Sea Crusade

"Your Majesty, they are coming! And by 'they,' I mean 'a lot of them,' and by 'coming,' I mean 'right now'!" A Naga general, whose upper half was all regal Naga and whose lower half was a rather unfortunate, but surprisingly agile, bright red lobster, scuttled into Queen Azshara's private chambers. This particular crustacean-hybrid, named Sivara, bore a striking resemblance to a Fal'dorei, if Fal'dorei had pincers and a penchant for deep-sea fashion. As the Abyssal Commander of the Naga Empire, Sivara was a one-woman (or one-Naga-lobster) wrecking crew, a martial arts and magic maestro whose cruelty was only matched by her ruthless efficiency. She'd led Azshara's vanguard to so many victories, they'd run out of room on the trophy shelf. In recent years, after politely suppressing the water elemental territory (which mostly involved drowning them until they agreed to behave), the Naga Empire had been chilling in the deep sea, enjoying a well-deserved nap. But Sivara, fresh off the front lines, had been serving as Nazjatar's head bouncer, guarding the very gates of the Eternal Palace!

At this precise, inconvenient moment, Queen Azshara was still engaged in her most sacred ritual: facing the ever-flowing, perpetually pristine waterfall that served as her personal vanity mirror, admiring her still-stunning, undeniably delicate face.

"It's just so beautiful," the Queen purred, her fingers tracing the contours of her reflection. Her tone was unhurried, dripping with an insolence so profound it could curdle milk. If you could just ignore the three extra pairs of eyes that had sprouted on her forehead (a slight aesthetic miscalculation), the hair that had inexplicably transformed into a writhing nest of venomous snakes (a bold fashion choice), and the rather inconvenient octopus-like tentacles that now served as her lower body (surprisingly good for multi-tasking), Azshara still retained a certain je ne sais quoi of her pre-ancient beauty.

"Go prepare the troops, darling, won't you?" Azshara finally drawled, dismissing Sivara with a flick of a tentacle. Sivara, ever the picture of respectful obedience, scuttled backward, leaving Azshara alone in the cavernous, echoing palace. The Queen then leaned closer to the water, a mischievous glint in her six eyes. "Feeling a little nervous, aren't we, my dear?"

A ripple of black mist, thick as a bad mood, unfurled from the palace walls, slithering towards Azshara.

"You must be terribly sad, locked away for so long, still unable to do anything," the mist whispered, its voice a low, seductive hum. Finally, a single, inky black tentacle stretched out, hovering inches from Azshara's face.

"It's almost time, don't you worry your pretty little... tentacles!"

Azshara finally tore her gaze from the water curtain, turning to face the shadowy appendage. She stretched out her hand, not quite touching it, a silent, dramatic gesture.

"We have waited far too long, but finally, you will see what I am truly best at..."

The black mist seemed to sigh with perverse satisfaction, slowly retreating back into the walls, melting away like a bad dream.

Meanwhile, on the turbulent surface, Galen's flagship, the Flying Stormtrooper, was already suspended in mid-air, defying all known laws of naval architecture. This flagship truly lived up to its name, having apparently decided that gravity was merely a suggestion.

What allowed the Flying Stormtrooper to hover like a particularly grumpy, heavily armed hummingbird were eight colossal vertical turbines, bolted to either side of the hull. These magnificent contraptions allowed it to seamlessly transition between sea-faring and air-faring, effectively transforming it into an aerospace battleship. Because why choose when you can have both?

At this very moment, a secret door at the bottom of the cabin yawned open. Elisande, Farondis, Thranduil, and Tottedrin, four of Azeroth's most spectacularly powerful spellcasters, stood at the four cardinal points of the opening, peering down at the churning sea below.

A complex, glowing magic circle adorned the deck beneath their feet. As they poured their considerable magical energies into it, the entire circle hummed to life, pulsating with raw power.

Farondis, with a dramatic flourish, activated the Tidestone, sending it hurtling downwards, a shimmering beacon aimed squarely at the ocean.

"NOW!" Prince Farondis roared, his voice echoing across the deck. Everyone present, from the most grizzled sailor to the most bewildered mage, focused their collective mental might, assisting him in controlling the Tidestone's immense energy output.

The rotating drop of pure Well of Eternity essence, nestled at the Tidestone's core, pulsed with crackling white electricity. Then, with a blinding flash, a dazzling beam of pure light erupted, striking the sea surface with the force of a thousand angry gods!

BOOM!

