Chapter 329 - Close Call

When Andreas landed and reverted to human form, the small team of fewer than fifty Dalaran mages was startled. Some mages, like birds startled by a bow, instinctively raised their staffs and aimed them at Andreas.

"Wait!"

When Jandice saw the face that had remained in her childhood memories, she raised her hand and stopped the mages from launching their attacks.

"Speaker Moonshadow?"

Andreas smiled and nodded at Jandice. "It is I. It's been a long time, Jandice."

The last time he saw this young girl, she was still a babbling little thing. More than a decade had passed in a flash, and the adorable, exquisitely beautiful child had grown into a graceful young woman.

Having no time to reminisce with Jandice, Andreas waved his hand, cutting off the questions from the other mages, and got straight to the point, asking, "What is the situation now? Why aren't you with Arthas?"

Jandice replied bitterly, "He said that what was about to happen wasn't suitable for me to see. He left those unwilling to participate to stay outside the city with me, and he led the main force into the city himself... to purify the Plague."

"Hmph!"

A young mage behind Jandice angrily accused, "That Prince of Lordaeron, in order to clear the Plague, actually wants to slaughter the city! Slaughter the city!"

"Uther, the leader of The Knights of the Silver Hand, opposed Prince Arthas' decision, so Arthas ordered the dissolution of the order and stripped Uther of all military titles. Out of helplessness, Uther could only temporarily retreat to Lights Hope Chapel to contact King Terenas."

Andreas nodded knowingly. It seemed Arthas was still being lured step by step onto the road of no return by a certain Dreadlord.

However, it should still be salvageable now. Stratholme was indeed beyond saving, and while Arthas' decision was drastic, it couldn't be considered entirely wrong in terms of necessary action.

"Jandice, tell me Arthas' route. You should come with me to try and persuade him."

Andreas spoke seriously to Jandice, "This city slaughter incident is likely to become a turning point in Arthas' life. If we can't pull him back from the edge of the abyss, the next time you meet him... the one controlling that body might not be him."

Andreas' words were half-truth, half-lie, but they were more than enough to convince the naive Jandice.

"I'll go!"

Jandice clasped her hands together in front of her chest in a gesture of prayer, and a look of determination appeared on her still-young, pretty face. "Sure enough, there's something wrong with Arthas' choice. The Great Bat-like Demon Leader's inducement played a significant role in this. I must personally go into the city and persuade him."

Compared to the independent Jaina, Jandice lacked some assertiveness but possessed more gentleness and understanding.

Although she believed Arthas' choice was wrong, she did not embarrass him on the spot, as Jaina did in the original history, which would have further damaged Arthas' already severely wounded spirit. Instead, she chose tolerance and understanding of his difficult situation.

"Alright, then let's leave now."

Andreas transformed into a golden-yellow Gryphon amidst a flash of light and shadow. Jandice, who already knew he was a Druid, was not startled. She swiftly adjusted her robes and climbed onto the Gryphon's back.

Before leaving, Jandice, acting as the leader, gave orders to the Dalaran Investigation Team: "Roy and Galan, you will travel separately to the Capital City of Lordaeron and Dalaran, and inform King Terenas and Archmage Antonidas of the situation here."

"The rest of you continue to stay outside the city and set up defensive positions, ready to provide support at any time."

After all, she was an elite trained by the Barov Family. Although she appeared relatively frail, the education Jandice received since childhood allowed her to remain calm in a crisis and make organized arrangements for the mages of the investigation team.

"Hold on tight, the flight ahead will be quite bumpy!"

After a smooth takeoff, Andreas looked at the large fires in the city and reminded Jandice, simultaneously covering both of them with a warm Holy Light Shield.

Confirming Jandice was ready, the Gryphon's powerful wings suddenly flapped with increased force. With a howling gust of wind, they vanished from the sight of the Dalaran Investigation Team in the blink of an eye.

The fires along the route were parted by the intense airflow. While flying at high speed, Andreas used the powerful dynamic vision of a bird of prey to search for Arthas' whereabouts on the ground.

"Found him!"

Arthas seemed to have completed most of the "purification" process by now. The Lordaeron army he led was currently fighting a Dreadlord who wore a mocking, sinister smile in front of Stratholme's Cathedral of Light.

Although Dreadlords were a race with embarrassing combat strength within the Burning Legion, they were powerful enough when facing ordinary Mortals.

This Dreadlord, whose identity was unclear, was surrounded by many low-level undead he had resurrected using Necromancers. The two armies were entangled, making it difficult to determine the victor quickly.

Meanwhile, Arthas, looking frenzied, was swinging his Holy Light-shining Warhammer, fighting the Dreadlord who was clearly toying with him.

Unable to land a hit, as the opponent dodged around like a slippery loach, Arthas' heart, already filled with guilt and fury, grew even more irritable.

"Coward! Fight me head-on!"

"Hehe~" The Dreadlord continued to casually evade Arthas' Warhammer. "Young Prince, you are still too green. If your mentor Uther were here, he might make me wary, but you... you're not worthy yet."

The Dreadlord's words struck exactly at the wound in Arthas' heart. If Uther had been traveling with him, the number of undead surrounding the enemy would certainly have been greatly reduced.

Stratholme was the first city where the Plague began to spread. Just as Arthas had judged, all the citizens in the city were infected and beyond cure.

This slaughter competition was essentially Arthas using killing to prevent the enemy from raising a larger undead army. For the sake of Lordaeron's safety, he could not stand by and watch hundreds of thousands of people in one city all be converted into a future threat.

Uther was a model Paladin, possessing his own set of principles. Even knowing that Stratholme was beyond saving, he would not adopt such a cruel method to eliminate future hypothetical enemies; that did not align with his life creed.

In the eyes of the anxious Arthas, his usually powerful and open-minded mentor seemed particularly rigid at that moment, and the Dreadlord's words further tore open the wound in his heart.

"Shut up, demon! You know nothing about Uther!"

Arthas' attacks, like a mad tiger, completely lacked discipline. He fruitlessly swung his heavy Warhammer, wasting stamina, yet he still couldn't touch his opponent.

"Haha! Your Highness, is this all the strength you possess?"

The Dreadlord continued to provoke Arthas, whose mind was near collapse. "These undead before you are only a very small part of the Scourge. No matter how you struggle, Lordaeron will surely fall!"

"Oh? Is that so?"

The sudden words contained a fatal threat. The Dreadlord, who had been boasting, instantly changed his expression and transformed into countless small bats, preparing to flee.

"Only trying to run now? Too late."

"Clang!"

A golden cage made of Holy Light enclosed all the fleeing small bats. The bats hitting the edge of the cage squeaked and shrieked in agony, eventually having to coalesce and reappear as the Nathrezim figure.

The Dreadlord, whose body was scorched in multiple places by high-concentration Holy Light, looked in terror at the Gryphon that had landed and returned to its original form, completely ignoring Jandice, who had excitedly rushed into Arthas' arms.

"Andreas! Why are you here?!"

Andreas did not answer the Dreadlord. He raised the ganir staff in his hand, and a golden Curtain of Holy Light enveloped the entire battlefield in front of the cathedral.

Brilliant Holy Light Rain fell from the top of the light curtain, causing drastically different reactions from the humans and Undead caught in the downpour.

The injured human soldiers watched in surprise as their wounds rapidly healed under the effect of the light rain, while the Undead shrieked hoarsely, trying to dodge the ubiquitous golden downpour.

After completing a round of clearing and weakening, the human side gained an absolute advantage on the battlefield. Only then did Andreas turn to face the ashen-faced Dreadlord, under Arthas' horrified gaze.

"So, which one are you?"

"Varimathras? Desolace? Anetheron? Or Mephistroth?"

The Dreadlord, trapped inside the Holy Light Cage, shouted angrily, "I am MalGanis!"

Every Nathrezim is a treacherous and cunning creature; even within their own race, they are full of various conspiracies and infighting.

MalGanis was extremely displeased that Andreas had listed a bunch of names but omitted his.

Andreas shrugged. "Whatever, you all look the same anyway."

"Getting back to the point, you just said that Lordaeron is destined to fall?"

Andreas looked at MalGanis, whose eyes were darting around, with great interest. "Who gave you that confidence? Ner'zhul, the old Orc who calls himself the Lich King? Or Kiljaeden, who is cut off and can't enter Azeroth?"

The frantic Arthas finally calmed down considerably under Jandice's soothing presence. Hearing that the Lich King was an Orc, he gripped the war hammer in his hand once more.

'Another Orc causing trouble?'

MalGanis knew immediately that the change in Arthas' demeanor was bad news; his mission was likely going to fail.

MalGanis wasn't afraid of death; if he died, he could just be resurrected in the Twisting Nether. But if the mission failed... the Burning Legion's punishment would definitely be harder to bear than death.

"The Lich King long ago broke free from the limitations of his mortal body and separated himself from the Orcs. Now he is the Lord of the Undead who commands the Scourge!"

"The Plagued Grain has already spread throughout Lordaeron. This kingdom is beyond saving. If you don't want to be implicated, you had better..."

