Something seemed off about the surroundings. The gloomy atmosphere, the dark corridors, and the occasional faint glint from gems on the walls—which were so faint they provided almost no illumination—made it feel more like the crimson eyes of demons hiding within, waiting in the dark for their prey to arrive.
Hearing the sounds of battle behind him, Gul'dan knew he could not linger. He had to press deeper into the tomb and find the Eye of Sargeras. As long as he obtained that immense power, the orc clans would be utterly insignificant!
In the Twisting Nether, two or three figures were watching a disc made of fel magic, which displayed information from the Tomb of Sargeras.
One figure, wreathed in blazing flames with massive horns on its head, stood tall in the void. Its form exceeded several thousand meters, almost as large as a planet. With such a colossal figure, flanked by Archimonde and Kil'jaeden, there was no doubt this was the leader of the Burning Legion, Sargeras!
Just the sight of his back was enough to make one feel breathless, as if the very air had frozen. The atmosphere around him would stagnate or erupt into a gale according to his mood. How powerful was he, to be able to cause environmental changes with a mere breath? The fallen titan who could wipe out the Pantheon was indeed powerful.
"This beast! I will destroy him! A victory that was within the Legion's grasp was thrown away just like that!" Kil'jaeden gritted his teeth as he watched. He could observe the events on Azeroth but had no way to interfere. He could only find lackeys to handle things for him. Teleporting to Azeroth required an enormous amount of energy, an insurmountable threshold for the Burning Legion.
"Heh, I told you not to rely on those wastes. Only when the Legion descends will everything be destroyed," Archimonde mercilessly mocked his former companion. Back when he was one of the Eredar Triumvirate, he was awed by Sargeras's power and, driven by his own craving for it, joined the Burning Legion.
His old rivals had also joined the Legion, and as Sargeras's lieutenants, their power struggles were naturally intense. The conflicts between demons were even more bloody and cruel, their intentions naked and undisguised. Only the powerful could command everything!
What? Overthrown by a subordinate? That just meant you were a weakling! No one would stand up for a weakling. Power was everything! Maintaining the Burning Legion's belligerence was the key to ensuring its combat effectiveness, and Sargeras was very satisfied with this, having no intention of changing it.
"Enough. Once he enters the tomb, I will have the demons tear him to shreds! Just as he stole the Legion's victory, I will steal his hope!" Sargeras snorted. He was still recuperating.
Over eight hundred years ago, he had compressed a portion of his soul and power to enter Azeroth, only to be defeated by Aegwynn, a fact that still gnawed at him. Later, he had clearly managed to control Medivh and contact the orcs to serve as the Legion's vanguard in the invasion of Azeroth, but he was slain again, his soul damaged along with his body. His power was now greatly diminished, and he needed a long time to recover.
Seeing Sargeras speak, the two Legion commanders fell silent. An angry Sargeras was not to be trifled with. Even with his power greatly diminished, he was not someone they could handle. A Titan was a Titan because their power was transcendent; they could lick their opponents to death even with both hands and feet tied behind their backs.
In the Tomb of Sargeras, the deeper Gul'dan went, the more of his warlocks died. Each one was snatched away by a demon that suddenly rushed out of the darkness, then brutally killed. The screams of the orc warlocks echoed through the hall, chilling to the bone. It was now impossible to retreat.
Countless demons revealed cruel, savage grins. They didn't attack Gul'dan, but instead continuously abducted his subordinates and killed them with brutal cruelty—biting off arms and legs, crunching through flesh and bone inch by inch, and devouring them to sate their hunger. They toyed with them before eating, just like a cat toying with a mouse!
Gul'dan grew more and more desperate. He couldn't find the path to the tomb's depths; demons were everywhere. He fled in a panic but was eventually cornered. In his desperation, he thought of a method. He secretly tore a piece of his soul and stored it in a soulstone, which he handed to a subordinate. Enduring excruciating pain, he faced the demons himself to buy time for his subordinate to escape. As long as they could get out, he would have a chance to be resurrected.
However, the orc warlocks' desperate breakout only allowed a few to escape; most were stopped by the demons. Rows of felhounds blocked the entrance, their unique ability allowing them to ignite the stored magic within a spellcaster. The more magic one had, the more damage they took. The felhounds themselves weren't strong—a human footman could easily take them down—but the orc warlocks were another story. One by one, they screamed as flames erupted from their bodies, turning them into human torches who shrieked and struggled, only to be torn to shreds by felguards.
Even Gul'dan's soulstone fell to the ground and was crushed underfoot. The soul he had separated at the cost of enduring a schism in his spirit simply dissipated, absorbed as a restorative snack!
A despairing Gul'dan was forced into a corner. Countless demons swarmed him, tearing his flesh from his body piece by piece, flaying him alive! His death was exceptionally gruesome. Those who dared to be traitors never met a good end.
When Gul'dan's screams ended, the Tomb of Sargeras returned to its silence. It was as if nothing had happened, save for the thick, lingering scent of blood, a testament to the brutal massacre that had occurred here.
The Black Tooth Grin Clan captured the few orc warlocks who had escaped and obtained a strange skull from them.
Under interrogation, they learned it was Gul'dan's skull. Although Rend was puzzled as to why Gul'dan had turned into a skeleton after entering the tomb, he didn't dwell on it. The skull would serve perfectly as an item to complete his mission.
The events on the Broken Shore were being monitored by various factions. There were the night elf Watchers, scouts from Suramar City, and even spies from Valhalla. Even Helya had sent people to gather information. A temple being raised from the seabed and converted into a tomb was a rare occurrence on the Broken Isles, already considered a major event.