Time returned to the future. The great and powerful night elf kingdom was centered around the Well of Eternity, and its territory continued to expand in all directions. The continent floating in the endless ocean was called Kalimdor by the night elves. According to records given by the god of magic, Silmalorë, this world was called Azeroth in the language of the gods. Its meaning: the place where stars shine.
The Night Elves, as the only race with direct access to limitless mysterious power, took great pride in that fact. They claimed themselves as the central race, and though it sounded arrogant, the claim wasn't entirely empty. Their kingdom was indeed magnificent and radiant, built with magic, grand architecture, and a culture that had evolved over thousands of years.
Even though they had once gone to war with Silmalorë's created races, the Night Elves retained their inherently proud nature. Compared to the trolls—wild and crude—or the races that were half-beast and half-god, the five-colored guardian dragons naturally preferred the night elves. They were graceful, powerful, and possessed a closeness to primordial forces that the dragons revered.
The relationship between the night elves and the guardian dragons was highly harmonious. The proud dragons only communicated with the night elves, treating other mortal races as a single, less significant collective. Likewise, the night elves only honored the dragons as spiritual and strategic partners.
To divine beings like Silmalorë and Elune, the guardian dragons firmly believed that these two Titan Pantheon figures had long since departed from the world. They envied the select few gods among the high elves who had the privilege of direct communication with the divine. The dragons had repeatedly asked the high elves to act as intermediaries, hoping to speak with the great Titans. But without exception, every request was ignored. Silmalorë had never shown interest in nurturing or interacting with the dragons, leaving them howling in frustration.
The dragon aspects didn't know Silmalorë's true name. They only knew of a world tree in Valinor, and had never met him directly. Seeing the Highborne worship a Titan, they assumed that Silmalorë's accidental lie was the truth. They believed that one of the Titans truly resided in Azeroth.
As a result, the Night Elves were considered the favored children of the gods by the dragons. This was the primary reason why the dragons only chose to communicate with the Night Elves, and not with any other race.
The night elf kingdom continued expanding its territory. But their expansion began to be hindered by the presence of the trolls. At that time, the trolls were under the rule of the Gurubashi Empire. A vast number of troll clans had united under the empire, and their civilization was also remarkably brilliant. The Gurubashi clan managed various tribes, and the shamans of the Zandalar clan were an elite class whose power rivaled that of the high elves.
Then, war began.
The war envoys from the night elf kingdom arrived full of disdain and arrogance. In the name of light within light, they declared war upon the Gurubashi clan. In the eyes of the elves, the troll empire was merely a vast outer shell with a fragile core. They underestimated the trolls' strength and saw them as obstacles to be removed.
The Gurubashi Empire was enraged. They immediately launched an offensive against the long-eared elves dressed in bright and radiant colors. The trolls had long despised the sharp-eared race. Seeing them arrive in noble garments and with haughty attitudes, their fury exploded. Although the Highborne looked different from the Tolkien elves who leapt through trees in simple clothing, the trolls' hatred remained the same.
But once the war began, the trolls quickly realized that the long-eared ones they had assumed were fragile and weak were far more dangerous than expected. The elven forces were empowered by mysterious energy. Their warriors rode agile and ferocious Nightsabers, launching lightning-fast strikes against troll lines.
Behind the front lines, the elves' ranged vehicles had far greater reach and accuracy thanks to arcane bows. Their weapons could fire projectiles continuously, with power and precision many times superior to the bows and spears of the trolls.
The lightning-fast flashes were four-edged moon blades, razor-sharp and spinning at high speed. They flew toward the troll formations, instantly tearing through bodies and flinging chunks of flesh and blood into the air.
The moon priests assigned to long-range attacks wore thin leather armor. They wielded longbows blessed by moonlight energy, firing arrows that not only pierced shields but shattered the magical defenses of the troll shamans. The shields they once took pride in were useless against the moonlight power refined through prayer and devotion.
That battle became a turning point. The trolls, once confident, began to lose momentum. They realized that the elves' strength came not only from magic, but also from discipline, technology, and spiritual conviction fused into military strategy.
The high-tier elven mages were the most terrifying threat ever to appear on the battlefield. Whenever their teams entered a conflict zone, the first thing seen was not troops, but towering banners radiating mysterious violet energy that flowed like living mist. At the center of the cloth, the Eye of Truth—embroidered with magical thread—stared straight ahead, as if marking the death hour of anyone who dared oppose them.
