Stormwind Wizard God-Chapter 831: Fate Unravels

Everyone possesses the right to daydream, yet only a select few can twist seemingly unattainable fantasies into tangible reality. Duke had no idea how utterly deluded Queen Azshara must be to genuinely believe she could enchant Sargeras himself. Regardless, he felt no obligation to rescue these high elves, who so arrogantly styled themselves as the pinnacle of their race. Nor did he harbor any intention of altering this ten-thousand-year-old history. If things went awry, the night elves’ dominion over the continent would become permanent, obliterating any chance for humanity’s survival in ten millennia. The empire (and harem) Duke had meticulously built would be utterly annihilated!

Are you kidding me?! Since the high elves were so determined to self-destruct, Duke would not lift a finger to stop them! And so, Duke settled comfortably into his role as the Void Lord of his own twisted Burning Legion. However, to avoid becoming too immersed in the role and inadvertently overwhelming the night elves, Duke had still laid extensive groundwork.

Less than half an hour after Vanessa vanished from Duke’s side, Tyrande received a magical image that sent shivers of dread through her very soul. Under the fervent incantations of Xavius and the other elven arcanists, the colossal, three-dimensional magic circle flared to life. Hundreds of demon soldiers, in grim, disciplined ranks, marched forth from the shimmering portal. Their hulking forms, muscles rippling with brutal beauty, their sharp, hardened fangs and claws... all of it coalesced into a vision that nearly caused Tyrande to faint. An unprecedented sense of impending doom filled both her and Malfurion’s hearts.

"Sir Roddick, Miss Fantasy, please, reiterate everything you know. This is of paramount importance." Rhonin, using the alias Roddick, and Vanessa, a figure largely absent from the Battle of Mount Hyjal’s historical records, now stood before Tyrande and Malfurion, their appearances subtly altered by illusion.

"The invasion of the Burning Legion is inevitable," Rhonin stated with grim certainty. "Most of your nobles, the Kaldorei, have already become willing servants of the Burning Legion. War is about to erupt. I cannot give you an exact time, but I assure you, it is terrifyingly close."

Malfurion, ever observant, noted another detail: "This magical video... it’s astonishingly clear and stable. I cannot fathom how it bypassed the detection of so many powerful arcanists to be filmed. Miss Fantasy, can you explain?"

"To be frank," Vanessa replied, her voice carefully modulated, "Roddick’s teacher, who is also my master, is currently embedded within the enemy camp and holds a high position. However, we cannot fully trust you, nor can we reveal his current identity. Please forgive our discretion. Nevertheless, the authenticity of this information is absolute. You must prepare yourselves fully and abandon any illusions about Queen Azshara. For she is one of the primary architects of the Burning Legion’s arrival."

The two night elf leaders clenched their fists, their knuckles white. Even though they had long known of the noble high elves’ madness, their obsession with the arcane, inviting the universe’s most terrifying demon army in a desperate bid for greater power was nothing short of suicidal.

"I will seek out Cenarius!" Malfurion declared, rising to his feet.

"I will commune with Elune and then contact the various lords!" Tyrande’s face was pale, her resolve hardening.

At that moment, Rhonin interjected, "In fact, one of our companions has already established contact with the Dragonflights."

"The Dragonflights!?" Tyrande and Malfurion exclaimed in unison, their voices filled with disbelief. Dragons were a race both intimately connected to and profoundly distant from the ancient night elves. These ancient guardians, fiercely dedicated to their duty of protecting the world, rarely communicated with other races. Yet, every intelligent race understood the dragons’ immense, overwhelming power.

"Yes!" Rhonin affirmed, his expression grave.

"Impossible! Any mortal who trespasses into dragon territory is instantly incinerated by their flames! The dragons grant no quarter, no chance for explanation! Retrieve your companion immediately!" Malfurion urged, his voice laced with desperate urgency.

Rhonin shook his head. "It is unnecessary. My companion’s identity... is somewhat unique! He will undoubtedly succeed in convincing the Dragonflights." Krasus is also a red dragon, after all. As the saying goes, a dragon’s breath never falls on its own kin. It was a small, crucial secret.

Tyrande and Malfurion visibly relaxed, a wave of relief washing over them.

Tyrande spoke, a flicker of hope in her eyes: "If the dragons join us, we..."

Rhonin interrupted her, cutting off the unspoken "we’re sure to win." "No!" he stated, his voice stark. "Even if all five Dragonflights united, we might not be able to defeat the Burning Legion. All we can hope to achieve is to avoid immediate collapse. As for the opportunity to win, we must search for it with extreme caution."

Tyrande’s face turned ashen, her vigilance towards this unknown Burning Legion reaching its absolute peak.

Tyrande’s voice was firm, resolute: "We will prepare to the utmost, to meet this war head-on!"

Malfurion added, "I will be grateful for your continued assistance with the rest."

Rhonin and Vanessa nodded in unison. In truth, Rhonin also harbored a deep sigh. He felt helpless regarding this journey through time. On one hand, the information he possessed was incredibly limited. Nozdormu had strictly forbidden these time travelers from directly contacting the night elves, warning that such interference could cause irreversible and catastrophic alterations to time and history. This made it incredibly difficult for Rhonin to even attempt to follow the main historical line of the War of the Ancients. After all, as far as Rhonin knew, the only two living participants in the War of the Ancients were Tyrande and Malfurion, but direct contact was forbidden. As for the War of the Ancients itself, Rhonin had scoured the fragmented texts and history books salvaged from Dalaran, but could only piece together vague, incomplete narratives. Broadly, they knew the Burning Legion had invaded ten thousand years ago, the Earth-Warder Dragon Neltharion had betrayed them, and for some unknown reason, the Well of Eternity had been detonated, shattering the ancient continent of Kalimdor and banishing the Burning Legion back to their own realm. How it all unfolded remained a mystery, impossible to verify. Most of the information about the War of the Ancients originated from the High Elves. In this historical period, the High Elves, of course, presented themselves in the most flattering light. The only confirmed detail was that Dath’Remar, the father of Anasterian Sunstrider, had participated in this war, and his role seemed... somewhat inglorious. The rest was a complete void of knowledge.

On the other hand, Rhonin constantly suspected that his master, Duke, possessed a wealth of information he was withholding, but Duke adamantly refused to share it. The greatest trump card of the nascent Azeroth Alliance was undoubtedly Duke, who had now become a Void Lord within the Burning Legion itself.

Watching Tyrande and Malfurion depart, Rhonin sighed. "Given Master’s character and wisdom, he likely won’t stop until he makes the Burning Legion bleed."

Vanessa shrugged, her expression equally exasperated. "I am helpless, having such a master! So, what exactly should we do now?" 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

At this very moment, countless individuals still clung to their naive daydreams.

In the palace of Azshara City, Queen Azshara danced with unbridled joy. Her graceful figure captivated all her maids, leaving them staring in astonished admiration. "Haha! Vashj, am I not beautiful?"

Vashj, the Queen’s personal maid, her face alight with fervent devotion, replied, "In this world, no one can resist the charm of Your Majesty the Queen!"

"Really? That’s wonderful. Yes, that ’Infernal Affairs’ yesterday must have been feigning his composure. Because he knows his master, Sargeras, must be utterly captivated by me, and if so, I will become his mistress. Hehehe—"