As the laser made contact, a colossal explosion ripped through the water, sending geysers of spray hundreds of meters into the sky. The sea surface, centered on the laser's impact, began to sink, forming a perfectly circular, impossibly deep pit!

Ten meters, one hundred meters, a thousand meters! The pit continued to expand, a gaping maw swallowing the ocean.

Such a monumental commotion caused the entire sea area to throw a tantrum. The other warships in the fleet swayed wildly in the rolling waves, and as the seawater poured into the rapidly deepening pit, the entire fleet found itself on the verge of being sucked into the abyss!

"Report to His Majesty! Our other warships are about to stage a mutiny and drag us all to the bottom!" The commander on the flagship, looking rather green around the gills, stumbled over, reporting the emergency to Galen.

It was a classic "oopsie." In his previous life, Galen had witnessed the Tidestone's power and had prudently ordered the fleet to retreat in advance. However, the Tidestone of that time and space had been shattered and painstakingly reassembled, losing most of its oomph. This Tidestone, however, was gloriously, terrifyingly complete, its power so immense that the ensuing chaos was exponentially greater!

"The fleet retreats another fifty nautical miles! And make it snappy!"

Following Galen's booming order, the sailors scrambled, pulling sails with every ounce of their strength. The auxiliary shaman Water Sage, a man who usually preferred a leisurely float, strained every muscle, casting emergency spells to literally pry the sails into an emergency turn.

After a flurry of frantic, shouted commands and desperate maneuvers, the fleet, save for the flagship which hovered in place with rock-solid stability, had managed to put a respectable distance between itself and the rapidly expanding abyss.

After what felt like an eternity, the Tidestone had successfully parted the sea for nearly a hundred kilometers, revealing the dark, slimy seabed. On it, one could vaguely discern bizarre coral forests of every conceivable shape and deep-sea creatures that defied polite description.

"I see the ruins of Zin-Azshari! To the northeast, just beyond that particularly grumpy-looking clam!" Thranduil, ever the aristocratic observer, recognized the remnants of the city where he once resided.

Galen offered a small, knowing smile. "Nazjatar is where the imperial capital used to be. And in these very ruins, our 'beloved' queen has rebuilt a city of her own. I'm afraid she's probably waiting for our arrival in her palace right now, polishing her tentacles."

"As arrogant as ever," Elisande muttered, shaking her head.

"Who says it isn't?" Farondis chimed in with a wry grin.

"Then let's go and have an audience with Her Majesty the Queen!" Galen declared, a glint of mischievous determination in his eyes.

Galen, you see, was a firm believer in the "if the enemy can go, I can go too" philosophy. Don't think for a second that just because you've decided to hide in the deep sea, I can't hit you. Oh no, my friend. I will simply drain the entire ocean from your backyard and expose your little hidey-hole for all the world to see! Take that, aquatic privacy!

The fleet was currently positioned to the south of the colossal pit. Galen stood majestically on the deck of the Flying Stormtrooper, gazing down at the newly revealed Nazjatar.

It was a vast, sprawling trench, easily the size of a human kingdom province, and it stretched downwards for at least a thousand meters from the now-absent sea level.

At this very moment, Nagas from the southern region were already pouring out of nearby villages and strongholds, gathering beneath the hovering Flying Stormgarde like particularly angry, scaly ants.

If it weren't for the Tidestone, if Galen's army had attempted a conventional assault, they would first have had to contend with seawater that could crush a human body like a grape, then fight the Nagas. It was a logistical nightmare.

"Alright, everyone, who's feeling particularly suicidal today and wants to take the lead in establishing a vanguard position for the army?" Galen asked, glancing around at his assembled heroes.

"I go!" Illidan, surprisingly, was the first to volunteer, practically leaping at the chance to be the vanguard.

"Alright, we've been killing demons for years; let's give you a change of pace," Galen said, choosing Illidan. But he couldn't resist adding a few caveats: "Be careful when attacking; not all creatures are enemies. If you encounter swordfish, lobstermen, sea giants, and sea goblins, you can let them go. They are potentially powerful vassal armies."

As Galen uttered these words, everyone, including Illidan, Tottedrin, and Thranduil, couldn't help but roll their eyes so hard they almost saw their own brains.

The vassal army! The vassal army!

Their boss seemed to have a bizarre, almost pathological obsession with recruiting every vaguely sentient race he encountered. These noble scions of the old Night Elf Empire had absolutely no idea where this peculiar hobby had come from!

Those sub-human races like gnolls and kobolds? They weren't strong. Keeping them was a waste of perfectly good food and land.