With unlimited support from the Well of Eternity, these mages never feared running out of magical power. They unleashed large-scale spells without hesitation, obliterating troll soldiers one by one, as if their bodies were mere kindling. Explosions of magic, firestorms, and waves of energy struck the ground relentlessly, creating a landscape of destruction no longer recognizable.
The brutal and unchecked behavior of the high elves had, in fact, been classified as magical abuse under ancient inter-racial treaties. Yet their influence ran too deep. The blue dragons, who were supposed to monitor the arcane web, chose not to appear—as if the incident were nothing more than a passing breeze. No warnings, no intervention. Their silence spoke volumes—perhaps even the dragons wished to see the elves triumph and dominate the land, erasing the chaos that had long disrupted balance.
The Gurubashi Empire's army suffered repeated devastation. Their formations collapsed, morale evaporated, and eventually they failed to maintain their status as an organized force. The troll shamans, long the backbone of their magical defense, could not match the elves' limitless arcane power. Conventional troops were powerless against the night elf ranks, fully blessed by ancient magic. The trolls ultimately experienced suffering far deeper than mere military defeat.
Much of the land fell into chaos. After countless deaths and injuries, the troll clans scattered. They fled to remote wild mountains and forests at the edge of the mainland, trying to survive in the shadow of ruin.
After the third natural moon passed, the war that once defeated the Yaki Zerg became a bitter memory. The once-glorious Gurubashi Empire was now utterly destroyed, no longer able to raise arms, let alone defend territory.
At the same time the great troll kingdom was overthrown, the Mogu dynasty in Pandaria began to isolate itself. Gates were shut, trade routes frozen, and guards stationed at every border. As if something vast and terrifying had occurred within their lands.
Escaped scout reports claimed that the Mogu Emperor had died. The emperor, named Thor, had reportedly met with a secondary Titan Keeper named Leiden in Pandaria's deepest region. For reasons unknown, Thor led his forces to the Odum Towel Oasis, a site believed to house an ancient Titan facility called the Hall of Origin. Soon after, a massive energy explosion shook the area. The blast's fluctuations were so intense they were felt by Isaline far to the north.
Parts of Uldum changed drastically—from a lush oasis to a barren, uninhabited desert. Thor returned to Pandaria with the remnants of his army, but soon after, news of his death spread across the land.
The Mogu dynasty sealed Thor's body in the Tomb of Kunlai Mountain. Initially, they had planned to send troops to support the Gurubashi troll kingdom, but after Zaradar's son, Zulha, was slain by the elves, the Zan The Dala clan fractured. The Mogu dynasty immediately withdrew its reinforcements and sealed Pandaria completely. No one was allowed in, and no one was allowed out.
The night elves showed no interest in attacking Pandaria. In their view, the region consisted of harsh mountains and wilderness, lacking comfortable life or exploitable resources.
According to ancient records, during the War of Darkness, after the death of the ancient god Yashaji, Aman Sur—the father of the gods—destroyed Yashaji's entire body. Only one part remained: an essence called "Heart of Yashaji." That essence was brought to Pandaria by a secondary Titan Keeper and sealed within an underground palace, guarded permanently.
The place was ruined, remote, and unappealing. Anyone sent there would feel discarded. No one wanted to go, and no one cared who arrived.
Meanwhile, the expansion war continued. The night elves' sphere of influence spread across the continent of Kalimdor. Cities, both large and small, were established in regions of breathtaking beauty, reflecting their grandeur and arrogance.
But the Highborne's pride did not stop there. They began to set their sights on the Dwemer—a race known for their technology and resilience. As expected, the Dwemer rejected all forms of invitation and pressure.
Silmalorë, observing from the peaks of Angband, did nothing to halt the Highborne's arrogance. He allowed it all to unfold. In his mind, this was an experiment—a precursor to the great war against the Burning Legion. His three created races had to endure major conflict in order to grow and mature. Without war, they would never evolve. After this war, they would surely advance in both technology and power.
Azshara's forces, who repeatedly tried to persuade the Dwemer, were consistently and bluntly rejected. This refusal became the spark of a great war. Azshara eventually led her army toward the lonely mountains of Barazdûm, where the Dwemer city of Barakdûm stood proudly on the continent of Kalimondor.
