Light's Dawn of Azeroth

Chapter 328, Section 18: The Lich King's Losers' Alliance +1
"Hmm, Apocalypse has lost its swordsman. The ruthless and unruly demonic sword has once again successfully sealed itself away. How pathetic."

On the unforgiving glaciers of the distant Northrend continent, Gul'dan, the Lich King who commanded countless undead to wreak havoc across the world, sighed:

"After losing my great leader, the Greenskins have fallen on hard times. It's shameful that the humans were able to turn the tables on them when they had such an advantage! But the war in Elwynn Forest is over. The humans have taken back their province, the Black Wolf God's hunting party is retreating, and Sunshine Forest will soon return."

Haha, what a bunch of useless trash.

But it doesn't really matter.

In the eerie tombs beneath the earth, the Lich King's army is ready to go, waiting only for the opportune moment to awaken the resentful dead.

The greenskins must continue fighting, Redridge Mountains, the Western Fertiles, keep fighting!
Every fallen warrior or villain increases the Lich King's military strength. Death piles up so easily in war; it's only a matter of time before we sweep across the world."

"What are you babbling about?"

Before the Lich King's reflections could dissipate in the cold wind, a sinister voice rang out before his icy throne. As a swarm of bats gathered in the frigid land, the somber Lord of Fear, Tichondrius, quietly appeared.

This damned legionary villain looked down at the noble Lich King and roared:
"Have you met your recruitment targets for this month? Have you gathered enough souls to serve under Death? No? What are you babbling about? Get back to work! Lord Sachiel didn't send you here to indulge in dark, low-class pleasures!"

“Of course, of course, my esteemed Lord of Fear.”

The unpretentious Lich King immediately adopted a gentle tone, and as the demon sword Frostmourne slowly rotated before his throne, Gul'dan reported like the most diligent office worker:

"An elite legion has been added to the Great Tomb of Sunlight Forest, and enough corpses are buried near Stonestone Lake in Elwynn Forest. Redridge Mountains will soon become a place of crushing bones, and it will become our main camp."

The plague is raging in the islands of the South China Sea. Our army is stationed on those islands, and the ghost fleet roams the fog, shaping our masters into plunderers of the sea frontier.

Kalimdor's Desolace has become a land of death, with the number of undead centaurs surging.

We have also seized the great cemetery of the quilboars, but it may require a lich to oversee it, as the ancient skeletons of Felwood move in the shadows.

Ghosts echo across the Vrykul lands of the Broken Isles, and Shield Rest Isle is teeming with powerful warriors awaiting resurrection.

However, that place is a tough nut to crack.

That's Hela's territory. That hot-tempered madwoman won't allow me to put my hand in her plate. Why don't you send someone to mediate?
She clearly commands the formidable Kvadir Underworld Navy Legion and the most ferocious ghost fleet in the world, yet she is stingy and unwilling to share even a fraction of it with us.

The most troublesome thing is that the powerful Vrykul people worship their war god and death god, which makes it difficult for us to reach out to the Vrykul clans in Northrend. My legions on this continent lack fierce warriors, and the Vrykul are the best choice.

Hela, consumed by hatred for Odin, prioritizes her own self-interest over that of her master. How can we, the loyal and virtuous, uphold the power of death when we associate with such vile creatures?

"Just do your own thing and stop stirring up trouble!"

This little trick couldn't fool Tichondrius at all.

It is Nathrezim, the ancestor of all gossip and slander.

However, the Fear Lord also felt that Hela, that Vrykul Death God, was going too far, like a miser guarding the most luxurious treasure of power in the world but unwilling to use even a fraction of it.

Whether the Lich King can assemble a capable Scourge army across Azeroth is directly related to the progress of his great cause. Therefore, after a moment's thought, the Dreadlord waved his hand and said:
"Leave the Broken Isles for now. Start recruiting Vrykul undead warriors throughout Northrend. I'll try to use some 'connections' to get Hela to give you face. But what's going on with Zul'Drak?"

The Sandalari elves, allied with the Eredar Lightforged, just breached Dracaros Fortress. That massive war should have required at least three legions. Why haven't I seen any troll undead?

"Uh."

Gul'dan sighed and said:
“It’s Bwonsamdi! That villain warned me not to reach into the trolls, saying that all the troll souls are his for the taking.”

"You loser!"

Enraged, the Lord of Fear stomped its hoof on the Frozen Throne and roared:

"Why don't you dare fight Bwonsamdi? I've been wanting to get rid of that crazy troll for a long time."

