Chapter 10 chapter Ten

The world fell silent. There are no cries of anger, pain, or joy here.There was no soft breathing.Not a beat of wings, or a beat of a heart.The sound of eyes blinking, the sound of plants taking root, these almost imperceptible sounds are all gone. No, it wasn't that quiet.The sea was surging, though now there was no sign of life in the depths; the waves lapped the shore and receded.The house was already deserted, and a gust of wind blew in, causing the eaves to creak, and the weeds that were about to turn yellow also made waves. Ysera walked, the only living thing in the place, her uneasiness churning and churning, gradually turning into worry, fear and horror.

The hour of twilight has arrived. Her dragon claws fell on this land that could no longer breed life.Forever and ever, there is no possibility of nurturing life.Her breath can no longer bring a trace of greenness to the earth.She walked desperately on every continent, still holding hope in her heart, hoping that somewhere, there would be a piece of land that was not harmed. Dead, all dead.Whether it is dragons, humans, elves or orcs, birds or fish, trees or grass, or even insects, there are none.Every bitter step Ysera took was like walking on a huge tomb. How did she survive? Afraid of the answer, she avoided the question and moved on.

Booty Bay, Orgrimmar, Thunder Bluff, Darkshire, Desolace—there are rotting corpses everywhere.They didn't end up on the plate of the carrion birds, because the latter, too, had fallen to the ground, waiting to rot.All this brutality nearly drove Ysera mad, and she ruthlessly pushed the thought aside. Our temple... She didn't want to see it, but she had to - She was at the bottom of the temple, and the pair of giant longan eyes that had been sleeping forever grew bigger. The wings are flapping.And the breath of the dragon, and the cry of hateful victory.The sky was full of twilight dragons, creatures who had survived to the last, standing victorious over the corpses of the world.At the bottom of Wyrmrest Temple, lies the corpse of the great dragonkeeper: Alexstrasza burned alive, her charred ribs protruding upward.A blue dragonlord was frozen solid in pain, and Ysera couldn't see his face clearly.Nozdormu, the eternal dragon, is now firmly imprisoned in time, standing still like a stone.And she died of suffocation. The plants that covered her body were originally green and fresh, but now even the vines that wrapped her throat were dead.It appears that each dragonlord dies due to his or her own unique abilities.

But that wasn't the real reason why she felt cold with panic all over her body. Ysera the Awakened stared at a lone mass, limp and lifeless.The dusk sky of Northrend was illuminating it with that dim, gloomy light. The corpse was impaled by the spire of Wyrmrest Temple.Behind it, an unusually large orange-red sun was slowly setting. Ysera sat down abruptly, trembling, longing to look away, but she couldn't. "Deathwing," she whispered. She awakened herself back to reality, and although her body was still shaking from the images she saw, her mind was gradually waking up.She shook her head and murmured, "No, no, no..."

It was a foreshadowing, but somehow she knew the scene wasn't entirely destined.That foresight could change...but not unless an orc changed it. Thrall, I don't know what role you need to play, but I beg you... must, must, don't fail. Don't make this world so, so silent. The question is...how did they fix the timeline? "Tell me everything that happened, from when I died," Thrall said. "That's . . . something to say, but all right," Teresa replied. "As I said, Blackmoore was devoted to his goals. He bred and honed his soldiers, and then mercenaries. After the Battle of Blackrock Spire, he did not disband his own private army. Once the orcs surrendered, He made a secret pact with those orcs—a pact that would have horrified the rest of the Alliance. Join Blackmoore's private army, fight against King Terenas and the others, and kill them all—and they would Live. Guess what they did?"

Sal nodded. "Of course they accepted. All they did was fight the enemy. So Terenas died." Teresa nodded. "And Uther the Lightbringer and Anduin Lothar." In Thrall's timeline, Lothar was killed by Doomhammer at the Battle of Blackrock Spire. "What about Prince Varian?" "Varian and Arthas, the son of Terenas, were not old enough to fight. They fled to safety and survived." Alsace.A fallen paladin...the Lich King. "Has there been any strange diseases among the people? Poisonous grains, and plagues?" Teresa shook her fair-haired head. "No, nothing like that."

Thrall felt as if he had been slapped in the face.This was a world in which Blackmoore lived; there was no question about it, and it was annoying.But Teresa survived... and countless innocents who would have been part of the Scourge or the Forsaken. "Do you know the name Kel'Thuzad?" he asked.Kel'Thuzad, a former member of Dalaran's ruling council, seeks power within Thrall's timeline.His thirst for power led him down a dark path.A path he had experimented with across the borders of life and death.Under such a temptation, Arthas let Kel'Thuzad's body be reborn as a lich.