Andreas condensed the energy of the Holy Light Cage, transforming it into countless rings of light that bound MalGanis and dragged him in front of himself.

"Watch your words, little bat."

A Holy Light Bomb struck his face. The highly compressed energy caused MalGanis to let out a terrible shriek; his head, the only part he could move, swayed left and right, clearly in immense pain.

Arthas' mood was extremely complex at this moment. After calming down, he realized that MalGanis had constantly provoked him with words, preventing him from thinking and judging calmly, leaving him completely manipulated during the battle.

However, the powerful enemy whom Arthas considered unbeatable was being tossed around like a toy in the hands of this Night Elf. This psychological disparity was unacceptable to Arthas, who had always had an easy life since childhood.

"Was I really that weak? Didn't Father say I was a genius?"

Andreas still had questions he wanted to ask this big bat, so he knocked the agonizing MalGanis unconscious on the spot, preparing to take him back for a slow interrogation.

"Wait!"

Seeing that Andreas was preparing to take MalGanis away, Arthas quickly stepped forward to stop him.

"Speaker Moonshadow, MalGanis has caused immeasurable destruction to Lordaeron. He must be taken back to the Capital City of Lordaeron to face trial."

Andreas nodded to Arthas and said, "That's fine, but this fellow is still useful. We can't let him die easily for now, so please forgive me, Your Highness."

"This..."

Thinking of the hundreds of thousands of citizens who died from the plague in Stratholme and Andorhal, Arthas wished he could slice MalGanis into a thousand pieces.

But he couldn't disregard Andreas' opinion, as the other party was a major figure with supreme authority in that powerful and ancient nation across the sea.

"Arthas..."

Jandice tugged at Arthas' sleeve, signaling with her eyes for him to yield for now.

"Hoo~"

Arthas adjusted his breathing. "Alright, but I hope Speaker Moonshadow can tell me the whereabouts of the mastermind known as the Lich King."

Seeing the stubborn expression on Arthas' face, Andreas frowned. "The mages sent by Dalaran are waiting outside. When we return to the Capital City of Lordaeron later, I will naturally explain the whole story to King Terenas. Why is Your Highness in such a hurry?"

Arthas hesitated for a moment, but finally shook his head resolutely. "No, I don't plan to go back."

Jandice was greatly surprised. "Arthas?!"

Gently stroking Jandice's silver hair, Arthas stated resolutely, "The Scourge has caused immense damage to my kingdom. If we don't wipe them out in one go, there might be a second, a third, or even more MalGanises appearing."

The Dreadlord names Andreas had just recited were firmly etched in Arthas' mind; clearly, there was more than one of these twisted and deformed monsters.

Furthermore, Arthas still had a knot in his heart. Earlier, he had forcefully overstepped his father's authority and relieved his mentor, Uther, of his duties. Until he achieved some results, he felt he had no face to return and confront the two elders.

'So stubborn?'

Andreas spread his hands helplessly. "I can tell you, but the Lich King is located on the distant continent of Northrend. Without King Terenas allocating ships for you, how do you plan to continue sailing north?"

Arthas smiled confidently. "That's easy. Stratholme is a port city, and there are still plenty of merchant ships docked in the city's harbor. We can modify them slightly and set sail smoothly."

Andreas raised an eyebrow. 'Ner'zhul, you prepared thoroughly, didn't you? Not destroying the ships needed for the sea pursuit, deliberately luring Arthas to continue north.'

Since Arthas had made his intentions so clear, and Andreas wasn't related to him, he lacked sufficient standing to continue preventing him from pursuing revenge.

"Alright, I will take MalGanis back to Lordaeron and inform King Terenas of the full sequence of events."

Andreas looked at Jandice; it was obvious the girl intended to accompany them all the way.

But Arthas reluctantly pushed his girlfriend out of his embrace. "Jandice, you should also return to Dalaran and personally report the situation to Master Antonidas. The harsh, cold North is not suitable for you."

"But..."

Arthas kissed the anxious Jandice on the forehead. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Father's reinforcements should arrive soon. I will personally kill the Lich King and avenge the tragically deceased citizens of Lordaeron."

Arthas' determination was set. The repeated setbacks made him eager to use victory to restore his lost confidence.

In his view, no matter how strong the Lich King was, he couldn't withstand the charge of a massive army. Moreover, the Holy Light had a strong counter effect against the Undead, and Andreas had already demonstrated this effect clearly.

However, Arthas failed to consider one point: the Undead resurrected in Stratholme were merely low-level, brainless zombies, completely incomparable to the elite Undead under Ner'zhul.

Andreas could subdue a large number of low-level Undead with a single strike, but that didn't mean he could charge into the Frozen Throne and fight alone against thousands. At least, he certainly couldn't do it before reaching the level of a True God.

Holding the unconscious MalGanis by the scruff of the neck, Andreas watched Arthas sail away, stroking his chin with some worry.

'This unfortunate kid won't walk down his original path again, will he? I should probably still have Shandris and the others keep an eye out.'

The stubborn Arthas ultimately abandoned his family and friends and headed north to Northrend. Andreas used a Shadow Imp to traverse the shadow space and contact Leticia, asking Shandris to keep an eye on Arthas' movements in advance.

Ner'zhul's existence was somewhat delicate. Besides the issues in the Shadowlands, Andreas temporarily kept him around, planning to let the Scourge cause some trouble for Loken next door.

The situation in Northrend was becoming increasingly complex. It seemed that various factions were at war, but upon closer analysis, if a full-scale war truly broke out, many of these factions might suddenly cease hostilities and unite.

Prisim had already discovered the reason for Ymiron and Loken's falling out; the root cause was still the flesh curse.

The Vrykul once possessed sturdy iron bodies and endless lifespans. Ymiron could sit on his throne forever, which was very important for an ambitious king.

However, after being affected by the weakening curse, Ymiron felt his body aging year after year, and his people, once invincible, had become weak.

Their defeat in the war against the Night Elves was somewhat understandable, as the Night Elves were a powerful, ancient race that had lived in Azeroth for countless years, a true Mortal overlord of Azeroth.

But now, Utgarde Keep couldn't even quickly take down Valgarde, the Alliance explorer town right outside its gates, which Ymiron found completely unacceptable.

In his anger, Ymiron blamed the flesh curse on Loken and the other Titan Keepers, believing that they had withdrawn their blessings from the Vrykul, leading the Dragonflayer Clan to its current predicament.

Although this illogical scapegoating was absurd, Ymiron's blame coincidentally hit the mark, as the source of the Vrykul's flesh curse was Yogg-Saron, who was behind Loken.

Prisim deliberately sent Scouts to fan the flames between Loken and Ymiron, one day using Iron Dwarves' warhammers to kill several Vrykul and leave behind some Iron Dwarf corpses, and the next day repeating the same tactic with the Iron Dwarves.

The Night Elves' western front had to deal with Ner'zhul's Scourge, so the eastern front was better off being as peaceful as possible. Letting Loken and Ymiron fight to the death served the Night Elves' interests.

Loken was also very troubled at this time; his younger brother was disobedient, so he definitely had to send troops to teach him a lesson.

But the group of bone sticks to the west had naturally provoked him, their neighbor, during their expansion, so it wouldn't do to not show Ner'zhul some color. At the very least, he needed to know that Storm Peaks was not a place to be casually trespassed upon.

With all parties constrained, Andreas truly couldn't commit all his forces to attack Ner'zhul. If he showed overwhelming dominance and forced other factions to unite, then things would get really interesting.

Loken and Thorim, among others, were not to be used. Once they were deployed to the battlefield, Loken would furiously activate the crafters engine, producing a large army of steel in minutes.

Loken was currently stationed at the nalakshaa engine, gathering materials and stockpiling troops. His existence absolutely could not be revealed until he had full assurance, lest Loken and Yogg-Saron be driven to desperate measures.

Furthermore, the Naga sweeping across the coasts were also one of Andreas' concerns. N'Zoth lurked in the shadows, watching intently. If he decided to launch a full-scale offensive, the Emerald Dream, the Naga, and Deathwing might all move together.

No matter how many troops the Night Elves had, they couldn't single-handedly overpower the entire world, and the Burning Legion's infiltration of Azeroth had never ceased.

The immediate priority was to curb Ner'zhul's undead expansion as much as possible, secretly monitor the movements of the Dreadlords and other Burning Legion vanguards, and ideally incite the Scourge and Loken to fight, letting them restrain each other, and buy enough time for Loken to raise an army.

When Andreas arrived at the Capital City of Lordaeron with MalGanis, Niyana immediately came forward with a grave expression and delivered bad news to Andreas.

"The orcs have landed in Northrend?"

Andreas asked in surprise, "What happened? How did they get ships to sail out?"

Niyana smiled bitterly and pointed to Daelin, who was fuming in the grand council hall of Lordaeron. "Kul Tiras merchant ships, returning from Howling Fjord to Southshore to unload cargo, were preparing to transport it to Alterac for sale, but unexpectedly..."

