A Nerubian's Journey

It was common wisdom that creatures were most dangerous when they were desperate or cornered.

That wisdom was proving itself to be very accurate as the Alliance drew ever closer to the Lich King’s fortress.

“Incoming! Mages, raise arcane barriers!”

Krivax barely had enough time to conjure an arcane barrier before the Scourge’s latest round of artillery bore down on the Alliance’s advancing lines. Giant spheres of necromantic magic, plague infested chunks of meat, and more conventional projectiles were all launched in devastating volleys as the Scourge unleashed every means of attack available to them. A wide variety of mages from all across Azeroth stood at the front of the lines and began hastily casting defensive spells in unison.

The ground beneath Krivax’s feet shook as the Scourge’s artillery made impact with the barriers, which was quickly followed by a cacophony of screams and explosions that echoed across the battlefield. The Alliance had many mages at its disposal, but the abjuration ritual to protect Naxx’kithal had left many of them exhausted, and the Scourge had been assaulting them relentlessly from the moment they were within range.

Krivax staggered as one of the Scourge’s artillery strikes shattered the barrier of an exhausted mage and caused an explosion nearby. Krivax unleashed an inferno of Life-infused flames at the landing site without hesitation, healing any injured soldiers and purging any corpses of necromantic magic before they could rise as undead.

Several hours of constant battle as the Alliance resolutely pushed toward the Lich King’s fortress were enough to forever etch the horror of the Scourge in his mind. They were now close enough to Gul’dan that the necromantic magic in the air was nearly viscous in its intensity, vastly empowering every undead creature they encountered and causing every slain warrior to rise again within moments.

The loss of Naxx’kithal as an aerial fortress and safe haven granted new wind to the Scourge’s airborne assaults. The fighting in the sky was so intense that corpses of destroyed undead and debris fell on the Alliance’s ground troops nearly as often as Scourge artillery.

This was already the most intense fight Krivax had ever participated in by far, and he only expected it to get worse once the longer things went on.

When the plan to drop Naxx’kithal on Shen-Zin Su went exactly according to plan, much to everyone’s surprise, the Alliance hadn’t hesitated to capitalize and immediately launch a full-scale assault against the Scourge. While the Alliance could have benefited from a few days to fully organize its forces and allow them some time to rest, that was obviously out of the question. The undead did not feel exhaustion, and they only had a short time before the Scourge redistributed its forces in response to the newly opened frontlines.

There had only been enough time for the Alliance to put together a fairly rudimentary strategy, which basically boiled down to ‘attack the Lich King from two different directions at the same time as hard as possible.’ Keeper Archaedas, Prophet Velen, and all of the extraordinarily powerful individuals approaching from the Temple of Five Dawns would theoretically keep large numbers of Scourge pinned down.

As a result, every single being on Naxx’kithal who was both capable of fighting and not essential to other crucial tasks was mobilized for the assault, while a constant stream of reinforcements were being portaled in from across the Eastern Kingdoms. All of the elite forces who had yet to be deployed in prior battles were now being brought to the front lines as the Alliance advanced along Shen-Zin Su’s neck.

Supreme Commander Lothar, Ranger General Sylvanas, High Tinker Mechatorque, High Thane Magni Bronzebeard, and the surviving members of the Council of Six were all participating in what everyone hoped would be the battle that would end this war. Every nation in the Eastern Kingdoms had retrieved the most powerful magical artifacts within their possessions and entrusted them to their champions, something rarely done outside of dire emergencies.

Krivax was pretty sure that he could even spot several titanforged creatures joining the battlefield, such as Earthen from Uldaman or Tol’vir from Uldum.

Even High King Anub’arak had delegated most of his duties to other members of his council and joined the frontlines, sweeping away tens of undead at a time with his scythe-like arms while surrounded by his royal guard.

Like sharks that smelt a drop of blood in the water, it seemed as if everyone invested in Azeroth’s defense decided to bear down on the Scourge. Naturally, Krivax would be expected to contribute to this matter and was now helping push the front lines. It was far from the specialized operations he’d participated in before, but no less important given that the Alliance needed every hand on deck.

“Clear the skies! Incoming Gnomish aircraft!”

