Twilight

rewrite to make more intense and humorous, do not make it shorter:

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! The very ground vibrated, sending tremors up the spines of the three high-level Twilight Cultists, rudely interrupting their highly intellectual discussion about the optimal way to summon existential dread. It was Gujar, the two-headed ogre, making his grand, rather unsubtle entrance. With a casual, almost dismissive flick of one massive hand, a veritable horde of Twilight Cultists sprang into action, scurrying like deranged ants. They heaved, they grunted, they strained, and with a final, earth-shattering thud, the colossal dragon corpse was unceremoniously dumped off the deck and onto the central square of the town, looking less like a majestic beast and more like a very large, very dead, slightly deflated balloon animal.

"High Priest Aisur! Twilight Herald Korla! Dawnbane Esira! You three, get your oddly-shaped butts over here and assist me in starting the ritual! Chop, chop!" Cho'gall's two heads boomed in surprisingly synchronized unison, a feat of vocal coordination that always impressed, and slightly terrified, his subordinates.

Faced with the leader's booming, dual-barreled command, the trio didn't dare dawdle. They snapped to attention, practically tripping over themselves in their haste to prepare.

"You are exceptionally lucky," the Lord of Twilight declared, one head addressing the cultists, the other seemingly lecturing a particularly stubborn pebble. "Among all the wretched, insignificant members of this glorious organization, you are the only ones who have the distinct honor of witnessing this miracle... and, even better, getting your grubby hands dirty participating in its creation!"

"Yes, you are so lucky!" the other head chimed in, practically vibrating with self-congratulatory glee.

The three senior Twilight members, veterans of countless bizarre rituals and even stranger pronouncements, had long since grown accustomed to the leader's peculiar, two-headed monologues. However, as high-ranking members of the Twilight Sect – and, more importantly, among the select few who hadn't spontaneously combusted after a casual chat with the Old Gods, their charming, tentacled masters behind the scenes – they considered dealing with a schizophrenic Two-Headed Ogre just another Tuesday. A slightly more shouty Tuesday, perhaps, but a Tuesday nonetheless.

Cho'gall, ever the meticulous planner (when both his heads agreed), barked orders at Korla, the former Kirin Tor mage. He commanded the mage to begin drawing a magical circle around the chromatic dragon corpse, a task that, given the dragon's immense size, looked less like drawing and more like attempting to sketch a continent with a piece of chalk. After Korla had fully embraced the void – which, apparently, did wonders for his artistic flair – his magic skills had become ridiculously sophisticated. In what felt like mere seconds, a perfectly symmetrical, four-star magic circle shimmered into existence, looking suspiciously like it had been drawn with a cosmic protractor.

Then, Cho'gall's less intelligent head (the one usually preoccupied with snacks) demanded the Twilight Cultists drag forth the corpses of over a dozen more dragons. Most of these, to the cultists' dismay, were blue dragons, which were notoriously heavy and prone to leaving arcane residue everywhere.

Once everything was meticulously arranged – the massive dragon corpse centered, the magic circle glowing ominously, and the smaller dragon corpses artfully arranged like morbid party favors – Cho'gall commanded the three senior cultists to take their places at the crucial hubs of the magic circle. Then, with a collective, slightly strained grunt, they launched into a joint spell.

Under the spell's guiding, rather aggressive influence, the remaining magical essence within the dragon corpses was violently ripped from their decaying forms and greedily sucked into the magic circle. The dragons, moments before somewhat intact, shriveled faster than a grape in a microwave, transforming into a grotesque pile of leathery, desiccated mummies. Poof! Instant ancient history.

As the magic circle gorged itself on the stolen energy, the sky above the port town decided to throw a tantrum. It darkened, not with a gentle twilight, but with a furious, bruised-purple gloom. Thick, angry purple-black clouds boiled and churned, forming a colossal, swirling vortex that looked less like a storm and more like the universe itself was attempting to flush.

Then, with a deafening CRACK! that rattled every tooth in every cultist's head, a surge of raw energy tore through the sky. It wasn't just a lightning bolt; it was a strong, blinding white light, a celestial spear that plunged downwards, impaling the huge, lifeless, and now slightly-more-lifeless body of the five-headed dragon corpse.