And besides! According to their perfectly logical, highly superior thinking, with such overwhelming power, they could have dominated Azeroth and established a glorious empire ages ago! But no, they had to form a "big alliance." What in the name of Elune's glowing rear end was that all about?!

But Galen was the boss, and everyone, with varying degrees of grumbling, could only follow his orders.

Ignoring the collective eye-rolls, Galen patiently explained, "The Swordfish are a branch of the Pandaria Jinyu people. They inherited the complete heritage of assassins, hunters, warriors, and priests from the ancient empire. Moreover, they live near Nazjatar but are not enslaved by the Naga. The Swordfish are very powerful."

There was one tiny, crucial detail Galen conveniently omitted: these Swordfish people also possessed the legacy of the Sword Saint. You know, that ridiculously rare, ridiculously powerful inheritance. Apart from the orcs, Galen had only seen the Swordmaster inheritance among the Lightforged Draenei, and that was an inheritance forged with blood, sweat, and a whole lot of screaming in brutal battles.

"Understood..." Illidan waved his hands weakly, as if shooing away a particularly annoying fly. Then, with a mighty flap of his bat wings, he launched himself off the flagship, a dark, winged silhouette against the newly exposed seabed.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

As Illidan descended, a veritable storm of harpoons erupted from the Nagas already in position on the seabed. They couldn't wait to impale the arrogant creature invading their sacred turf!

Illidan, with a casual flick of his wrists, materialized two gleaming green blades in his hands. He swung them back and forth with impossible speed, deflecting every single harpoon that dared to approach him.

Immediately afterward, a dozen more female Nagas, looking utterly furious, unleashed a volley of glittering ice crystal arrows at Illidan!

This, apparently, was the final straw. The Demon Hunter was officially annoyed.

"You! This is courting death! And I'm happy to oblige!"

Bang!

The demon hunter zipped through the hail of ice crystal arrows like a particularly angry, green-eyed bullet. He landed heavily on the ground, his hard demon hooves crushing the rocks that had been eroded by seawater for thousands of years.

Male Naga warriors, looking utterly bewildered, surrounded him, waving their weapons.

"Start..." Illidan muttered, a predatory grin spreading across his face.

"Dance!"

Illidan plunged into the mass of Nagas, a whirlwind of emerald energy. As the blades of the Glaives of Azzinoth flashed, several afterimages of the Demon Hunter flickered across the battlefield. Then, a symphony of weapon clashes erupted, followed by a rather disturbing shower of Naga arms and heads soaring into the air!

In the distance, a dozen Naga witches had jointly prepared a massive spell, a colossal stream of water shooting towards the demon hunter's back like a liquid guillotine!

It was as if Illidan had eyes on his back (which, considering his general aesthetic, wouldn't have been surprising). He instantly sensed the sneak attack, flipping over and flapping his wings to float effortlessly upwards.

Then, a burst of malevolent green fel energy erupted from his eyes, slamming head-on into the water blade!

Even the combined magical might of a dozen high-level Naga witches was no match for Illidan's sheer, unadulterated power. The eye beam quickly suppressed the witches, and the chaotic fel energy directly incinerated them into smoking piles of charcoal!

Massive killing! Invincible! One demon hunter was worth a thousand angry Nagas!

Faced with Illidan's relentless, whirlwind offensive, the Nagas' resistance crumbled like a stale cookie.

Woo!

The horn sounded again!

But this was Nazjatar, after all, and a seemingly endless stream of Nagas continued to pour in from all directions. Their numbers were so vast they made one's scalp tingle, and among them were many unfortunate sea giants, enslaved by the Nagas and looking rather grumpy about it.

But Illidan wasn't fighting alone! The first batch of reinforcements, specifically designed to assist Illidan, had arrived!

It was the elite Lightforged Naga Royal Guards!

The Naga Royal Guards were the crème de la crème of the Naga clan, the most powerful sea clan forged by the most brutal Naga thugs through the Sea Demon Abyss. They not only commanded the very essence of the sea but could also unleash devastating spells like frost arrows, water shock waves, and even summon their own personal water elements!

And the Lightforged Naga Royal Guards? They had the added bonus of wielding some holy light spells, giving them a certain, rather inconvenient, degree of restraint against demons and void forces!

Bang!

The traditional Naga warriors and the Lightforged Nagas collided violently, a clash of scales, steel, and holy light!

This was once an exquisite and majestic elven city.

Just in the distance of the city, a colossal tsunami, a hundred meters high, was approaching at an alarming speed! When the tsunami hit, the elves outside the city were swallowed by the sea, their screams abruptly silenced.

