Due to the erosion of fel energy, the once vibrant land beside the Well of Eternity had become severely parched and cracked, turning into a literal forbidden zone for life.
Now, this ravaged land had been struck again. Irregular, massive craters pockmarked the ground everywhere, and the surface of the Well of Eternity, stained a sickly green by fel energy, reflected the dazzling flashes of energy from the sky.
Crack!
Another explosion rang out as a figure darted from the interlacing shadows and light, retreating over a dozen meters in mid-air before stabilizing. Another person crashed into the withered, cracked earth like a cannonball, forming a deep pit.
The one who had smashed into the ground was a demon with blue skin and curved horns—Archimonde the Defiler, the vanguard commander-in-chief of the Burning Legion's invasion of Azeroth.
The woman floating in mid-air was a fully armed Queen Azshara.
Unlike her previous "playful" bout with Andreas, Azshara was now clad in an exquisite and ornate set of robes, with astonishing fluctuations of mana swirling around her. In her hand, she held a magnificent staff, its head carved into a miniature statue of herself, with three arcane orbs of different colors revolving around it in a constant, rhythmic motion.
Her silver waist-length hair was tied into a high ponytail. Gone was her usual laziness and casual air; Azshara's face was filled with solemnity as she watched Archimonde crawl out of the crater.
Unscathed? As expected, he is not easy to deal with.
Brushing the dirt off his body, Archimonde looked up at Azshara, who remained in a combat stance. "Queen of the Night Elf Empire, that's enough. Let's leave it at this."
Archimonde, who usually acted purely on whim, was uncharacteristically in a mood to talk. The preceding clash had forced him to acknowledge Azshara's strength. In the short term, neither could overcome the other. If they continued to fight by force, the resulting aftershocks would likely damage the Well of Eternity, preventing it from functioning as an interstellar portal—a situation Archimonde could not accept.
Although Sargeras had granted him unparalleled status and power, the Fallen Titan, whose mind was long warped, was extremely harsh toward subordinates who failed, and his right-hand men, Archimonde and Kil'jaeden, were no exception.
The leadership set the example, and thus the system of punishment within the Burning Legion was established. The Deceiver and the Defiler followed suit; any demon who failed a mission, even if lucky enough to be resurrected, would face horrors unimaginable to ordinary beings.
The Coven of Shivarra.
Even the most cruel and tyrannical demons were filled with terror toward this organization, which handled the Burning Legion's punishments. Most demons who entered the halls of the Coven never came out; the few who survived were mentally broken, losing their sense of self to become mindless, humanoid killing machines that only knew how to follow orders.
Given Archimonde's rank, the Coven had no right to punish him, but punishment personally executed by Sargeras was equally terrifying. To ensure the successful expansion of the portal so that Sargeras could descend upon his long-coveted Azeroth, Archimonde even forcibly suppressed his own temperament, dutifully guarding the Well of Eternity to supervise the Highborne's work. With the goal so close, he was unwilling to let any accidents occur at this critical juncture.
Archimonde looked at the bloody head Azshara held in her left hand. The Dreadlord's face, still dripping with green blood, was frozen in an expression of terror and indignation. Tichondrius, the leader of the Nathrezim, hadn't even lasted a single round against Azshara; his head had been severed by a blade of arcane energy in their very first exchange.
"You have personally executed Tichondrius. Shall we call it even for the mistake that fool committed?"
"Not enough." Azshara lifted the head and inspected it. An eerie green, translucent glow was darting around inside the lifeless skull, but it could not break through the arcane barrier she had established.
"Don't think that just because I am a 'native' queen, I know nothing. A dead demon's soul can escape back to the Twisting Nether. Sooner or later, Tichondrius will be resurrected again." Azshara sneered. "If it weren't for Sargeras's face, I would have completely annihilated this giant bat's soul long ago."
Archimonde's face darkened. "Don't push it. What else do you want?"
"A promise," Azshara said with a commanding presence. "This incident is a warning sign. I do not wish to see my subjects harmed by demons ever again. Archimonde, you must promise me to restrain your subordinates so they may no longer intrude upon the Noble District at will."
A flash of fury crossed Archimonde's eyes. Since joining the Burning Legion, no mortal had ever dared to speak to him in such a tone. But for now, he truly could not afford to break with Azshara; Sargeras's descent still required the assistance of the Highborne sorcerers.
Useless, meddling fool!
Angrily labeling Tichondrius in his mind, Archimonde's chest heaved a few times before he regained his composure. "Fine. I can promise you that this sort of thing will never happen again."
His eyes flickered. Considering that Azshara might very well become his colleague in the future, a sinister grin appeared on the corner of Archimonde's mouth. He decided to pre-emptively undermine his "good friend."
"Furthermore, strictly speaking, Tichondrius is not my subordinate. The entire Nathrezim race belongs to Kil'jaeden, and Tichondrius is his most relied-upon lieutenant. The leader of the Nathrezim coming to Azeroth is merely a guest general; I cannot overstep my bounds to strictly demand anything of them."
Azshara's brow twitched slightly. Expert as she was in power dynamics, she easily read the underlying meaning of Archimonde's words. "Kil'jaeden the Deceiver, is it?"
She nodded noncommittally, her face betraying nothing. "I shall remember that. I also hope you will keep your promise. Here, have it back."
Separating Tichondrius's wailing soul from his head, Azshara tossed the soul to Archimonde as if discarding trash. Archimonde caught it, clearly seeing the ugly, translucent face pleading for mercy.
"Hmph." Archimonde gave a wicked laugh and casually tossed the Nathrezim leader's soul toward the portal. "Tichondrius, let Kil'jaeden punish you for your mistakes himself. I'd like to see what excuse he has left to continue interfering in Azeroth's affairs."
Azshara had no interest in the internal power struggles of the Burning Legion—at least, not for the moment. Having secured Archimonde's promise, she turned and left with Tichondrius's soulless head in hand, soon landing back in the palace under the concerned gazes of Vashj and the other handmaidens.
"Whew..."
Back in her core territory, the previously dominant Azshara staggered. Vashj rushed forward to support her.
Leaning on her staff to steady herself, a pale-faced Azshara shook her head at Vashj. "I'm fine. It's just that my mana consumption was a bit high. As expected of Sargeras's right hand; it is indeed difficult to hold out against him for long without drawing upon the Well of Eternity's power."
Considering the current state of the Well, a flicker of worry passed through Azshara's eyes. If I continue to let fel energy gradually corrupt the core of the Well of Eternity, will I still be able to draw pure arcane magic from it in the future?