The green Fel portal flickered violently, pulsing like a massive, beating heart.
Sargeras's consciousness loomed like an invisible mountain over every inch of the space. The Highborne mages prostrated on the ground dared not even lift their heads; their souls trembled on the verge of collapse. The pressure of a Fallen Titan—even as a mere projection of will across the endless stars rather than a physical manifestation—was far more than any ordinary mortal could endure.
The mages felt their heads grow impossibly heavy, as if pressed down by an invisible giant hand. Their cervical vertebrae groaned under the strain, and every bone in their bodies cried out in agony. They could only press their foreheads against the cold floor, shivering in ultimate terror.
"Tell me, Xavius... what has happened?" Sargeras's voice boomed directly into the depths of their souls, devoid of emotion yet carrying a heat that could freeze the blood. Fel flames seemed ready to consume everyone.
One mage, slightly bolder than the rest, used every ounce of strength to force a trembling voice through his throat: "G-great True God... please, have mercy... Archmage Xavius... he fought with an otherworldly visitor who wielded a strange golden light... and was gravely injured. We... we have done our best, using every known healing spell and potion, but we cannot wake him. His soul seems... trapped, or rather, his mind has suffered immense damage. In our desperation, we brought him before your radiance, praying for your pity and salvation... Only your supreme power can save Lord Xavius!"
"Useless! Worthless things!" A cold thought lashed the mages' minds like a whip, nearly causing them to faint. "Let me see what manner of power dares to strike my chosen one."
Sargeras's peerless mental strength, acting like a precision probe, began to scan Xavius's body. The physical damage was negligible, but the surface of his spirit bore unmistakable, divine burn marks. This was not the destructive fire of Fel, nor the explosive energy of the Arcane, but one of the powers he loathed and guarded against most: the Holy Light!
In the cosmos, all things have their counter. His proud Fel energy represented ultimate chaos and destruction, capable of eroding the Arcane magic of Order. But similarly, the Holy Light—representing pure radiance, order, and life—possessed a natural ability to counter and purify the chaotic evil of Fel.
Though he had defeated his brothers in the Pantheon through his unmatched power and schemes, the Naaru and their Army of the Light, scattered across the stars, remained stumbling blocks on his Burning Crusade—targets that had to be thoroughly purified. He even paranoidly believed that the so-called Army of the Light was merely a collection of clever lackeys for the Void Lords.
Light and Shadow might appear to be opposites, but to him, they were two sides of the same coin, destined to transform into one another at the extremes. The fact that Naaru collapsed into Void Gods after exhausting their light was the ultimate proof! Everything the Army of the Light did was, in his eyes, just another form of corruption that would eventually serve the Void.
"Xavius..." Sargeras's voice echoed once more. "His soul has been heavily battered. A... purely powerful light, with strong traits of judgment and purification... mixed with a hint of a 'holy' aura that I find both familiar and disgusting."
Sargeras's Fel perception delved deep into Xavius's mental world. The shocking "scars" surprised even him. This wasn't a simple mental shock or energy burn; it was a "torture" and "mental branding" on the level of cosmic rules. Xavius's essence, recently bolstered by Fel, appeared pathetically fragile before this strange light.
What concerned him more was the sheer oddity of the attack. Had there not been a clear scent of Holy Light, he might have suspected the handiwork of an Old God proficient in Shadow and mental magic.
And yet, at this critical juncture—when he planned to use the Well of Eternity to open a stable portal for the Legion's main force—one of the key Highborne leaders responsible for the execution had been crippled! Sargeras could not help but wonder if the Army of the Light had detected his plan and sent a pawn to disrupt the board. Those damned, meddling Naaru!
However, Xavius's wretched state also reinforced his worldview: the Light was never just about healing and blessings; it possessed a powerful capacity to twist minds and crush spirits, a trickery no less subtle than the power of Shadow. This only hardened his resolve to purify all unstable factors in the universe.