Just as the elves were paralyzed with terror, Queen Azshara appeared, alone, on the city wall. She waved the Scepter of Tides in her hand, conjuring a shimmering purple magic barrier, desperately attempting to block the monstrous wave and protect her people!

Azshara's people, witnessing this impossible feat, were stunned, their faces etched with disbelief.

At this moment, Azshara had poured every last ounce of her strength into the barrier, the magical power in her body dissipating like the tide.

In her heart, a tiny, insidious voice whispered: "Give up. Give up. You're not worth it."

But Azshara gritted her teeth, holding on with a defiant snarl: "No! I am the Queen! I built this empire with my own two hands!"

However, the sea water, apparently unimpressed by royal declarations, pressed down with unrelenting force.

The magic barrier finally shattered under the tsunami's relentless assault, accompanied by Queen Azshara's heart-wrenching roar of despair. The sea water surged forth, obliterating the city.

Azshara and her people plummeted to the bottom of the sea.

Just as Azshara's consciousness began to fade, she heard the phantom complaints of her people echoing in her mind: "Why didn't you save us? It's all your fault!"

The Queen, in agony, tried to explain: "That's not the deal I made!"

At this critical juncture, the "God" appeared, a shadowy, omnipresent entity. It purred to Azshara: "For a thousand years, I have been watching you in secret. Your death is approaching, and only I can keep you alive. And make you look fabulous, of course."

The proud queen, even on the verge of drowning, refused to admit defeat: "Who do you think you are, you slimy void-thing?"

The "god," clearly not one for wasting time, promptly projected visions of its former empire, a sprawling, terrifying dominion, proving that it once dominated everything.

"So beautiful!" Azshara exclaimed, genuinely impressed.

Seeing that the queen was sufficiently awestruck, the "God" invited Azshara to submit, promising to help her restore her former empire.

Azshara, ever the queen, had too much pride to be a mere slave.

"I am a queen, not a slave," she declared, her voice still imperious despite being underwater. "Since you have been observing me for a thousand years, you must know what I want. My people can be your subordinates. I will use them to build a great army and conquer your enemies to build my empire."

The "God" (who was secretly N'Zoth, but let's keep up appearances) agreed to Azshara's rather audacious proposal. The deal was struck, sealed with a handshake that probably involved a lot of slimy tentacles.

The "gods" then used their power to transform the upper elves, and thus, a powerful, slightly squishy, Naga Empire was officially established.

Thousands of years later.

In the north of Nazjatar, on the towering platform of Queen's Field, stood a colossal statue of Azshara, looking rather pleased with herself.

At this moment, beneath the statue, Queen Azshara was gazing at the distant battlefield to the south, a Naga commander with the lower body of a spider standing dutifully behind her.

Azshara glanced at Sivara out of the corner of her eye. After falling into the abyss and becoming Nagas, Queen Azshara and the High Elves had been twisted into various, often horrifying, forms by the power of N'Zoth. In addition to the classic snake-man Naga form, the lobster Naga like Sivara, which looked suspiciously like a centaur that had a bad encounter with a crab pot, was also a distinct type of Naga.

After all, the backflow of seawater had been entirely unexpected, and the master (N'Zoth) hadn't exactly been meticulous about controlling the void's power when casting the spell. Unstable magical energy often came with unexpected, and frankly, rather ugly, side effects.

Sivara might be a bit aesthetically challenged, but she didn't care as long as her strength increased.

Azshara, for some inexplicable reason, felt a fleeting flicker of disgust as she looked at her chief palace guard. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, her gaze snapping back to the distant horizon. But Nazjatar was so vast that even with her demigod-level eyesight, Azshara could only vaguely make out two groups of people, one a blur of blue and green, the other a shimmering golden, locked in furious combat.

Then Azshara gathered her mana, her hands glowing with power, and began to cast a spell similar to the Vision spell, while casually asking, "Who's commanding the front line of this glorious mess?"

"It's Madam Esendis, Your Majesty!" Sivara replied respectfully, her pincers clicking.

The light curtain of vision magic quickly solidified, and Illidan's heroically dancing figure appeared on the screen, looking very pleased with himself.

Countless Nagas swarmed before the Demon Hunter, but they still couldn't halt his relentless, self-aggrandizing progress. The center of the Naga formation was Tidemother Esendis. She was waving her staff in one hand, unleashing forked lightning non-stop, and with the other arm, she was drawing a bow and arrows, launching one icy arrow after another with terrifying accuracy at the Lightforged Naga.