Daelin, who hadn't contacted Terenas in a long time, rarely accepted an invitation to Lordaeron, primarily to discuss the issue of the orc escape.

"My naval fleet is making its final preparations for departure, those damned drust barbarians! If it weren't for their mischief, how could Kul Tiras be in such a sorry state!"

The drust rebellion was escalating, and the Witch Council's influence was expanding rapidly.

After years of lurking, the masterminds behind the drust found the weaknesses of the Kul Tiras people, luring the Kul Tiras residents of Drustvar to join the Witch Council with what they most desired.

Fortunately, the fleet in Stormsong Valley could be deployed at any time, but because a large number of troops had been diverted to suppress the drust rebellion, it would take some time to gather enough experienced sailors for the voyage.

Andreas had originally made preparations, having the First Naval Fleet patrol back and forth near the eastern coast of Kalimdor to prevent the orcs from landing, but unexpectedly, they went north to the Borean Tundra.

The Borean Tundra, due to the Blue Dragon residing on the nearby Crystalsong Forest island, was the weakest area for Night Elf forces, apart from Icecrown Glacier and Storm Peaks.

However, the orcs' large-scale northward migration was an opportunity. If they could be lured into attacking the Scourge, it might break the awkward balance in Northrend.

But there was still one problem: the First Lich King, Ner'zhul.

Regardless of Ner'zhul's current form, he was an orc in life, and a Warchief at that. It was hard to say what thoughts he might harbor towards his own people.

If the Scourge and the orcs were to join forces... that would be a very troublesome disaster.

"Sigh~"

Andreas rubbed his forehead, headache-ridden, and casually tossed the fish-like MalGanis into the council hall.

"This guy is the culprit who spread the Plague in Lordaeron. Remember his face; I'll be taking him back to Astranaar later."

"One more thing." Andreas looked at the extremely aged Terenas. "Prince Arthas ignored my advice and insisted on sailing to Northrend to pursue the Scourge. He hopes for more support from the rear. All of you should make up your minds as soon as possible."

Andreas had a mountain of his own problems and no time to meddle in the internal disputes of the Alliance. After all, Arthas wasn't his child.

Andreas had tried his best to prevent him from following his original path. If he was still swayed by Ner'zhul, then it was his fate, and no one else was to blame.

Before Andreas could teleport away from Lordaeron, bad news arrived from Quel'Thalas.

"Undead?"

Andreas pressed his temples, his head throbbing. "How could undead appear in Quel'Thalas? Could it be that group of nobles..."

"Yes."

Niyana also said with a bitter face, "The Royalists hold most of the military power. In a direct confrontation, the Nobility Faction had no chance of winning. I don't know who first suggested it, but the Nobility Faction began to introduce Necromancy Spells to increase their troop numbers."

"Ah~"

Andreas gasped, "That ruthless? Using fallen kinsmen as raw materials?"

'Speaking of which, are High Elves inherently destined to face an undead catastrophe...'

Even with necromantic spells to resurrect fallen soldiers on both sides, the noble faction was still at an overwhelming disadvantage after openly taking up arms against the royalists.

Though the nobles wanted to hold the most prosperous lands of Eversong Woods, pincer attacks from the Sunstrider Royal Family's troops and Ranger-General Sylvanas' rangers left them with no foothold.

Left with no choice, the nobles fled through mountain and forest toward the southeast, eventually going to ground inside the ruins of Zul'Aman to stabilize their position.

"Zul'Aman…"

Andreas gave a wry shake of his head. "Celeste had long advised Quel'Thalas to develop Zul'Aman; if her counsel had been heeded, the place wouldn't be utterly undefended. This'll be fun."

Zul'Aman had, after all, been the capital of the Amani Empire; its walls were crumbling but still serviceable.

Many of the noble faction's mages were formidable. Using spellcraft to shore up the walls and tireless undead to speed repairs, they would soon have a stronghold.

The undead needed no food or supplies, and the mages could conjure Arcane fare and water, removing any logistical headache.

If the civil war dragged on and the nobles secured a foothold, they could steadily swell their ranks through necromancy.

That was the foul power of necromancy: the less you understood it, the faster your enemy multiplied.

The whereabouts of the Amani Trolls were amusing. Zul'jin was first to flee before the Horde's defeat.

Instead of returning to Amani Forest, he sailed to Stranglethorn Vale, borrowed ships from the Gurubashi Jungle Trolls, and crossed the sea to Zandalar, taking refuge in Dazar'alor.

God-King Rastakhan's attitude was intriguing. He welcomed the Amani and vowed to win back their rights.

The current God-King bore little love for the Night Elves, and the prophet Zul was a trollish firebrand; the two hit it off at once.

Though Zandalar was still busy eradicating Blood Trolls on the island, Andreas felt certain they would cause trouble for the Night Elves later.

The loa such as Rezan were friendly toward the Night Elves, but they were only venerated spirits, able to advise the God-King at most, not sway Zandalari policy.

Apparently assured by Rastakhan and Zul, Zul'jin had lived quietly in Dazar'alor for years. Rezan said the Amani had even joined the fight against the Blood Trolls.

Though the blood god G'huun rivaled a true Old God in power and virulence, his cramped domain—an island full of trolls—left him little room to maneuver.

This time the Zandalari were determined to cleanse Nazmir. They committed their finest troops and, more carefully than ever before, sent their loa into battle.

Even G'huun could not face so many varied loa at once, and with Dazar'alor's seals still in place he could not wield his full might.

The Blood Trolls' territory shrank step by step until they were cornered around the Uldir temple in the swamp's heart.

Once the Zandalari wiped out the last threat on their isle, the aggressive Rastakhan and Zul would surely meddle in Azeroth's affairs, and no one could guess what changes that would bring.

Quel'Thalas had not unfolded exactly as Kael'thas planned, yet the nobles' flight returned Silvermoon City and most of Eversong Woods to the Sunstrider Royal Family.

With the trapped nobles showing no sign of sallying out, Kael'thas used the respite to purge their remnants in Silvermoon, installing loyal nobles in a reconstituted Silvermoon Council.

Andreas mused for a moment, then said, "Send word to the Sun King: congratulate the Sunstrider Royal Family for restoring order, and pass along our tricks for containing the undead. We can't let those nobles snowball their undead army."

Though the victory was incomplete, the nobles had been driven from the kingdom's heart. The Sun King ordered Ranger-General Sylvanas to ring Zul'Aman with troops, ensuring the rebels could not break out.

Quel'Thalas was still roiling beneath the surface, yet with both sides now openly trading blows the situation had, paradoxically, calmed for the moment; Andreas nevertheless kept his guard up against those High Elf traitors wielding necromancy.

Long-standing tutors to humanity in the Arcane arts, the High Elves had been researching necromancy for years—but for it to surface at this precise juncture struck Andreas as far too convenient to be mere coincidence.

'The Cult of Undying again, Ner'zhul's handiwork?'

The cult's spread had been masterminded in life by Kel'Thuzad; to be certain, Andreas paid a special visit to Andorhal and wrung the truth from the earth-bound lich himself.

"Yes, I did plant the Cult of Undying inside Quel'Thalas," Kel'Thuzad admitted, "but certain elves inside the realm cooperated far more eagerly than I ever expected."

Kel'Thuzad had been equally puzzled; a certain elf named Dar'khan had latched onto the scheme like a drowning man to driftwood, enthusiastically offering to spread the cult.

"Dar'khan… huh."

Andreas narrowed his eyes. 'Turncoats will be turncoats wherever they go.'

Dar'khan Drathir—so it was in the original timeline: first to swear fealty to the Scourge, the one who revealed the secret of the Ban'dinoriel barrier's runestones to that fool Arthas, dooming Sylvanas' defenses to collapse.

"Wait—"

Andreas' expression darkened. 'If the high circles of the Silvermoon Council all know Ban'dinoriel's secret and leak it to Ner'zhul, the moment the undead strike Quel'Thalas by surprise… the fallout would be catastrophic.'

The High Elves placed absolute faith in their barrier, yet if their dispositions were based on faulty intelligence, the entire realm could fall in a single, well-prepared onslaught.

'Better warn them, just in case.'

…Too many tasks, too little time.

Andreas had no spell of bilocation; he returned instead to Astranaar to coordinate from the center.

Word of the orcs' landing in Northrend had reached Shandris and Navaz holding the line there; Arthas, hard on their heels, beached his fleet on the southeastern coast of Dragonblight and now awaited reinforcements.

Mal'Ganis' failure did not deter Ner'zhul—he craved a young, vigorous body more than ever.

The orcs' arrival in Northrend was an unexpected boon; in life he had been one of them, and unless driven to extremity Ner'zhul still wished to house his soul within an orcish frame.

The new Warchief guiding the clans through every peril was the Frostwolf youth Go'el—an obvious prize in Ner'zhul's eyes.

Through the myriad eyes of the Undead Nerubians, Ner'zhul now watched from a tunnel mouth in the Borean Tundra as the unflinching Go'el directed his warriors.

"Heh—handsome, young, charismatic orc leader… excellent. Another perfect candidate for my vessel."

