Due to Neltharion's personal interests, most of the equipment in the treasure vault was either plate armor or melee weapons. Even though Andreas had looted them, he couldn't use most of them... but as long as he successfully "ninja-ed" them, it didn't matter.
Andreas was no archaeologist; he couldn't identify the specific functions of every miscellaneous item remaining in the treasure pile. With time being of the essence, he simply packed everything into his spatial bag at once, planning to sort through them slowly after the war ended.
Loaded with spoils, Andreas left the lair through the back door revealed by Nefarian. He circled back to the main entrance and found a Drogbar, asking him to deliver a message to Igrul.
"Wait patiently. Now is not the best time to unseal the Holy Hammer. Once the dust settles on the Burning Legion's invasion, I will definitely find time to return to Highmountain and help you escape the enslavement of Deathwing."
Despite their grotesque appearance, the naturally gentle Drogbar proved to be excellent allies. If he could liberate them from Deathwing's grasp, it might play a significant role in Andreas' future strategic layout.
On the way back to Riverbend Village, Xal'atath—who had spent thousands of years alone in that hoard—couldn't bear the loneliness and kept striking up conversations with Andreas.
"Andreas, do you really believe that little black dragon will rebel against his father?"
"From what I know, Neltharion, corrupted by N'Zoth, is exceptionally cruel. He won't hesitate to strike down anyone who shows the slightest sign of resistance to his will, even his own offspring."
"How could that be?" Andreas chuckled with a dismissive 'tch'. "That little slicker thought I didn't see through his intentions. He was just putting on a weak front because he wanted to escape."
"I never intended to kill him in the first place, nor did I expect those words to work in the short term. At most, I've just planted a seed in Nefarian's heart that hasn't sprouted yet."
A strange smile appeared on the Golden Eagle's face. "As an Old God, shouldn't you be well-versed in the art of subtle, long-term indoctrination?"
"It may seem like an insignificant move now, but once Nefarian is pushed to his limit by that mad dragon... hehe, there will be a good show to watch."
Xal'atath was a troublemaker by nature, and hearing Andreas's devious remarks, her interest was instantly piqued.
"Interesting. Truly worthy of My Lo—"
"Hmm?"
"My apologies. Truly worthy of you, Lord Andreas. It seems that during the long time I follow you, I won't be bored again."
...
Huln Highmountain examined the black dragon scale that Andreas had casually tossed onto the table and was the first to speak. "So, you are saying the Black Dragonflight stationed in Highmountain has no intention of attacking us?"
Andreas, sitting with his legs crossed, shrugged. "If Prince Nefarian wasn't lying, then that is the truth."
"They have no interest in attacking Tauren, and Neltharion hasn't given them any related orders. As long as you don't actively provoke the black dragons, they shouldn't bother attacking you out of boredom."
Peito Bloodtotem slammed his fist on his beast-hide chair and stood up. "Then what are we waiting for? To arms! A glorious battle of unprecedented scale awaits us!"
Salan Rivermane, still quite reluctant, exchanged looks with Gowen Skyhorn, who had just returned from a failed expedition. The two seemed to communicate silently but couldn't reach a consensus.
Gowen raised a hand and said, "If this Night Elf envoy can take responsibility for his words, I agree to send reinforcements. This final battle concerns the survival of the entire world. Now is not the time for us to stand idly by."
The chieftain of the Foresthoof clan, Kuran, was a seemingly mild-mannered elderly Tauren. Koda had spent the last few days talking until her throat was dry, making many promises before finally convincing him.
Seeing the situation had become clear, Kuran raised his trembling right hand and said with a chuckle, "I also support sending troops. I heard that the Pandaren from Pandaria in the south have already sent reinforcements. We cannot afford to be isolated by the various races of Kalimdor just because we refused to mobilize."
"You...!" Salan Rivermane was so furious at the sudden defection of two chieftains that he couldn't speak for a long while.
Huln Highmountain nodded steadily. "Four to one. Then it is settled. Chieftains, please notify your subordinate clans immediately to prepare for war. Time waits for no one; try to set out within three days!"
...
Having solved the diplomatic challenge through an unconventional path, Andreas prepared to leave Highmountain. As he did, Koda kept stealing glances at him with a strange expression.
Andreas rolled his eyes helplessly and turned to face her. "Is there something weird on me? Why do you keep staring? Don't tell me you've fallen for me?"
The curiosity and doubt on Koda's face immediately turned into disdain. "Please don't think so highly of yourself. I am merely finding your changes after the amnesia difficult to understand. Compared to before, you're like a completely different person."
Andreas laughed noncommittally. "The current me has no memories of the past. Every day I am creating a brand-new self. Saying I'm a different person isn't technically wrong."
"Forget it." Koda shook her head in resignation. "I will stay behind to urge the Tauren to set off as soon as possible. You should hurry back; I heard the situation at the front... is not optimistic."
At the mention of this, Andreas's expression turned solemn. Although the Pandaren envoys had arrived at the front via teleportation to communicate with Jarod and other leaders, their main force had only just entered Nazmir. The current frontline was still being held solely by the Night Elf Resistance.
"I know. You should also push the Tauren's progress. Don't let that stubborn Rivermane chieftain stall for time in secret. No one knows how much longer the frontline can hold out."
...
When Andreas was sent back to the frontline by the Highborne mage who had accompanied the mission, the military camp—where one could usually hear spirited shouting—was dead silent.
Most of the soldiers resting after rotating from the front were wrapped in bandages. They sat leaning against trees with weary, hollow eyes staring at the ground. The morale of the entire army looked extremely low.
Xal'atath's schadenfreude-filled voice echoed in Andreas's mind. "Oho~ I sense a thick aura of despair. Is this army about to collapse?"
Andreas slapped the scimitar at his waist hard but didn't answer her. He pursed his lips and strode toward the main command tent.
"Andreas?"
Passing by the Sisterhood of Elune's camp area, a familiar voice called out from inside a tent. Shandris, with a bandage around her shoulder and her left arm in a sling, stepped out of the tent. Upon seeing Andreas, a relieved smile appeared on her face.
In contrast, Andreas gasped when he saw her injuries. Her limp left hand and the heavy bloodstains remaining on the bandages spoke volumes about the severity of the wound.
"Your injury..."
Shandris smiled, pretending it was nothing. "A minor problem. I've already received treatment from the sisters. I'll be back to normal in three days at most."
"Shandris, don't push yourself." Tyrande, holding a roll of bandages, stepped out from behind Shandris with a look of reproach.
She glanced at Andreas coldly before turning her gaze back to her beloved student. "A broken arm is a 'minor problem'? If it hadn't been treated in time, you might have lost your hand. Come here, I'll change your bandages."
Shandris gave Andreas a bitter smile and waved with her right hand. "Sorry, I'll find you when I have time."
As the two walked back into the tent, Tyrande lowered the curtain. Andreas stood in place, silent for a long time, his fists gradually clenching.
"Andreas, that girl just now, is she your...?"
Xal'atath's words snapped Andreas out of his momentary heat-of-the-moment rage. "...A childhood friend. I didn't expect her to be so seriously injured."
Turning to look at the almost endless demons of various types in the outskirts of Zin-Azshari to the west, Andreas spoke in a low voice, "The losses are getting heavier, gradually reaching a point the Night Elves cannot bear. We must end this war as quickly as possible. It's time to trigger the hidden hand I left earlier."