When the portal to Coldarra completely closed, Dracofyrrassil finally returned to tranquility.
The lingering Blue Dragon arcane aura and oppressive feeling in the air slowly dissipated, replaced by the gentle life energy emanating from the World Tree sapling and the clamor of mortals in the Pioneer Territory.
That clamor mostly came from the rough shouts of Ice Trolls and the rhythmic clanging of tools.
Nefarian stood in the forest clearing, letting out a soft sigh.
After Malygos emerged from his mentor's divine realm, his attitude towards Nefarian underwent a drastic change—from deep-seated hatred to a strange sort of… affection?
One could only say, he truly lived up to his reputation as the mad Dragon Aspect.
Despite being tired of Malygos's constant 'good nephew' address, Nefarian still noticed that the Weaver's mood was significantly lighter than before, not even seeming like a pretense.
He shook his head, temporarily putting aside the reasons behind this change.
Turning around, his gaze fell upon the Pioneer Territory, where the sun was slowly rising from the east, and the soft golden light of dawn gradually spread across the land.
Nefarian flapped his wings and soared into the air, surveying the mortal settlement, a thought mixed with weariness and 'finally, some peace and quiet' rising in his heart.
As Obsidian's apprentice and the de facto manager of this place—in other words, a senior overseer—he ought to first fulfill his duties before returning to his temporary laboratory to seclude himself.
Spreading his wings, Nefarian glided down silently, landing beside the newly tilled fields on the outskirts of the Pioneer Territory.
The Ice Trolls were wielding crude stone hoes and bone shovels, digging into the already fully vitalized soil.
Behind them, some cold-resistant tuber crop seedlings sparsely poked their heads out of the cultivated land.
A few Ice Troll Druid apprentices chanted incantations at the edge of the fields, with several incongruous totems stuck nearby, emitting faint natural energy to ward off underground pests or pray for a bountiful harvest.
'The efficiency is roughly equivalent to human tribes in the Eastern Kingdoms who have just learned to farm,' Nefarian evaluated dispassionately. 'Of course, that's not much of a compliment.'
In the Black Dragon Prince's eyes, the current level of human agriculture was indeed unremarkable, but it had potential for the future.
However, this was undoubtedly a good start.
These Ice Trolls had transformed from their previous roles as raiders and hunters into laborers capable of providing a stable source of food, thereby reducing their reliance on external supplies.
This transformation was progress—albeit so slow it made him want to yawn.
He was considering whether to inspect the newly built rudimentary animal pens when a familiar figure, exuding an impassioned aura, strode towards him.
The newcomer was Sakares, the Scale Leader of the Dracthyr.
After pledging allegiance to Nefarian, this commander, though somewhat restrained, seemed to have only temporarily suppressed, rather than eradicated, his zealous 'Dragon Supremacy, Black Dragon Dominance' chuunibyou tendencies.
'Prince Nefarian!' Sakares's voice was loud, carrying a deliberately cultivated seriousness, his Dragon eyes burning with what he believed to be far-sighted flames.
'I believe the time is ripe! We should proceed with establishing a vanguard legion composed of pure-blooded Black Dragons and Dracthyr!'
'Under the divine might of Lord Obsidian as our banner, we shall march against those mortal kingdoms that have forgotten the majesty of our race—'
Nefarian listened expressionlessly, unable to suppress his internal commentary, 'Here we go again—how many times has it been? Legion, majesty, mortal kingdoms—'
'It's so embarrassing… Can't you use different words?'
He waited for Sakares to finish his impassioned exposition of his flawed and short-sighted 'grand blueprint' before replying in his deep voice:
'Sakares, your zeal is commendable.'
Nefarian deliberately paused slightly on the word 'zeal'.
'But the great plan to save my father requires a grander perspective. Mortal kingdoms are not the focus of our current plan.'
'The rebuilding of the Black Dragonflight's strength and the stabilization of its foundation are paramount.'
His slit pupils swept over an Ice Troll in the distance, clumsily brushing a grizzly bear only to be knocked over, 'For example, ensuring a stable meat supply for the Pioneer Territory. I entrust this matter to you to oversee.'