"Invaders! Betrayers! You are all sacrifices to the tide! The moment the Queen spoke of is about to come!" Esendis shrieked, her voice echoing across the battlefield.

Illidan's face became even gloomier when he heard this. He glanced at the Naga mistress. She was already a dead Naga walking!

"Mob!" Illidan snarled.

Under his leadership, thousands of Lightforged Nagas formed a massive, glowing cone formation, using themselves as a living arrow to chisel through the Naga ranks.

Behind them, on the thousand-meter-high seawater waterfall, Tosedelin had used ice magic to conjure a colossal ice slide, allowing the paladins on the warships above to descend quickly and join the fray, probably yelling "Whee!" all the way down.

In mid-air, Prince Farondis floated majestically. As he descended, a veritable hailstorm of meteorites erupted from the sky. Under the devastating assault of the meteor shower, most of the Nagas on the ground were instantly vaporized, leaving only smoking craters and very confused fish.

Elisande, meanwhile, fired arcane missiles like a sentient turret, each missile landing with a resounding thwack and clearing out an entire area of Nagas.

Thranduil's flames, unfortunately, were significantly dampened in this rather aquatic environment, so he wisely chose to ride a phoenix and circle in the sky. Whenever a crisis erupted on any front, he would swoop down like a flamboyant, fiery guardian angel to provide support.

Azshara watched the unfolding disaster at the front lines, a cold, calculating expression on her face. "The enemy is very strong, and they are all my old subordinates. I'm afraid Esendis alone can't resist them. She's always been a bit of a lightweight."

The result was precisely as Azshara predicted. No sooner had she finished speaking than, in the vision screen, the front-line commander Esendis was unceremoniously beheaded by Illidan's Warglaive.

"Hmph! Waste!" Her Majesty the Queen expressed her utter disdain for her subordinates' incompetence at the most opportune moment. "Let Zaresha take over the position of that useless person, and at the same time, wake up Ormus, the Soulbinder, and Wekemara! Tell them to hurry up; I'm getting bored."

Zaresha was also a centaur-type Naga, a rather impressive specimen of her kind, on par with Sivara. Soulbinder Ormus was an octopus transformed by N'Zoth, the Void having generously bestowed upon it the ability to control the will of others. As long as it controlled enough slaves, it would become an invincible force, capable of making entire armies do the Macarena. Wekemara, on the other hand, was summoned from the abyss by an ancient Naga ritual. It looked suspiciously like a giant sea worm with an unfortunate case of static electricity, its innate electrical powers making it utterly invincible in the sea.

"Finally, Wasila, my loyal commander, the First Legion and the Second Legion are also under your command. Destroy these invaders for me! And try not to get your tentacles tangled!"

The First and Second Legions were the Naga's most elite forces, second only to the Naga Royal Guards who guarded the Eternal Palace. If the invaders were only the Lightforged Nagas and the tens of thousands of Paladins they'd seen so far, these two legions, combined with Nazjatar's local forces, would be able to crush them with sheer numbers alone. It would be like a very squishy, very bloody game of whack-a-mole.

For this very reason, Queen Azshara specifically instructed: "Sivala, tell Zaresha not to kill them. Otherwise, how can they kneel to me? I want them to grovel! It's much more satisfying."

"Give them one more chance to prostrate themselves before my throne. And try not to get blood on the carpets."

"Also, if you find any trace of Vashj, report to me immediately! This is important! She owes me a cup of tea!"

Having delivered her imperial decrees, Azshara twisted the tentacles on her lower body with a flourish, turned, and glided back into her palace.

After Illidan, the self-proclaimed vanguard, had blasted through the Naga defense line, he marched north for another ten kilometers, then paused. He then proceeded to cooperate with Prince Farondis and Elisande, forming the left and right wings to establish a formidable defense line for the main army.

Thranduil, meanwhile, led the third regiment of the Silver Crusade, formerly the Knights of the Dawnblade, a rather fancy name for a clean-up crew. Their job: clear the battlefield, treat the wounded (if they were on their side), and capture any scattered, bewildered Nagas.

Finally, Tosedlin, bless his logistical heart, was responsible for stronghold construction.

It took Tosedlin a mere half-day to complete the construction of the stronghold. This simple, yet effective, fortification was supported by a network of outposts, then reinforced by freezing a massive amount of seawater into an impenetrable city wall, connecting all the outposts. It was surprisingly cozy.

The next step was to set up the portal. Nazjatar was once the very heart of the night elf empire, nourished by the Well of Eternity. The land was crisscrossed with magic webs, through which flowed an abundance of raw magical energy. Tosedrin, ever resourceful, tapped into this underground energy to construct a portal directly to the White City.