Krivax reacted instantly as Supreme Command Lothar’s magically augmented command echoed across the battlefield, joining the rest of the Alliance’s ranged combatants in targeting the airborne undead. A massive sphere of Life-infused fire joined a volley of arrows, gunfire, and various magical spells which tore through the Scourge’s ranks in the air. It was a pittance compared to the overwhelming number of undead available to the Lich King, but it was enough to push them back and offer space to Gnomeregan’s aircraft.

From Krivax’s perspective, the flying machines created by the gnomes were extremely primitive, being a strange mixture of helicopters and the earliest biplanes used back on Earth. During the Second War, they hadn’t even carried any weaponry or been capable of carrying bombs.

Gnomeregan had enjoyed centuries of peace up until then and only designed their inventions for exploration and utility, not warfare.

Gnomish priorities naturally changed dramatically after the Horde sieged their capital and threatened to wipe out their species. Coupled with the high paced advancements brought upon by increased military funding and exposure to Titan technology from Uldaman, it was undeniable that warfare on Azeroth had been changed forever.

“Brace yourself!” Krivax yelled, summoning an arcane barrier in front of himself as a dozen gnomish aircraft flew above the Scourge’s ground forces. Moments later, they unloaded a mixture of gunpowder and arcane bombs that caused a cascade of explosions that tore through the undead.

Krivax winced as one of the aircraft was struck by a bolt of necromantic magic from one of the Scourge’s mages and began falling out of the sky, but the vast majority of the other aircraft managed to fall back to where it was safe.

“In the name of Azjol-Nerub, push forward!”

High King Anub’arak took advantage of the Scourge’s momentary disarray. The sight of several dozen Spiderlord’s stampeding forward while surrounded by a veritable sea of spear-wielding nerubian warriors would be enough to break the morale of any conventional enemy. The Scourge’s undead were not intelligent enough to face such an issue, but that also meant that they did nothing to stop themselves from being utterly obliterated by Azjol-Nerub’s advance.

Krivax watched his people ruthlessly trample and impale the countless undead forces as they charged across the battlefield. They only stopped after they collided with an enormous wave of icy water created by a group of naga sea witches. It took a moment for the Kirin Tor’s mages to disperse the wave, but the path for the Alliance to advance was clear once they did.

Similar feats were repeated several times over the next few hours using a variety of tactics. Dalaran and Quel’thalas’ mages would unleash their most potent spells, engulfing entire clusters of undead in enormous infernos or maelstroms of arcane magic. Krivax even witnessed a high elf mage use some kind of artifact that simply teleported a large swath of Scourge forces off of Shen-Zin Su, causing them to fall helplessly into Lordamere Lake.

The Alliance’s ground forces would then push into these newly cleared areas while being led by heroes like Ranger-General Windrunner or High Thane Bronzebeard. Krivax felt a sense of pride to see the systematic coordinated advance of the Alliance forces taking advantage of its diverse strengths to devastate Scourge ranks and move forward inch by inch.

“Krivax, watch out!”

Masruk’s warning pulled Krivax from his thoughts as an undead Sea Giant significantly larger than the rest of its kind smashed through the Alliance ranks and charged in his direction with its club raised high. Krivax reacted swiftly, leaping away from the giant’s crushing blow and freezing the club to the ground with a burst of intense ice magic. The undead attempted to pull its weapon free, but the ice held firm and Krivax took the opportunity to unleash a barrage of arcane missiles directly into the giant’s skull.

Each of them struck with precision and chipped away at the undead’s bone, allowing a precise lance of Life-infused flames to melt its brain.

As the Sea Giant collapsed and ceased moving, the Alliance forces around him cheered and pushed forward, bolstered by Krivax’s victory. They quickly sealed the gap in the lines under his directions and continued on their inexorable advance against the horde of undead creatures.

Krivax soon lost himself to the frenzy of battle commanding and supporting his section of the front. He had been tasked with maintaining control of a specific segment of the frontlines, capitalizing on his relative strength and remarkable stamina. His ability to hold onto any advance using his arcane magic and heal the troops under him was crucial in sustaining the Alliance’s position, especially as their forces rotated in and out of the combat zone for rest and recuperation.

