As the Alliance and Tauren prepared to counterattack the Centaur, Thrall, still on the island, and his subordinates, along with Vol'jin, fled the cave in a state of disarray.
They were still too late; the Murlocs had already sacrificed Vol'jin's father to some dark entity. Fortunately, before their ritual was fully completed, the orcs and Trolls worked together to destroy their magic circle and save Sen'jin's soul.
After a bloody battle with the Sea Witch who controlled the Murlocs in this dark ritual, Vol'jin personally chopped off the witch's head. But just before the fellow died, he unleashed abyssal magic, attempting to collapse the cave.
Although Vol'jin killed the Sea Witch, he couldn't stop his magic. He didn't even have time to retrieve his father's body and was forced to leave the cave.
This wasn't the worst part. When Thrall and Vol'jin escaped the cave and returned to Dark Spear Island, a sudden earthquake made Thrall sense that a great natural disaster was about to strike the small island.
"Quick! Vol'jin, lead your tribesmen and leave this place with us!"
His connection to the elements made Thrall realize that the Sea Witch's dark magic didn't just affect the cave; the entire Dark Spear Island was facing submergence.
During the recent battle, Vol'jin also realized that Thrall was a reliable partner worth befriending, and the Dark Spear Trolls indeed needed an ally to help them through this difficult period.
The earthquake and Thrall's words left Vol'jin with little hesitation. He immediately returned to the village, gathered his tribesmen, and followed Thrall onto the orcs' ships.
Soon after the ships sailed away from Dark Spear Island, everyone watched as the once vibrant small island gradually sank into the sea. Some of the Trolls, who were leaving their homeland again, looked sorrowful: in this catastrophe, they had lost a leader, many compatriots, and their home.
Vol'jin watched the sinking island, remaining silent for a long time, until Thrall's voice roused him from his grief.
"I apologize for disturbing you… I know this will take time."
Vol'jin wiped his hand across his face, and the new Dark Spear Tribe leader calmly said to his new friend, "No, it's alright. In Troll tradition, the death of the body means nothing."
Thrall didn't continue the topic further. "I understand how you feel, because we also left our former homeland this way. But now, the most important thing is to find a way back to land, otherwise our food won't last long."
"Don't worry, my friend, Dark Spear Island is not far from the Kalimdor continent. At most, we will be able to disembark by sunset tonight."
"That would be wonderful. After all this, we are exhausted and desperately need a place to rest." Thrall visibly sighed in relief. This period of wandering had made him accustomed to partings and deaths, and it also strengthened Thrall's grand vision for the revival of the orcs.
After a series of difficulties, the final leg of the journey to Kalimdor was remarkably peaceful. Just as Vol'jin had said, as the sun was about to set, the orcs' ships landed on a desolate beach.
"Finally…"
Thrall knelt down and grabbed a handful of fine sand from the beach. The young leader raised the Doomhammer, gifted to him by Ogrim, and shouted loudly to his compatriots, "We succeeded!"
"Oh!!!!"
Thunderous cheers echoed along the coast. Vol'jin stroked his tusks and squatted to the side. He, too, was cheered by the orcs' joy, which dispelled his previous sadness and sense of decay.
The Dark Spear Trolls had been isolated for too long. Life on the small island might have been peaceful and easy, but it also left the Dark Spear Trolls lacking the ability to resist change. Sen'jin's death made Vol'jin understand that even if the Dark Spear Tribe couldn't regain the glory of the ancient Trolls, they should at least join this war called "survival."
...
In a small house by the Thorodril River in Lordaeron, Tirion poured Arthas and Lothar a cup of coffee each. Lothar looked at the steaming drink, his expression a little strange.
"What's wrong? Don't you like coffee?" Tirion asked.
"Uh… No, it's not that. I used to drink this often for refreshment when I was alive," Lothar picked up the cup, took a small sip, and showed an expression of 'just as expected.' "However, in this state, everything tastes pretty much like water."
Although the undead have nearly immortal lives and are immune to many mental attacks, they also have shortcomings, which is that they no longer possess the diverse sensations of the living.
Whether it's fine wine or gourmet food, to the undead, they are no different from the most ordinary clear water and bread; they are neither needed nor necessary.
"I'm trying to find a way to solve this flaw in high-ranking undead," Arthas also took a sip of coffee. "It's just a bit difficult, after all, I'm not a scholar specializing in this area. Kel'thuzad might be able to fix this..."
After Tirion understood the situation, he said to Lothar, "Then I won't prepare pastries for you. Those were brought to me by my son, and it would be a waste to give them to you."
Lothar's face fell. "Hey, hey, is that how you treat an old friend?"
The three looked at each other for a moment, then suddenly burst out laughing. Arthas said, exasperated, "Alright, alright, I'll figure out a way to solve this problem for you."
"If it's too much trouble and effort, then forget it. I didn't rise again to enjoy anything," Lothar now seemed quite open-minded.
"But being able to enjoy things again isn't a bad thing," Tirion added, casually placing some pastries on the table. "Your Highness, please forgive my impulsive behavior just now."
Arthas didn't think much of it. Any Silver Hand paladin facing that situation would react the same way. Tirion's reaction was already considered less intense.
However, Tirion clearly still had a slight barrier regarding the existence of Death Knights. After all, asking a true paladin to accept such an unconventional existence was simply too demanding.
Not everyone is like Arthas, who possesses the power of the Holy Light but lacks faith in it. Almost all Paladins are noble individuals through and through; Arthas is an absolute exception among exceptions.
Tirion was also a little worried. Arthas's actions, in the eyes of those unaware, were almost like dancing on the edge of a blade.
As most people with special energy know, although power has no good or evil, it can subtly influence one's temperament. Tirion worried that if Arthas one day couldn't control his dark power, it would bring disaster to the entire world.
"Tirion, have you noticed the intense soul fluctuations from the north recently?"
Arthas looked at Tirion's somewhat stiff expression and asked a question.