"Oh, of course," Teresa said with contempt. "Blackmoore's Chief Advisor." So Kel'Thuzad in this timeline also fell under the temptation of power.It's just that it wasn't ancient evil that tempted him, but mortal political power. "Antonidas and Dalaran have completely severed all ties with him," Teresa continued. "They wish to appear unbiased, but rumor has it that despite their geographical proximity to us, they are more loyal to Stormwind than to Lordaeron." She shrugged. "I don't know how accurate that is. I just hear these things every now and then when I venture into Southshore."

Well, Dalaran is still here, and Antonidas is still the leader of the mages.The city did not fall; it was not moved to Northrend. "Where are Arthas and Varian?" "Varian rules the kingdom of Stormwind. Arthas is with him. They are like brothers. When Arthas married, Varian was his best man." "The wedding to Jaina Proudmoore," Thrall whispered. Teresa nodded. "They had a child, a little boy. Prince Uther." No plague, no Lich King.At least, not yet.Alsace is married and a father.Lordaeron was not turned into the Undercity, not overrun by the undead, but ruled by Blackmoore who had taken a good man's throne.

"He's got such a grip on the world," he grumbled. "So his sudden disappearance is all the more puzzling," Teresa said. "Missing?" "Yes. Naturally, his brains tried to cover it up. They said he was gone on a mission, to drive out more orcs, either to kill some dragons, or to sign a peace treaty , depends on what you want to believe. But he disappeared." "Maybe someone killed him," Thrall said. .He smiled. "It's not impossible." "If that's the case, it's something to brag about," Teresa pointed out. "That throne will be taken by someone - either Arthas as the rightful heir, or the man who killed Blackmoore. No, it's a strange situation right now. But it won't last long. I'm sure Arthas and Varian are already planning an attack. They must have spies."