The battle had already gone on for many hours and would almost certainly go on for many hours more. Not even the supernaturally powerful soldiers of Azeroth could fight that long without rest.

Krivax lasted far longer than most, but he also began to find himself becoming mentally exhausted after constantly fighting for so long. This was especially the case after a particularly difficult part of the assault when the Alliance was forced to fight their way from Shen-Zin Su’s neck to the lip of the shell nearly a hundred feet above.

So many lives were sacrificed pushing against the Scourge’s advantageous position.The Alliance eventually managed to use a combination of magic and reinforced nerubian silk to create a path onto Shen-Zin Su’s shell. Krivax probably saw more people be slaughtered within that… horrific hour of fighting than he had witnessed during his entire second life.

Krivax hadn’t realized just how mentally compromised he was becoming until someone was suddenly yelling at him.

“Do not lose focus, Apprentice! A moment’s lapse will be your death!”

Krivax was pulled from his thoughts as Vizier Hadix grabbed his arm and teleported them both several feet backwards, moments before a volley of projectiles landed where he had been standing. The following explosion sent several chunks of Shen-Zin Su’s desiccated flesh flying in every direction.

“Thank you, Vizier Hadix,” Krivax said tiredly as he regained his footing. He doubted that he would have died from that attack, but the fact that he hadn’t seen it coming despite his superior vision said a lot.

“If you wish to thank me, then fall back from the frontlines,” Vizier Hadix said curtly as he created a web of arcane magic in the air that captured several incoming projectiles. “I will handle your duties until you return. Not only do you need to recuperate, but your unorthodox perspective will doubtlessly be welcome while the Alliance plans the next phase of its assault.”

Krivax looked behind him and saw the Alliance’s leaders were all falling back and gathering in a fortified location. It made sense as there hadn’t been enough time between dropped Naxx’kithal and beginning the attack to actually decide on how they’d deal with the final phase.

An attack against any entity such as the Lich King wasn’t something that could be done without an actual strategy. To do so would be like walking into a death trap.

Krivax hesitated for several seconds, unsure as to whether he would be more useful on the battlefield or in the strategic meeting. Ultimately, he decided that Vizier Hadix was correct that he desperately needed a bit of time to pull himself back together. It was also true that his idea regarding Naxx’kithal had been useful despite his relative lack of knowledge about the nuances of military strategy.

Krivax took a moment to thank Hadix and wave toward Masruk, who was currently fighting the Scourge in the skies, to inform his friend about his intentions. With that done, Krivax stepped back from the frontlines and began making his way toward the hastily erected command center.

Well… it was less of an actual command center and more like a small spot that had been cleared amidst the chaos of the battlefield and protected by a multitude of wards.

Thankfully, not every single leader in the Alliance felt the need to participate in the strategic planning. It would have been a nightmare to deal with eleven different people all trying to advance their own agendas. Instead, it was the same three central figures of High King Anub’arak, Ranger-General Sylvanas, and Supreme Commander Lothar who represented the Alliance as a whole and its two most influential nations.

There were a variety of representatives from all the other nations participating in the war, but they were only there to ensure their interests weren’t severely harmed and weren’t expected to actually be involved in the strategizing. Krivax found a spot next to these representatives and turned his attention to the ongoing discussions.

A Kirin Tor mage was creating an arcane projection which depicted the Wood of Staves and the Lich King’s fortress. Another mage was creating a much larger projection of Shen-Zin Su’s, with portions of the massive creature shaded in different colors to indicate territory claimed by the Alliance and the Scourge.

It made for a very useful visual indicator, highlighting the Alliance plan to siege the Scourge from two different directions. Krivax had expected that the leaders planned to wait for the other front to arrive, but it seemed like there were some arguments being made on the wisdom of that matter.

“It would be in our interests to destroy the Scourge’s pylons as quickly as possible,” said Sylvanas, her tone firm as she pointed to one of several obelisk shaped structures surrounding the Lich King’s fortress. “All of us can sense the strange magical emanations coming from within the fortress. Whatever the Lich King is attempting to summon or create must be stopped before it comes to fruition.”