"Tell me, my servants, describe the one who struck him in detail. Every moment of the battle. Omit nothing."
The Highborne mages dared not hesitate. They recounted everything they knew about Rhodes and that brief, one-sided duel, placing special emphasis on Rhodes's strange golden eyes, the summoned golden giant, and the eerie moment Xavius collapsed instantly after meeting his gaze.
"...A golden giant... thousands of light-forged weapons... that terrible gaze... immense mental damage." Sargeras processed the information, connecting the dots in his mind. "A human claiming to be from another world? Mastering a power like the Light yet different, and proficient in powerful mental illusions... with that 'familiar' aura..."
Yes, there is no doubt. A lapdog of the Army of the Light. A servant of the Void Lords.
Azeroth, this unborn Titan sibling, was already brimming with potential. Now, with this unknown variable appearing, Sargeras was more convinced than ever that he had to seize this world quickly to avoid further complications.
"Enough," Sargeras's voice rang out. "Xavius may be incompetent, but he is still of use. Through this failure and pain, he will become even more hungry for power and more loyal to me."
He was already preparing to transform Xavius into Azeroth's first Satyr, a twisted creation molded entirely by Fel. This was the "gift" he had promised Azshara—the transformation of the Night Elves into members of the Legion's great cause. Azshara herself could become a Legion Commander; if she could endure his Fel power, she could become as strong as she desired.
From the boiling Fel portal, a torrent of dark green energy, condensed as if solid, suddenly shot out and pierced Xavius's body. Xavius's unconscious form convulsed violently, and a non-human rasping sound escaped his throat.
"Ugh... AAAAHHH!"
The marks scorched by the Light hissed under the impact of the Fel torrent. The golden residual energy of the Light melted and evaporated like ice in boiling oil. But this was no simple healing; it was a crude "transformation"—using overwhelming Fel energy to forcibly erase the scars of radiance.
Sargeras's whispers echoed in Xavius's shattering soul with irresistible will: "Come, my servant. Feel the pain! Embrace the power! Your failure stems from weakness, and weakness is the ultimate sin! Abandon your pathetic elven form, accept my blessing, and become something stronger, something adapted to the darkness! Become a demon of the Legion."
As he spoke, more Fel was injected. Xavius's body began a horrifying mutation: his skin grew coarse and turned an unhealthy greyish-green; his fingernails grew wildly, becoming black and sharp like talons; his legs twisted backward, his bones making sickening cracking sounds as they reorganized into hooves. Most noticeably, a pair of curved, demonic horns burst through his scalp, growing slowly amid thick blood.
The process was filled with ultimate agony. Xavius could not even remain unconscious; he snapped awake in the throes of pain, his eyes bulging and bloodshot, filled with suffering, terror, and a fanatical awe for the being granting him this power.
"Remember this pain of rebirth, Xavius... or should I call you the 'First Satyr'?" Sargeras's voice echoed. "Your soul is branded by me. Your form is reshaped for the Legion. Wake, my vanguard! With hatred for the one called Rhodes and for all things of the Light, fulfill your mission! Open the Legion portal for me, and I shall send my greatest lieutenants to help you eliminate this unstable element."
The Fel glow gradually receded. The infusion was complete. Xavius—now the first Satyr—collapsed on the ground, gasping heavily, his body completely remade. He was no longer the elegant Highborne mage, but a twisted, hideous monster reeking of Fel.
The other mages were paralyzed with fear, watching this scene with frozen hearts. They never dreamed Sargeras's "healing" would be so demonic.
Sargeras's will began to withdraw from the portal, leaving one final, cold command: "Once you have adapted to this new body, continue the ritual preparations for the Legion's descent. And kill the one named Rhodes. He is a dog of the Army of the Light."
The green light of the portal dimmed.
In the gaps between his ragged breaths, the newly transformed Xavius growled his first name in a raspy, distorted voice:
"Rhodes... I will slaughter you with my own hands."