Celeste gave birth without complications, and the whole family finally set down the heavy stone in their hearts.
As Andreas cradled the bawling newborn in his arms, ready to choose a name, the war far away in the Storm Peaks of Northrend was about to enter its final phase.
Under the high-mobility strikes of the flying fleet, the Iron Army strongholds scattered across the Storm Peaks were eliminated one by one.
Loken had ruled Ulduar for tens of thousands of years; to divide and weaken the forces under each Keeper's banner, he secretly engineered countless schemes, stoking mutual hatred among the Keepers' kin.
Though his clever concealment kept anyone from discovering that the noble King of Wisdom was the mastermind, a measure of suspicion still lingered.
The peoples of the Storm Peaks—including the Frost Giants and the Mechagnomes—vaguely sensed the puppet-master hailed from within Ulduar, yet they had never pinned the blame on Loken.
The three legitimate Titan Keepers—Loken, Thorim, and Hodir—openly declared Loken's fall, and the Titan-forged of the Storm Peaks finally saw the light.
Before Thorim's departure, the Frost Vrykul had long been at odds with the ice giants of Dun Niffelem, a rift Loken had quietly widened.
A sweeping "rectification campaign" swept the Storm Peaks; previously neutral Keeper-kin stepped forward one after another, joining the encirclement of Loken's forces.
Seeing Loken's power outside Ulduar crumble rapidly, the three Keepers spearheaded a brazen assault on the city itself.
They easily broke through the last defense Loken had arrayed in the outer ring plaza, then stormed all the way to Ulduar's great hall.
Under Yogg-Saron's spell, the Keepers—led by Loken—held the central courtyard; in desperation, Loken counted these mind-addled colleagues as his final hope.
Counting Loken himself, Mimiron, Freya, and Hodir, the Ulduar Keeper faction numbered four—seeming a numeric advantage, yet in truth it was nothing of the sort.
Deprived of his Keeper body, Mimiron's combat strength relied entirely on his creations, but the weapons he built could hardly deal fatal damage to Keeper-tier comrades.
The Life-Binder Freya excelled at support, yet like her creator Eonar, she sorely lacked offensive power.
The Frost Keeper Hodir was an undisputed warrior among the Keepers, yet at best he could only trade blows with Thorim.
Loken's side had but three, yet even the weakest—Hodir—could hold the line with mighty defense, while the Great Guardian Loken clearly outclassed the others.
Both wielding lightning, Loken fared like a younger brother against his elder, spending the entire fight pummeled by Loken.
Were it not for Freya's heals and buffs, Loken would have collapsed after several heavy lightning strikes.
The respite was brief; once the slower Hodir finally cornered Freya to harass her, Loken's pressure soared.
"Boom!"
Wreathed in lightning, Loken lashed out with a golden chain bolt; Loken could barely fend it off with a lightning shield.
Yet Loken's area strike had not targeted Loken.
Arcs jumped to the cannons and automatons Mimiron had set around the hall; with crackling shorts, every one of Mimiron's creations overloaded.
"Aaaaargh!"
Piloting a tank, Mimiron convulsed as electricity coursed through him; his Mechagnome body, wired directly to the tank's metal hull, made him a living lightning rod.
"Haa—"
A puff of black smoke escaped his lips; the Mechagnome Mimiron stiffly slumped inside the tank, unconscious.
Thorim and Hodir fought hammer-to-hammer, every blow meeting flesh.
"Hodir! Snap out of it, you blockhead!"
As his hammer struck Hodir's shoulder, Thorim's silver lightning surged into the Frost Keeper.
"Raaaah!"
Under Yogg-Saron's direct control Hodir had lost all sentience; even while howling in pain, he never paused his counterattack.
His ice-wrapped two-handed hammer swept Thorim's flank, knocking the equally massive Keeper several steps sideways.
The two titanic warriors blazed on, neither able to finish the other for the moment.
Meanwhile, Hodir and Freya's bout was a different spectacle—an endless duel between a main-tank and a healer.
No matter how Hodir pressed with his mediocre offense, Freya mended every wound the instant it appeared.
Likewise, the treants and beasts she summoned couldn't scratch Hodir's stone skin; his sturdy earthen armor kept all harm at bay.