Krivax had been one of the first to sense the ritual-like magical emanations that had begun shortly after Shen-Zin Su’s death and had only grown more intense overtime. Although he had no idea what Gul’dan was up to, Krivax had no doubt that it was nothing good.

The pylons were structures which created magical defenses more formidable than any that could ever be created by mages through their own efforts. They were the source of the perpetual blizzard surrounding Shen-Zin Su, and needed to be dealt with before they could enter the fortress.

“Be that as it may, it would be foolish to attack without our full strength,” Lothar said with a grim expression. “It will still be some time before the other front is able to join us. Prophet Velen and Keeper Archaedas are among our greatest assets against the Scourge, not to mention all of the other forces which we would be reckless to engage without.”

Those other forces included Illidan Stormrage, the Order of the Silver Hand, and the Guardians of Nerub. All of whom would be essential against the Lich King.

“Our enemy grows more fortified by the moment. Combined with the ongoing ritual, I agree with the Ranger-General that we do not have time to wait for all of our forces to converge,” said High King Anub’arak, nodding toward the high elf. “There is no guarantee that delaying would lessen our casualties, nor does Azjol-Nerub fear making the sacrifices necessary to end this threat.”

Krivax found himself agreeing with Sylvanas and the High King. He could tell that the Scourge was beginning to recover from their sudden lack of coordination and were growing more dangerous over time. Attacking while the enemy was still on the backfoot was crucial.

He wished that they could afford to wait for the other front to join them, but time was of the essence.

Eventually, Lothar seemed to be convinced and the discussion turned to the best way of disrupting the Lich King’s ritual with the forces available to them. It was no small matter given the Scourge’s heavy fortifications.

The entire Wood of Staves was shrouded by the Lich King’s magical blizzard and enhanced to an absurd degree by the Scourge’s pylons. Anyone who didn’t get blown away by near hurricane force winds would be frozen solid within moments without magical protection. That didn’t even take into account the countless undead who were naturally much less affected by these conditions and would be at their most empowered given their proximity to Gul’dan.

Not only would a large portion of the Alliance mages need to maintain constant protections against the blizzard and thus be unable to contribute in an offensive fashion, but they would also need to separate into several different groups for each pylon. This was because each pylon was strategically positioned in a way that meant that it would take significantly longer to reach and destroy individually.

Taking them out one by one would defeat the entire purpose of attacking so soon in the first place.

It sounded like a reasonable and fairly straightforward strategy given the circumstances, and Krivax found himself unable to think of anything he would do differently. He listened as the leaders of each attack force were decided and was unsurprised that the first names to come up were the heads of various nations.

Krivax was much more surprised when his own name was mentioned after all of the more obvious choices were already assigned. He must have unconsciously let out a noise of disbelief, because High King Anub’arak turned to him with an unimpressed expression.

“Is there an issue, Vizier Krivax? I trust that you’re not about to waste my time by suggesting that the person I chose to lead the A.D.F and who can also be credited for devising the strategy which brought us this far is unqualified.”

Krivax’s protest died in his throat as he met the High King’s stern gaze. He wasn’t certain if Anub’arak was particularly insightful… or if Krivax had just become predictable to those who knew him.

“There’s no issue, High King. I was just surprised,” Krivax said, swallowing his doubts and steeling himself. “I will do everything I can to ensure our success.”

High King Anub’arak studied him closely for several more moments before giving a satisfied nod and turning back to the other leaders. They had very little time to waste, so the logistical details were decided on far more quickly than might otherwise be the case. Krivax was assigned to one of the closer pylons and had a decent number of forces placed under his command, though he was relieved that High King Anub’arak gave him one of the kingdom’s higher ranking Spiderlords to help him coordinate things.

A plan was made for the Alliance’s air force to use the remainder of their munitions to help soften the enemy. All in all, it was a fairly basic plan that recognized that this would almost certainly be the final battle of this war, so there was no sense holding anything back.

As the planning session concluded and Krivax began making his way to meet with the forces placed under his command, he did so with grim determination. There was little certainty in how the next few hours would play out, but Krivax was confident about one thing in particular.

The future of Azeroth would be changed dramatically by the end of the day, one way or another.