"Aha!" Cho'gall's heads practically vibrated with glee. "This! This is a secret method from the blue dragons! The Arcane Needle of Turbulence! Malygos, that old fool, once used it to siphon arcane energy from the ley lines throughout Azeroth, channeling it into his precious Nexus. Now, we're using it to reanimate a Frankenstein's monster of draconic proportions!"

Under the brutal stimulation of this powerful arcane energy, the five dragon corpses moved! It was a movement so slight, so utterly imperceptible, that most cultists probably thought they'd just had too much fermented murloc juice. But then, with a sudden, violent spasm, its black head began to twitch, like a zombie trying to remember how to floss.

Cho'gall's eyes (all four of them) lit up like demented Christmas trees. His two heads, coordinating with an eerie, almost unsettling synchronicity, spoke at the exact same moment: "I feel the magic power being absorbed by that corpse! It's working! He's alive! I saw it! Increase the power, you sluggards! More power!"

Time, meanwhile, decided to drag its heels, passing by minute by agonizing minute. The foreheads of the three senior Twilight members were now glistening with sweat, looking less like powerful spellcasters and more like they'd just run a marathon in a sauna. It was painfully obvious they couldn't hold on for much longer.

But the effect was undeniable, and gloriously grotesque. Just moments ago, only one dragon head had twitched. Now, all five limbs were convulsing in a macabre dance, and then, one by one, all five heads slowly, agonizingly, began to lift! Finally! With a sound that was half-gasp, half-creak, the ten eyes of the five dragon corpses snapped open, each eye socket glowing with an unsettling, malevolent purple light!

"Chromatus!" the Twilight Leader bellowed, his voice echoing with the pride of a deranged father. "Come to me, my life-giving son, and look at your glorious papa!"

One of the five-headed dragon's heads, the black one, trembled slightly, as if trying to shake off a particularly nasty hangover. Then, with a slow, grinding creak, the other heads began to turn on their necks, like rusty weather vanes. And then, in a truly unsettling display of coordination, all five heads moved in unison, all ten eyes fixing their unholy purple gaze directly on Cho'gall.

"Our... father," the five heads rasped, their voices a discordant chorus of ancient evil and nascent consciousness.

"YES! I AM YOUR FATHER!" Cho'gall cackled wildly, a sound that could curdle milk and shatter glass. "Chromatus is alive! The Guardian Dragon Kings can only die! The Twilight Hour! It will come eventually!"

Chromatus, a true abomination of nature, boasted five distinct heads, each one pulsating with the specialized, terrifying powers of its corresponding guardian dragon. In the original, less-bonkers timeline, the Green Dragon Queen Ysera had predicted, with her usual flair for dramatic prophecies, that at the "Twilight Moment," all four dragon kings would meet their untimely demise at the hands of Chromatus. Each king, she foresaw, would be dispatched by the very head of Chromatus that wielded their own specialized power. Talk about poetic injustice!

But, thankfully, the Hour of Twilight had been a no-show, so the four dragon kings, along with the surprisingly effective shaman Thrall, had managed to give Chromatus a good old-fashioned beating. Although Chromatus had been thoroughly deceased, the Dragon Kings, in a rather embarrassing oversight, couldn't actually destroy his body. So, they did what any self-respecting magical entity would do: they sealed him away, presumably with a "Do Not Open Until Doomsday" sign.

In this delightfully twisted timeline, however, Chromatus had still been born. Cho'gall, practically bursting with pride, was about to complete his master's grand, world-ending cause! He couldn't wait another moment!

As dusk began to settle, Cho'gall, with the dramatic flair of a villain in a bad opera, activated his very own "Twilight Hour!" Swarms of twilight dragons and colorful dragons, looking like a particularly aggressive, purple-tinged air force, clawed their way into the sky. Thousands of giant beasts flapped their leathery wings, their sheer numbers blotting out the sun as they descended upon the Dragon Temple. The already dim sky turned pitch black, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Behind this terrifying, winged army, Cho'gall's two heads could barely contain their manic excitement. He rode Chromatus, his "life-giving son," bringing up the rear, clearly intending to make a fashionably late, utterly devastating entrance.

When Cho'gall finally arrived at Wyrmrest Temple, the Twilight Dragons in the sky and the Twilight Cultists on the ground had already begun their chaotic, destructive dance with the Guardian Dragonflight. However, the Dragon Sleeping Alliance, surprisingly, seemed to have done their homework. Their elite adult dragons, looking remarkably well-rested, directly dealt a series of heavy, bone-crunching blows to the leading Twilight Dragons.