She was right.Although Teresa did not go to school, she was still a very bright woman.There will certainly be spies, and Arthas and Varian will want to move as fast as possible to take advantage of this mysterious "absence". Thrall paused, thinking hard.He knew he had to fix the timeline, or the whole world would be doomed.Maybe Blackmoore's disappearance is a good thing; maybe it will provide some unknown means for the timeline to repair itself. But at the same time—that would mean such extraordinary tragedy. The plague will sweep across the continent.Thousands of dead bodies litter the fields, or worse. Arthas needs to be the Lich King.One thought made him sweat: What if, in this world, Blackmoore was going to be the Lich King?Kel'Thuzad whispered in his ear. Antonidas had to die, and both Dalaran and Quel'Thalas had to fall. And Theresa— He buried his forehead in his palm for a long time.The task seemed impossible.If only he could find one of the bronze dragons, talk to him or her, and tell them what happened here.Even a green or red dragon can help.Knowing the mission of the bronze dragons, they would believe the story of this twisted timeline, at least in theory. "You...do you think we can make a difference?" Teresa asked in a low voice. He smiled against his will. "I think we need to find a dragon," he said. "A dragon that can actually listen to an orc instead of killing me, and—" His eyes widened. "—and I know where we can find such a dragon." Krasus was sitting comfortably in his private study, and there was no place he could be happier than sitting here.The room had a warm feel to it, and although he had been given far more room than that in his position in the Kirin Tor, it was comfortable.Now, all surfaces, from desks to side tables to the tops of bookcases, are covered with books spread out.Compared with being here, the only thing that can make his heart so full of joy is by his partner, Alexstrasza.He didn't like the feeling of being away from her because of necessity, but no one knew the meaning of the word "responsibility" better than the Life-Binder.She knew that his work in the Kirin Tor would help the Red Dragonflight and, more importantly in his beloved's eyes, Azeroth.The humans, high elves, and gnomes he worked with probably felt that since the dragons could live as long as they did, they would tire of being with each other, and would welcome any chance to be away from each other for a while. They are wrong. A nearby orb floats in mid-air, its green, brown, and blue shadows suggesting an accurate representation of Azeroth's current state.There are tools, trinkets, and other priceless items strewn about.Now, Krasus was busy transcribing on vellum notes the contents of a very ancient tome, which could crumble to dust if it was mishandled.Magic preserves its state for now, but Krasus is a pragmatic man who knows that as time wears on and spells wear out, a copy of the key elements of the book will be a good fallback.This task could have been done by an apprentice, but Krasus preferred to do it himself.Sitting quietly and reviewing ancient lore satisfies his inner magician. There was a knock on the door. "Come in," he called without looking up. "Lord Krasus?" came the voice of Devi, a young high elf apprentice. "Well, what's the matter, Devi?" Krasus asked. "There's a young lady coming to see you. She's bringing her slave. She insists that I bring this to you. But... can I be straight?" "Anytime," he said with a small smile. "I've always valued that. Say it." "She looks...something wrong. It's not malicious, but..." She shook her black hair, frowned slightly, and said every word. "She asked me to give you this." Krasus immediately became alert.Devi's instincts about people have always been accurate.The apprentice came over and put something brown and ordinary looking into his outstretched palm.A simple acorn. Krasus took a breath immediately. Knowledge - such a wealth of knowledge!Knowledge and testimony from time immemorial are contained in this tiny, seemingly insignificant thing.It stung his palm, and his fingers closed for a moment, not wanting to let go. Devi watched him intently.Of course, she's still just an apprentice.Now she couldn't identify what Krasus was holding—an acorn from an ancient tree.It's like a whisper that can only be heard by a well-trained, keen and attentive ear. "Thank you for your observation, Devi. Bring her in," Krasus said quietly. "You should be aware that she insisted on taking her orc," said Devi. "Why do you think she would want to do that?" Devi tilted her head and analyzed. "To be honest, my lord, I can't think why. He looked horrified enough, and the woman said it was vital. I don't think they intend to hurt you in any way, but I can't risk a wild guess either. .It's a mystery." Her tanned face was less beautiful with a frown.Devi doesn't like puzzles. "Bring that orc in, then. I figured maybe I'd be just right for a girl and a frightened orc." Their eyes met, and she laughed.Some might find the glib elf disrespectful, but Krasus liked the way she didn't seem intimidated by him. "In a moment, my lord," she said. Old acorns.Krasus let go of his long fingers and examined it again.A rare thing, but also a beautiful and powerful thing.Who is this girl that can get it? The door opened again, and Devi ushered the visitor in, bowed, closed the door and left.Crassus stood up and looked at the young fair-haired girl. She was slender, and from the marks on her body there was no doubt that she had lived a hard life, but for that she would have been a great beauty.Her simple dress and cape looked clean, but had obviously been mended more than once.She's well groomed, but calluses and cracked nails can still be seen on her hands.She straightened her body, but couldn't hide the tension in her heart.She saluted deeply. "Lord Krasus," she said, "my name is Theresa Foxton. Thank you for receiving us." The name doesn't mean much, but the wording is really interesting. ... "Us?" Krasus said softly, walking towards them, clasping his hands behind his back.In fact, the orc was more impressive than the human.He was covered with powerful muscles and was bigger than most orcs, but he only wore a simple brown robe.His hands were calloused, too—not from working the fields, but from holding weapons.There was a certain difference between the grip of weapons and tools, and Krasus had seen enough human warriors to recognize the signs at once when he saw them.Also, this orc wasn't hunched over like most of his kind.He looked straight at Krasus. With a pair of blue eyes. "Extraordinary," Krasus said to himself. "So, who are you?" "My name," said the orc, "is Thrall." "It's