When Kil’jaeden assigned Gul’dan’s soul to be the favored toy of his Dreadlords, he had experienced pain more excruciating than could be described by the learned of shamans.

When Gul’dan’s soul was bound to Frostmourne and the Helm of Domination, he had been utterly stripped of everything that made him who he was and reformed into the embodiment of death itself.

When Gul’dan buried Frostmourne into Tichondrius’ chest, he began a process that would change him just as much as either of those previous experiences.

While Gul’dan could directly control and empower any undead under his control, it was fundamentally impossible for him to make use of his full strength through such indirect means.

If he wanted to reach his true destiny, then Gul’dan could only do so after freeing himself from the Frozen Throne, which is what Kil’jaeden had called the icy prison the demon had trapped him in. He would then need to acquire a vessel capable of channeling the vast powers at his disposal.

Unfortunately, such vessels were few and far between. Gul’dan had only been able to devise two different means that he was confident would allow him to harness his full potential.

Gul’dan had determined that his soul was tied primarily to the Helm of Domination and more loosely to Frostmourne. This meant that if he excised the blade from the Frozen Throne and guided it into the hands of a mortal foolish enough to claim it, then he could have theoretically used this connection to slowly mold the wielder into a worthy vessel. It would have been the work of years to gradually adapt the mortal’s body to necromantic magic more potent than any Azeroth had ever known, but would have resulted in a truly marvelous conduit for Gul’dan’s power.

He had only abandoned this due to a lack of time. Gul’dan had been unable to find a means of preventing his Dreadlord jailers from noticing Frostmourne’s disappearance. He’d been directing some of his undead to create a convincing enough replica using the Titan forges on the Isles of Thunder, but the Alliance’s sudden and aggressive invasion of Pandaria ruined those plans.

Gul’dan looked forward to tormenting the soul of whoever was responsible for that disruption once he was free…

Despite that slight setback, there were other options available to him.

Even without being gradually permeated with the power of Frostmourne, Tichondrius was an eons old demon whose body far outstripped an average mortal in terms of potential. The end result wouldn’t be quite as potent as the alternative, but using the Dreadlord as his vessel had some advantages of its own.

It would’ve been impossible for him to snuff out the soul of any mortal who adapted to the necromantic magic of Frostmourne, which meant Gul’dan would have needed to fight the mortal for control of their body. He would have won, naturally, but Gul’dan always preferred the path of least resistance.

Instead, Gul’dan used Frostmourne to erase most of Tichondrius’ soul before he began subsuming it into his own essence and taking control of the Dreadlord’s empty body. Tichondrius and the rest of the nathrezim had attempted to shield their souls against Frostmourne, but Gul’dan was not nearly as blind as they believed him to be.

He had once been a warlock, and was intimately familiar with demons and the natures of their souls. It had not been easy to bypass Tichondrius’ myriad of protections, but he had done so in the end.

Gul’dan could have extinguished the Dreadlord’s soul in its entirety and avoided any fight at all, but he wanted to steal what he could from Tichondrius’ memories and skills.

Such small fragments of Tichondrius’ soul shouldn’t have been any trouble at all for Gul’dan to subsume.

At least… that’s what he had thought.

The walls around Gul’dan shook as he howled in pain and fury, struggling to fully conquer the remnants of Tichondrius’ soul. The hundreds of spirits inhabiting his fortress let out tortured wails in response to his agony as necromantic magic twisted and surged around him. Countless images flashed through Gul’dan’s mind, threatening to overwhelm him as the vestiges of a demon who was older than his entire species proved far more resilient than anticipated.

He was dimly aware of the Alliance slowly advancing on his fortress and desperately needed to finish his transformation before they arrived. Varimathras had taken the first chance to flee after sensing Tichondrius’ fate, so the Scourge was only being led by the few intelligent undead within its ranks.

But Tichondrius simply refused to disappear for good!

“Argh! Cease your resistance and accept your fate, Dreadlord!” Gul’dan shouted as he fought for control of the demon’s body, throat growing hoarse after screaming for hours. “I will not be denied!”

There was not enough of Tichondrius left to respond, but Gul’dan could have sworn he still felt a surge of disdain in response to his demands. This caused the fiery hatred within him to blaze even more intensely than ever.