The red dragons, acting as surprisingly effective, fire-breathing meat shields, absorbed the initial onslaught. The green dragons, lurking in the back, spewed noxious green poisonous mist and, with a mischievous flick of their tails, guided the twilight dragons directly into a rather unpleasant nightmare dimension. Meanwhile, the blue dragons, ever the arcane overachievers, unleashed torrents of raw magic.

At once, a truly depressing number of purple dragon corpses began to plummet from the sky like very large, very dead raindrops! On the ground, the Twilight Cultists, not to be outdone, summoned a veritable stampede of furious elementals as troops, who proceeded to cooperate with the Twilight Dragonmen to attack the bottom floor of the Dragonsleep Temple with all the subtlety of a runaway freight train.

"Chromatus, attack!" Cho'gall shrieked, practically bouncing in his saddle.

"ROAR!" The black dragon head of Chromatus let out a deep, soul-shaking roar, a sound that made every giant dragon in the sky feel their very essence tremble.

"Blue Dragon! You are courting your own death!" the blue dragon head snarled, its voice dripping with contempt.

"Green dragon, I will send you to eternal sleep! And I mean eternal!" the green dragon head followed closely behind, its voice a chilling whisper.

"Red Dragon! I'm going to beat you until you cry for your mommy!" the red dragon head bellowed, its voice surprisingly high-pitched and belligerent, directly taunting the entire map.

"Where is the bronze dragon? Where are those sneaky little cowards hiding?!" A light flashed in the bronze dragon head's eyes, as if it was trying to detect whether the bronze dragon was hiding in the timeline, perhaps attempting to erase Chromatus from existence.

However, these vicious taunts and contemptuous tones had precisely zero effect. Queen Ysera, bless her prophetic heart, had foreseen the existence of Chromatus as early as when the Twilight Cult had launched its full-scale, utterly unsubtle attack. According to the prophecy, the dragon kings would be killed by Chromatus using the very means they were best at. This, naturally, meant they had to attack the heads of the colorful dragons that were different in color from their own. It was like a very confusing, very deadly game of rock-paper-scissors-dragon-head.

The guardian dragon kings had already formulated a strategy, and, like true overachievers, had carried out countless deductions. The four giant dragons – Eranikus, Parthiastrasz, Malygos, and even the delightfully eccentric Chromie – had played the role of Chromatus, attacking the four guardian dragon kings using their best attack methods. According to the plan, Ysera would deal with the bronze dragon head, Ancagalon would deal with the red dragon head, Alexstrasza would deal with the blue dragon head, and the bronze dragon king, poor fellow, had the most important task: he had to deal with the remaining black dragon heads and green dragon heads, all by himself!

Now, they just had to wait for Chromatus to waltz right into their meticulously crafted trap!

The four guardian dragon kings – Ysera, Alexstrasza, Ancagalon, and Nozdormu – surrounded Chromatus from four directions, executing their planned maneuver with the precision of a well-oiled, very large, scaly machine. The Red Dragon Queen, ever the fiery matriarch, spewed red flames from the head of the colorful dragon she was engaging, while Ancagalon used his icy breath from below to slow down the colorful dragon's movement, turning it into a rather sluggish, five-headed ice sculpture.

The two dragon kings, Ysera and Nozdormu, relied on flexible positioning and the liberal use of time spells to predict Chromatus's every move, making them look less like dragons and more like very agile, time-bending fortune tellers.

What followed was the planned, targeted attack. Chromatus, despite being a multi-headed terror, found himself held aloft in the air by the four dragon kings, like a particularly stubborn kite. But as a five-headed colorful dragon, even though he had just been born (or, more accurately, reanimated), he possessed unparalleled, almost infuriating, intelligence! He quickly processed the situation and, with the speed of a supercomputer, thought of a solution!

The bronze dragon head's power of time surged through Chromatus's entire body, and with a horrifying lurch, Chromatus began to counterattack at twice the speed and strength, making him look like a five-headed blur of pure, unadulterated rage. The blue and red dragon heads continued their furious, tooth-and-claw brawl with Alexstrasza and Ancagalon. The bronze dragon head, with a smug look, took on Nozdormu. But then, the green dragon head, with a sudden, unnervingly agile twist of its long neck, swiveled around and attacked Ysera, joining forces with the black dragon head.

