Facing the Lich King's ultimate attack, Galen typically preferred strategic maneuvering over direct confrontation. However, the intense gaze of tens of thousands of Alliance soldiers below weighed on him. To dodge might project an image of timidity, a lack of commanding presence. Today, a display of power felt necessary.
Galen reached down, a reassuring pat on Onyxia's flank signaling her to remain composed. "Divine Shield, standby," he murmured, the words a calming presence in the golden dragon girl's mind.
"Die, Galen!" Arthas roared, Frostmourne arcing downwards in a lethal strike. The combined might of death and frost surged outwards, instantly engulfing Galen and Onyxia.
Below, the hearts of the Alliance soldiers pounded in their chests. The defeat of their High Marshal would signify a catastrophic failure for their Northrend campaign, leaving a void in leadership that would be difficult to fill.
As the chilling power of ice and death closed in, Galen unleashed the full extent of his own might. Blazing flames of Holy Light erupted around him, pushing back against the encroaching darkness and cold. The sheer intensity of the Lich King's attack, however, proved too much even for Onyxia, who instinctively activated her Divine Shield.
Through the swirling frost and shadow, Arthas observed a layer of ice forming on Galen's exposed fingers and neck. "Hahaha! Galen, didn't you mock my power? How does it feel to face the God of Death?" Arthas's laughter was manic, a release of long-suppressed frustration. "You understand nothing of true power! Here, I am absolute!"
Galen closed his eyes, the biting cold and the sensation of being cut by invisible blades a stark reminder of the Lich King's strength. Even with his Holy Light mitigating much of the death magic and his demigod physique, a testament to his hard-won power surpassing even Titan guardians, the frost still stung. Just a sting, he thought. This was for show. Next time, I'll dodge.
Arthas continued his tirade, fueled by years of perceived injustice. "Galen, in our youth, you stole the admiration that should have been mine! I endured my father's heavy expectations, constantly measured against your excellence!" His voice dripped with bitterness. "I could have tolerated it, your achievements wouldn't have broken me! But you! Damn you! You shouldn't have bestowed that useless Holy Light upon me! Your charity felt like an insult, rendering my decade of hard work meaningless! Now! Your precious Light cannot save you, nor Lordaeron, nor Azeroth! Alliance War God? You are nothing!" His voice reached a fever pitch. "I will forge a kingdom of the dead! You preach of saving Azeroth? I will kill you all and raise you as my warriors, saving Azeroth in my own way!"
As Arthas finished his venomous outburst, Galen's eyes snapped open. He had been oblivious to the depth of Arthas's resentment, unaware of ever having slighted this seemingly delicate prince. Was all this necessary? Such hatred, such deep-seated resentment!
The power of the Holy Light around Galen surged anew, its temperature rising to an almost incandescent heat, capable of melting steel. The encroaching death and frost were utterly annihilated.
A prickling sensation ran across Arthas's scalp, followed by a jolt of alarm. He instinctively moved to direct Sapphiron away, but it was too late.
"You talk too much, Arthas!" Galen's voice, resonant with righteous fury, echoed across the battlefield.
Below, the hearts of the Alliance soldiers steadied.
"Judgment!" Galen roared, and the darkness that had momentarily descended was shattered by a blinding golden light.
A pained dragon's cry pierced the air. When the Alliance soldiers blinked away the lingering brightness, they saw the Frost Wyrm Arthas had been riding impaled on the ice sheet by a colossal golden sword. And the Lich King himself was being carried away by a winged steed, retreating towards Icecrown Citadel.
Unseen by the masses, the armor on Arthas's back cracked in a spiderweb pattern. Even his once-immaculate ponytail was severed, more than half its length gone.
"Heh!" Arthas gasped, clutching his chest, his breath ragged. "This… this is more interesting. Galen, you have surprised me. Perhaps this world will not be so dull with you in it!" He then roared, his voice strained, "I hope you can withstand my attack next time we meet!"