Compared to those two wars of attrition, Loken ended his fight first despite being outnumbered.
"Loken! Pay for your crimes!"
Pinning Loken's lower body to the spot with erupting lightning, Loken leapt high, fists interlocked, and slammed a thunderous blow onto the despairing Loken's head.
"That one was for Tyr!"
"Boom!"
The lightning detonated by the twin fists blasted the King of Wisdom's massive frame away; in sheer might he was no match for the Great Guardian.
"Ugh—!"
Loken crashed against Ulduar's inner wall; his Keeper body shattered, great cracks spider-webbing across his forehead.
"Heh…" Loken lay immobile, chuckling at Loken. "I knew it—no matter how one hides, what's done will surface one day."
"Lei, I just never thought you'd return after vanishing for millennia. I thought you had long since…"
"…died?"
Loken let the lightning fade from his eyes and regarded the dying Loken with a complicated gaze.
"Loken, you were the Keeper of Wisdom, the brightest of us—how could you let Yogg-Saron corrupt you so easily?"
The light in Loken's eyes dimmed; he rested his broken head against the wall and sighed. "That is how the Old Gods work—once a crack opens in the heart, even a Keeper can be twisted toward ruin."
Unlike Mimiron and Freya, Loken served Yogg-Saron willingly, his mind still his own.
At first it was only to conceal his secret love with Sif; under Yogg-Saron's careful guidance he sank deeper, until escape became impossible.
"Yogg-Saron… he has summoned… his last Kthir general…"
Loken's words faltered, the Arcane glow in his eyes nearly extinguished.
Under Loken's sorrowful gaze, Loken finished with resignation: "I hope… you can truly set Ulduar right… though perhaps… it is already… too late."
___________________
"Oh~ oh~"
Andreas beamed as he lifted his newly-awakened son high; the little fellow showed no fear, flailing his limbs and giggling happily.
Several days had passed since Celeste gave birth, and the once-wizened newborn had already plumped up under the nourishment of good food.
Still weak, Celeste reclined half-on the bed, smiling as she watched father and son frolic, her face glowing with maternal light.
After a family discussion, the newborn's name was finally set—Sirius.
Andreas chose the name, not because of some hammer-wielding armored elder, but after an emperor of a galactic empire, expressing Andreas' hopes for the boy's future.
Little Sirius's physique was excellent; only days old, he could energetically wave arms and legs in his crib. Shandris joked that he would surely grow up hyperactive.
When Aurora learned her little brother had arrived, she rushed all the way from Quel'Thalas to visit.
From Aurora, Andreas heard the latest news from the Eastern Plaguelands.
Because Kael'thas promised to increase trade with the Kingdom of Lordaeron, the Scarlet Crusade and the Argent Dawn, under Queen Jaina's orders, stepped up attacks on the trolls invading their lands.
Yet both knightly orders still faced seemingly endless troll zombies; animated by Bwonsamdi's death-power, these troll undead proved hard to handle.
After Zuljin agreed to supply Bwonsamdi with enough souls, the death-loa infused fallen Amani troll souls into the corpses, temporarily granting them motion again.
Though mismatched with their original bodies, they were still Forest Troll corpses; the troll zombies fought every bit as well as the Scourge.
ZulMashar had only one entrance, and the troll zombies guarding the valley mouth could fight at ease; the knights attacking uphill clearly suffered from the terrain.
Kael'thas still hadn't given up trying to entice the Forsaken, but Nathanos' undead had almost no material needs, and Kael'thas couldn't yet find a chip to move them.
"The Sun King even offered to supply the Forsaken with high-grade preservatives, but Nathanos seemed uninterested; the response remained cold."
'Of course not…'
Andreas retorted inwardly, 'Preservatives are only "nice to have" for undead, not a must-have luxury…'
Undead need neither food nor sleep; all the material wants of Mortals mean little to them.
The Forsaken did want High-Elven magical gear, but Kael'thas obviously wouldn't arm an enemy.
The living and the undead harbor an irreconcilable, innate conflict; even if the Forsaken and their neighbors coexist for now, it's only because the Scourge still exists as a common foe.
Once the Scourge is gone, the next target will naturally be these undead who also should not exist.
As Lordaeron slowly recovers, Queen Jaina has already placed the proposal to retake Stratholme on the table.