Chromatus, with the cunning of a truly evil genius, had spotted Ysera as the weakest link among the four dragon kings, and he wanted to use the Green Dragon Queen as his personal breakthrough point! And just as the Colorful Dragon had guessed, Ysera was indeed caught flat-footed, utterly unprepared for his sudden, rather unsportsmanlike change of tactics.

One of the Green Dragon Queen's front legs was swallowed whole by the green dragon head's noxious breath, leaving it looking like a particularly soggy noodle. And the dragon wing on her right? It was viciously clamped down upon by the black dragon head, which seemed to be enjoying its snack immensely. And to add insult to injury, the green dragon head stared intently into Ysera's eyes, trying to drag her into a nightmare, presumably one filled with endless paperwork and bad coffee.

The situation of the battle took a turn for the worse! A really, really bad turn!

Ysera, the serene Green Dragon Queen, had become Chromatus's personal punching bag! Although she quickly escaped from Chromatus's gaping maw, sacrificing her wings to do so (a rather painful trade-off), the colorful dragons acted with terrifying decisiveness. They abruptly retracted the two dragon heads that were busy brawling with Alexstrasza and Ancagalon, and with a unified, terrifying roar, all five dragon heads pounced on the green guardian together.

Ysera was in danger! The kind of danger that involved sharp teeth and a distinct lack of escape routes! Seeing that the situation on Ysera's side was not just "not optimistic" but rapidly approaching "utter catastrophe," the three other dragon kings immediately pounced on her, but they still couldn't break the deadlock! It was like trying to stop a runaway train with a handful of marshmallows.

The black dragon head of Chromatus, with a disgusting crunch, chewed on the flesh it had torn from Ysera's wings, savoring every bite. The bronze dragon head, meanwhile, practically shouted with glee: "What sweet flesh! Come on! I'm not full yet! I could eat a whole dragon!"

After this rather unappetizing declaration, the colorful dragon pounced again! This time, it gave the four guardians precisely zero chances, prioritizing its attack on the Green Dragon Queen with the single-minded focus of a hungry toddler. After a short, brutal while, the Green Dragon Queen could no longer hold on. This grim reality brought back a chilling reminder of the future she had predicted in the Emerald Dream, a future filled with doom and very bad hair days.

"This monster!" she thought, a wave of despair washing over her. "He was created just to deal with the Guardian Dragon Kings! He has the power to kill all dragons!" Thinking of this, fear and despair flickered in the Green Dragon Queen's eyes, making her look less like a majestic queen and more like a very worried housecat.

Not only were the Dragon Kings failing in their epic battle, but the larger conflict between the Wyrmrest Alliance and the Twilight Dragons and Hydras was also going south faster than a penguin on a greased slide. The corpses of giant dragons in the sky fell like oversized, purple-tinged raindrops! This scene was less like a battle and more like the end of the Dragonflight, a very depressing, very final curtain call.

And, to make matters worse, it seemed that the longer Chromatus fought, the stronger he became! This horrifying discovery made Alexstrasza, Ysera, and Nozdormu feel utterly powerless, and even their offensive became decadent, like a fancy dessert left out in the sun too long.

"Come on, everyone!" the Blue Dragon King, who had been single-mindedly focused on attacking, suddenly roared, his voice cutting through the despair. He seemed to be the only one still operating on pure, unadulterated optimism. The three dragon kings had always felt an inexplicable sense of intimacy with this younger generation, a feeling that went beyond Ancagalon saving the blue dragon army. It was an inexplicable feeling! It was as if they had once been brothers, perhaps in a past life where they all wore matching sweaters.

"Ancagalon, we tried our best!" Ysera gasped, her voice hoarse.

"Hold on a little longer, we have reinforcements!" Ancagalon yelled back, revealing the most crucial, and utterly unexpected, piece of information.

Reinforcements? Where in the name of all that was holy did they get reinforcements from?! Ysera's dragon head swiveled around, her eyes wide with a sudden, desperate hope! And this glance, this single, hopeful glance, truly gave the Green Dragon Queen a different view!

A large black spot appeared in the sky! Ysera widened her eyes, straining to distinguish their appearance, her vision blurred by exhaustion and a touch of magical smoke. Dragons! And their scales were quite bright! Even brighter than any other kind of dragon!

Golden dragons!