"Anub'arak."

A colossal undead beetle lowered its head. "My lord, command me."

"Have Detheroc find a way to steer the orcs into meeting Arthas in Dragonblight; I would see which of them makes the better receptacle."

"It shall be done."

…Northrend's bitter climate daunted most, yet the blind Frostwolf shaman Drek'Thar felt thoroughly at home.

"Go'el, our old home on Draenor—Frostfire Ridge—was a frozen wasteland just like this. It's why Durotan chose the Alterac Mountains when we settled here."

Though sightless, Drek'Thar, aided by the elements, perceived far more than ordinary eyes could show.

"The land is cold, yes, but the earth teems with life; the elements are vibrant. Aside from the peaceable Taunka and Tuskarr, no other thinking folk live nearby—here the orcs can rest and rebuild—"

"Skreee!"

Several Young Blue Dragons swept across the sky, their sapphire gazes fixed on the newcomers erecting camp below.

Go'el gave Drek'Thar an odd look. "Dragons don't count as thinking folk?"

Drek'Thar: "…"

Although the instructions given by the mysterious person who suddenly appeared were highly suspicious, the Orcs, gradually surrounded by human nations and nearing their wits' end, had no better option than to stake everything on a single throw.

When Grom was defeated at the foot of the Alterac Mountains, Go'el and Orgrim set out together for Southshore to verify the first step of the mysterious person's instructions.

As it turned out, they actually saw large Kul Tiras merchant ships docking and unloading cargo outside Southshore.

The subsequent development was simple. The Orcs, with nowhere to go after their defeat, forcibly stormed Southshore, blocked the counterattack of the human army, and headed straight for the port.

After some discussion, Orgrim and Go'el decided to give up on traveling to the Night Elf homeland and instead chose the sparsely populated continent of Northrend.

Although the arctic continent was far from the center of Azerothian civilization, what the Orcs needed most right now was not recognition from the various races of Azeroth, but to find a base of operations and stubbornly survive.

Only by surviving first could they place new hopes in the future.

The Orcs' seafaring skills were very poor; their only relevant knowledge had been learned from some money-grubbing little green dwarves.

Fortunately, the Kul Tiras merchant ships had just returned from Northrend, and the ships still carried detailed sea charts, compasses, sextants, and other navigational aids.

At this time, Lordaeron was overwhelmed by the large-scale spread of the plague, Alterac couldn't wait to send these 'plague gods' away, and Kul Tiras was slow to react due to turmoil in their homeland.

By the time Daelin was preparing to send a fleet in pursuit in a fit of rage, the Orcs' makeshift troop transport ships had already sailed through the wind and waves to the vicinity of Northrend.

According to the mysterious person's hint, the Borean Tundra was located at the southwest corner of the Northrend continent, while the route set by the Kul Tiras merchant ships led to Valgarde in the Howling Fjord.

When the Northrend continent was within sight, Go'el ordered the fleet to turn west, sailing in a parallel line far from the coast.

Go'el's caution allowed them to avoid the surveillance of the Night Elf Republic located at the Moonlight Garden and successfully land in the Borean Tundra.

Sailing from Dragonblight, Orgrim once thought he had been deceived when he saw the icy, snowy scene in the eastern part of the tundra, until they entered the western half of the Borean Tundra and things finally took a turn for the better.

Although the permafrost here was hard and not very suitable for agrarian peoples, it was more than enough for the pastoralist Orcs.

Near the landing site, the Orcs discovered some northern mountain goats covered in thick fur, proving that animals existed in the Borean Tundra.

Although they still didn't know who the mysterious person was, it now appeared that the information he provided was true. Go'el and Orgrim began to acknowledge his goodwill, though Grom still stubbornly believed there was a hidden conspiracy.

Looking at the Blue Dragons overhead, which clearly had an air of surveillance, Go'el sighed worriedly, "I don't know if being neighbors with these Blue Dragons is good or bad."

"Inform the members of all clans not to provoke the Blue Dragons recklessly and to avoid their activity areas as much as possible."

"Have the beastmasters try to capture and domesticate local wildlife to ensure food supplies. Everyone must work together to build a new home for the Orcs."

...The Orcs who landed in the Borean Tundra were still completely ignorant of the distribution of power in Northrend; having just settled down, their scouts had not yet finished exploring this vast frozen land.

Although DrekThar could sense that the underground structure of the Borean Tundra was quite peculiar through his perception of earth elements, he had never dealt with underground-dwelling races before and didn't consider that possibility at all.

Ner'zhul's secret surveillance had not yet been exposed, and he continued to secretly observe the process of the Orcs establishing their new home.

Including the Frost Trolls and Vrykul, scouts sent by many indigenous Northrend races had detected the anomalies in the Borean Tundra.

Before confirming the background of these new neighbors, the major powers of Northrend maintained restraint, observing the Orcs' habits from a distance.

Temporarily free from the influence of demon blood, the Orcs appeared relatively peaceful as they worked diligently to establish their brand-new base.

After confirming that the Blue Dragons lived on a large independent island off the northwest coast of the Borean Tundra, Go'el, Orgrim, and the others decided after some discussion to build their capital on the permafrost plains near the southwest coast.

To commemorate his father who died young, Go'el, after consulting with Orgrim, DrekThar, and others, named this yet-to-be-formed city Durotar... While the human nations were busy with their own internal problems and had no time to look north, the Orcs gradually gained a firm foothold in the Borean Tundra.

Compared to the human nations trapped by the spread of the plague and zombies, the Night Elves far away in Kalimdor could spare more energy to focus on Northrend.

Upon returning to Astranaar, Andreas immediately began processing the intelligence gathered from all over Azeroth.

Tyrande, as was her custom, mocked Andreas for his habit of running around everywhere, but the members of the High Council, including Andreas, were long accustomed to it, and they treated her complaints and jabs as if they hadn't heard them.

The situation in Quel'Thalas indeed harbored hidden dangers. After rushing back to Astranaar, Andreas immediately summoned ambassador Vereesa publicly and told her his concerns and speculations.

The Scourge and the plague were the most popular topics in the Eastern Kingdoms today. Upon learning that the noble faction might be in collusion with The Scourge, Vereesa and Luminous immediately began contacting their home country in a hurry.

As long as precautions were taken in advance, it wouldn't be so easy for The Scourge to snowball by taking them by surprise.

Although the disaster of the undead and the plague was a major headache for the human nations, aside from Lordaeron, which was in deep trouble after two major cities were destroyed, the impact on other countries was not yet too severe.

The Kingdom of Alterac breathed a sigh of relief for finally driving away the Orcs. Although many goods brought back from Northrend were stolen or damaged by the Orcs, the wealthy Barov royal family could barely accept it as an exchange for the Orcs' departure.

As one of the main outbreak sites of the plague, Andorhal's spread of the plague was not too severe thanks to the fire set by Arthas.

King Alex built strict checkpoints along the Icecrown front, and anyone coming from the north had to undergo rigorous inspection to prevent Lordaeron's plague from flowing into the country.

Meanwhile, Terenas was overwhelmed cleaning up Arthas' mess.

Although Arthas' two fires slowed the spread of the plague in Stratholme and Andorhal, the massive loss of population and resources in these two important cities was very painful for Terenas.

Lordaeron, as the country with the strongest overall national strength among humans, had a total population of about 5 million.

Among them, the two large cities of Andorhal and Stratholme together accounted for about one-tenth of the total population.

While a single plague wouldn't necessarily cause Lordaeron to face national destruction, it would inevitably be a crippling blow.

Having lost the military and economic hub of Stratholme, Lordaeron's control over the Eastern Wilds was declining sharply.

The wilderness of the Eastern Wilds was filled with the plague that had not yet been completely eradicated and rampaging zombies. Bandits and refugees also appeared in endless streams, and the stable social order was gradually collapsing.

Many people could not stand this precarious life and fled their homes to seek refuge in the safest fortresses in the Eastern Wilds.

These included Lights Hope Chapel, where a large number of priests were stationed, and Tyrs Hand, which served as the headquarters of The Knights of the Silver Hand.

At the same time, some lords in the Eastern Wilds also developed ideas they shouldn't have due to the collapse of social order.

They quietly began to hoard grain and recruit refugees, selecting strong men from among them to join the army. Under the guise of protecting their territories, they blatantly expanded their private armies.

Among this group of lords rising with the tide, Andreas heard a familiar name.

The Lord of Blackwood, Baron Othmar Garithos.

Garithos was a figure who had left a significant mark in Andreas' records.

However, the Garithos recorded in those notes was a Grand Marshal commanding the survivors of Lordaeron, which clearly did not match his current lowly status as a Baron.

Heroes emerge in troubled times. Regardless of what happened during the collapse of Lordaeron in the original history, the fact that Garithos could rise to prominence within the ruined Kingdom of Lordaeron proved his ability and ambition.

Andreas raised the priority of intelligence on Garithos and instructed Prisim to divert more scouts in the Eastern Wilds to monitor him, reporting any unusual circumstances immediately.