With paladins and druids working together, the Western Plaguelands were recovering well; plague-poisoned soil was regaining vitality.
Under assault from several armies, Scourge undead in the Western Plaguelands had virtually vanished, save for a few remote outposts far from core settlements.
"Ah, right."
Speaking of the Western Plaguelands, Aurora's face suddenly turned gossipy.
"Dad, you asked me to keep an eye on Tirion Fordring. The old knight's fine, managing his fief dutifully, but his son…"
Andreas raised an eyebrow. "Taelan? What's wrong—did he offend someone?"
"Nope, nope."
Aurora waved a mischievous hand. "It's good news, actually. Taelan Fordring and Princess Jandice of Alterac have been getting cozy. The little princess has finally stepped out of Arthas' shadow and embraced a new life."
"Oh?"
Andreas rubbed his chin, intrigued, recalling the last time he'd seen the pair.
"Sounds like things fell into place naturally."
After the heartbreak dealt by Arthas, Jandice had remained somewhat aloof from her family, viewing much of the world with pessimism; for a long while she drifted along the edges of the Barov Family's Caer Darrow holdings.
The last time Andreas had seen Jandice, the Alterac princess had stood far away on a Western Plaguelands lake-shore, gazing at her own castle—wanting to approach yet plainly hesitant.
With a foreign princess living long-term in their domain, the host family of Tirion naturally had to extend some courtesy—at the very least guaranteeing Jandice's safety.
Once Tirion returned, most of the territory's affairs were handed back to the venerable knight; the freed-up Taelan was assigned to guard Jandice.
Taelan was an upright young paladin—sunny yet still noble—and Jandice saw in him a few shadows of Arthas before the prince's fall.
As Tirion's only son, Taelan's status was exalted enough; King Alex and Queen Janice tacitly allowed the two to spend time together.
As parents, they had of course noticed their daughter's world-weariness, but during the years of Arthas' corruption the Eastern Kingdoms had been so unstable that Alex and Janice devoted most of their energy to matters of state and somewhat neglected their family.
Once turmoil settled, Alex personally stepped in on the succession struggle between his two sons, using sharp methods to temporarily suppress their covert rivalry.
Jandice's pessimism worried Alex and Janice deeply—yet just then Taelan Fordring appeared out of nowhere.
Jandice herself hadn't realized it, but to onlookers her expression softened whenever she was with Taelan.
After private talks with Tirion, the elders all looked on their developing relationship with approval.
Aurora recounted the gossip with a grin. "At first Jandice only gravitated toward Taelan because she unconsciously saw Arthas' reflection in him; but as they spent more time together she discovered far more shining points in him."
Andreas gave his daughter a light swat on the head. "How do you know everyone's business so well? What exactly do you spend your days watching?"
Aurora stuck out her tongue playfully. "Life in Quel'Thalas is pretty quiet; one has to find something to do. Taelan and Jandice's union will definitely affect relations between Lordaeron and Alterac—so it sort of counts as important business."
Andreas sighed. "Actually it's not hard to understand: raised in luxury and taught Terenas' brand of ruthless statecraft, Arthas carried the seeds of corruption long before they sprouted."
Taelan is completely different; Tirion's paladin training laid a foundation of integrity, and afterward his mother's guidance kept him on the right path.
Unlike Arthas—brilliant outside yet shadowed within—Taelan, tempered by hardship, is a genuinely righteous paladin: mature and steady. After a failed romance, Jandice's opinion of him naturally improves with time.
In an immature girl's view of courtship, looks weigh heavily; inner beauty barely registers in first impressions—hence the craze for pretty boys.
Arthas benefited from that very fad; the young Jandice was captivated by the handsome Lordaeron prince and never dug into the darkness inside him.
Scarred by love, Jandice has grown wiser and now looks past the glitter to the beauty beneath.
"All right, gossip session over; we'll keep an eye on any new developments."
Andreas rubbed his daughter's head. "Go check on your little brother. I've important work to finish."
Watching Aurora hum a tune as she left, Andreas turned back to the papers on his desk, his expression turning grave.
"So the showdown at Ulduar is about to begin?"
While Andreas was busy looking after his family, the war front in the Storm Peaks continued to unfold.
