The world of Azeroth is vast, with a wide ocean gap between the three continents, and for a long time before the rise of civilization, such a gap was equivalent to a world chasm that could never be crossed, trapping primitive life in different realms without intersecting with each other.

Without the threat of war, civilizations can thrive in their cradles.

But even in this day and age, from the Borean Tundra to Stormwind on the eastern continent, you have to traverse the cold seas vertically, facing pirates, dangerous sea creatures, and, of course, the spirit-like moodiness of the ocean itself.

And for any mortal in this era, this can be called a distant and adventurous journey, but in reality, 90% of the lives in this world will not have the opportunity to complete such a long journey in a short life.

Mortals are flawed... They always think that they are the core of civilization, but as everyone knows, the behavior of mortals has not changed much in thousands of years.

Arthas, determined to sacrifice himself to save him, did not know that when his adventure began, even before that, there were beings who knew his fate, and even his end.

But most of these beings have chosen to wait and see for a moment what this mortal will bring, rather than direct reckless intervention.

Because in this timeline, the rise of the Dark Blade has changed too many things, and under their interference, the darkness hidden under the world can no longer operate unscrupulously.

This is undoubtedly a good thing for the order of the whole world, but as we have said, history does not praise what did not happen, so the rise of the Blade is still one of the most terrible disasters of our time. The name of the Dawn Blade is still the greatest fear floating in the skies of this world.

At this time, the night of Stormwind City is calm, and against the backdrop of a crescent moon, the entire Midnight Garden City seems very quiet.

The high-ranking knights who originally lived in this city are gone, and they are either still working on the aftermath in the war zone of the northern frontier, or they have been sent as commanders to the newly formed Twilight Federal District or the soon-to-be-formed Swamp of Sorrows, and after the war era of the Southern and Northern Wars is over, these dead warriors have more and more complicated things to do.

And a busy job is far more important to the dead than to the living.

In the mansion in the garden district, the Great Lord of the Darkblade leaned back in his chair, his eyes slightly closed, as if he was resting, dormant or falling asleep, like some physiological cycle that those fragile mortals need to carry out to maintain their existence, but in reality, the undead do not need to sleep, so he just maintains this posture, trying to relax his consciousness a little.

On his body, the pulsating mass of death energy was repairing the dark wounds within the Great Collar's body, and wisps of dark light wrapped around the cold, silent body, making Tyrion look like a piece of ice that would never melt.

"Buzz"

Like a visitor knocking on the door, a distant consciousness suddenly made a ripple in Tyrion's silent sea of mind in a faint but undisguised way, like old friends who hadn't seen each other for a long time.

"Long time no see, Tyrion."

It was an old voice, with undisguised kindness, but it didn't get any gentler treatment for it.

"Viren..."Old friend"...."

Tyrion's calm spirit suddenly tumbled at this moment, like an enraged beast, following the trajectory left by the distant consciousness, smashing back with ruthlessness and precision.

"Bang"

A burst of consciousness silenced the visitor in the spirit world for a moment, and when his voice sounded again, it was filled with a sense of helplessness:

"Can I please let me say it properly?"

In the face of the prophet's complaints, the Great Lord of the Darkblade did not say anything, and it was not until a few seconds later that his hoarse and hazy voice sounded again:

"You took the initiative to appear in front of me, does it mean that you have finally made up your mind to change sides and stand on my side? You know, Viren, I don't have much interest in listening to you old fellow, and those clichés are boring to think about. ”

"Of course not, I'm here to discuss with you the merits of the living and the dead, and it's not about the position of the two sides, it's just the identity of the former collaborators... I found something that I felt compelled to tell you. ”

Although the two sides are thousands of miles apart, Viren's voice is projected in Tyrian's mind, and it can still vividly simulate his state of squinting and speaking slowly, and what Veren said also calmed down the torrent of turbulence in Tyrion's mental level, which seemed to represent his return to reason.

"Say it. I'm listening, at least now. ”

"Just now, Tyrion, I saw once again a fragment of the future, and it had to do with you and your power, and in my gaze, the authority of the world over the undead would be diluted... A challenger wielding the same power as you has appeared, his target is the continent of Northrend, the dormant power of the same source as the Darkblade is recovering, and the dangerous sword-wielder is approaching the magic blade, though I can't be sure he's..."

"That's... Alsace. Minethiel, right? ”

Viren's voice was interrupted by Tyrion, and the High Lord slowly sat up straight from his chair, his slightly closed eyes opening at this moment, and in those ice-blue eyes, wisps of cold light visible to the naked eye shone brightly.

"The man who appeared in the future you saw, you saw him, you recognized him, you were trying to hide something from me, Viren, this is not the attitude of a collaborator."

"It's not a cover-up, it's just that I can't see the cause of this myself, it seems to have appeared suddenly, very abruptly, which is rare in previous future clips."

Viren said slowly:

"I can't even judge how true it is, and my instinct tells me that you ought to know about it, and besides, in your parlance, is it any good for me and my people that I deceived you? Are you still worried that I will unite with the other leaders and ambush you on the continent of Northrend? ”

"Hmm... Who knows what you mad living people will do, there were enough madmen in the human empire before the war began, and now, you see, I killed Lothar and the situation began to get worse, you see, Prophet, a lot of my suspicions and hostilities are actually due to inconsecution. ”

Tyrion responded as he bluntly changed the subject:

"And, when are you going to give me back the heart of anger you took from me? Or does it take me to go to the tundra in person to fetch such a valuable thing? ”

"It's a pity, but the anger is not with me."