There was nothing more that Gul’dan hated than to be looked down upon. He remembered the faces of every being who dared to do so, from the members of his original clan to the many enemies he’d made on his path to godhood, and he had sworn to himself that he would make them suffer.

This arrogant demon would not be the one who forced Gul’dan to break that oath.

He refused!

Gul’dan lost track of time as he struggled against Tichondrius’ soul with renewed fervor. He could feel power swelling within him like a volcano on the verge of eruption as he ruthlessly tore away at all that remained of the Dreadlord. Each moment expanded into an eternity, fragmented memories of worlds and realms beyond mortal comprehension flooding into his mind.

Despite being only a portion of what Tichondrius would have known, Gul’dan learned more about the cosmos than he ever thought possible.

He learned answers to questions he had never known to ask, strategies he had never considered, and magic that he had never seen. Most importantly, he acquired extraordinary knowledge about the realm that existed beyond death, and how Frostmourne and the Helm of Domination found their way into the Burning Legion’s hands.

How ironic that Tichondrius would be felled by a blade created by his very own masters.

How appropriate the source of Gul’dan’s power came from the very gods themselves, intended to spread Death across Azeroth. He would do so and then turn their gifts against them.

But that was a matter to worry about after he dealt with the immediate threat. Gul’dan could feel the Alliance forces inching closer, destroying the structures that protected his fortress. With a final surge of will, Gul’dan took a firm grip of Frostmourne with his new, demonic body, pulled it from his vessel’s chest, and rushed toward the Frozen Throne.

Gul’dan roared as he swung Frostmourne with all his might, shattering the icy prison that had kept his power and essence contained, causing the Helm of Domination to drop to the ground. The vestiges of Tichondrius must have understood what was happening, because they attempted to stop him, but they could not.

The Helm of Domination shimmered as it became ethereal in Gul’dan’s grasp, seamlessly passing through the Dreadlord’s last remaining horn and settling on his vessel’s head.

All at once, the cacophony of screaming spirits and whirling magic ceased as the inside of Gul’dan’s fortress became deathly quiet. The only sound that remained was a soft chuckle that eventually grew louder until it became a resounding, triumphant laughter that echoed throughout the halls.

He could sense a myriad of scrying spells from the Alliance attempting to penetrate the fortress, likely in response to the massive wave of necromantic magic that had erupted from within it.

Gul’dan ignored them all and allowed himself to enjoy his moment of ascension. He had never felt more powerful and in control than at any point in his life. He didn’t have the slightest doubt that he could slaughter the fools wherever he wished!

Even an Aspect would need to fear him!

It was only when another of his fortress’ pylons was destroyed that Gul’dan deigned to turn his attention toward the Alliance.

Looking through the eyes of his undead, Gul’dan swiftly formed an overview of the battlefield’s current state. His undead legions had slaughtered large numbers of the mortals advancing on his palace, but their continuous reinforcements and superior tactics had allowed them to make significant progress.

His assimilation of Tichondrius gave him the tactical perspective to understand that the Alliance had likely hoped to destroy his pylons and interrupt what they would have perceived to be a dangerous ritual, but they had failed. Only half of the pylons had been destroyed and the enemy's forces were wonderfully divided, with those approaching from the Temple of Five Dawns nearly half an hour away from arriving.

That may not have sounded like a significant amount of time to most, but it would be more than enough for him.

Gul’dan smiled widely as he considered which of the Alliance’s military detachments he would slaughter first. His first instinct was to immediately end the life of Krivax, the troublesome nerubian who had caused him so many issues. The nerubian was currently in the midst of fierce combat, shouting orders and fighting against legions of undead that had suddenly grown vastly more coordinated.

But once again, the new strategic mindset he’d acquired from Tichondrius steered him instead towards a different target. The pylon closest to Krivax had already been destroyed and saving the rest would still be valuable to him given the empowering effect they had on the area.

It would be unwise to waste the element of surprise just so that he could kill the nerubian a few minutes earlier.

So decided, Gul’dan used his new understanding of magic and the seemingly endless sea of power at his disposal to casually shatter the Alliance’s wards and teleport onto the battlefield.