"They're coming!" Ancagalon yelled, his voice practically cracking with excitement. "Golden Holy Dragons! They are coming!"

The red dragon, blue dragon, green dragon, and bronze dragon, who had been fighting with the grim determination of a tax auditor, also saw it. Although most of the dragons had no idea what a "golden holy dragon" was, this did not stop them from letting out a collective, joyous cheer for the reinforcements!

In addition to the Golden Holy Dragons, a small, rather adorable team of red dragon babies also joined the battle! There were only a few hundred of them, and, to everyone's utter astonishment, they had mortal riders clinging to their backs!

"Sister! What's going on?!" Ysera asked loudly, her voice a mix of confusion and awe.

"Those are indeed my children, born when I was enslaved," Alexstrasza replied, her voice filled with a strange mix of pride and weariness. "I entrusted them to the king of Stromgarde decades ago! Now they are here to help us!"

The first target of the Golden Holy Dragons and the Red Dragon Knights was the Twilight's Hammer cultists on the ground. They flapped their wings, swooping down with the grace of golden eagles, opening their mouths wide and spewing flames as they approached the ground. The Twilight Cultists, caught completely off guard, were quickly ignited, screaming in agony as they turned into rather crispy, screaming ashes!

Among the golden holy dragons, Nefarian, Onyxia, and Saberian, looking remarkably less evil than usual, broke away from the main dragon group and surrounded Chromatus, who suddenly looked very, very confused.

"Nefarian! Onyxia! And Saberian!" Ysera, Alexstrasza, and Nozdormu were all utterly bewildered! These three were the descendants of their former brother Nefarian, and were also core members of the Black Dragonflight! How in the name of all that was holy had they all turned golden?!

"Everyone! Nefarian! Onyxia! Sabrian! Bring the Golden Holy Dragonflight to help out!" Ancagalon roared, his voice echoing with a newfound ferocity.

"ROAR!" Ancagalon looked at the three descendants of his predecessor arriving, and after a long, triumphant roar to the sky, he was the first to attack Chromatus! He knew the intricate details of this colorful dragon. The Chromatus in this time and space was not the work of Nefarian, but a cheap replica made by Sinestra, based on her son's research on colorful dragons. It might be able to kill the Dragon King, but it definitely didn't have the power to activate the Twilight Hour! At least, not with overwhelming strength!

When Nefarian and the others saw the Blue Dragon King leading the charge, their blood, now infused with holy light, practically boiled in their dragon bodies! After tens of thousands of years, they could fight alongside their "father" again! It was a family reunion, but with more fire and less awkward small talk.

Facing the sudden, coordinated attack of several dragons, Chromatus immediately stopped flying, flapping his wings with a strange, skeletal creak, and hovered in the air in a defensive posture! He had never seen such golden dragons before, and the CPUs of his five heads were almost burned out trying to process this anomaly!

However, his fighting instinct, a primal, unthinking urge to destroy, made him launch a counterattack immediately. The bloody mouths of all five heads opened wide, like a quintuple-barreled shotgun of elemental destruction. Fire, ice, green poison, dust, and terrible black clouds all gushed out towards Ancagalon at the same time, turning the air into a chaotic, multi-colored mess.

The Blue Dragon King, with the three golden holy dragons in tow, tumbled through the air, avoiding the deadly breaths with a nimble, almost graceful flight trajectory. It was like a very large, very scaly ballet.

Chromatus was furious! His five heads swiveled wildly, each one sputtering curses. He never thought that he would encounter such a setback just after his glorious recovery! The colorful dragon suddenly flew straight into the sky and circled around, its expression becoming extremely alert, like a paranoid squirrel. Its black dragon head roared, "It seems that you think you can defeat me by bringing these golden monsters! I admit that their power is indeed beyond the scope of the five powers of the Guardian Dragon! But I tell you, victory will ultimately belong to me, and I will destroy you all!"

After hearing this rather dramatic monologue, Onyxia looked at Chromatus as if he were a particularly dim-witted houseplant. "Why is this guy so childish?" she muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I'll beat him so badly that he won't even recognize himself!"

"Agree!" Saberian nodded, a rare display of agreement from the typically stoic black dragon. Then, with a powerful beat of his wings, he pounced on the colorful dragon again. The other two holy light dragons moved in unison with him, their flight light and swift, like golden arrows.