'Huh? Meat supply?' Sakares's soaring momentum instantly deflated, a clear look of confusion on his Dragon face, obviously not keeping up with the abrupt topic change.
'Yes, meat supply,' Nefarian repeated, his tone leaving no room for doubt. 'It's fundamental. Go, Scale Leader Sakares, demonstrate your executive ability.'
He didn't give Sakares another chance to speak.
With a powerful beat of his Dragon wings, he stirred up a cloud of dust and ascended directly into the sky, leaving behind the Scale Leader, who stood there with a wronged expression, staring blankly in the direction of the animal shelters.
Having escaped Sakares's mental pollution, Nefarian turned his gaze to another corner of the Pioneer Territory.
In a small, relatively independent camp, Night Elves were active.
Fandral Staghelm's brows held a sense of aloofness and stubbornness that seemed out of place with his surroundings.
The members of his small team were seated in a circle, their hands pressed against the new grass near the Dracofyrrassil sapling, eyes closed in concentration.
Faint natural green light flowed between their palms and the young grass, as they attempted to guide and communicate.
'The Druid path…' Nefarian circled in the air, observing. 'I remember my mentor gave me some information to pass on to the Ice Trolls. I didn't expect them to actively seek out the Night Elves to learn.'
'Mortals are truly fascinating.'
Dragons' perception of time differs from mortals; a few months are considered a very short period to them.
Therefore, Nefarian had not yet passed on the Druid cultivation method given by his mentor.
It wasn't an urgent matter anyway… right?
What Obsidian gave Nefarian was, of course, not the Druid cultivation method of Azeroth, but rather what the long-departed system had taught him.
D&D style Druids, with various different societies, forming diverse schools and styles.
In this regard, it was quite similar to the Druids in Warcraft, who are all versatile.
Nefarian noticed that Fandral occasionally looked up to gaze at the tender leaves at the top of the World Tree sapling, a thoughtful expression in his eyes.
The birth of the Glimmering Dream had clearly and inevitably attracted the attention of these Druids, who were closely connected to the Emerald Dream.
These Night Elves were 'observers' forced upon him by Malfurion; they didn't get along well with the rough Ice Trolls and the strict, somewhat rigid Dracthyr of the Pioneer Territory, but at least they hadn't caused any trouble.
Nefarian's evaluation of this was: as long as they don't delay work or cause trouble, let them be.
—Divider—After enjoying a roasted meat feast provided by the Ice Trolls, Nefarian returned to the forest clearing.
The afternoon sun filtered through the sparse branches, casting dappled shadows.
Nefarian reopened the portal and stepped into the orderly Glimmering Dream.
The scene before him was largely unchanged from when he left, still a tranquil golden forest.
But the energy fluctuations pervading the air seemed a little more active, and the gestation of life brought a different aura to the place.
He followed the path directly to the core incubation area deep within the forest.
(Little Star, Stellagosa)
The first visit was to the Arcane Pool.
Inside that pond, like liquid sapphires, a hundred Blue Dragon eggs were neatly arranged.
Kalecgos and Stellagosa, the two guardian Blue Dragons, hovered above the pond, their Dragon eyes intently scanning each egg.
They occasionally extended their Dragon claws, from which arcane energy threads shot out, gently probing the pond water, adjusting the intensity of the energy flow surrounding the eggs to ensure the optimal incubation environment.
Their movements were professional and cautious.
Several Blue Dragonkin assistants from Coldarra were doing odd jobs by the pond, transporting arcane crystals as supplementary energy.
'Lord Nefarian.' Stellagosa noticed his arrival and nodded slightly, her gaze not leaving the Dragon eggs in the pond.
'The situation is stable,' Kalecgos added concisely.
(Weakling Kalecgos)
Nefarian's scarlet slit pupils swept over the calm Arcane Pool and the incubating Blue Dragon eggs, and he nodded.
These Dragon eggs were in good condition, and the guardianship was diligent.
He then walked to another incubation area.
It was an area artificially created by dragons, emanating a scorching sulfurous scent.
The ground had no vegetation; instead, it was paved with carefully selected volcanic stones, rich in fire and earth elemental energies.
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