Galen's counter-attack had revealed a truth Arthas had only suspected: the human had also broken the bonds of mortality, achieving demigod status. Yet, a fierce confidence still burned within Arthas. He could feel untapped potential within him. His struggle with Ner'zhul had been relatively brief, leaving much of the old orc's power intact. With Ner'zhul's essence now fully his, that power was ripe for the taking. A little more time, and no one in this world could stand against him.
"Kel'Thuzad," the Lich King whispered, his voice resonating in the minds of every undead, "I appoint you commander of the Scourge. Hold the Alliance at bay for me! When I awaken again, the Scourge will engulf this world!"
Kel'Thuzad and the other Scourge generals bowed their heads in silent acknowledgment of the new order. The undead legions outside Icecrown Citadel slowly retreated, melting back into the icy fortress.
Galen did not order a pursuit. The Lich King and his Scourge were a significant threat, but hardly insurmountable. Could Arthas truly surpass Archimonde? A deployment of the Golden Holy Dragonflight, their holy fire breath scouring every inch of Icecrown Glacier, followed by a coordinated assault by Nefarian, Sabellian, and Onyxia, would surely cure Arthas of his ambitions.
The true threat remained Ulduar, deep within the Storm Peaks, a place Galen had yet to explore. It wouldn't be fitting for the Lich King to be his ultimate challenge. It didn't align with his plans.
"The army will establish a fortified camp here! Advance step by step and secure Icecrown Citadel!" Galen finally commanded. He intended to use the ivory towers as the foundation for a protracted siege against the Lich King's fortress.
Though the Alliance soldiers had been momentarily blinded by darkness and then the brilliant golden light, obscuring the most dramatic moments of the duel, the sight of the impaled Frost Wyrm and the Lich King's retreat left no doubt: their marshal had triumphed.
"Long live the Marshal! Long live the Marshal!" The cheers echoed across the frozen wastes.
"Si!" Galen sighed inwardly, a touch of weariness in his soul. He patted Onyxia, signaling her to fly south towards Dragonblight.
Onyxia soared along the icy rift, descending towards the Dragon Rest Temple, its lower levels half-buried in the earth. Soon, she landed within a wide, circular domed hall. A raised marble platform occupied the center, with stairs leading up from the south and north. Massive pillars stood sentinel in each corner.
The Red Dragon Queen, Alexstrasza, had been waiting. After a brief exchange of greetings, Onyxia transformed into her human form, choosing a quiet corner with Galen to await the arrival of the other attendees.
Sartharion, the youngest of the Dragon Aspects and the new Blue Dragon Aspect, arrived soon after, naturally positioning himself beside Galen. Alexstrasza's eyes flickered, a dawning understanding of the new Aspect's allegiance in her gaze.
However, what followed surprised the Red Dragon Queen even more. The four demigod stone giants from the Wintergrasp Vault materialized, also gravitating towards Galen. Aragorn and King Stoneheart, having just teleported in, joined their brethren, engaging in quiet conversation.
Chromie, representing the Bronze Dragonflight, arrived next, offering apologies for Lord Nozdormu's absence due to important discoveries within the timeways. She then subtly observed Sartharion. As a diligent member of the Bronze Dragonflight, she knew Sartharion was an anomaly, a product of a changed history, yet his origins remained elusive. Sartharion, perceptive as ever, caught Chromie's gaze and offered a sunny smile that sent a shiver down the gnome dragon's spine. The smile seemed vaguely familiar, a fleeting memory from her youth.
The Green Dragon Queen sent only a young consort, citing the increasingly severe corruption of the Emerald Dream as preventing her Majesty's attendance.
Alexstrasza felt a growing unease. She, the self-proclaimed commander of the Dragonscale Expedition, found herself surrounded by powerful beings who owed her little allegiance. A sense of being outside her control settled upon her, a disquiet only partially suppressed by the presence of Tyr's reincarnation.
"Alright, everyone is here. Let's begin the meeting as soon as possible!" Alexstrasza declared, a forced note of authority in her voice. "First, let's congratulate Sartharion on his ascension as the Blue Dragon Aspect and the new Spellweaver!"