The Holy White City had currently assembled five legions, all chomping at the bit, ready to be teleported here the moment the portal was stable. Galen's original plan had been to simply use a return scroll and yank the entire army over. However, the Silver Crusaders included too many races, and some secrets, especially those involving interdimensional travel, were best kept under wraps. Perhaps they could deliver a truly fatal, and utterly unexpected, blow to the enemy in the near future.

At the front line, Illidan, Farondis, and Elisande, who were busy fortifying their defensive line, suddenly sensed a powerful energy source to the west.

Farondis, ever the cautious one, tentatively suggested: "Should we send a team to investigate? It might be a particularly aggressive school of fish."

Elisande, being the conservative type, chimed in: "Be careful. It looks like something shy is going on. Or something about to explode."

Illidan, however, was a reckless elf. An elf who did what he said, usually without thinking. This particular character trait had been firmly cemented ten thousand years ago, probably during a particularly ill-advised dare.

Moreover, he was incredibly skilled and brave, which often compensated for his lack of foresight. He spread his wings and launched himself towards the west in a few powerful leaps, a dark blur against the glowing seabed!

"Illidan! Come back! Be careful of another Naga ambush!" Farondis shouted anxiously, practically tearing his hair out. The Nagas had ambushed them several times before, and it was getting old!

"A bunch of trash! You want to ambush me?" Illidan scoffed, a smug grin plastered across his face.

If he were still the King of Outland, single-handedly propping up the entire Illidari, he might have been cautious. But with the Heart of Origin as his personal backup battery and his soul bound to the Altar of Kings, he charged forward directly, consequences be damned.

The demon hunter plunged into a tall, dense coral reef, followed immediately by the sounds of a truly fierce, rather one-sided fight.

Boom!

The coral reefs that had blocked Farondis and his men's view suddenly collapsed, revealing the scene inside.

The one fighting against Illidan was a murloc with striking blue scales, remarkably similar to the jinyu in Pandaria. But the most astonishing thing was this murloc's weapon! It was a sword longer than himself, easily more than three meters long, looking utterly ridiculous yet terrifyingly effective.

The long sword was wielded vigorously in the murloc's hands, but due to the sheer difference in raw power, this legendary murloc was clearly being suppressed by Illidan. Farondis quickly realized that the only reason the fish-man was able to hold on was entirely due to his superb swordsmanship and tenacious, almost suicidal, will.

"Illidan, stop now! These are probably the Swordfish that the High Lord mentioned! They are not in the same group as Azshara!" Farondis yelled, hoping to avert a friendly fire incident.

Illidan, however, turned a deaf ear, continuing his relentless assault.

However, Farondis had spoken the Common Language, and the Swordfish Man understood. He seized the opportunity to explain directly: "Yes! I am not your enemy! I am Okani, the leader of the Wave Blade tribe! We have a common enemy! I can help you deal with those evil Nagas!"

Illidan finally paused, looking at the Swordfish leader carefully. A slow, satisfied expression spread across his face.

"Very good. Your strength has been recognized by me. Are you interested in working for me? I pay in glory and occasional snacks."

Okani said nothing, clearly contemplating the offer.

"In my territory in another place," Illidan continued, gesturing vaguely, "there is a vast ocean with no powerful marine creatures. I can give it to your tribe to live in. It's practically a resort."

"If you agree, bring your army. I'll be waiting for you here!"

Clearly, Illidan was very satisfied with the strength of this Swordfish Man. The Illidari he trained could deal with enemies on land and in the air. Some planets occupied by demon armies also had oceans, and he needed some warriors who could fight in the sea. Although the Naga were good, they were led by Vashj, and Vashj was Galen's sister, making her his mistress. Illidan couldn't possibly let her do the dirty and tiring work.

Now, seeing the Wave Blade Clan's spirit of facing death head-on and defending their honor, he instantly liked them and directly offered to recruit them.

To avoid being enslaved by the Naga, the Swordfish people had fought for 10,000 years. Countless lives had been lost. Even Okani's mentor, the former chief of the Wave Blade, had died at the hands of the Naga.

The winged elf in front of him was incredibly powerful and clearly not allied with the Naga. A cooperation between the two would allow him to finally seek revenge on the Naga, and there was also a pristine ocean, perfectly suited for the Swordfish people.

Without a moment's hesitation, Okani agreed to work for Illidan.

Then Swordmaster Okani said, "Our hiding place is over there on the reef. Give me half a day, and I will bring the warriors over. We'll bring snacks!"