"I fought, but I didn't."

Gul'dan said in a very pathetic manner:

"My elite death knights were destroyed by the divine warriors sent by Bwonsamdi from the other side before they even set foot in Zul'Drak. He has been the troll death god for tens of thousands of years and has plenty of elite soldiers under his command. How long have we been doing this business?"
It's already quite an achievement to have managed to assemble a large army of cannon fodder.

At this point, the Lich King even went so far as to comfort the furious Tichondrius, saying in a gentle tone:
"Circumstances are beyond our control. That's how it is when you start your own business. You'll suffer humiliation at every turn, but it's okay. Didn't you say that the Night Elves' immortality is about to end? And the Corruptors' attack on Kaldorei will inevitably trigger a major war."

The Moon Goddess Kingdom is full of powerful beings who have existed for millennia; we can easily take some with us when the time comes.”

"You're fucking insane!"

Tichondrius pounded Gul'dan's ice with his claws, shouting:
"How many heads do you have to dare steal souls from Elune's purse? I think you deserve to be killed by Blackmoon. The Night Elf War God is still sleeping soundly on Mount Hyjal!"
While it's good for a mid-level commander to have execution ability and ambition, you can't even get past Bonsandy, yet you dare to set your sights on the Kaldorei? Aren't you being a bit too arrogant?"

Gul'dan remained silent.

He looked like a pathetic corporate slave who chose to be a loser just to get this month's "wimp pay," but after Tichondrius had his fill of cursing, he wilted back down.

It knew that Gul'dan wasn't lazy, but Azeroth was a very complex place, and every powerful race had someone backing them up.

Helya and Bwonsamdi are "one of us," and there's a possibility of internal mediation. But the Kaldorei are backed by the cosmic god Elune, which is definitely not something a mere Dreadlord and a spineless Lich King can afford to offend.

However, his master's great undertaking could not be disturbed, so after thinking it over, Tichondrius slapped his thigh and gritted his teeth, saying:

"How about this, I'll send some people over from the Shadowlands for you! We can't stay in this awkward, limboed situation forever!"

"That feeling is good!"

Gul'dan, frozen in the eternal ice, rejoiced and said:
"The realm of death is teeming with elite troops and powerful warriors. Even a few of the Eternals' men slipping out of their hands would be enough for us to conquer the world."

"You wish! It's not time for us to show our faces yet, so at most we'll get you some stone offspring."

Tichondrius poured cold water on the idea, saying:
"Moreover, the Stone Legion is too powerful in Revendreth for us to deal with. We can only give you some downgraded Stoneborn, such as Gargoyles and Obsidian Colossi. Maldraxxus is easier to deal with; we can spare a few powerful generals for you to serve as vanguards."

Ultimately, it all comes down to whether you can stand up for yourself!
The Drakkari trolls are a great source of manpower; we can't give them up. Once reinforcements arrive, you can fight Bwonsamdi again. We must get Zul'Drak under our control.

"Oh, speaking of this, I've discovered something very strange."

The Lich King reported:

"Those mad Lightforged of the Hand of Argus sent an elite force after taking Darktheron Keep. They've entered Dragonblight and are setting traps near the Nerubian underground kingdom of Azjol-Nerub. I suspect they might be hunting down some powerful Crypt Lords."

Although I don't know how the Spider Demons, who were hiding underground and running a cult, offended the Lightforgers, I think this is an opportunity!
We haven't found the right opportunity to attack the Spider Demon Kingdom. The evil god in the darkness protects the Spider Demons, but if the Lightforged make the first move and cause chaos in the Spider Demon Kingdom, then we will have a chance.

The Spider Demons are top-tier fighters in Northrend, and perhaps even among the best in all of Azeroth.

"Hmm, interesting. Keep following up!"

Tichondrius waved his hand and said:
"I authorize you to take full charge of this matter. I'm going to Kalimdor to cooperate with the army of the Defilers. You stay in Northrend and develop your strength in secret. Don't cause any trouble. If you ruin your master's plans, you'll be in big trouble!"

"Of course, after watching over me for so long, don't you know what kind of person I am?"

Gul'dan smiled apologetically and said:

"How could I dare to disobey your orders? Do you need me to deploy an elite undead force to serve as your guard? Don't laugh at me, but I recently ordered ghouls to dig up some ancient tombs in Quel'Thalas, and they accidentally unearthed some very strange things, which I was just about to ask you to take a look at."

"Hmm? What's that strange thing?"

Tichondrius paused for a moment, then saw several strange high elves with bone wings land in the snow on the Frozen Throne in the cold wind.

