Stormwind Wizard God-Chapter 832: Kidding
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?"
"I plan to emulate my master’s tactics during the Battle of the Dark Gate. I will print a series of battle manuals, to arm the night elves with advanced knowledge on how to combat demons. This will spare them from costly, bloody detours." Experience forged in blood and sacrifice was always invaluable on the battlefield, potentially shifting the entire balance of power.
Vanessa then asked, "What is Brox doing?"
Rhonin shrugged. "After his release, he was summoned to Cenarius. It seems the demigod is now attempting to imbue his Blade of Cataclysm with even greater power."
"Lucky brute."
"Indeed. How much time do we have?"
"My master instructed me to monitor Grom Hellscream at noon and midnight in Azshara." Before the city’s defenses were fully reinforced, a master thief like Vanessa could infiltrate and exit Azshara as if it were an empty husk. She immediately understood the subtle meaning behind "staring at Grom."
At noon on the first day, Grom was meticulously carving ivory in a secluded corner of the royal garden. He sculpted the head of an Abyss Lord onto a steel-bristled wild boar’s tusk. The next day, Grom turned to wood carving, using his axe as a delicate tool to carve two more grotesque lords. By midnight on the third day, Grom had visited the lavatory three times. Every day, Grom devised new, unsettling ways to occupy himself, and the shrewd Vanessa understood them all.
Unbeknownst to most of the night elf populace, the clouds of war were gathering with terrifying speed.
On the sixth day, Vanessa finally received new, chilling instructions...
It was not until the seventh day that Tyrande finally received the most confirmed, horrifying information: Illidan, now embedded within the Moon Guard, had risked all to return and personally deliver the horrifying truth: five Burning Legion lords already festered within Azshara.
Tyrande hesitated no longer. She marched directly to the highly respected Night Elf Lord Ravencrest and presented the damning evidence. Ravencrest’s face was livid, his powerful arms arcing through the air before his fists slammed down, rattling the very table.
"It must be that treacherous minister, Xavius, who deceived Her Majesty! No! I must rally all the lords to launch an immediate action to support the Queen!"
Tyrande was speechless. She had to sigh at the astonishing, almost supernatural charm of Queen Azshara. Despite irrefutable magical footage depicting the Queen herself near the portal, even clips showing her happily caressing grotesque, hulking demon guards, many lords like Ravencrest clung to the fervent belief that their Queen had been deceived. Five Kaldorei lords shared Ravencrest’s delusional conviction. The only shred of solace was that, despite their delusion, they were at least preparing for war.
Just as the war was poised to erupt, a major, unsettling event convulsed the city of Azshara.
A cacophony erupted from Azshara’s outer city, a growing roar that Queen Azshara commanded her musicians to drown out. But the soothing strains of lyre and flute were utterly futile. She had no choice but to rise, her new demon guard bodyguard a looming shadow behind her. She moved with regal grace through the palace, her gaze immediately falling not on Xavius, but on Varosen, her captain of the guard, who knelt on one knee, fist pressed to his chest.
"My supreme Queen."
"My dear captain, why is there such a clamor outside?"
The scarred night elf looked up at her, his expression carefully veiled. "Perhaps it would be easier if I showed it to you."
"Very well."
He led her to a balcony overlooking the main city. Azshara rarely visited this balcony, preferring the view from the luxurious balcony in her private chambers, which offered a glimpse of the Well of Eternity. At Varosen’s sharp snap of his fingers, a court arcanist cast a minor Farsight spell. Through the projected image, the Queen witnessed, with her own horrified eyes, the outer city’s populace writhing in agony, gripped by violent vomiting and relentless diarrhea. The scene was truly ghastly.
"Ugh!" The Queen waved a dismissive hand, her stomach churning, no longer wishing to see more. The grotesque image vanished.
"Your Majesty, it seems to be a plague..."
"How could there be a plague? Why was I not immediately informed?!" The Queen’s displeasure deepened, her perfect features tightening.
At this moment, Xavius hurried over. "Respected Lord of Eternal Night, perhaps I can explain..."
The Queen raised her hand, motioning for Xavius to continue.
"According to your instructions, we are closing the magical conduits of the Well of Eternity’s branches, to divert more arcane energy into the portal’s construction. When we sealed the conduit at Earl Ali John Farrell’s wizard tower, it appears to have caused a leak in the Earl’s laboratory."
"A leak?" 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶
"Yes! It seems a virulent bacteria causing severe diarrhea had escaped, contaminating several water sources. Over 10,000 citizens are now infected."
"How many Kaldorei have perished?"
"Few have died, but their waste carries the terrifying potential for secondary contamination, plunging the populace into a desperate panic."
The Queen’s displeasure intensified. "I will not tolerate such filth within my city walls."
Thus, an event utterly absent from the annals of history unfolded, nonsensically, yet was inexplicably defined.
A mass exodus began in Azshara. No, it was more accurately an expulsion. Large numbers of Moon Guards and City Guards, armed with gleaming magical weapons, ruthlessly drove the populace from Azshara. For a time, the Kaldorei capital, situated at the heart of Kalimdor, descended into utter chaos. Coupled with insidious rumors, whispered from unseen sources, claiming a far more terrifying and deadly plague would erupt within two days, a frenzied stampede for escape directly consumed the residents. In a mere two days, this sprawling megacity, once home to over one million souls, lay desolate. Only the inner city, where the high elves resided, remained untouched. The songs continued, the dances still whirled.
In the dungeon beneath Azshara’s inner city, the Twins found Duke. Queen Sarolas’s voice was a silken tease: "Tell me, dear Infernal Affairs, what do you make of this exodus outside? Mannoroth approaches swiftly. Should there be insufficient blood, those brutes might grow... restless." This was clearly a test. A misstep now could lead to utter disaster.
As the consummate deceiver, Duke, of course, delivered his lies with a grave, unwavering conviction. "Oh? So what?" Duke’s tone was laced with contempt. "On this insignificant planet, a primitive race lacking even interstellar battleships or interplanetary portals, where could they possibly flee? For me, my only task now is to fulfill the mission entrusted by Lord Kil’jaeden: to open a larger, more stable portal as swiftly as possible, to welcome the Burning Legion’s main force. Whatever else you wish to do, proceed. It is of no concern to me."