Led by Loken, the Keepers of Ulduar were defeated; the traitor Loken was slain by the Great Guardian himself, and the three delirious Keepers were roughly roused by Loken's 'Electro-Therapy'.
Freshly freed from Yogg-Saron's forced control, Mimiron, Freya and Hodir were still mentally frail—asking them to return to battle so soon was too much.
Besides, Thorim had taken a few knocks head-butting Hodir; while reclaiming and securing Ulduar, the recently civil-war-torn Keepers could use a rest.
But before that, several important matters needed arranging.
As overseer of Ulduar, Loken's death would inevitably draw the Observer Algalon to come and inspect.
Should those star-spirits, who care nothing for the planet, see Azeroth crawling with flesh-and-blood beings, even a fool could guess what verdict Algalon would deliver.
To buy time, Mimiron's mechagnome fingers flew across the console, rewriting the communication channel between Algalon and Azeroth.
Though the message could not be completely stopped, it would give Azeroth a buffer so the Keepers could first neutralize the Yogg-Saron threat.
Yet paper cannot wrap fire; the Observer has remote authority to trigger the Forge of Origination. If Algalon presses the reboot button, everything on the planet would be erased, leaving no trace of Season-One Azerothian civilization.
Six Keepers against a not-yet-fully-loose Yogg-Saron stood a fair chance, but an Old God's tenacious life-force meant they could only re-seal her, not eliminate the danger.
No one could guarantee there wouldn't be a second Loken; best to remove this restless Light-and-Shadow parasite once and for all.
And that was Andreas' cue to step in.
More precisely, it was time for the sword of the dark empire in Andreas' hand to shine.
Xal'atath could barely wait to devour Yogg-Saron; urged on by her, Andreas left Shandris and Leticia to look after the convalescing Celeste, and teleported alone to the snow-lashed Storm Peaks.
The outer yards of Ulduar were still littered with the wrecks of Mimiron's siege tanks and the un-cleared corpses of Iron Dwarves and Iron Vrykul.
Guided by Mimiron's mechagnome, Andreas stepped onto the transit platform and arrived straight in the Keeper's Sanctum of Ulduar.
At the hall's center floated a translucent globe—a holographic model of Azeroth, letting one see the world curled into a sphere.
Andreas watched the slowly revolving orb with keen interest for quite a while.
"So the Veiled Sea and the Forbidden Sea are actually one ocean; you can sail from western Kalimdor to the eastern coast of the Eastern Kingdoms. I thought the Veiled Sea might hide more islands or continents."
The Veiled Sea, true to its name, is shrouded in thick fog—far harder to navigate than the Endless Sea.
Andreas had never risked dispatching fleets from Kalimdor's west, preferring the calmer Endless Sea.
As long as you keep clear of The Maelstrom, the Endless Sea offers smooth sailing.
Just then, a slightly shrill mechanical voice piped up nearby.
"We never imagined Azeroth had changed so much while we were under Yogg-Saron's sway."
An obviously advanced model of mechagnome came waddling from the distant east passage, gesticulating wildly as it spoke.
"In our memory Azeroth was a single continent. Had Loken not explained the last ten millennia, we wouldn't even know ancient Kalimdor had split."
Many Night Elves think they coined the name Kalimdor themselves—an error.
Kalimdor, the Land of Eternal Starlight, is Titan language given by the Pantheon; the Night Elves merely inherited it.
Andreas tilted his head at the chatterbox mechagnome. "Mimiron?"
"Wow, you know my name—did Loken tell you?"
Mimiron's mechanical eyes glowed with curiosity as he bombarded Andreas with questions.
Andreas' mouth twitched as he fielded the onslaught, inwardly remarking, So the great Keeper inventor is a motormouth…
Andreas had entered Titan Keeper complexes before; though Ulduar's décor differed from the Halls of Origination, the underlying principles were the same.
Following Mimiron to Ulduar's upper levels, the Keepers led by Loken were already seated around the Celestial Planetarium table on the top floor.
The only visibly fatigued female Keeper glanced at Andreas and "quietly" asked Hodir, "Is that the Mortal Demigod you spoke of?"
Hodir, using a portable communicator Mimiron had just whipped up, was in contact with Eonar, who remained on guard at the Forge of Wills.