They still retained the appearance of high elves, but the bodies of the dead were too pale and appeared eerie. Most importantly, these creatures had a pair of bewitching blood eyes, and the blood aura surrounding them represented the source of their power.

"Hiss! A vampire? No, Salane!"

The Dreadlord clicked his tongue in amazement as he circled around Gul'dan's "inventions" a few times. The vampires' sinister appearance reminded him of his "fellow countrymen" from his homeland, Revendreth.

Alas, time flies. I have been lying low in the evil energy for a long time now, following the orders of my great master. If I do a rough calculation, I have been away from home for tens of thousands of years.

A flicker of homesickness stirred within Tichondrius's cruel and cold heart, and he grinned, nodding in satisfaction.
"Very good, I like these new undead. Let them follow me. Do they have names?"

"No, they were the first elves to set foot in Quel'Thalas with Dath'Remar Sunstrider. Their names and past have been buried by history."

Gul'dan whispered:

"If you like, you may give them new names. From this day forward, these Salainins are your servants, and you may use them as you see fit."

“Very good.” Tichondrius may not lack a few servants, but Gul'dan was indeed thoughtful. Although he spoke lightly, it was not easy to transform the power of death into a thirst for blood under the influence of the high elves’ magical addiction.

This mere subservience was enough to please the Fear Lord, who inwardly praised Lord Sachir's judgment, saying that Gul'dan was a good dog.

After a moment's thought, it said to the three women in front of it, Sallein:
“Your name is Jie Mei, your name is Mu Ze, and the last one is An Mai. Come with me, Kalimdor is far from here.”

Tichondrius vanished in the form of a bat, and three Sal'in spread their bone wings and flew into the cold clouds. After they left, Gul'dan let out a rather strange laugh and then went about his business.

It uses the Crown of Domination and Frostmourne as nodes to allow its will to penetrate the realm of death, wandering through the cold and terrifying Maw, and finally arriving at a place where souls are imprisoned.

Everywhere here are souls that have just "gone to hell" and are being tortured by the Abyssal Oathkeepers to extract more anima.

Those cold-blooded executioners had no reason of their own, but they respected Gul'dan's consciousness, probably because Gul'dan was the "middle-level regional manager" of their system.

"Oh my, look who it is!"

The Lich King's consciousness stretched out a mocking tone, projecting its past body as a shadowcast outside a shadowforged cage. It taunted in Gul'dan's voice:
"Isn't this the mighty Chieftain of Zul'Farrak? You were so dashing when you betrayed your mentor, how did you end up in this sorry state?"

Zulushid's remnant soul was still screaming in agony.

Only a third of his soul was pulled into the world of the dead. If he hadn't been a sorcerer who had made preparations beforehand, even that small remnant of his soul would have dissipated the moment he died.

It turned out that Zul'jiiva knew nothing about the afterlife. He could not tolerate the Mawsworn's brutal exploitation of his anima, and felt that his last remaining strength was being ripped apart.

He was in despair, believing that his final fate would be to turn into a pathetic, forgotten mass of dust, the lowest of dust in the universe, like disgusting excrement sent out after being cruelly devoured and wiped clean by death.

But just in this moment of despair, Gul'dan's voice, like a cold ray of light, tore through all the darkness before Zul'hild's eyes. He, now a wisp of spirit, cried out in surprise, gripping the shackles of his steel cage, and shouted:
"Mentor! Gul'dan, is that you? I can't see, I have no eyes, but I remember your voice. Save me! Please."

I'll do anything for you, just to get out of this hellhole.

Save me! "

"Hmph, what reason do I have to save you? You pathetic insect. Is it because of your swift and decisive betrayal of me? Or because of your arrogant laughter as you climbed over my dead body?"

The Lich King said coldly:

"I want to convince myself to forget your shameful behavior, but you have to give me a reason."

“We are warlocks, Master. My wicked, vile, and cunning nature proves that you have taught me well.”

Zulushid, enduring the agony of his soul being torn apart, cried out in sorrow:

"One-third of me was burned by the holy light, one-third of me was devoured by the demonic scythe, and only one-third of me remains here. You may imprison me, control me, and drive me in any way you wish. I will become the fiercest hound at your feet, devouring all enemies for you."

You need help, right?

You definitely need help!
If you had even the slightest choice, you wouldn't have traveled all this way to see this pathetic fool.
Fate may not be kind to you, but I will give you everything I have left!
"We're on the same path, Gul'dan. No two warlocks can coordinate as seamlessly as the two of us."

