Liam Greymane, once the incomparably noble Prince of Gilneas, but now that name represents betrayal and shame. For the sake of revenge, he gambled everything, but just as he was about to obtain the power to take revenge, Khadgar and Vereesa stopped him.
When he woke up from a dark dream, he was already alone. There was no one loyal to him by his side, and the whole world seemed to have become his enemy.
After losing hope of revenge, Liam became extremely numb. He vaguely heard a voice guiding him, not the previous Lich King Ner'zhul, but another, the one that pulled him back from the brink of despair.
Following the guidance of this voice, he wandered in the Dragonblight for a long time. When he was hungry, he hunted wild beasts on the spot and ate their raw flesh; when he was thirsty, he ate snow and drank ice; when he was sleepy, he fell asleep. Half a year later, he arrived at the Storm Peaks—the coldest place in Northrend.
Liam found the person who was guiding him. A person wearing a cloak, with an ordinary figure. He stood on a high platform, clearly unremarkable, but exuding an aura more terrifying than a dragon. His hands were hidden under the cloak, but it could still be seen that the entire forearm of one hand was silvery-white, which seemed very peculiar.
"You've come," the cloaked man's voice was full of metallic texture.
Liam stared blankly at the cloaked man, his hoarse and stiff voice as if his throat had been roasted by charcoal. "You were guiding me. Why?"
"You've come," the cloaked man repeated. "When a good person does not embark on an evil path, he will always be a good person; but when a good person embarks on an evil path, he becomes an evil person. It is difficult for an evil person to turn back. It is more difficult for an evil person to turn back than for a good person to continue doing good. So I chose you."
"I am already an evil person, everyone thinks I am." Liam made a sarcastic sound, his expression extremely painful, "I also think I am. I know that my sins are deep. Whether I turn back or not, I will no longer be accepted."
"Acceptance or non-acceptance is decided by others; turning back or not is decided by oneself. When a mistake occurs, we need to correct it," the cloaked man said, "Now you have an opportunity to correct the mistake. I hope you cherish it."
"What opportunity?" For the first time, hope appeared in Liam's eyes, but the cloaked man disappeared after saying that sentence. There wasn't even a footprint left where he had stood.
But one thing was left here.
It was a golden-backed, silver-bladed sword, stuck on the high platform where the cloaked man had just stood.
Unlike Frostmourne, whose evil could be seen from its appearance, this was a sword of justice. There was no pretense, no guardians or Solid Ice protecting the sword. It was quietly stuck there, waiting for its master. Liam's heart was burning, he quickly walked up to the high platform and reached out to hold the hilt of the sword. A long-lost warm touch was transmitted through his palm to his whole body, and he felt the Holy Light, an incomparably dazzling Holy Light.
This is a sword representing the Holy Light and justice!
'Val'anyr, Hammer of Ancient Kings'.
A voice sounded when he pulled out the sword. It was the voice of the cloaked man just now!
"Who are you!" Liam shouted. The moment he possessed this sword, he felt that his soul was purified. Who exactly was that cloaked man?
"Please use it to correct mistakes and maintain order and justice." The eternal howling cold wind of the Storm Peaks brought the last voice.
Liam only felt a peace in his heart. Past events appeared before his eyes one by one, but they no longer tormented him. He was as if reborn. He found a new direction, and the confident look returned to his originally numb face.
At this moment, the voice of Archimonde's arrival reached his ears: "Tremble, despair, mortals! The Burning Legion has arrived!"
"Is this what I should do?" Liam muttered to himself. He took a deep breath, felt the powerful power coming from the Val'anyr, Hammer of Ancient Kings, and found his goal.
A few days later, the people of Valgarde had already evacuated. The vanguard of the Scourge was already in front of them, and it would be too late if they didn't leave. However, almost everyone had forgotten that there was still a group of people imprisoned in the fortress's prison.
Those who had been captured and were still loyal to Liam. They were unwilling to surrender, and even unwilling to return to Queen Tess and continue to serve Gilneas. Including Lord Herivel, there were a total of 105 people.
Lord Herivel's face was full of bitterness. It was already noon, and no one had sent food over. He knew that the Alliance army had been busy retreating in the past few days. However, they were abandoned like this.
Just as they were silently despairing, a figure walked into the prison. He was wearing thin and ragged clothes, his cloak had several large holes, his hair was neither brown nor black, and the beard on his face was like weeds. In this dim dungeon, only those eyes looked very bright, full of hope and light.
He split the iron locks of the prison door with a sword, opened all the prison doors of the prisoners, and finally walked to Lord Herivel: "I'm back!"
This was a sonorous and confident voice. Herivel's lips trembled as he looked at the slovenly man in front of him in disbelief, and tears couldn't help but roll down.
——
Aiden hadn't fully enjoyed the excitement of returning to Azeroth when he immediately learned another shocking news—the Burning Legion had arrived.
"Archimonde? Here again?" Aiden immediately thought of the encounter in the Twisting Nether. That guy still came. After listening to what they said, Aiden understood.