The Uldum garrison had raised its alert level, guarding against N'Zoth taking the chance to launch a 'besiege-Wei-to-save-Zhao' strike.
Indeed N'Zoth had moved; though Xavius did not appear in person, the Nightmare forces within the Emerald Dream had grown active.
Malfurion had to suspend training the Gilnean druids, leaving Vastann in charge, and re-entered the Dream himself.
Meanwhile the Draenei on the Lost Isles reported their oceanic sensors detected ever-stronger sea movements; the Naga were expected to launch a large-scale assault on Kalimdor's coast, warning the Night Elves to prepare.
Compared with those overt moves, Garona and Niana—watching Benedictus—sent word that the Archbishop had lately begun hinting to Varian that Zandalar once allied with the Night Elves.
Though the Archbishop of the Light phrased things carefully and showed no open hostility, his words were misleading, linking Stormwind's current crisis to the Night Elves.
Summoned by Varian, Niana unreservedly recounted the whole story of the alliance against C'Thun, dragging observer-state Dalaran into the tale.
"Your Majesty Varian, you may consult Dalaran's records; though a thousand years have passed, they should still hold the account."
Her testimony proved flawless; seeing his provocation fail, Benedictus apologized with polished grace, excusing himself with a breezy claim of inadequate knowledge.
Had Andreas not ordered them not to alarm the snake, Niana would have loved to tear off the hypocrite's mask on the spot.
N'Zoth had offered what support he promised, but—true to his creed of self-preservation—would never exhaust himself for Yogg-Saron.
Relations among Old Gods were hardly cordial; as the weakest, N'Zoth had endured millennia of disdain from YShaarj, Yogg-Saron, and C'Thun.
A master of staying hidden, N'Zoth had filed away every insult; now that Yogg-Saron faced doom, he knew her death would make him next—but a blade not yet at one's throat leaves room for fate to turn.
At least N'Zoth believed his millennia of meticulous schemes far outmatched his brutish kin.
"In the end, victory will belong to me—N'Zoth, the God of a Thousand Tentacles—who endured humiliation for ages!"
Freya's whisper boomed like a drum in Andreas' ears; after all, a Keeper's "quiet" is only quiet to beings their own size.
With courteous hand to chest, Andreas bowed to Freya and smiled. "Esteemed Life-Binder Freya, I am Andreas—please, just call me Andreas."
Among the Keepers, Freya was the most approachable; compared with the frosty Hodir, her manner toward Andreas was almost warm.
"Hello, Andreas. No need for such titles—you may call me Freya as well."
Loken rapped the table. "Everyone, Andreas wields great influence among Mortals and enjoys solid ties with the Aspects. Do not treat him as some ignorant Mortal of your memories."
In the era when Freya and Hodir were active, mortals—if they yet existed—were still savage. Sent by the Titans, the Keepers had never dealt with mortals; some could not adjust their stance.
"I'm talking to you, Hodir."
Seeing his warning ignored, Loken singled him out.
"Stop wearing that block-of-ice face; times have changed, and we must adapt to this rapidly shifting world."
Hodir bore no personal grudge—he simply did not know how to speak with Mortals, so he kept his habitual frozen expression.
Chastened, Hodir rubbed his stiff face and produced a smile uglier than a frown.
"…Forget it; just stay as you were."
Loken gave up on Hodir's expression management and, ignoring him, opened this crucial pre-battle council.
"According to intelligence Loken gave before death, Yogg-Saron's prison has loosened considerably—only one step remains for the Old God to break free."
"Yet that last step is the hardest; the Makers' seal is sturdy, and with the Forge of Wills back in our hands Yogg-Saron still cannot shatter the final barrier."
"But Loken mentioned that, before we stormed Ulduar, Yogg-Saron summoned her last Kthir general into the city to guard the final gate to the seal."
Loken swept the room with a grave look. "I need not remind you what a Kthir is. Even with numbers on our side, do not grow complacent."
A Kthir is a superior Faceless One, the mightiest champion beneath an Old God.
After the fall of the Dark Empire, Yogg-Saron retained only three Kthir: the slain Zakaz and Kith'ix, and now Vezax guarding the descent to madness.