A round of applause echoed through the hall, the four vault guardians' stone hands clapping together with resounding force.
"Thank you for your congratulations," Sartharion said, stepping forward and bowing to the assembled allies before turning to the Red Dragon Queen. "If you don't mind, Your Majesty Alexstrasza, please call me Sartharion."
The Red Dragon Queen finally understood the source of her unease. Nicknames were the parlance of mortals. The age of dragons, it seemed, was drawing to a close, and the Alliance, led by the Argent Crusade, was rising. The Blue Dragonflight was adapting to this shift, and similar debates echoed within her own flight. Whether the future belonged to mortals or a return to the age of the Titan keepers, she could not halt the turning of the ages. Perhaps resistance would only lead to ruin. Learning from the Blue Dragonflight was the wiser path.
"Excuse my rudeness," Galen interjected, stepping forward and addressing the assembled demigods. "Let us begin our summit!"
"The Alliance attempted an assault on the Wrathgate half a day ago, but Arthas awoke prematurely. I engaged him in aerial combat and achieved a slight advantage." Galen had no intention of boasting. Among the ancient powers of Northrend, the Titan keepers of Ulduar and the Dragon Aspects of the Dragon Rest Temple far surpassed the Lich King in raw power. His victory was hardly surprising. However, Ulduar remained sealed, and the dragons had largely considered the Lich King a mortal concern, until his desecration of the dragon graveyards in Dragonblight.
"However," Galen continued, "I sense that Arthas's power is still growing. We must adopt a two-pronged strategy, striking both Ulduar and Icecrown Citadel. Allowing Arthas to develop further is akin to nurturing a tiger, inviting disaster."
"Lord Galen's assessment aligns with our own," King Stoneheart, the tall, black stone giant, rumbled. "Our 300,000-strong earthen army in Uldaman stands ready for deployment at your command."
"The elemental legions of the Vault of Archavon number 50,000, primarily stone guardians," Archavon added, his usual silliness absent in the face of serious matters. "They can effectively contain at least twice their number in Iron Vrykul."
"The Argent Crusade will commit an elite force of 100,000, along with numerous support troops," Galen declared boldly. "We will not yield a single step."
Galen's commitment of such a large force cast the Dragonscale Expedition members in a less impressive light. The Green Dragon Queen's young consort gathered his courage. "Perhaps my contribution seems meager in comparison, but rumors speak of the Nightmare Lord stirring in the Ohn'ahran Plains, possibly seeking a new nightmare to facilitate its escape from the Emerald Dream into our reality."
"The corruption within the Emerald Dream intensifies," he continued. "We have already beseeched the night elf druids for aid, hoping their unique connection to the dream can help us combat this growing threat. Druids possess a greater resilience to the Nightmare's influence than we do."
"The Blue Dragonflight's current priorities are clear: the restoration of our numbers," Sartharion stated. "However, as guardians of this world, our responsibility to confront the evils within Ulduar and uphold justice is paramount. After consulting with Elder Malygos and Senegos, we will dispatch 100 adult dragons and 600 whelps."
"The Bronze Dragonflight will contribute a force of at least 300 adult dragons!" Chromie announced, her eyes gleaming with determination. She had firmly aligned herself with Galen, even making a significant commitment on behalf of Lord Nozdormu, representing half of their flight's active members. The primary reason for this decisive action was the decreased activity of the Eternal Dragonflight in recent years. Their fleeting appearances across various timelines suggested they were searching for something specific, a secret Lord Nozdormu kept closely guarded.
"In that case, the Red Dragonflight must offer substantial aid," Alexstrasza declared. "We will deploy 500 adult red dragons!" The Red Dragonflight, known for their resilience and high fertility under their Queen's leadership, had rapidly recovered their numbers since the Orcish Wars.
Finally, the attention turned to the Green Dragonflight. Expectations were not high, but a contribution roughly equivalent to the Blue Dragonflight's, considering their preoccupation with the Emerald Dream, would suffice. The Green Dragon representative gritted his teeth. "The Emerald Green Dragonflight will dispatch 150 adult dragons!