Golden holy light burst out from their mouths, three radiant beams of pure energy that shot towards Chromatus's chest. The golden holy light exploded violently on the colorful dragon's chest, creating a dazzling flash and a sound like a thousand angry angels.

Chromatus screamed in agony. Although his body had been animated, not long ago he was just a stitched-together dragon corpse! A magical, Frankensteinian patchwork of dead dragons! In a short period of time, the colorful dragon was unable to eliminate the lingering power of death in its body, so the inherent restraint of the holy light on the undead caused Chromatus to temporarily lose control of his body, turning him into a flailing, five-headed puppet.

But after only a short while, he broke free from this negative state, flapping his wings clumsily, and regained his balance, looking like a very confused, very angry chicken. His head and neck were twitching wildly, and the black dragon's head tried to fight back, but this time the purple-black flames it spewed out were messy and had no accuracy at all, looking more like a child's finger painting than a deadly attack.

"The attack worked!" The Bronze Dragon King was overjoyed, practically doing a little jig in the air! Ysera and Alexstrasza discovered this as well, their faces lighting up with renewed hope.

"Charge forward, hold back that monster, and let the three golden dragons take the lead in the attack!" Alexstrasza commanded, her voice ringing with authority.

"Sister is right!" The bronze dragon king, the red dragon, and the green dragon queen rushed forward, cooperating with Ancagalon to entangle Chromatus, looking for an opportunity to deal a fatal blow to Nefarian's three-headed golden holy dragon.

"It's now!" The four dragon kings, with a synchronized burst of effort, each restrained one of Chromatus's heads, which conveniently exposed the colorful dragon's burnt, smoking chest. The three Nefarian siblings looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. They adjusted their respective states, and then, with a coordinated roar, raised their heads together in a triangular formation in the sky and exhaled dragon breath!

"The wonder of holy light!" The three holy dragon breaths gathered into a single, blinding golden light, a concentrated beam of pure, dragon-fueled righteousness that slammed into the colorful dragon's heart again. Chromatus arched his back, his whole body twitching constantly, and after uttering bursts of screams and curses that would make a sailor blush, he flapped his wings weakly a few times, looking utterly defeated, and then plummeted from the sky like a very large, very dead, very colorful rock!

The Twilight's Hammer attack, much to Cho'gall's chagrin, ultimately failed with the rather undignified death of Chromatus. The Longmian coalition, however, had lost far too many dragons in this war. Several dragon kings stood on the top floor of the Longmian Temple, looking exhausted but victorious, and issued the tasks of treating the wounded and collecting the bodies for burial. Eranikus and Parthiastas looked at each other, and after a gleam of light flashed in their dragon eyes, they started their own work, presumably involving a lot of paperwork and grief counseling.

"Thank you for your support, Nefarian!" The dawn light illuminated Alexstrasza's sexy night elf body, but her face was etched with exhaustion, looking like she hadn't slept in a decade. "Can you tell me what's going on with your tribe now?"

Among the five-colored Dragonflights, the bronze dragon king was notorious for roaming around in the timeline, a famous missing person who occasionally popped up to offer cryptic advice. Ysera had not had any major problems, mostly because she spent all her time sleeping in the Emerald Dream. The blue Dragonflight was perpetually short of talents, and the black Dragonflight had, rather inconveniently, rebelled against the camp of guardian dragons. Only the red Dragonflight had been actively involved in the outside world. Therefore, Alexstrasza naturally served as the leader of the guardian dragons and the commander-in-chief of the Dragon Rest Alliance, a job that involved a lot of stress and very little vacation time.

Therefore, she was very concerned about the sudden, rather sparkly appearance of the golden dragon. She had met Onyxia a few years ago, and at that time she thought that the rescue of a single black dragon was already a miracle! Now it seemed that at least half of the black dragons had been saved! This was less a miracle and more a full-blown, divine intervention!

"From the color of our scales, we are already the newborn Golden Holy Dragonflight!" Onyxia said proudly, puffing out her chest. "We fight for justice! And we look fabulous doing it!"

"Holy Light…" Alexstrasza mused, her eyes widening. "Your Majesty Tyr!" Of course, Alexstrasza knew about the power of Holy Light. It was this very energy that was used by the Titan Guardian Tyr, the one who had proposed the establishment of the dragon guardian system in the first place. She had a preconceived notion, a rather stubborn one, that all of this miraculous transformation was done by Tyr.