The great fire in Stratholme had incinerated a large number of low-level zombies raised by MalGanis, but many stragglers remained in the surrounding satellite towns.

Currently, the priests of Lights Hope Chapel and the paladins of Tyrs Hand were making steady advances, preparing to reclaim the ruins of Stratholme from the scattered undead.

However, Baron Rivendare, who had been missing until now, suddenly appeared, bringing with him a legion of massive undead giants.

Baron Rivendare unexpectedly occupied the ruins of Stratholme and blew up the shortcut along the Sodrial River leading to the Western Wilds, blocking the Silver Hand's army outside the city's eastern defensive line.

Because The Knights of the Silver Hand had been ordered disbanded by Arthas, even though Terenas knew the order was unreasonable, he could not immediately countermand it to protect his son's authority as the Crown Prince.

Currently, the Silver Hand's official organization had not yet been restored, but Terenas gave a verbal assurance to Uther, the Grand Knight of the Order, that he would convince Arthas as soon as possible.

Because the Eastern Wilds were too far from the Capital City of Lordaeron, and coupled with the mess in Andorhal, the security of the Eastern Wilds could only be temporarily left to local lords and The Knights of the Silver Hand.

Terenas' direct forces were racing against time to purify the plague in the Western Wilds, striving to rebuild the ruins of Andorhal as soon as possible.

"That's roughly the situation in the northern part of the Eastern Kingdoms."

Maiev continued, turning a page of the intelligence dossier. "The north is a mess, but the south is relatively calm."

"Khaz Modan and Gnomeregan are busy fending off the incursions of the Dark Iron Dwarves in The Barrens."

"The Kingdom of Stormwind is being attacked from both the north and the south simultaneously. The Thunderlord Clan in the Blasted Lands and the Blackrock Clan in the Burning Steppes seem to have established contact long ago, launching their attacks on the Kingdom of Stormwind almost at the same time."

The Kingdom of Stormwind had developed peacefully for ten years. Under the diligent governance of King Llane and Lothar—one handling civil affairs and the other military—the nation's strength was flourishing.

Even while facing attacks on two fronts, they handled the situation with ease.

Prince Varian, raised by Llane and Lothar, had reached adulthood. On the northern front, where they fought the Blackrock Orcs in the Redridge Mountains, he personally led the army into battle.

The battle against the Thunderlord Clan at the southern Keep was left to Gavinrad, one of the original five knights.

The increasingly elderly Lothar could no longer take to the battlefield, but as the pillar of the nation, he sat in the center and commanded with composure. The orcs attacking from both sides had yet to gain an inch of ground.

The Blackrock Orcs occupying Blackrock Spire were not actually the true Blackrock Clan under Orgrim, but rather evolved from the Blacktooth Clan led by Rend Blackhand.

After Orgrim's defeat, Rend, who had escaped capture, declared himself the true heir to the Horde. He gathered wandering orc remnants from all over, attempting to restore the former glory of the Blackhand family.

However, Rend lacked the powerful strength and charismatic personality of his father. As seen from the attitudes of Grom and Fenris, they did not take this brat seriously at all.

Go'el had previously issued several summons to Rend, but Rend, who had crowned himself Warchief, ignored them entirely. He even executed the messengers Go'el sent, cursing his New Horde as a bunch of cowards.

Although Fenris of the Thunderlord Clan looked down on Rend's abilities, he somewhat approved of his defiant stance.

After Rend reached out, Fenris agreed to attack Stormwind City alongside the Blackrock Clan, attempting to recreate the battlefield conditions of the First War.

Times had changed. The current Kingdom of Stormwind was no longer the hollow shell of a nation it once was, held hostage by its nobility.

After experiencing the tragedy of their nation's destruction, the nobles of the Kingdom of Stormwind had lost the arrogance they once had when they dared to berate the king to his face.

Under King Llane's shrewd methods of division and persuasion, most of the nobility now clung tightly to the House of Wrynn.

In contrast, after the effects of the demon blood wore off, the orcs' combat effectiveness plummeted. The balance of power between the two sides had completely reversed.

If the Gurubashi Trolls hadn't seen an opportunity and invaded Duskwood from Stranglethorn Vale, the orcs' two fronts would have been crushed long ago.

Although the Kingdom of Stormwind held the initiative in the war, they were unable to send reinforcements to the chaotic situation in the north under these circumstances.

Andreas saw some clues in the actions of the Dark Iron Dwarves and the Blackrock Orcs; he suspected the handiwork of Ragnaros the Firelord and the Old Gods behind this.

For the Old Gods, the more chaotic the world, the better they could fish in troubled waters. The chaos in the northern Eastern Kingdoms suited their desires perfectly, and they couldn't allow the Kingdom of Stormwind, the dwarves, or the Gnomes to have a free hand to aid the north.

Such was the state of the Eastern Kingdoms: the north was a mess, and while the south was relatively stable, they could not spare any personnel to support the north.

After Maiev finished her report, Andreas turned to the supreme military leader of the Night Elf Republic.

"Garrosh, how is the training of our army progressing?"

Garrosh replied solemnly, "Lacking the test of actual combat, I cannot say they have the proficiency of ten thousand years ago, but they should be more than enough to handle the undead."

Ten thousand years ago, the Night Elves' enemies were the incomparably powerful Burning Legion. The undead could not compare to demons in terms of combat strength.

"Very well. Be ready for war at any time."

Andreas said gravely, "The ten years of peace have ended. With the rise of the Lich King as the fuse, Azeroth has fallen into turmoil once again."

"The shadow of the Burning Legion's surreptitious activities lurks behind the Lich King. We cannot be careless with this powerful old rival; we must always be prepared for the outbreak of a total war."

"Maiev, I'll leave the interrogation of MalGanis to you. Dig out all the secrets he holds, but be careful not to kill him."

"Heh heh~"

Maiev, who usually kept a stiff face, rarely showed a smile, but her cold laughter made Garrosh instinctively shudder.

Placing the helmet from the table onto her head, Maiev stood up with vigorous efficiency and walked out.

"Leave it to me. When it comes to interrogation, the Wardens are professionals."

"Eek~"

Once Maiev had left the council chamber, Garrosh rubbed the goosebumps on his arms. "I haven't seen my sister this excited in a long time. I hope that unlucky Dreadlord can hold out for a while."

Andreas glanced at Garrosh. This guy never dared to talk back in front of Maiev and could only make comments in private.

"Next is the top priority: the handling of the orcs in Northrend and the Undead Scourge."

Andreas tapped the table lightly to draw everyone's attention. "The Lich King's plan to lure Arthas has a very strong sense of purpose. Whatever he is plotting, we must do our best to disrupt his plans."

"For the coming period, I will be stationed in Suramar. Mentor, High Priestess, I'll leave the central coordination of Astranaar to you."

Malfurion stroked his beard and nodded. "No problem. However, considering the issues in the Emerald Dream, I may not be able to stay in the Material World for long. Should an emergency arise, Fandral will take my place as usual."

As the situation in Northrend gradually heated up, Suramar became the front-line base where the Night Elves coordinated intelligence from all parties.

When Andreas arrived at Suramar, Governor Rodick immediately presented him with the latest intelligence regarding the various factions.

Centered in their new capital, Durotar, the Orcs slowly expanded their sphere of influence outward, first making contact with the local Taunka and Tuskarr.

The style of the Orcs under Go'el's leadership differed significantly from before; he strictly enforced the military discipline advocated by humans upon the nascent Horde.

The Orcs were very restrained during their initial contact with the Tuskarr and the Taunka.

The Taunka were peace-loving and did not intend to ally with any race, maintaining a completely neutral stance; they would not resort to force unless absolutely necessary.

The Tuskarr were very friendly and helpful. When Go'el proactively extended goodwill, they welcomed him with smiles.

Through communication with these two native Northrend races, Go'el gained a preliminary understanding of this Arctic continent.

Just as Go'el had predicted, the largest power in Borean Tundra was not the Mortal races, but the Blue Dragon residing on Crystalsong Forest Isle.

However, according to the Tuskarr, the Blue Dragon were relatively friendly toward Mortals among the five dragonflights. As long as they were not provoked, the Blue Dragon would not attack the local indigenous people without reason.

Aside from Wintergrasp, which was surrounded by mountains and long considered an exclusive territory by the Night Elves, Borean Tundra only had two directly adjacent landmasses.

Dragonblight to the east has been the dragons' station for tens of thousands of years. Without the dragons' recognition, no one is allowed to enter and settle in this desolate snowfield.

Trespassers, once discovered, would face merciless, devastating strikes from the dragons.

Although Sholazar Basin in the northern tundra is home to many strange and powerful beasts, the climate here is the most suitable for habitation on the Northrend continent.

Unfortunately, Sholazar Basin was marked by the Night Elves thousands of years ago, and Druids are stationed there year-round conducting ecological research.

As the Warchief of the Horde, Go'el naturally had to consider the future of the Orcs.

Dragonblight to the east was a forbidden zone, making expansion in that direction impossible.