King Dumac, aged and weary of life, saw the Highborne ranks beginning to move toward his territory. Something within him stirred. A long-extinguished fire reignited. He ordered all Dwemer troops to don their armor and activate the Automaton units hidden deep within Barakdûm.
The Automatons and Dwemer soldiers began to march, preparing to face Azshara's forces. Though vastly outnumbered by the Highborne, no fear was visible on their faces. They stood tall, ready to fight for honor and homeland.
From this point, the true battle between technology and magic began. The Dwemer's Automaton ranks advanced toward Queen Azshara's forces in disciplined, intimidating formations. These metal machines, diverse in form and function, moved silently yet menacingly. Azshara, accustomed to confronting magical power from various races, was startled to see these dwarven beings using no magic at all. Yet their equipment—from armor to mechanical weapons—radiated an aura that resembled magic itself. This intrigued and unsettled Azshara. She wanted to understand how such technology could function without the aid of magic.
Without wasting time, Azshara ordered her elite mages to annihilate the Dwemer Automaton ranks. Magic attacks were unleashed with brutal force. Many Dwemer Spiders and Spheres were shattered into pieces, their metal bodies melted or hurled into the air by magical explosions. Yet the Dwemer Centurion Golems displayed extraordinary resilience. Despite being struck by various types of magic, they remained standing—some even continued moving despite severe damage. Some were destroyed, of course, but on the scale of war, those losses were negligible.
King Dumac, witnessing the partial destruction of his Automatons with eyes full of fury, immediately ordered the launch of their ultimate weapon: the Wind Lance. This weapon resembled a giant ballista, but with spinning blades like massive propellers capable of slicing through enemy lines in a single shot. When the Wind Lance began operating, the Highborne front ranks were instantly thrown into chaos. Bodies were flung, armor split, and formations collapsed entirely.
The assault was swiftly followed by mountain knights riding war goats—sturdy creatures capable of traversing rocky and steep terrain with ease. Behind them, war chariots pulled by goats rolled forward, carrying heavy weaponry and reinforcements. Then came the Iron Foot Dwarfen troops, clad in gleaming armor that resembled gold, though it was actually forged from Dwemer metal—far stronger and resistant to magic.
A great war erupted, and history would record it as one of the most brutal conflicts ever fought. Eventually, various factions joined the battle: elves from multiple clans, the Ents and Entwives of the ancient forests, the Dúnedain alongside Gondor's forces, and the valiant cavalry of the Rohirrim. This battle would be known as the War of Wrath.
Yet no side truly claimed victory. The four major factions refused to surrender. They fought with blazing spirit, but the mounting casualties forced them to sit together and agree to a peace treaty. The war ended not through triumph, but through exhaustion and profound sorrow on both sides.
Silmalorë, watching from afar, felt satisfied. He knew that Ilúvatar's magic could not match the arcane power of the Warcraft realm. Yet with aid from Dragon Nest's magic, his creations managed to fiercely resist Azshara's forces at their peak. He cared little when Azshara traveled to Valinor and Middle-earth for a student exchange program. At the time, Silmalorë was still busy forging rings of power in the mountains of Angband, preparing something far greater.
Upon returning to Kalimondor, Azshara began forming a more complex power structure. Under her rule, she divided the empire's territory among more than a dozen loyal rulers, known as princes. Each was given responsibility to govern a specific region of the continent in the queen's name. From that moment, the night elves established a strong, structured, and administratively divided kingdom.
Among those rulers, Kur'talos Ravencrest, Lord of the Black Raven, stood out as the most powerful and influential. This fiercely loyal general managed the vast region of Valsara with unwavering dedication to his beloved queen. Under his leadership, the region's capital—Black Raven City—flourished into a center of power and culture.
The city's location was highly strategic—adjacent to the forest home of the forest god Cenarius, and serving as a gateway to the Emerald Dream. As a result, Black Raven gradually became a gathering place for Druids, Moon Priests, and merchants from Gondor. A grand moon temple was built there, second only to the main temple in the capital Zin-Azshari.
At this point, the night elf empire reached the height of its glory. The majesty of the Well of Eternity and Azshara's magical light spread to every corner of the continent, bringing prosperity and power never seen before.
But as always in the long history of the world, every peak of glory is followed by disaster and decline. And this time, there would be no exception.