Perched on a giant's chair, Andreas felt ill at ease; he shifted before speaking.
"We have six Keepers present. Even discounting Mimiron, who is no warrior, the remaining five can shatter Vezax. Our problem is not the Kthir but his master, Yogg-Saron."
Mimiron showed no offense at being excluded; battle bored him. As progenitor of all Gnomes, inventing amusing gadgets was his true delight.
In shrill clockwork tones he agreed, "With Loken leading, I doubt Vezax will pose any threat. A little caution and we'll pass this gate easily."
"But Yogg-Saron is different. The nearly freed Old God has regained eighty percent of peak strength. Our squad has lost the mighty Odyn, replaced by the Mortal demigod Andreas."
Mimiron's mechanical eyes telescoped, scanning Andreas. "Frankly, I can't gauge his power. Loken, you've dealt with him—can he match Odyn?"
"Well…"
Loken rubbed his chin. "Andreas is a caster; in raw might he may fall short of Odyn, but his overall combat strength is not far behind."
Mimiron nodded and recalculated within his clockwork brain.
"On paper, defeating Yogg-Saron should be feasible. The crux is what to do with her afterward."
"On that point—" Mimiron swiveled toward Andreas. "Loken says you can end Yogg-Saron's life. True? I require detailed data."
Andreas disliked relying on pure data; reality is not a digitized realm—many things defy numeric measure.
Yet since Mimiron asked, Andreas saw no need to hide.
Clack!
He unhooked the sword of the dark empire and set it on the table; once free of his grip, its dark energy seethed.
"Heh-heh—magnificent! So many Titan Keepers—an honor!"
Hodir sprang up, warhammer in hand, eyeing the talking blade with suspicion.
"Mortal, we require an explanation."
Hodir's gaze was icy. "What is that accursed weapon? Why do I sense an Old God upon it?"
Ignoring Hodir's pressure, Andreas spread his hands. "Your senses are correct. To a degree this sword embodies an Old God—forged from the claw of Xal'atath, whose lingering spirit dwells within."
"Xal'atath…"
Freya cupped her chin thoughtfully. "The name rings a faint bell; I heard it during our wars with the Dark Empire."
Loken sighed. "Your memory serves. Xal'atath was one of the Old Gods. While descending upon Azeroth she was devoured by her kin; only four—including YShaarj—reached the world. The Dark Empire preserves but fragments of her legend."
Loken reached for the hovering globe of Azerath above the table, deftly zooming in until the Silithius desert filled their view.
"You remember this place?"
Mimiron answered first, "Of course—C'Thun's prison."
Loken nodded to Thorim, who rose. "C'Thun is no more. A thousand years ago Andreas, wielding this very blade, devoured the Thousand-Eyed One's soul."
Andreas added, "An Old God's body regenerates too swiftly for physical means to finish them. Yet the strongest point is also the weakest—they excel at soul manipulation, but the soul is their core. Destroy or consume it and their resilient flesh becomes meaningless."
He lifted the sword again, black light wreathing it. "Xal'atath is our hope against Yogg-Saron. Shatter the the thousand-mouthed demon's spirit and her regeneration will fail."
"Create the opening for a single decisive strike and I will sever every hope Yogg-Saron possesses—just as we did with long-vanished C'Thun."
Create the opening for a single decisive strike and I will sever every hope Yogg-Saron possesses—just as we did with long-vanished C'Thun."
Mimiron can't keep misleading Algalon forever; the Keepers of Ulduar must slay Yogg-Saron before the Observer arrives.
By showing the Observer that Ulduar can purge Azeroth's Old-God corruption, Great Guardian Loken can bargain for the right to stop Algalon from re-originating the planet.
Of course, if that Star-Creature who bears the Observer title refuses every warning, we'll have no choice but to 'power him down'.
"Will this really work?"
Hodir scratched his head in bewilderment. "If the Pantheon notices the Observer's disappearance, the Makers will come to investigate. Won't we still be exposed?"
A flicker of sorrow crossed Loken's face. "I only wish the Makers would come… Regardless, I'm certain the Observer's death won't draw the Pantheon's wrath. Let's focus on the present."
The perceptive Mimiron caught something odd in Loken's expression, but he had no time to dig deeper.
