until dawn that a sound of fighting came from ahead. The gibberish was hard to understand.
Just as Arthas was complaining, the Way of Nature translated the sounds, and only then did he understand what was being said.
"Block it, block the entrance, don't let the bugs out."
"Ah, it hurts, the damned bug bit me, it hurts!"
"It's Mantid! Damn it, it hurts!"
Below, a troll squad was battling Mantid. These humanoid insects, resembling praying mantises with beetle features, were the Mantid.
No one liked mantises, and Arthas didn't either. Occasionally, he would inadvertently see a mantis and get goosebumps.
Regardless of the type of insect, whether Mantid, Qiraji, or Nerubian, they all originated from the more ancient Aqir.
Living in different regions, these insects mutated according to the environment and climate, forming three major groups.
It's worth noting that whether it's the three major groups or the Aqir, they are essentially mutated forms created by the Old Gods, and they are always loyal servants of the Old Gods.
Looking at the Mantid below, Arthas stroked his chin, a glint in his eyes.
Since they were loyal to the Old Gods, and he now mastered the Old Gods' whispering method, could he not impersonate an Old God and make these Mantid his allies?
Whether they looked good or ugly didn't really matter.
Arthas liked humans, light-skinned and purple-skinned elves, and could accept beauties from other races. But he particularly disliked these quasi-human creatures; first and foremost, they had to be humanoid, not quasi-human.
To confront the Burning Legion, he needed his own army. This was not like ten thousand years later.
With the Well of Eternity as an energy source to open portals, the Burning Legion's troop generation speed was incredibly exaggerated; a hundred thousand a day was a conservative estimate.
Could he kill that many by himself?
Not taking advantage of a good opportunity would be idiotic!