This idea was readily agreed upon by the three Nefarian siblings, since Tyr was Galen's subordinate anyway, and it saved them a lot of awkward explanations about their sudden change of allegiance. In this way, the Golden Holy Dragonflight gained the full recognition of the guardian dragons, completely separating them from the evil black dragon, and giving them a much-needed PR boost.

"According to our intelligence," Ancagalon, who had been uncharacteristically silent all this time, suddenly interjected, seizing the opportunity to bring the topic back to the point with the subtlety of a brick through a window, "the leader of this attack on Wyrmrest Temple is Cho'gall, the leader of the Twilight Cult."

There were many corpses of Twilight Cultists, burned to a crisp by dragon breath, scattered across the battlefield, including those of a few two-headed ogres. But the dragonlords all agreed that Cho'gall had not been killed in the battle. The power of time flowed in the Bronze Dragon King's eyes. It was obvious that he was using time to go back and review the process of the battle, playing it back like a very long, very violent movie.

"He's still alive!" Nozdormu announced, his voice filled with a grim certainty. "And a bigger turmoil is brewing!"

Ysera clenched her dragon claws, her face still a little singed from her recent close encounter. She had been the most embarrassed just now. "Then let him come!" she declared, her voice filled with a renewed, if slightly desperate, defiance.

At this time, several giant dragons brought over Chromatus's rather singed body. "Your Majesties," one of them announced, looking rather queasy, "we have burned most of the twilight dragons' bodies on the spot, but we cannot destroy this five-headed dragon!"

Upon hearing this, the Red Dragon Queen transformed into her dragon form and spewed out a breath of fire of life, trying to incinerate Chromatus's body into oblivion. However, they discovered that the corpse was protected by a strange, malevolent evil force and could not be destroyed no matter what they did. It was like trying to burn a particularly stubborn brick.

The Red Dragon Queen turned her attention to Nefarian, her eyes narrowed. After all, this guy was the scientific research genius of the Dragonflight, even if his research often involved turning things evil. "This corpse," Nefarian mused, poking it with a claw, "is a product of the unholy combination of black magic and industrial technology. The enormous power can activate this colorful dragon." Nefarian marveled at his mother's twisted genius, but he also found many areas for improvement. He could make Chromatus even more perfect. It's just that their identities had been cleared, and they couldn't exactly continue this evil research without a serious PR nightmare.

"I propose that this one be sealed permanently until we can find a way to completely destroy the body," Alexstrasza made the executive decision, her voice firm. "Each legion must send representatives to monitor him. He is not dead... If we can keep him in this state, without his powers being activated, he will not cause any more harm."

"I agree," Nozdormu chimed in. "The Nexus' arcane prison is perfect for this sort of thing! It's got great security, and the view is terrible!"

Meanwhile, in the icy plains of Dragonbone Wasteland, Cho'gall dragged his seriously injured body forward with the grace of a drunken rhinoceros. One of his two heads was drooping, looking as if it had taken a particularly nasty blow to the ego.

"Hungry... I'm hungry!" the injured head whined, its voice muffled.

"Shut up, you imbecile! I'm running for my life and I don't have time to find you a snack!" the other head snapped back, clearly in a much fouler mood.

Cho'gall struggled to find a cave, finally stumbling into one that smelled vaguely of snow wolves. After a brief, brutal skirmish during which he killed a pack of snow wolves and had a very large, very bloody meal, he finally recovered, feeling marginally less like a dying sack of potatoes. In the previous battle, the Red Dragon Prince Vaelastrasz seemed to have developed a personal vendetta against him, determined to attack him even though he was seriously injured! Even though Gul'dan (the smart head) hid among the Twilight Ogres, that damn red dragon was still able to accurately find his position, and in the end both of them ended up suffering losses.

But Gul'dan thought, with a bitter taste in his mouth, this was ultimately his loss. He was the commander-in-chief of the Twilight War, the grand strategist! Vaelastrasz was at most a large, super-powered soldier on the opposite side. His serious injury was no big deal, but he had been restrained and lost the war! The Twilight Lord closed his eyes, a huge feeling of regret filling his heart, a regret so profound it almost made his back teeth shatter into a fine powder!

After the regret, his heart was trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. Although he had escaped with his life, he had failed in the end. Cho'gall was well aware of the utterly dire consequences this failure would bring to him. The master behind him, a being whose patience was thinner than a goblin's wallet, would not tolerate his repeated failures!