a good term for a slave, but seriously, I don't think you are," Krasus said.He held out the hand that still held the acorn. "Very smart to be able to use this to gain access to me. You know I can sense the knowledge it contains. How did you get such a precious thing?" When Teresa looked at Thrall for a reply, he wasn't surprised. "I have... a story to tell you, mage," Thrall said. "Or should I call you... Lord Red Dragon?" Krasus's face remained calm, but his heart was filled with shock.Only a handful of people know his true identity as Cleostrasz, consort of Alexstrasza.And up to this second, he was sure he knew every single one of those people. "This day," Krasus said calmly, "it's getting more and more interesting. Please sit down, and I'll let someone bring in some food. I guess the story you mentioned will be very long." He was right.Teresa sat down with Sal—the latter cautiously sitting in a larger chair—and began talking.There is a pause in between for the food--very simple tea and pastries, which the poor girl eats like a hungry wolf--but other than that, on this one of the better afternoons, the story is barely read. interrupted before them.Krasus occasionally interrupted to ask a question, or to clarify something, but most of the time, he just listened. It's crazy.It's ridiculous.Ridiculous. But it also makes perfect sense. Cleostrasz had heard some crazy stories in his thousands of years of life, and he knew from this that such stories had loopholes.There is always something unreal about them.But when the strange orc, Thrall, mentioned the seemingly impossible, Kryostrasz knew he was right.Both Krasus and Thrall knew the qualities of Ysera the Sleeper and her green dragonflight.Thrall says that the acorn that Krasus still holds is a gift.Krasus could see that if it had been picked up at will, or taken off by force, it would not have been so peaceful.The orc knew how timelines worked.He even knew the names of Cleostrasz and his queen's bronze dragon friend. It is impossible for an orc slave to know this. When Thrall finished, Krasus took a sip of his tea, studied the precious acorn in his hand, then reached out and let it fall into Thrall's palm. "It's not for me," he whispered. "Not exactly. Right?" It was a statement, not a real question. Thrall watched him for a moment, shook his head, and put the acorn back in his pocket. "I'm going to find a suitable place to plant it," he said. "I don't think Dalaran is that place." Cleostrasz nodded.He felt the same thing from the acorns. "I really don't like Aedelas Blackmoore," the red dragon mage continued. "Almost all of them, unless they're working for him, and I bet they even love the money, not the man. If you cut him up from end to end like you describe, I wouldn't either Sad about it. But that alone won't solve the problem, Thrall. While I understand we need to restore the correct timeline, I have to tell you that very few people think your world is better than theirs. The plague, the Lich King, Dalaran that was destroyed and rebuilt, the orcs have their own homeland - you've risen above the odds, my friend." "But it's the right thing to do," Thrall said. "If it doesn't get fixed, then my timeline - the real one - will be destroyed! And it's doomed!" "I know this, and you know this. Several other members of the Kirin Tor know this. The Bronze Dragon Legion naturally knows this. But you are talking about subverting the entire world." He pointed to the representative Aize Lars' floating sphere. Thrall stood up and walked to the globe, watching the tiny white catkin-like clouds drift across the surface.He stared at it intently, but didn't try to touch it. "It's... true, isn't it?" he said.Teresa was curious. She stood up and walked over to him, watching the slowly turning ball, her eyes wide. "In a sense," said Krasus. "You can't erase the world even if you smash it with your fist, if that's what you're asking." "No...but that would solve the problem, wouldn't it?" Thrall sarcastically. "Possibly," Krasus agreed, his lips quivering slightly in a smile. "But...are we on it? Or our representatives?" Thrall asked. "Yes, right here," Krasus said. "Our... soul essence - to use a better term - can be found." "And you can find Arthas, or Varian?" "Not specific enough. I know where we are because... well... I know we're here," Krasus said. "I can sense that Arthas is in this world, but—" His dark eyes widened. "I know what you're thinking." "Do dead people leave...characteristic traces?" "Yes," said Krasus. "You want me to find Blackmoore." The orc nodded.Krasus raised an eyebrow, then raised a hand.He spread his fingers lightly, and placed his hand six inches above the white cloud, the symbol of Azeroth twirling beneath his hand.Frowning, he walked slowly around the orb, bobbing his hands up and down above it.Finally, he dropped his hand and turned to Thrall. "Your hunch was correct," Krasus said. "Edras Blackmoore is not in this world at all." "What does this mean?" Teresa asked in a small voice. "Well, it could represent any one of these things," Krasus said. "He may have found a way to hide his identity. It is also possible that his soul was stolen. It does happen from time to time. It is possible that his entity is not in this world. We all know there are passages to other possible worlds." Krasus looked at Thrall as he spoke, frowning.The orc looked very disturbed, and it was obvious he was trying to calm himself down. "Sal, what's wrong?" Thrall didn't answer him.He turned to Theresa, placing a large hand lightly on her shoulder. "Terry...you said that Blackmoore defeated Orgrim Doomhammer alone?" She nodded. "Yes, that's right." "Did he... take Doomhammer? Or Orgrim's armor?" "Warhammer is ruined in combat, or so everyone says," Theresa said. "And the armor is too big for him." Thrall relaxed a little.He looked much more relaxed. "Of course it is. There's no way he'll be able to wear it." Teresa nodded. "Because of this, he took away only a few token pieces of armor. He used them as components for a new suit made just for him." The orc's hand fell from Teresa's shoulder, and he stared blankly at him. "Sal?" she asked worriedly. "What's wrong? What's wrong?" Thrall slowly turned his head to watch the spinning Azeroth Mini.He didn't say a word for a long time. Finally, he said heavily, "I know what happened to Blackmoore." Teresa and Krasus exchanged glances, waiting for Thrall to continue. "He's not here because he's not in this timeline anymore. He's escaped, he's no longer bound by it. He's no longer bound by its laws. And he has a purpose. Something that drives him." He turned to face them. "And that purpose was to kill me."