He solved the problem of the Book of Medivh in Dalaran, but Nozdormu summoned another version of Kel'Thuzad from another world on the Frozen Throne, actually Kel'Thuzad with an alternate-reality Book of Medivh. The Scourge relied on it to summon Archimonde's arrival.
Nozdormu… Aiden gritted his teeth whenever he thought of this name. If it weren't for his meddling, how could there be so much trouble now?
Sooner or later, I'll have to deal with this guy! He secretly made up his mind.
Now the leaders of the Alliance have their own opinions. At this time, Aiden's opinion seemed very important: because he was the first to tell the Alliance about the threat of the Scourge, and he raised the crisis of the Burning Legion very early. And now everything has been confirmed. In order to avoid more terrible consequences, the Alliance very much needs Aiden's guidance.
Now Arthas, Jaina, Kael'thas, Thrall, and Antonidas are all present, and most of the Alliance's forces are represented. While Aiden was there, they wanted to hear his thoughts.
"I was previously sent to the Twisting Nether by the power of the Sands of Time, and I encountered Archimonde."
Aiden's opening shocked everyone present. Kael'thas and others perked up. As a part of the people who didn't want to leave the Lordaeron continent, he couldn't help but feel hopeful when he saw that Aiden could still appear safely—perhaps Archimonde wasn't strong. At least not strong enough to be a five-li mound mad. Otherwise, Aiden would definitely not be standing here unscathed.
The Sunwell is the source of power for the high elves. The high elves will never give up Quel'Thalas unless absolutely necessary.
Aiden considered it for a moment: In the real world, he didn't have fourteen Naaru to instill power, nor could he borrow the rules and power of the Twisting Nether to strengthen himself. He was beaten back to his original form. And Archimonde must still be as powerful as he was in the Twisting Nether. Directly confronting Archimonde was obviously too difficult. So his next words undoubtedly poured a bucket of cold water on the other party:
"I fought him in the Twisting Nether. I relied on great external force to be able to contend with him. He is very powerful. Anna is right, no one in the real world is his opponent. So I still suggest not to choose Lordaeron as the decisive battleground, we may have to rely on the power of the night elves to defeat him. And Archimonde's ultimate goal is also to go there and obtain the power of the World Tree. Once he succeeds, our world will really be over!"
"But, can we avoid Archimonde if we go to Kalimdor?" Kael'thas asked unwillingly, "If he insists on destroying us, what should we do?"
Aiden said: "If that's the case, we will take the initiative to lead him to the World Tree."
The Well of Eternity was a disaster planted by the night elves themselves, even the invasion of the Burning Legion. How can the night elves be absent when resisting the invasion of the Burning Legion?
Everyone present let out a low cry. This kind of method obviously has a bit of a taste of diverting the disaster to the east.
"Everyone in Azeroth must have the awareness to sacrifice. Not only us, but also the night elf race." Aiden's voice seemed low. This was to convince others, and also to convince himself.
Gradually, a plan formed in his mind—in the original history, the Guardian Dragons did not participate in the war against the Burning Legion for unknown reasons. This time, that might not be the case. Especially the Bronze Dragon and the Blue Dragon, who could almost be said to be the culprits who brought about the Burning Legion's arrival, must fulfill their responsibilities as Guardian Dragons!
—
The Night Elf tribe would not know that in the Eastern Kingdoms, someone was preparing to drag them into the water.
Plank and his party had been left out in the cold for quite some time. The Night Elves had placed them under house arrest, providing them with food every day but restricting their freedom. No one who could speak with authority had come to meet with them to discuss serious matters.
Plank had never been a patient person. Tired of the Night Elves' food and stuck in a daze, he finally couldn't help but lose his temper.
"Brothers, since the Night Elf women don't appreciate it, we won't keep trying to get close to people who are giving us the cold shoulder! Let's go! We're going back!" Plank stood up, drew his short gun and scimitar, kicked away the stool, and strode out.
Baine, Alistar, and the accompanying people immediately responded with a roar, each grabbing their weapons and following behind him.
But as soon as they stepped out of this Night Elf-style courtyard, before their feet even touched the jungle, a group of Night Elf archers suddenly appeared, drawing their bows and aiming at them. The female sentinel captain leading them shouted coldly, "Without orders, you are not allowed to leave!"
"Damn it, you're not the only ones with weapons!" Plank raised his short gun and aimed it at the sentinel captain's head. "I have a gun. Who's afraid of who!"
His pirate elites also drew their long and short guns and aimed them at the elf archers. Alistar clenched his fists, his muscles bulging all over his body, ready to explode at any moment. Baine and Mu'en stood together, also taking down their weapons to prepare for battle. The old shaman prayed for the power of the elements to strengthen their weapons.
Plank's finger was on the trigger, and he took a step closer to the female sentinel, cursing murderously, "Damn it, I've had enough! I came to save you, not to be treated like this! I've delivered the message, believe it or not! I'm leaving! Get out of the way! Otherwise, don't blame my bullets for not recognizing people!"
"My arrows won't either, mortal!" the female sentinel said coldly, tightening the fletching of her arrow.