After seeing thousands of fierce swordfish men, Illidan instantly experienced the pure, unadulterated joy of Galen collecting servants. It was quite addictive.

In many cases, the locals were indeed the best guides. With the help of the Swordfish of the Waveblade tribe, a relatively complete topographic map of Nazjatar, complete with helpful little arrows and "here be monsters" warnings, appeared before Galen.

Farondis, Elisande, Tottedrin, and Thranduil all looked at the map with a pang of nostalgia. Over tens of thousands of years, the relentless erosion of the sea had changed most of the topography, but the place names marked in the northeast corner—Camesil Church, Zin-Azshari, South City Market—evoked a flood of memories.

The former capital of the night elves...

Among them, Galen was most familiar with the South City Market, which was now the Drowned Market on the map. This was the area where Shandris had once lived. It was with his help that the night elf civilians here were saved from the massacre of demons, and at the same time, a new group of residents was added to Eldre'Thalas.

Just as Galen was lost in a haze of heroic reminiscence, he was suddenly attacked at the waist. Looking down, he saw Vashj, in her elf form, pinching him with her fingers, a look of fierce jealousy on her face.

"?" Galen gave her a questioning look, as if to say, What was that for?

"Are you thinking about your young Shandris again, you old pervert?" Vashj hissed, her eyes narrowing.

At that time, Galen had used the rather dashing alias of Galenrema and had even been promoted to Prince of Magic by Azshara. In order to rescue the underage Shandris, he had frozen several noble children of the upper elves in magical ice. Vashj had even teased Galen about it back then.

"Shandris and I are innocent," Galen stated, his expression perfectly calm. He wasn't lying. After completing his journey through ancient times, he had entered the time channel and had no chance to have anything happen with Shandris. Besides, he had bigger fish to fry.

"Humph..." Vashj was about to let Galen go, but the next moment, she remembered that this guy had two night elf sisters ten thousand years ago! This playboy!

Ah! Hiss!

Galen felt a sharp pain in his waist, but his expression remained stoic. He was a master of pain suppression.

"Galen, with the large-scale joint crackdown by the five legions these days, we have eliminated at least 30,000 Nagas," Thranduil reported, his voice crisp. As one of the four heroes of the Altar of Kings, he held the highest authority among all the followers, and thus, the dubious honor of delivering battle reports.

"Only..."

"Just what? Any special circumstances? Did they start singing opera?" Galen prompted, leaning forward.

"These Nagas seem to be mentally ill. They are completely different from our ordinary Naga servants. They are very fanatical, more like... more like the Twilight Cultists, but with more scales and less fashion sense." Thranduil's words made Galen fall into deep thought. He then looked at Vashj.

"My dear, you told me before that the queen was controlled by the Old Gods. I don't think that's true. I think Azshara is just pretending to be nice! She's pulling a fast one!"

From the shark Loa's mouth, Galen had keenly picked up some crucial clues. He suspected Azshara was playing a very, very long game. Otherwise, with the Naga Empire's ability to roam the deep sea like it owned the place, there was no way his fleet would have reached the waters of Nazjatar so smoothly. The Naga warriors who had already died were the best proof. Their fanaticism was probably not towards Azshara, but towards N'Zoth. Azshara was systematically cleansing her empire, and those Nagas who were ideologically inclined towards N'Zoth had been ruthlessly abandoned by their queen!

After the analysis, Lady Vashj was practically glowing with delight. "This is the truth! This is exactly in line with the queen's character! She's always been a manipulative little minx!"

This statement was unanimously agreed upon by everyone. As former subjects of the Naga Queen, if the Queen behaved too foolishly, it would also shatter their past illusions of her.

But soon, the expression of Vashj, the queen's former head maid, turned gloomy.

"What's wrong, Vashj? Did you lose a tentacle?" Galen asked softly, ever the concerned leader.

Vashj's face was a mask of internal struggle, and she finally spoke slowly, "Galen, I obeyed orders to leave here to assist Illidan. On the one hand, the Queen needed water from the Well of Eternity, and on the other hand, I thought the Queen was also controlled, so I took the opportunity to leave this polluted city and seek a way to resolve the curse of the 'god' and rescue Her Majesty the Queen."

Galen held the Viper Lady in his arms, stroking her back reassuringly.

Vashj continued, "Today, I realized that Her Majesty the Queen is not bound by anything. Her mind is still free. What I did was truly a betrayal of the Queen! And I feel terrible about it!"