Viren replied very simply:

"Humanity that has lost its leader obviously needs that artifact more, and at their behest, I have passed it over to some of the wisest of the human race, one of the artifacts that the Draenei have inherited from antiquity, and I think I have enough power and reason to decide who owns it, it is the thing that has a master, Tyrion, and that kind of thing does not belong to whoever picks it up."

"I never knew you, Viren, were so sharp-toothed."

Tyrion lost interest in the conversation, he leaned back in his chair and waved his hand lazily:

"Then this is the end of the private exchange, Prophet, and then it is time for the two camps to "talk" in another way, but for the sake of this news, I will give you some more time, and I hope that by then, you and your people will be ready... Well, keep in mind that my stuff... Not so easy to take! ”

"Wait! There's one more thing, Tyrion, we need..."

"Buzz"

Throwing down a sentence that was weighty enough, and before Viren could finish his next sentence, the disturbed Great Lord of the Dark Blade waved his fingers and swept like a sharp sword, sealing his will and the sea of his mind.

After the spiritual contact between the two sides was severed, Tyrion's expression became serious, although on the surface he didn't care about what Viren announced, but in fact, Arthas's move to Northrend was indeed beyond his imagination.

Tyrion had thought that Arthas would not repeat the same mistakes after the world line had been reversed to such an astonishing extent, but now it seems that in a corner he didn't notice, the Lich King Neozu still set his sights on Arthas, and the "bad fate" between the two men was finally established.

"So, Neozu, my friend, what exactly do you want to do?"

Tyrion walked to the window, looking out at the deep night, thinking of the rumors he had recently heard about the power of the Northrend continent, about the movements of the dwarves, the Vekus, and the dragons, his eyes narrowed little by little:

"Sure enough, you're not as worry-free as you seem on the surface... Well, it's time to take a trip to Northrend, too. ”

And at the moment when the Great Lord of the Dark Blade made up his mind, a faint wave of energy fluctuated in the dark night of Stormwind City, and the direction of the energy burst made Tyrion's face change slightly, and the figure of the Great Lord almost suddenly disappeared into the night, like a lightning bolt in the night.

"I feel the opening of a rift in the world, how is it now?"

Tyrion carried the Ash Bringer, and he walked into the chamber below the church district in the cold darkness of the night, where Vagri Agassa and Anala, the Soul Healer, were nervously standing next to the Soul Gathering Coffin, and at Varri's feet was a rapidly evaporating black corpse.

It was a reality-invading Dementor, and Tyrion could easily distinguish its twisted joints, its torn chest with spears, its black blood stained on the ground, its claws encased in disgusting slime, and the kind of human, but only a few oozing black hollow Dead Realm monsters on its face, which at this point looked like a snowman that melted rapidly in the sun, and after a few moments, only black outlines remained on the solid, cold masonry.

These monsters that do not belong to this world, even after death, will be quickly devoured by the Dead Realm.

"It's just a genic-level dementor, this guy's claws can't even destroy the wood of the soul coffin, but the appearance of this thing means that the situation is getting worse, Tyrion, the Dead Realm has found Yuna, they won't give up so easily."

Agasa stretched out his hand and slowly pushed the heavy soul coffin open, the wood soaked by the power of the soul was dark on the outside, and in the low sound of clicking, a wisp of black soul power turned into mist, wrapping around the bottom of the wooden coffin in front of the three people, and between the black halos, a little girl about the size of Dornan 2 years ago was getting up from the escaping soul power in a daze.

Probably because she had just woken up, the expression on her face was confused, and apart from the lack of eyes, this little ghost was almost no different from other little girls, wearing a small Delaney-style dress and pigtails, the image of this child was still stuck at the moment of his death.

But she's not like any other ghost.

"Yuna?"

Vagri Agasa shouted softly, only to wake the child out of his daze, who looked back blankly at Agasa, her body quickly dissipating into the black mist, apparently trying to escape from the place.

"Yuna! Remember me? I'm Tyrion..."

Tyrion stepped forward and called in a low voice:

"You should remember my voice, you should..."

"Friends?"

Yuna's figure was halfway vanished when she heard Tyrion's voice, and she shook her head hesitantly:

"Is it really you? My friend Tyrion? ”

The little ghost took a step back and waved in the direction of the sound, trying to reach Tyrion in this way, and the latter reached out and gently grasped the little ghost's cold hand in the palm of his hand.

"It's me, I asked two of my friends to save you from the Dementors, and now you're in my city, it's safe here..."

"It's not safe here, friend! They're watching us, it's not safe here, the bad stuff is going to bite us at any moment... Friend? Are you still there? Come with me, I'll take you to a really safe place, and they've seen you... They're looking for you, too! ”

Yuna let out a scream, but was soon lifted out of the Soul Gathering Coffin by Tyrion's hand, and the Great Lord of the Darkblade reached out and patted Yuna on the head, and he whispered:

"Nope! Little Yuna, it's safe here, I promise, come, let's have a good talk, my little friend, about why those Dementors are chasing you? As for your foothold in the Shadow Realm, and "them"... I promise, little Yuna, I'll protect you. ”