At this moment, Cho'gall's not-very-useful head had mercifully fallen asleep, probably dreaming of endless snacks. But his smart head, with a desperate surge of willpower, controlled his still numb hand and took out a crystal ball from his battered package. This was a small crystal ball, used to communicate with the master, and miraculously, it was still intact, not a single crack from the battle.

Cho'gall mobilized his magic power, a painful process given his injuries, to activate the crystal ball. The originally clear and transparent crystal ball was suddenly filled with ink-like blackness, and then, to his horror, a bunch of densely packed, unblinking eyes materialized within the inky void.

After a moment, the crystal ball cracked with a sickening sound, and thick black smoke escaped, filling the cave with an acrid stench. The surrounding scene suddenly warped and changed, and Cho'gall felt himself being pulled, as if by an invisible, slimy hand, to some secret, utterly terrifying place.

"How's the recent progress, my servants?!" A single, colossal eyeball, pulsing with malevolent energy, stared directly at Cho'gall, its gaze so intense that the sheer pressure made the Twilight Lord instinctively crawl on the ground, whimpering.

"They are not finished, Master," Cho'gall stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "They defeated the Dragon Queen's strongest force, and the Twilight Dragonflight was also defeated!" He waited, trembling, for the inevitable wrath.

After a long, terrifying silence, another voice, smooth as silk and cold as ice, sounded in the Twilight Master's ears: "So you are saying that your failure was caused by me?"

In the secret realm, a huge, indescribable monster came quietly, its presence a chilling whisper. It was Enzos, who had apparently decided to pull Sinestra into the group chat. When Cho'gall heard the sound of leathery wings flapping above his head, he couldn't help but look up, and immediately, his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates!

This was an indescribable monster. Except for the outline that still vaguely maintained the shape of a dragon, her whole body was a sickly grayish-white, and her originally black scales were covered with writhing tentacles, sharp, snapping mouths, and huge, unblinking eyes! The power of the four ancient gods of Azeroth, a truly terrifying cocktail of cosmic horror, was all concentrated in this black dragon mother.

"Master, I have integrated the new power you gave me," Sinestra purred, her voice a venomous whisper. "It's my turn to show up. This piece of trash will only bring you failure!" Her eyes were filled with a terrifying madness and an ancient hatred. The overwhelming power of the four ancient gods had utterly shattered her sanity, causing her to lose her original intention and become determined to launch an action to destroy the world, presumably because it was a Tuesday.

"No! Master, I can still serve you faithfully in this world. I..." Twilight Godfather tried his best to avoid the panic in his voice, but failed spectacularly. "I am still useful! I know many useful things! I can make you a sandwich!"

"You've let me down many times," N'Zoth's words struck Cho'gall's very soul, a chilling, dismissive blow. "We were so sure victory was within our grasp, but the Twilight's Hammer failed me! Perhaps that's why I should have thrown you to the Aspects! They're always looking for new chew toys."

"Master! Many believers have escaped! Not all of them died in the battle! Please let me go back to find them and lead them to continue to serve you!" Cho'gall pleaded, desperate. "Dragon Mother!" he added, turning to Sinestra, hoping to curry favor. "Yes, Mother Dragon, I can continue to assist Mother Dragon in completing the birth of the new world!"

Cho'gall's desperate words, surprisingly, made Sinestra a little excited. After she had been injured by the Giant of Light, she had spent a long, agonizing time in Deeprock, familiarizing herself with the truly horrifying power of her body. When she came back, all her original black dragon subordinates were missing! And she had no idea where they had gone! Now she had all the power in the world but was utterly alone, and the influence of the Twilight's Hammer sect, despite its recent setback, still spread throughout the world. Even the dragon army couldn't completely destroy it!

"Master, he is right," Sinestra said, her voice surprisingly calm. "He is still of some use. We have lost too much time. Let him come and serve me."

N'Zoth's colossal eyeball rolled around, considering. Finally, with a sigh that seemed to echo through the void, he decided, "You're right. In addition to this loser, I'm sending you two of my capable men. Don't let me down!"

"As you wish, my master!" Sinestra purred, a terrifying smile spreading across her tentacled face. Cho'gall, meanwhile, just silently thanked whatever cosmic entity was listening that he hadn't been turned into a very large, very dead, two-headed paperweight.