Gul’dan emerged from a dark cloud of necromantic magic and found himself amidst a group of surprised high elves attempting to unravel the protective magics around a pylon, their expressions becoming terrified at his imposing appearance. Gul’dan allowed himself to enjoy their fear for a single moment before calmly swinging Frostmourne through the body of an elite high elf Spellbreaker, instantly bisecting her.

An enormous torrent of dark magic followed the sweep of his blade, causing tens of high elves to be drained of all life as their desiccated corpses joined the Scourge and turned on their former allies. Gul’dan laughed uproariously as many more high elves died in the immediate chaos and confusion that followed, each swing of Frostmourne claiming multiple lives. The Scourge was enormously empowered by his presence and began to push against the enemy’s defensive lines.

Gul’dan had chosen to attack the high elves not only because they had yet to destroy the pylon they’d been targeting, but also because they would make for excellent servants.

“Die, monster!”

“No, Halduron! Fall back!”

This was aptly demonstrated when a furious high elf cursed him and swiftly cut down a half-dozen undead as he foolishly charged toward Gul’dan. A terrified female attempted to call him back, but the high elf failed to heed her.

Even considering the aptitude for swordplay that he’d absorbed from Tichondrius, Gul’dan could admit that his opponent was more skilled than himself. Unfortunately for the elf, that meant little in the face of overwhelming power.

With a casual flick of his wrist, Gul’dan sent forward a jagged wave of ice that impaled the fool and several more behind him. Gul’dan was mildly surprised when the female ceased her annoying screams long enough to summon a shield of Light strong enough to save herself.

Just as he was about to reward the elf by claiming her for the Scourge, several highly enchanted and impeccably aimed arrows pierced through the air and threatened to land in the eye-slits of his helmet. Gul’dan hastily deflected the arrows with Frostmourne before turning to glare at the archer who dared to attack him, spotting a female elf wearing regal armor who was glaring at him with pure hatred from atop a nearby ridge.

Gul’dan was nearly certain that those arrows would have failed to kill him, but would have definitely caused him harm.

He recognized her as Ranger-General Sylvanas and felt a trace of frustration as he realized the elves were rallying around her. Gul’dan had already slaughtered a little under half of the high elven force during his initial onslaught, either directly with his attacks or indirectly when he destroyed their defenses against the empowered Scourge and the magical blizzard surrounding them.

Their morale should have been utterly crushed as the hopelessness of their circumstances became clear, yet Sylvanas’ leadership held them together.

It was impressive.

It was infuriating.

“Fighting retreat! Regroup with the rest of the Alliance!” Sylvanas commanded, her voice cutting through the battlefield even as she launched more arrows in an attempt to slow him down.

“Futile,” Gul’dan said with a scoff before easily avoiding the arrows and dispatching an isolated group of high elf mages with another sweep of Frostmourne.

The mages attempted to create an arcane barrier to protect themselves, but it was no match for the raw power he wielded. As their barrier shattered, Gul’dan reveled in the despair he could see in the expressions of the elves who were desperately attempting to flee his wrath. These millennia old warriors should have made for a much more formidable challenge, but they died so easily!

Killing them was as simple as hunting rats with rylaks.

It was at this moment that Gul’dan knew that he had truly succeeded in his goal of becoming a god. No amount of force which the Alliance could bring to bear had any hope of stopping him, and the Scourge would spread across not only Azeroth, but to the ends of the cosmos itself.

Gul’dan enjoyed the moment, toying with his opponents to savor the sense of power. He leisurely chased after the group of retreating elves and occasionally killed swaths of them with Frostmourne. Their desperation only grew as there were fewer and fewer of them to fight against the legions of undead tearing at their ranks.

Gul’dan was occasionally stalled by clever tricks or attacks from the skies, but he was simply above such paltry efforts. One particularly amusing attempt came in the form of a dragonhawk rider flying toward him while carrying several mana bombs, apparently intending to sacrifice her life. Gul’dan hadn’t even needed to do anything as her mount died to his blizzard long before she could reach him, causing her to fall among his undead hordes.