"Your mind is still quite sharp, which means you're still somewhat useful."

Gul'dan chuckled and said:
"I will give you a task. If you cannot help me conquer the Spider Demon Kingdom and build an invincible army for me, I will throw you back into the Maw and personally stuff you into the Tower of Torghast, the Tower of Sinful Souls."

You've heard of that place, haven't you?

Zulushid's spirit was trembling; clearly, he had indeed heard of the most terrifying death purgatory during his time in hell.

"Wait, then."

The Lich King swaggered away to the nearby Commander of the Abyssal Oath to complete the formalities and take the prisoner away.

This damn world of death is great in every way, except for its rampant bureaucracy!
Because the Oathsworn lacks active intelligence, they are extremely rigid in their actions. Gul'dan had to go through at least thirteen procedures and stamp thirteen seals to take away a soul.

To be honest, it wouldn't have bothered with this if it didn't really have no one else available.

When the prisoners locked in the Soulsteel Cage saw that Gul'dan could actually take away the warden's prisoners, they immediately went into a frenzy of howling.

"Your Honor, please take me with you! In my world, I'm a butcher who poisoned thousands! I'm useful!"

"Me! Choose me! I can easily use my words to swindle the world's wealth for you. All I need to do is spout some nonsense, and plenty of fools will be willing to buy it. You will become the richest person in the world."

I fooled most of the world with the silly excuse of 'living on the stars'! I was very effective!"

"They're all cowards! I'm the strongest! I was supposed to go to Maldraxxus and make a name for myself, but that damned Arbiter has gone mad. Take me with you, I'm the strongest!"

Gul'dan heard the shouts, and the Lich King turned around and asked:

"How many souls of prisoners can I take away with my power?"

The Oath-Taker paused for a moment, seemingly searching for something, and then said in a rigid tone:

"Your Excellency, as the representative of the Death Force in Azeroth, you have recruited 100,000 lower servants for the Death Force this month. You have contributed to the Eternals' great plan, and therefore you have been granted special privileges."

You can take five prisoners with you.

You can take five each month.

"Then I want the five fiercest ones."

Gul'dan said without hesitation:
"Can this limit be increased?"

"Yes! The more death servants you create in the material world, the more souls you can take from the Maw, but only ordinary prisoners. You don't have enough authority to take the most heinous sinners from all realms from Torghast, the Tower of Sinful Souls."

That's far from enough.

"Hehe, it's okay, it'll be enough soon!"

Gul'dan turned back with satisfaction, opened his arms, and shouted to the wailing souls in the Soulsteel Cage:

"Did you hear that? I still have four spots left, but I only want the most brutal, vicious, ruthless, and shameless sinners' souls to be my servants. The losers will be transformed into heart energy and devoured by the Abyss, while the winners can escape hell and return to the human world."

What are you waiting for?
"Let the deathmatch begin, ha, I'll enjoy your screams."

------

“Your son almost died. If I hadn’t secretly helped him, poor Nefarian wouldn’t have survived until you used your power to save him.”

Xalatas's voice echoed in the shadows of Lord Davar, her tone alluring as she spoke:
"The casualties are heavy. You have lost the soul of the dragon, and I have lost my hiding place. We are both losers, noble Deathwing. But this is not a bad thing, because we have a common enemy."

Should we form an alliance?

We are all children of the void; we must help one another.

"What right do you, a mere ghost, have to form an alliance with me?"

Deathwing coldly stared at the weakened Nefarian in the darkness before him, his brow furrowed. He realized the trouble was brewing after learning that his most outstanding son had been beaten so badly by his useless, traitorous daughter.

Damn!

How could a servant of the Holy Light, the Vigilant, be more skilled than himself in the field of "biomodification technology"?

Deathwing, the foremost biologist in Azeroth, instantly felt a kind of "academic pressure." Damn it, where did this bastard Diakum come from? Can't he just get out of the way?
"I am skilled in the curse of flesh, my dear Deathwing."

Saratas said in a gentle tone:

"Do you need me to forge a stronger body for your son? Like that 'Twilight Dragon' you've been trying to create, I can help. And you seem to be planning something interesting in Lordaeron, I think I can be of assistance."

Of course, I need to borrow your resources first to create a sufficiently attractive body for me, consider it an 'entry test' prepared for me, Deathwing.

You will see how useful I am.

Granting the power of the Black Dragon to mortals is a brilliant idea, but they cannot use it well. Clearly, you need to add some details.

I'd be happy to help you.

(End of this chapter)