Plank's stubbornness flared up, and he said loudly, "I am a mortal, I don't need you to remind me! Do you Night Elves still think of yourselves as gods? What I hate most is you people with your superior attitude! I'm not playing with you anymore. Get out of the way!" He took another step forward. The female sentinel immediately drew her bow to its full extent.
Plank's eyes flashed with cold light. It seemed that today wouldn't end peacefully. He was ready to pull the trigger at any moment, and his other hand also gripped the hilt of his scimitar.
Just at this tense moment, the voice of Archimonde's arrival finally reached here.
"Tremble, despair, mortals! The Burning Legion has arrived!"
This voice went straight to the heart. All the Night Elf archers present trembled inwardly. In the last Burning Legion invasion, the Night Elf tribe suffered heavy losses. But they eventually repelled the Burning Legion and protected Azeroth. Therefore, the four Guardian Dragons blessed the Night Elves with their divine power. Nozdormu, the Lord of Time, granted their tribe eternal life. However, the Night Elves, who had gained eternal life and were favored by the gods, gradually became arrogant. They began to become arrogant, regarding all other intelligent races as mortals, and generally referred to them as "mortals." Naturally, they placed their own race on a higher level than mortals.
Obviously, this attitude was not friendly enough.
Half of the sentinels present had experienced the era of the War of the Ancients. Even the Night Elves born in the past ten thousand years had grown up listening to terrifying stories of the Burning Legion. This was a terrifying shadow in their hearts that they could never escape.
And now, the Burning Legion had really arrived. Last time, the world was turned upside down. What kind of disaster would the Burning Legion bring this time?
The Night Elves were terrified, but Plank seemed very pleased. He pushed away the female sentinel who had been blocking him, but now looked lost and terrified, and strode away. "Brothers, let's go!"
The others followed one after another.
Alistar strode up to him. He saw Plank give him a wink. The seemingly honest but not at all stupid tauren chieftain immediately understood. Alistar deliberately asked, "Plank, we're just leaving, not caring about the Night Elves?"
Plank said loudly, "What's there to care about? Look at these guys, they look so arrogant. The Burning Legion is just a small matter to them."
"That's not right, how do I remember the commander saying that the Burning Legion would come to seek revenge on the Night Elves, and even said they would destroy them?"
"Why are you worrying so much? They don't believe it anyway. We came to remind and help them out of kindness, but they treated our good intentions as donkey livers and lungs. Forget it, who cares if they live or die! I think we should go back and build a ship and run away!"
The upright tauren Baine had wanted to speak, but every time he wanted to open his mouth, he was glared back by Plank's stern eyes. It wasn't until he was sure that there was no one nearby that he was allowed to speak. Baine couldn't help but ask, "Plank, you didn't say that before, did you?"
"The situation is different, young man!" Plank said with a smug smile, "Before, we were begging them, but now it's their turn to beg us. This is called turning passivity into initiative, understand?"
"Don't understand," Baine replied.
Plank was choked for a moment, "Uh, you're too naive. This is diplomacy, do you understand diplomatic means?"
As a cunning old fox, Plank's plan was obviously successful. In fact, a few days ago, the druids who stayed behind in Ashenvale had told the leader of Mount Hyjal, High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind, about the news he had brought specifically. But obviously no one believed such unfounded words, and Tyrande didn't even respond. This led to Plank and others being left out in the cold and ignored.
Now that the Night Elves' leader, Archdruid Malfurion, was still asleep, and the forest demigod Cenarius was also in the Emerald Dream, Tyrande naturally took on the great responsibility of leading the Night Elf tribe.
But when the voice of Archimonde's arrival came, the entire Night Elf tribe fell into chaos. Tyrande immediately remembered the message that a druid from Ashenvale had brought her two days ago:
A team of humans and tauren had come to warn them that the Burning Legion in the Twisting Nether would descend again.
She hadn't believed it at the time, but now it had really happened!
Tyrande was a veteran of the War of the Ancients and had played a crucial role. She knew the terror of the Burning Legion, so this team that had foreseen the arrival of the Burning Legion immediately seemed important. She was eager to know more information.
"Immediately bring these people here!"
She gave the order to the sentinels.
But as Plank said, the situation was different now. It was time for the Night Elves to beg them!
—
Even someone as powerful as Archimonde could not violate the rules of nature. He landed in Northrend, and to go to the Eastern Kingdoms or Kalimdor, he had to cross the Endless Sea.
Fortunately, the Scourge still had flying cities, so they didn't have to build ships to cross the sea. Unfortunately, the Scourge's largest flying city, Naxxramas, had already fallen, otherwise they could have transported enough troops to their destination in one go.
But now that all five flying cities, including Acherus: The Ebon Hold and Thal'dranath, were activated, they could only carry half—no more than 60,000 Scourge soldiers.
Such a number posed almost no threat to the Alliance. But Archimonde alone could top hundreds of thousands of troops. Even with fewer people, the Scourge was not afraid at all.
All five of the Scourge's flying cities took off, heading to their intended first target—Quel'Thalas!
"The energy of the Sunwell will be mine!" Archimonde stood on the upper level of the Ebon Hold, looking towards the Sunwell through the clouds. He had already sensed the familiar power contained in that magical spring, the power of the Well of Eternity!