Although Sholazar Basin was designated as Night Elves territory, according to the Tuskarr and the Taunka, they seemed to have no intention of developing this pristine, garden-like area.

Go'el did not want to provoke the powerful Night Elves, but the territory available in Borean Tundra was ultimately limited.

After the Tuskarr and the Taunka took a portion of the land, given the Orcs' piglet-like birth rate, they would eventually face the problem of external expansion.

Whether to offend the dragons or the Night Elves, the choice did not even require careful thought.

Although the Night Elves were powerful, they were still one of the many Mortal races and should not be so strong as to be unbeatable.

Dragons were different. These behemoths, known as the Keepers of Azeroth, not only possessed high intelligence but also terrifying inherent strength. Once provoked, the Orcs would likely face the danger of annihilation.

"Sholazar Basin, huh..."

Having obtained sufficient intelligence, Go'el thoughtfully began returning to Durotar City. He needed to discuss the future development route with DrekThar and Orgrim.

Just then, a dark figure hiding behind the hills suddenly rushed out, his cold, gleaming dagger aimed directly at the distracted Go'el.

"Warchief, look out!"

An old Orc, whose hair and beard were white, shouted loudly as he shielded Go'el. His heavy axe deftly knocked the assassin's dagger into the air, and the powerful momentum sent the assassin flying away.

The assassin, having lost balance, flipped agilely in mid-air, steadying his center of gravity upon landing.

The assassin's face was covered by a mask, making his appearance unclear, but Go'el's personal guard judged the attacker's race based on his physique.

"Human! Why are you attacking us?"

"Hmph! A foolish question."

The assassin, identified as human, sneered in a hoarse voice, "Do I need to list everything the Orcs have done to this world? How dare you, you brutal and shameless invaders, ask why."

"You!"

The old Orc guard's eyes widened, but he was unable to refute the claim, as he had participated in the Old Horde's wars of aggression.

"Broxigar, stand down."

Go'el waved his personal guard away and stepped forward openly.

"Human, I am the new Warchief of the Horde, Go'el of the Frostwolf Clan."

Go'el explained sincerely, "The Horde has abandoned the idea of conquering Azeroth by force. Having lost our homeland, we wish to integrate into this new world and protect her safety alongside other races, not harm her."

The assassin's eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you think I would believe your nonsense? A mere ten years is not enough time for us to forget the painful lessons of the past."

"However..."

The assassin's figure slowly vanished. "Young Warchief, if you genuinely intend to protect Azeroth, then head east into Dragonblight. Only by gaining the recognition of the Aspects can the crimes the Orcs committed against Azeroth possibly be forgiven."

Broxigar cautiously sensed the movements around him, only letting out a long sigh of relief after a long while.

"Warchief, he has left."

"Hmm."

Go'el thoughtfully turned his head toward the snowfield to the east. "The recognition of the Aspects?"

... At the same time, the Lordaeron army that landed on the southern shore of Dragonblight finally adapted to the cold snowfield. A few days prior, Scouts had discovered traces of the Undead not far north of the landing site.

Arthas led his fleet to land on the southeastern corner of Dragonblight, a desolate beach.

After discovering the traces of the Undead, Arthas, eager for revenge, immediately commanded his entire army northward, following the clues along the eastern side of the mountain range.

Ner'zhul's chosen route of enticement was cunning. Due to a continuous mountain range barrier, the dragons rarely flew to the remote eastern part of the snowfield.

Arthas' army defeated several small detachments of Undead along the way, and without realizing it, he was led toward the northeastern part of Dragonblight.

At the same time, the previously dormant Undead Nerubians suddenly intensified their underground attack on the northern walls of Ankhet.

At Anub'Rekhan's request for aid, Navaz, who was in charge of the underground battlefield, once again dispatched the troops resting in Moonlight Garden to the front line, weakening the surveillance of western Dragonblight.

After a discussion, Go'el and Orgrim decided to personally go and meet the Aspects.

A small squad of elite Orcs, personally led by Go'el and Orgrim, openly entered western Dragonblight. After a brief rest in the Taunka's Ice Mist Village, they continued eastward.

To the west, not far from the Ruby Dragon Shrine, Go'el's squad was suddenly ambushed by unknown enemies. Being outnumbered, they fought and retreated, hiding beneath a large glacial fissure in the snowfield.

By the time Andreas received the news from Prisim, Go'el's forces had already emerged from the north side of the fissure, successfully evading surveillance from the Ruby Shrine and the Obsidian Sanctum, and encountered the Lordaeron army led by Arthas near the Crystal Scar leading to Moonglade Forest.

"Heh~"

Andreas, presiding over Suramar, sneered, "Ner'zhul, you went through such trouble planning routes for the humans and the Orcs. You must be exhausted."

At this moment, Suramar was under a sudden attack by a joint force of demons and Undead. Large numbers of Gargoyles and low-ranking Dreadlord flew out from the cliffs northwest of Moonglade Forest, launching relentless attacks outside Suramar's barrier, clearly intending to tie down Suramar's army.

Shandris was commanding the Sentinels' Hippogryph Rider and archers to fight back, but the enemy's human wave tactic was difficult to repel quickly.

Andreas understood his meaning: he wanted to use a 'raising venomous insects' method to make Arthas and Go'el fight each other, and the victor would be chosen as his physical vessel.

"Your calculation is quite loud, but do you think this is enough to trap us?"

Only ten years had passed since the great war between humans and Orcs. While ten years was not a short time for humans, it was not long enough for them to quickly forget their past trauma.

Most of the veterans who participated in the Orc War had become low-ranking officers in the army. Seeing the Orcs dare to chase them all the way to Northrend to cause trouble, these old soldiers who had once cracked Orc skulls face-to-face immediately became highly motivated for battle.

During the Orc War, Arthas was only a boy around ten years old. Unlike Varian, who suffered the tragic experience of his kingdom being destroyed, Arthas somewhat lacked empathy regarding the danger posed by the Orcs.

However, Andreas had previously revealed the identity of the Lich King, Ner'zhul, to him. Seeing the Orcs actively charging forward, Arthas, whose mind was filled with hatred, had his eyes turn crimson.

"Is that so? So that's how it is."

Arthas gritted his teeth and sneered, "What independent Lich King? In the end, it's just another Orc trick."

Raising the Warhammer in his hand, Arthas roared loudly, "Soldiers! We have fallen into the enemy's trap! The despicable Orcs controlled the Undead to scheme against us; they want to provoke another great war!"

During the Second War, the Orcs did use Undead creatures like Death Knights. Most of the veterans still remembered the despair of being surrounded by the zombies of their resurrected comrades, and Arthas' words quickly won their approval.

"Do you want to surrender? Surrender to those brutal and shameless Orcs?!"

"Never!"

"Excellent!"

Arthas mounted his beloved steed, Invincible, and waved his Warhammer forward, shouting encouragement, "Then cast aside all distracting thoughts and charge with me! In this battle, there is no retreat! Kill!"

"Kill!"

Go'el's side had originally intended to negotiate peace with the humans, but the opposing side, relying on their superior numbers, suddenly launched an attack. Go'el and Orgrim could only passively command their elite subordinates to counterattack.

"What's going on?"

Orgrim looked at the group of red-eyed humans in confusion. "That's the banner of Lordaeron. They aren't Alterac, so why are they so hostile toward us?"

Go'el sighed, "There's no point in discussing this now. Let's just figure out how to survive first."

Arthas' army had greater numbers and high morale, and shortly after the battle began, they started pushing back the Orc forces.

Although Go'el had brought fewer soldiers this time, every one of them was an elite veteran of many battles. Under the effect of Shaman Spells, they had temporarily shaken off the influence of the demon blood, and for the time being, the outcome of the clash seemed undecided.

"Boom!"

Just as the humans and Orcs were locked in combat over new and old grievances, a collapse suddenly occurred beneath the Crystal Fissure, and countless Undead Nerubians crawled out from underground, simultaneously attacking both sides of the battle.

The sudden sneak attack completely separated the two armies' battle lines, dividing them into many small battlefields.

The human side had long considered the Undead and the Orcs to be allied. Although they suffered a surprise attack, their battle-crazed minds led them to attack the Undead without hesitation as well.

The Orcs were relatively confused; for a moment, they couldn't tell whether the Undead Nerubians were human reinforcements or not.

"These bugs..."

Orgrim had personally commanded Death Knights during the Second War. Although the appearance of Death Knights and Undead Nerubians was vastly different, the principles driving them were almost identical. Orgrim recognized some familiar patterns in this technique.

'Go'el? Impossible, he is already dead. Who exactly is controlling these Undead from behind the scenes?'

Having lost an arm near the end of the Second War, coupled with age and declining health, Orgrim's fighting strength was significantly reduced.

Initially, he and Broxigar were guarding Go'el, but due to the Undead Nerubians' repeated attempts to cut off forces, most of the people were deliberately separated by these bugs.

Under Ner'zhul's specific arrangement, Arthas and Go'el finally met face-to-face.

Go'el, riding on the Frostwolf, frowned as he looked at the young human general opposite him, whose face was filled with hatred.

