Under Andreas' prayer, the crescent moon hanging in the sky changed its hue, shifting from a hazy moon-white to an eerie, deep purple.
This sudden transformation of the moon was noticed by everyone across all of Azeroth. Even Archimonde, who was currently listening to Tichondrius' report, looked up in surprise.
"The Moon Goddess Elune... what kind of existence is she?"
In the Resistance camp, High Priestess Dejahna, whose physical condition remained dire, gazed at the purple moon in horror. "This is Elune's will! What on earth happened? Who is calling upon her power?"
Supporting Dejahna, Maiev looked toward Zin-Azshari with a thoughtful expression. That color... could it be Andreas?
...
"Fury of Elune" was a name Andreas had come up with on the fly, but he felt it was perfectly fitting to describe the divine magic unfolding before him.
If "Moonlight Prayer" manifested the radiant, grand side of the Moon Goddess, then "Fury of Elune" undoubtedly embodied her darkest and most vengeful aspect.
Countless shadow rifts appeared out of thin air above the training grounds. Shadow energy from the Dark Void poured out of these rifts, coalescing under Andreas' control, which was channeled through Elune's divine power.
The space within a certain radius was saturated with shadow energy. This purest void power fell vertically toward the ground in a manner similar to "Moonlight Prayer."
Azshara, maintaining her gravity spell, intended to rely on her Arcane Shield to weather the storm, fueled by confidence in her own strength. However, the moment she made contact with the falling purple meteors, her expression changed drastically.
She aborted the continuous gravity spell and blinked repeatedly, exerting herself to the limit to evade the meteors crashing from the sky. The Arcane Shield on her body was like paper, completely swallowed by the shadow energy within a single second.
At this moment, Andreas was in poor shape. Severely injured, he could not precisely control all the shadow meteors; otherwise, even Azshara might not have escaped this wave of terrifying divine magic unscathed.
Halfway through the spell, Andreas—having returned to his physical form from Dispersion—could no longer withstand the pain and was forced to stop the magic. Although he was merely borrowing Elune's power, the spell was ultimately cast through his body. Such a powerful magic, exceeding mortal limits, inevitably placed a massive burden on the caster.
"Cough!"
Coughing up blood once more, Andreas felt frustrated for the first time that shadow energy could not heal wounds. In all things, there is a trade-off; while shadow energy enhances pure offensive power, it is naturally lacking in utility and healing.
The only skill with a healing effect, "Shadow Mend," was like drinking poison to quench thirst—at best, it merely suppressed injuries temporarily, only for them to erupt all at once after the battle, placing an immense strain on the body.
"Cough, cough... Your Majesty." Andreas slumped to the ground, gasping for air. "Three minutes are up. I won, didn't I?"
Azshara brushed back her waist-length silver hair. A few black streaks had appeared at the tips of her hair, likely the result of the previous divine magic.
"Hmph." Her exterior showed no emotional ripples. Azshara let down her hair and said calmly, "I never go back on my word. Although it was unexpected that you passed the trial by borrowing Elune's divine power, a loss is a loss."
"I will return Tyrande to you, and the charges against the Moonsong family are cleared. You may leave the palace openly."
Supporting himself with the Sprig of G'Hanir, Andreas struggled to stand. He bowed slowly to Azshara. "As expected of Queen Azshara, who led the Night Elf Empire to greatness. Your magnanimity is boundless."
"Heh, spare me the flattery," Azshara sneered. "You'd best worry about yourself first. I won't be helping you heal your injuries."
Andreas tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'm alright. No fatal wounds. I'll just have Priestess Whisperwind treat me later."
Azshara nodded noncommittally. "Fine. Follow me. I'll take you to Tyrande's room."
...
"...Vashj, what exactly are you doing?"
When Azshara led the way to Tyrande's room, the slightly panicked expressions of the armed handmaidens aroused the Queen's suspicion. Pushing the door open, they found Vashj pinning Tyrande to the floor, sitting on her waist, with one hand choking her neck and the other pulling at her mouth.
"Whew~"
Andreas, whose injuries had recovered slightly, gave a flippant whistle. "Mounting position? Quite the atmosphere you've got going. I didn't know you were into this."
It was common knowledge that Vashj, who was fiercely loyal to Azshara, had certain tendencies, but Andreas hadn't expected the Head Handmaiden to play "wrestling" with Tyrande instead of reporting to the Queen after completing her mission.
"No, no, no!" Hearing Azshara's strangely toned inquiry, Vashj scrambled off Tyrande. "Your Majesty, please let me explain! I only wanted to teach Tyrande a lesson; I didn't really want to kill her!"
Andreas rolled his eyes and complained in his mind, Hey, hey... is that the main point here?
At this moment, Tyrande's clothes were disheveled, and she lay on the floor panting after the struggle. This posture made it very easy for one's mind to wander. Yet, the first thing Vashj explained was that she hadn't intended to kill, which made Andreas find her logic difficult to comprehend.
Is this the world of a 'simp'? Terrifying!
Azshara looked back and forth with a peculiar expression between the flushed Vashj and the pitiable Tyrande. "Fine, let's set that aside for now. How went your mission? Are the intruding demons dead?"
At the mention of this topic, Vashj's panicked expression suddenly turned somber. Behind Andreas, Leticia's heart skipped a beat; Vashj's attitude triggered many dark thoughts.
"Lady Vashj, what about my father and mother? Are they safe?"
The all-seeing Queen Azshara had already read much from Vashj's expression. She sighed softly and said, "Speak plainly. It must be faced eventually."
"Yes," Vashj reported with her head bowed. "When Varo'then and I broke through the demon defenses and entered the Moonsong estate, Lord Liander was already in his final moments. Lady Felice has fallen into a deep coma from excessive grief."
"No..." Leticia covered her mouth with both hands in disbelief. She hadn't expected such a tragedy to occur in the less than half a day since she had left home. "It's impossible!"
Before Leticia could lose control of her emotions, Azshara reached out and tapped her forehead. Leticia immediately fainted, her eyes rolling back, and Andreas hurried to catch her.
After a few seconds of silence, Azshara spoke in a flat tone, "Bury Lord Liander with honors. Issue an order in my name: no family shall covet the power or property of the Moonsong family for a hundred years."
"And..." A cold, icy glint flashed in Azshara's eyes. Tyrande, who was facing her, caught that cold and ruthless gaze and couldn't help but shiver. "Who did it?"
Vashj, who knew the Queen well, was acutely aware that Azshara was thoroughly enraged. She hurriedly bowed and answered respectfully, "The leader of the Nathrezim, Tichondrius."