As Loken said, defeating Yogg-Saron was the top priority.
According to Mimiron's calculations, Algalon would arrive on Azeroth in five hours, twenty-three minutes, and eleven seconds; Andreas and the Keepers had to finish Yogg-Saron before then.
On the way to the Descent into Madness, Hodir remained wary of Andreas.
More precisely, he couldn't let go of the Old-God Blade the Mortal carried.
"Mortal, forgive my bluntness."
The Frost King finally spoke. "Do you understand what it means to feed an Old God with another Old God's soul?"
Andreas didn't look at Hodir, only nodded slightly. "Of course I do, Frost Keeper. For now you needn't worry about Xal'atath; at least until Yogg-Saron and N'Zoth are both dead, she's on our side."
Hodir narrowed his eyes. "I understand. Just stay vigilant—no Mortal can truly tame an Old God."
'Who said anything about taming her…'
Andreas rolled his eyes discreetly; the group spoke no more before entering the Descent.
"¥#@*"
Before they even stepped inside the broken seal, a string of garbled words forced itself into their minds, auto-translating into something they could understand.
"Titans' lapdogs, you shall not harm the master!"
"Noise!"
Andreas hated the Old Gods' soul-piercing dual-voice. The instant he sighted Vezax, he swung the Staff of Ganir; a gray beam shot from the tear of Elune atop it.
"Sss!"
A small hole appeared in Vezax's sturdy lobster-like carapace. The Kthir—looking like some seafood chimera—never saw it coming.
"Aargh!"
Andreas smirked. "So your pain-cry is no different from any common beast."
The unstoppable Chaos Power shredded defenses; had Andreas fully mastered that unstable force, Vezax's wound would have been far worse.
Hodir stared. "What power was that? It actually pierced a Kthir's shell."
When he and Tyr had fled Ulduar, Hodir had fought Kith'ix.
Hodir's defense held, yet he could not crack the creature's armor.
Even Tyr's hammer had needed repeated blows to crack it; Hodir could scarcely believe Andreas had breached it with a casual wave.
From the rear, Mimiron spoke through the Keepers' private link. "If I'm right, that gray beam fused Shadow and Light—Chaos Power."
"Chaos Power?!"
As Loken charged in wreathed in lightning, Freya instinctively moved to support, her hands faltering for a heartbeat at Mimiron's words.
She glanced at Andreas, who was layering Light blessings on Loken, and asked in disbelief, "Isn't Chaos the unstable force born when Light clashes with Shadow?"
"Correct."
All levity gone, Mimiron said, "The Makers' archives state that the Dark Void itself was born of such a clash; hence Chaos is also called… the power of Creation."
While Hodir smashed Vezax's skull with his frost hammer, he shot Andreas a long look.
"Creation-force wielded by a Mortal? Mimiron, are you joking?"
"I wish I knew." Uncertainty tinged the mechagnome's sharp voice. "Thorim, you and Hodir have spent more time with him—anything special?"
"Special…" Thorim hurled lightning at Vezax's pincer while racking his brain. "From our first meeting he showed greater foresight and knowledge of Azeroth's past than most mortals—as if some vast database backed his mind."
"Yet Mortal brains can't store that much; the only explanation…"
Loken's fist, wreathed in thunder, punched through Vezax's chest. The Kthir's scream filled the hall with the stench of scorched flesh.
"…is that some entity beyond the Dark Void backs him."
"Loken, you knew?" Mimiron exclaimed.
Pressing the attack while Andreas' spell rattled Vezax's soul, Loken seized the creature's dangling head; furious lightning filled the gloom.
"Aaaaargh!"
Lightning tore through Vezax's skull; with both pincers pinned by Hodir and Thorim, the Kthir had no escape.
Crunch!
The charred head burst in Loken's grip. Catching his breath, he told his fellow Keepers, "For reasons I can't disclose, I know a bit more about Andreas."
"A mighty being barred from the physical world stands behind him; that's why I asked you to treat him with respect. Let's leave it at that."
He glanced sideways at Andreas. "In short, Andreas is a powerful ally for Azeroth."
"So long as the great one behind him remains friendly, we needn't pry."
"Focus. What comes next is critical."
Loken drew a solemn breath. "The final battle against Yogg-Saron begins now."