"General of Lordaeron, we bear no ill will. Why are you attacking us?"

"Enough nonsense! Despicable Orcs all deserve to die!"

Arthas urged Invincible forward toward Go'el, swinging his two-handed Warhammer, Vengeance of the Holy Light, straight down upon Go'el.

"Clang!"

Go'el was not a purely Shaman. His close combat abilities had been personally trained by Orgrim, and he was no weaker than a warrior of the Frostwolf Clan.

The doomhammer swung upward with force, blocking Arthas' charging attack.

Go'el calmly pleaded, "Stop fighting. I don't want to fight this meaningless battle with you. We are only..."

"How dare you try to argue!"

Arthas relentlessly roared, "Ner'zhul harmed my homeland with the Plague and set up an ambush for us with the Undead and Orcs in Northrend! Do you dare claim you have no connection to these events?"

"Ner'zhul?"

Go'el paused. He had heard that name from Orgrim and DrekThar.

Ner'zhul was once the spiritual leader of all Shamans, deeply recognized by the elements of Draenor. When the various Orc Clans first gathered, he showed signs of becoming the first Warchief.

But due to Go'el's schemes and tricks, Ner'zhul's dealings with demons were exposed, leading to his ruin and disgrace.

It is said that after the Second Orc War concluded, Ner'zhul sent people to invade Azeroth again, stealing three Artifacts. Following the explosion of Draenor, Ner'zhul had vanished without a trace.

'Ner'zhul is still alive? Then what about the Orc brethren on Draenor...'

Arthas took Go'el's momentary lapse of concentration as proof that he had no counter-argument, and he swung his Warhammer in a fit of greater rage.

The Holy Light is an energy that refines personal conviction, and Arthas' extreme, obsessive conviction was also a form of belief.

The Holy Light on his Warhammer was incredibly fierce at this moment, and Go'el felt the force exerted upon the doomhammer growing heavier with every blow.

From Arthas' almost insane gaze, it was clear that his mental state was unstable. Go'el sighed softly.

'There's no choice. I must find a way to subdue him first.'

"Earth, heed my call!"

Using the power of the Earth Elemental to reinforce his Warhammer, the battle-ready Go'el let out a loud Battle Cry and fought Arthas in earnest for the first time.

Ner'zhul, who was observing from behind the scenes, had been somewhat disappointed in Go'el; the Warchief's performance had not met his expectations.

But when Go'el cast aside all reservations and dedicated himself completely to the fight, Ner'zhul's spirit entered an unprecedented state of excitement. The battle he had been anticipating had finally begun in earnest.

"Clang! Clang!"

The dull sound of Warhammers clashing echoed across the snowfield. The fierce collision between the Holy Light and Elemental Power melted the surrounding ice and snow, and many people on the battlefield turned their attention to this Leaders' Duel.

"Die, Orc!"

Arthas was covered in flashing Holy Light, and his Warhammer, now completely golden, collided once more during the charge with Go'el's doomhammer, which was infused with the Earth Elemental.

"Awooo!"

The immense downward force put Go'el's mount, under tremendous pressure. Facing a life threat, he turned ferocious and bit down on the neck of Arthas' warhorse, Invincible.

"Neigh!"

The pained Invincible struggled to shake its neck, disrupting Arthas' posture of attack. He could only temporarily retreat to tend to the injured Invincible.

"A chance!"

Go'el urged the heavily panting wolf to muster its remaining strength and charge.

"Fire, Earth, Flowing Water, and Gale Wind, grant me the strength to defeat this powerful enemy!"

Four-colored lights spun around the doomhammer, gradually merging into this Warhammer passed down from Orgrim.

"Human, let me knock some sense into you!"

"Hah!"

The enormously powerful blow smashed the hastily blocking Arthas off Invincible's back. Invincible, anxious to protect its master, raised its two front legs and heavily kicked the frostwolf, forcing the Frostwolf and Go'el to retreat before turning to chase after Arthas.

"Hoo~"

Gathering the Four Elements simultaneously was a considerable burden for the young Go'el. He had no intention of chasing after Arthas to finish him off, choosing instead to remain in place with him and regulate his breathing.

Arthas, who had been thrown back by the fierce force, felt all his muscles throbbing. He struggled to prop himself up and tried to climb off the snowfield.

"It's not over yet! I won't surrender just like this!"

"Give up, you stubborn fool. Haven't you realized you've fallen into a trap?"

A familiar voice reached Arthas' ears. Go'el, who had just finished regulating his breath, also looked gravely at the stranger who had appeared floating above the battlefield.

"A Night Elf?"

Far away at the Frozen Throne, Ner'zhul almost cursed out loud, "Why is this guy appearing here?!"

"Tichondrius! Didn't you say you would send demons to hold back the Night Elves of Suramar!"

"Hmph~"

Standing beside the massive block of ice, Tichondrius gave a cold snort. "That's right, I did promise you I'd hold back the defenders of Suramar, but do you really think ordinary demons can stop that powerful demigod?"

"Don't play word games with me!"

Ner'zhul questioned in annoyance, "What about the high-ranking Nathrezim under your command? Why didn't you have them step up!"

Tichondrius' originally playful expression turned somber. "Ner'zhul, you'd better understand one thing first."

"We are guest generals sent by Lord Kiljaeden to assist you in forming the Scourge, not your subordinates."

"Every high-ranking Nathrezim is a precious asset with their own assigned tasks to complete. We have no obligation to die here for your boring schemes."

"And taking a step back..." Tichondrius sneered. "I don't think relying on the Nathrezim under my command could stop him anyway. Since it would be a futile effort, why should I sacrifice my people to help you achieve your goals?"

"Don't you still have the trump card Anubarak? Why not bring him out and use him?"

"You!"

Although Ner'zhul had long since made up his mind to escape the control of the Burning Legion, the currently fledging Lich King still could not break away from the assistance of the demons.

He indeed wanted to use this opportunity to get rid of the monitors under Tichondrius, but the other party's level of shamelessness exceeded Ner'zhul's expectations.

Tichondrius said with a half-smile, "Instead of thinking about how to get rid of our surveillance, you'd be better off thinking about how to face Lord Kiljaeden's wrath if the plan fails."

From the very beginning, Ner'zhul's plan held ill intentions toward the Dreadlords. It was precisely because he made sacrificing the Dreadlords a part of the plan that the situation spiraled out of control.

Although he was extremely frustrated, Ner'zhul, who didn't even have a body at this point, could not completely break with the other party.

"...Anubarak."

"My lord, I am here."

Ner'zhul suppressed his inner anger and ordered in as calm a tone as possible, "Set out immediately. Bypass Moonglade Forest through the ZulDrak underground and head to the designated location. Retrieve the target from the cave and deliver it to both their camps separately under the cover of night."

Ner'zhul snorted coldly. "Since the plan to have them slaughter each other didn't work, I want to see which of them can resist the temptation of a powerful artifact."

...The location where Arthas and Thrall fought was behind the mountains north of the Bronze Dragon Shrine, near the eastern end of the Crystal Vice.

The glacial fissures spread across Dragonblight are said to have been left behind when Tyr led five Proto-Dragon leaders to battle Galakrond. The passage of ten million years has not smoothed over the scars left on the earth.

Although Andreas didn't dare to be one hundred percent certain, he vaguely remembered that the cave where Ner'zhul hid frostmourne seemed to be nearby, so it was easy to guess what that guy was planning.

Arthas had overextended his physical strength in the previous battle. After leaving the battlefield, his accumulated fatigue hit him all at once. He struggled for a long while but was unable to stand up from the snowy plains.

Andreas waved his hand and summoned a gentle wind, lifting Arthas up from the ground.

With his legs trembling, Arthas managed to climb onto the back of the loyal Invincible with the help of the breeze, barely managing to seat himself in the saddle.

Losing to a young orc brought a resentment and humiliation to Arthas' heart that was beyond words, but he still had to maintain his composure in front of outsiders.

"Thank you for your help again, Speaker Moonshadow."

Arthas' voice was somewhat raspy from his extreme weakness. "Where are those orcs?"

"They've retreated."

Andreas shrugged and said, "The opposing commander is Orgrim, a shrewd orc who knows when to advance and when to retreat."

"Seeing the Undead Nerubians flee into the tunnels, Orgrim decisively ordered a full retreat the moment your soldiers paused to observe the situation. It's no longer possible to catch up with them now."

"Is that so..."

Arthas gave a perfunctory response with a flat expression. Then, under the worried gazes of his two personal attendants, he urged Invincible back to the camp with an emotionless face.

'He's a bit too calm; that actually makes me more worried about his psychological state.'

Andreas shook his head. 'Forget it, I'll deal with the important business first.'

Andreas had previously sent people to search the Dragonblight area, looking through all the caves without finding any trace of frostmourne. Ner'zhul probably hadn't sent the sword over yet.

But it was different now. Since he had openly lured Go'el and Arthas here, it proved that frostmourne had been delivered.

Not far to the north of the battlefield where the orcs and humans had fought, Andreas discovered a suspicious cave.