"I understand how you feel," Galen said, though he was already mentally composing a new strategy. He understood Vashj's inner struggle and began to organize his words to comfort her: "Actually, although Azshara looks sober, she is actually still influenced by N'Zoth. As for how much sanity she still retains, I don't know. Maybe she's just a really good actress."

How credible this statement was, Galen didn't know. After all, he hadn't had any close contact with Azshara. What he said was just a guess, and it was also to comfort Vashj and prevent her from suffering more mentally.

"And our goal this time is to deal with N'Zoth. In fact, we can cooperate with the Queen. It'll be like a really awkward family reunion."

It wasn't strictly necessary to overthrow Azshara to unlock Ny'alotha. As things had developed to this point, Azshara had eliminated those disobedient Nagas, and her goal had basically been achieved. Perhaps they could talk about it.

"Really?" Vashj's eyes lit up.

"Real!" Galen affirmed.

After enduring the nagging of Galen and Vashj for a while, the upright Farondis could not help but interject: "But Azshara sacrificed her people twice! First to the Burning Legion, and then to N'Zoth! Even if she wants to part ways with N'Zoth now, she is still our enemy! And a very annoying one at that!"

"That's right!" Thranduil added, his voice full of resentment. "Even if it's cooperation, it's only temporary. This is an unforgivable mistake and doesn't deserve to be forgiven at all! She's a monster!"

Because of Azshara's connivance, the upper elven nobles and the ordinary civilian class of the Night Elf Empire had come into brutal conflict, and summoning the Burning Legion to Azeroth had caused a disaster of epic proportions. This had also led to the later banning of arcane energy by night elf society and the rather dramatic exile of the high elves.

"Even if we want to cooperate, you have to wait until I teach her a lesson!" Illidan declared, his eyes glowing with a competitive fire. He didn't have too many grand ideas; he just wanted to prove he was better than the queen.

"Since everyone thinks so, let's continue to sweep Nazjatar. Only by meeting Azshara face-to-face can we determine her true situation. And whether she still has a good hairdresser." Galen ended the discussion about Azshara. "Gentlemen, go and choose your preferred legion. We will meet you at the gate of the Eternal Palace! Try not to get lost!"

What followed was more than a month of continuous, high-intensity warfare, a brutal, relentless grind. The first echelon of Galenna's legion that entered Nazjatar was quickly crippled, looking like they'd been put through a cosmic blender. Fortunately, the rear had made sufficient preparations for this battle, and the five legions of the second echelon soon arrived, fresh and ready to rumble. They replaced the first echelon, continuing the relentless fight against the Naga.

Azshara, meanwhile, was also busy deploying troops, probably muttering about the inconvenience of having to deal with pesky invaders.

Just as the old ministers had guessed, the sky collapsed, the earth broke, and seawater poured into the capital of the Night Elf Empire. Of course, mere seawater was nothing to Azshara, who had already achieved demigod status with the help of the Well of Eternity. She had at least a hundred ways to survive the disaster, mostly involving looking fabulous while doing so.

But the group of upper elves who were still stubbornly loyal to her didn't have this ability. Azshara was reluctant to leave these loyal servants to drown, and just when they were about to become very soggy corpses, N'Zoth's whisper came, sounding suspiciously like a telemarketer.

To protect the nobles of the high elves, she had no choice but to compromise with N'Zoth and sign a contract with him. This was a relatively equal contract. After all, Azshara was a strong person and the emperor who ruled most of the ancient Kalimdor continent. If the contract made her bow down, she would rather commit suicide on the spot, probably with a dramatic flourish.

But thousands of years had passed, and times had changed. The ancient covenant, it seemed, did not apply today. Azshara and her people had gained a foothold on the seabed, and she felt that ten thousand years of service was quite enough, and that further efforts exceeded what the contract could possibly bring her. What's more, this so-called "God" was actually locked in a cage and had lost his freedom, which made Azshara feel utterly humiliated. Her "God" was a prisoner! How embarrassing!

Finally! The so-called "gift" of N'Zoth was the power from the void. Although it allowed the upper elves to survive on the seabed, it had distorted the elves' bodies and eroded their minds. It had also turned her, the light among lights and the most beautiful woman in Azeroth, into an ugly monster! This product was definitely not what she expected, and Azshara wanted to give N'Zoth a very, very bad review, which also made Azshara more determined to find other ways out!

Moreover, when the coalition of humans and night elves had killed the ancient god C'Thun in Silithus, Azshara reasoned, if they could kill C'Thun, they could definitely kill the weaker N'Zoth as well. Now, taking advantage of this chaotic situation...