So long as a few of his pylons remained intact, it would be impossible for the mortals to survive the environment without magical protections. The distraction of the enemy’s mages proved a substantial boon to the Scourge.

The high elves eventually retreated far enough that they began to receive substantial assistance from the rest of the Alliance. Gul’dan’s advance was slightly slowed as volleys of artillery exploded around him and a few annoying dragons engulfed portions of his Scourge in dragonfire.

Gul’dan glared at the lizards and considered teaching them that the skies were not safe from his reach, but decided against it when he spotted something much more interesting in the distance. The Alliance had obviously been informed of his approach and had organized themselves into defensive formations in preparation for his arrival.

Dozens of Spiderlords, mortal cavalry of all kinds, and mages from across Azeroth were all lined up and gathered in the hope that they could resist his power. The leader of their pitiful alliance, Supreme Commander Lothar, was bellowing what Gul’dan assumed to be some manner of motivational drivel to bolster their morale. Even Krivax, the mortal that he so very much wanted to kill, had been kind enough to place himself in Gul’dan’s path so that he could be culled.

How convenient.

Amused and curious, Gul’dan cast a spell that would allow him to listen in on the enemy while his Scourge charged their position. Tichondrius’ memories informed him that the best way to shatter an enemy’s will was to destroy them when they were at their most hopeful, and Gul’dan intended to do just that.

“Soldiers of the Alliance, we stand at the precipice of a battle to decide the fate of our world. Before us lies a foe of unimaginable power who wields death itself as a weapon. Many of us will doubtlessly fall, but never forget that we hold with us the combined might of Azeroth! We are united in purpose, unyielding in resolve, and unbreakable in our spirit. Our homes, families, and nations depend on us to defend them, so let us send this foul creature back to the abyss from which it crawled. For the Alliance!”

“For the Alliance!”

The human’s little speech seemed to serve its purpose as the mortals called out their little warcry in response with clearly bolstered morale. The deafening sound of their shout briefly overshadowed the sound of countless undead charging toward them and the blizzard that raged all around their location.

It would make it all the more sweeter when Gul’dan crushed their hopes under his heel.

Gul’dan waited patiently as the Scourge approached the Alliance’s fortified lines, intending to teleport into the battle at just the right moment. Emotionless undead charged through artillery, magic, and aerial bombardment without the slightest hesitation. Arrows and bullets tore through them, but there was always another undead to take the place of the one who fell.

Rotted sea giants collided with nerubian Spiderlords in a titanic clash, mortal cavalry crushed undead beneath their hooves while many were pulled from their mounts into certain death, and the skies were filled with the sounds of combat. But most importantly of all, the so-called heroes of the Alliance delved into the chaos of battle.

The perfect place to end them.

Gul’dan waited a while longer before seeing his chance and teleporting directly into the thick of the conflict. Just like the last time, his arrival cast a dark omen over the battlefield, and Gul’dan had a moment to enjoy Supreme Commander Lothar’s expression of surprise. Frostmourne cut through the air like a harbinger of death, ready to end the human’s life and destroy the Alliance’s resolve in a single moment.

Lothar reacted quickly enough to raise his sword, but Gul’dan merely smirked with the full confidence that no mere piece of steel could stop Frostmourne.

Perhaps that was why he was so thoroughly shocked when Lothar was only forced to his knees instead of being cut in two when their blades clashed and sent a shockwave across the battlefield. Tichondrius’ knowledge allowed him to recognize the greatsword as Strom’kar, the legendary blade which had once sealed the C’thrax that attacked Capital City.

Gul’dan’s surprise prevented him from reacting in time when a burst of vermillion flames engulfed him, allowing Lothar to escape while he was distracted. Gul’dan roared in pain and fury as he turned toward the source of the flames and unleashed a wave of necromantic magic in that direction. Krivax barely managed to survive by teleporting out of the way like the troublesome little insect he was.

“You’re going to regret that,” Gul’dan said as he carved a path of death through the Alliance while pursuing the nerubian. “I’d intended to save you for last, but now your miserable existence will end here and now.”

Despite his clear and obvious terror, Krivax still managed to muster the resolve to respond. “Probably… but I’ve been preparing for this moment my entire life, so I think I have a chance.”