However, when he entered the cave to search, he found nothing. Instead, he discovered a deep, dark opening leading underground.

"Their reaction speed is quite fast. Has a high-ranking Undead Nerubian already been here?"

Andreas pondered while stroking his chin. "An emergency recovery of frostmourne... Ner'zhul's next step..."

"Oh no!"

Recalling Arthas' eerily calm state from before, Andreas immediately turned and left the cave, flying toward the Lordaeron army's camp in the direction of their retreat.

When he saw Arthas again, Andreas breathed a sigh of relief. The prince still had the two-handed warhammer Light's Vengeance on his back. Compared to his previous forced calm, his current dejected appearance actually felt much more real to Andreas.

'Since it's not on Arthas' side...'

Ordering the scouts to keep a close watch on the human camp and report any unusual movement immediately, Andreas rushed toward the direction of the orcs' retreat without stopping.

To Andreas' surprise, the orcs were not hiding or fleeing in all directions. Instead, they were heading south openly along the long-ruined Path of the Titans, all the way toward the Wyrmrest Temple.

"That's not right."

He watched as the orcs entered the Wyrmrest Temple under the vigilant eyes of the dragons. No matter how powerful a Nerubian was, it would be impossible to sneak into the vicinity of the Wyrmrest Temple, and it would also be impossible for Go'el to enter with frostmourne without being noticed.

"Is Arthas putting on an act?"

Thinking of this possibility, Andreas felt like he'd been played.

"Kid, your damn talent points are in the wrong place!"

By the time Andreas received the urgent notice from the scouts and turned back to the human camp, Arthas had already vanished, leaving the soldiers in the camp searching for the prince's whereabouts in a panic.

The scout, feeling that he had blundered his mission, asked tremblingly, "Speaker, should we continue the search?"

"No need."

Andreas sighed. "Don't blame yourself. This isn't your fault; it's just destiny."

Looking at the deep hole leading underground inside Arthas' tent, Andreas said helplessly, "Since he is determined to walk down a path to ruin, what can we outsiders say? Let's go back and get ready."

Andreas pushed aside his frustration and said calmly, "Before the Lich King completely takes control of Arthas, dispatch all forces in Northrend to launch a general offensive against the Frozen Throne."

Andreas always believed that a person's character fundamentally determines their path in life.

Some people are born cautious; such people may rarely have highlight moments in their lives, but at least they won't easily step on landmines and can live a smooth, stable life.

Others are keen on adventure... or rather, seeking death. They enjoy the thrill of walking the line between life and death, often jumping back and forth on the edge of crisis seeking excitement and unexpected gains.

Arthas was undoubtedly the latter type. He liked the gambling thrill of 'betting it all for a big win,' and he was gambling with his future life.

As the Crown Prince of Lordaeron and future King, Arthas, who had received an elite education since childhood, was definitely not stupid. Even under heavy blows, he still maintained basic rationality.

The sword that suddenly appeared before his eyes instinctively made him suspect a conspiracy.

This exquisite one-handed sword radiating waves of cold air couldn't have appeared out of thin air. Arthas immediately planned to search his tent.

Before Arthas could act, a faint whisper suddenly broke into his mind.

"Who's speaking?"

Griping his warhammer tightly, Arthas warily observed his surroundings, eventually fixing his gaze on that eerie sword.

The eyes of the demonic skull at the hilt flickered with a cold, ghostly blue light. Arthas unconsciously took two steps toward the sword stuck in the ground.

"Revenge... take me up, and you shall have... peerless power."

Intermittent whispers came from the sword. Arthas pursed his lips, falling into hesitation.

Judging by the education he had received for years, the sword before him should be a cursed blade capable of bewitching the mind.

But whether in novels or historical records, although cursed blades were described as dangerous and difficult to control, there was no doubt that every weapon named 'demonic' possessed incredibly powerful strength.

And power was exactly what Arthas needed right now.

Having been toyed with by Kel'Thuzad and MalGanis, witnessing the Speaker Moonshadow's unreasonably terrifying strength, and then losing to a young Orc today—Arthas, who had never been obsessed with power before, craved to become stronger like never before.

The accumulation of power is a gradual process; even for a genius, it can at most shorten the time to reach the peak, not allow one to instantly jump to level 120 with one click.

The cursed blade before him was undoubtedly a shortcut for Arthas to quickly gain greater power, provided he could control its overwhelming strength and not have his sanity consumed by its temptation.

After long consideration, Arthas finally decided to step forward and pull out the sword, but Speaker Moonshadow happened to visit at that moment.

Arthas hastily covered the cursed blade with his thick fur cloak, and the powerful energy overflowing from the sword was also completely retracted under the control of an unknown existence.

Speaker Moonshadow seemed to be in a hurry to find something. After observing that everything was normal with Arthas, he hurriedly set off again.

As soon as Andreas left, to avoid further complications, Arthas decisively pulled the cursed blade from the ground. The previously intermittent whispers instantly became incredibly clear.

"Well done, Prince of Lordaeron."

"You have chosen a correct path filled with thorns. Now, please listen patiently to my explanation; I will explain to you the impending doom facing Azeroth."

...The soldiers of Lordaeron ultimately failed to find any trace of Prince Arthas.

Except for Arthas' personal guard, who stubbornly decided to stay in Northrend to continue the search, most of the soldiers chose to obey King Terenas' recall order and began the return voyage on the ships they came in.

Andreas no longer cared about Lordaeron's actions. Since Arthas insisted on seeking his own death, Andreas had no obligation to be responsible for his life.

But Arthas' fall meant that Ner'zhul had gained an excellent pawn. If he were allowed to continue expanding his influence, the situation in Northrend could undergo a major, irreversible shift.

Andreas decided to 'adjust' Ner'zhul's military forces before Arthas could rise, preventing his power from becoming too great and affecting the strategic balance of western Northrend.

The elite Orc squad, led by Go'el, arrived smoothly at Wyrmrest Temple and gained the initial, albeit skeptical, approval of the Dragonflights with a sincere attitude.

The Orc-led Horde was, after all, an invader that had once brought crisis to Azeroth. The Aspects, led by Alexstrasza, could not yet fully trust them, and their wary attitude was very obvious.

Since the Orcs were now settled in the Borean Tundra, Wyrmrest Temple decided to entrust the task of monitoring them to Malygos' Blue Dragonflight.

The Orcs' first test mission was related to the Undead currently expanding their influence in Northrend.

After giving up on searching for the burrowed-away Arthas, Andreas turned back to Wyrmrest Temple to consult with the Aspects.

Although the Orcs were once enemies, since they had decided to break free from demonic control, Andreas believed their actions could be observed first.

If it was truly as they said, the Orcs, with their staggering birth rate, could become durable cannon fodder against internal and external enemies.

To prove the Orcs' resolve, the Lich King and the Undead Scourge—minions of the Burning Legion—would be their first step in proving themselves.

Upon returning to Durotar, Go'el immediately gathered the clans to prepare for war.

To demonstrate the Orcs' value and determination to the protectors of Azeroth, Go'el decided to follow the Aspects' instructions and join the Night Elves' attack on Icecrown Glacier... As the Orcs began active preparations, the already prepared Night Elves struck first.

The underground forces led by Navaz first increased the intensity of their counter-offensive. Anub'Rekhan personally charged at the front, leading the remaining Nerubian warriors to fight bravely with immense hatred for the Undead.

The Night Elves did not intend to use these Nerubians as cannon fodder. Navaz also cooperatively sent arcane golems to break the enemy ranks, pushing back the defensive lines set up by the Undead Nerubians step by step with their superior weaponry.

Meanwhile, the city of Suramar on the surface also began its counterattack.

Although the number of Gargoyles was vast, their individual combat strength was not high; they relied on numbers to make up for their lack of power.

Shandris' Sentinels were all master archers, and their arrows never missed when they drew their bows to shoot into the sky.

Under the cover of Suramar's defensive barrier and with the ample energy supply provided by the World Tree Andahsil, the energy arrows fired from their magic bows never ceased for a moment.

The Hippogryph riders and Chimera riders in the sky also harvested the lives of flying demons in coordination with the moonwing arcane golems.

When Andreas returned to Suramar, the originally dense swarm of flying enemies above the city had thinned out considerably.

"No more reservations, full counterattack!"

Andreas looked at Shandris' adjutant, Summer Moon. "Daelin, you stay in Suramar to continue holding the defensive line. If there is any movement in ZulDrak or the Storm Peaks, notify us immediately."

"Yes!"

"Leticia, you will be the vanguard. Lead the aerial units to take the cliffs connecting Moonglade Forest and Icecrown Glacier to secure space for the follow-up troops to deploy."

Leticia, who had been waiting impatiently, had a fiery gleam in her eyes. "Understood! I will personally take Tichondrius' head!"

"Don't get so excited," Andreas reminded her solemnly. "Remember, do not let hatred consume you. Maintaining a cool head is the only way to better utilize your strength."

"Roddick, switch the Suramar barrier mode from defense to offense. Don't worry about energy consumption; clear out the trash above the city in one go!"