Ten thousand years had passed, and the night elves had finally "revived" their first demigod who had fallen in battle.
Then, dramatically, this demigod who "returned" from the Emerald Dream was, in fact, a night elf.
In the original timeline, the night elves didn't revive any of the wild demigods who sacrificed themselves in the War of the Ancients. It wasn't until the Cataclysm that they revived a demigod to face the invasion of the Firelord.
They were completely treating these powerful allies as tools!
In Galen's opinion, Tyrande wasn't very kind.
Because his boar demigod, Agamaggan, was connected to the Origin of Knowledge, he knew that this great boar harbored some resentment towards the night elves.
Admittedly, the cost of reviving a demigod was high. Under normal circumstances, the boundary between the Emerald Dream and the reality of Azeroth was impenetrable. The revival ritual required a powerful force to temporarily open a conduit between the two realms, allowing the demigod's soul to return to the real world.
Therefore, each demigod required a huge amount of energy to be revived, but it's not as if the night elves lacked a source of power!
The dragon aspects' blessing on the World Tree, Nordrassil, wasn't just to conceal the aura of the second Well of Eternity; it could also absorb and store the power of the Well of Eternity!
This power, in addition to granting the night elves immortality, also influenced the birth and reincarnation of wisps. Reviving a wild demigod required mobilizing the life energy within the World Tree!
Most importantly, there was more than one demigod that needed to be revived. Excessive use of the World Tree's energy would weaken it, affecting the night elf civilization's reproduction and the birth of new life.
Among the night elf leaders, Jarod Shadowsong had shirked his responsibilities and gone into seclusion, Galen was a fake leader, and Malfurion was wholeheartedly asleep in the Emerald Dream, leaving Tyrande as the sole decision-maker.
When it came to the reproduction and growth of the race, Tyrande ultimately lacked the courage.
If the demigods were merely sleeping, it wouldn't make much difference whether they slept in Azeroth or in the Emerald Dream, but...
Tyrande, you should at least care for their descendants!
The quillboar had been reduced to a barbaric, primitive race that only knew how to rob, and the night elves watched indifferently.
It's normal for their ancestors to have opinions.
However, these things had nothing to do with Galen. If Tyrande didn't take the blame, Malfurion would, and it had nothing to do with Galen!
After the tremors in the Emerald Dream subsided, Agamaggan quickly departed that dreamscape, and on the corresponding altar in Azeroth, Galen Remar appeared in a burst of green light!
Galen wantonly unleashed the life energy within his body, seemingly announcing his return!
Heroic, powerful, and radiant!
The onlookers in Moonglade were shaken!
Ten thousand years, and the first demigod to fall in battle had returned!
This was a huge encouragement for the night elf race, which had suffered great losses after the Battle of Mount Hyjal and was now facing the Emerald Nightmare!
Fandral Staghelm, Talsaren, Naralex, Broll Bearmantle, and other great druids flocked towards Galen's location.
"Master, welcome back!"
Fandral respectfully saluted before Galen, who smiled and patted him on the shoulder as a sign of acknowledgement.
Although Fandral was Galen Remar's disciple, he had not been taken in as a follower, so he was unaware of some of the core secrets about his mentor. Therefore, he genuinely believed that Galen Remar had sacrificed himself, and had been working tirelessly to prepare for his revival all these years.
"May the forest bless you, Great Druid Galen Remar!" A druid younger than Fandral said in a low voice. "I am Broll Bearmantle, a disciple of High Druid Malfurion!"
"Broll! I've heard of you. You are an excellent druid!"
The great druid before him was very similar to Malfurion. The antlers extending from his temples were nearly half a meter long, and although they were inferior to his mentor's, they were still quite striking!
In his previous life, Galen had indeed heard of Broll Bearmantle. He was part of the famous gladiatorial trio with Varian and Valeera, and had successfully defeated the reigning champion team in the Dire Maul Arena.
Of course, he wouldn't have that opportunity in this life. Not only would Varian not be murdered by Onyxia, but Valeera would also not be stranded and enslaved, and Eldre'Thalas would not be occupied by ogres and become Dire Maul.
After the other great druids greeted Galen one by one, Tyrande walked over with two priestesses of Elune.
"Galen, great druids, I'm sorry to interrupt your chat, but we should get down to business!"
Tyrande's voice, though firm, carried a subtle undercurrent of weariness. As she spoke, the look in her eyes as she regarded Galen Remar revealed a complex mix of emotions. A flicker of ancient longing, perhaps, mingled with the heavy burden of leadership and a wariness born of long centuries of struggle.
Auberdine, a large town on the Darkshore of Kalimdor, was bathed in an eerie twilight. Here, Galen stood, his gaze fixed upon the misty sea, where a colossal shadow loomed.
The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting a pale glow upon the churning waters. Ominous storm clouds gathered, pregnant with dark energy, threatening to unleash their fury upon the world. The air crackled with a palpable sense of foreboding, as if the very elements were in turmoil.
The colossal shadow that dominated the horizon was Teldrassil, a new World Tree, planted by Tyrande herself.
It towered into the heavens, a verdant giant whose branches dwarfed even the landmass of Alterac. Its dense canopy, a sprawling expanse of emerald and jade, was vast enough to cradle an entire civilization within its verdant embrace.
And upon those colossal boughs, the night elves had indeed built their new capital: Darnassus.
"Nordrassil still survives," Tyrande explained, her voice a low murmur, heavy with the weight of her people's past. "Though the druids have poured their very essence into healing it, it has not recovered. For the future of our race, I had no other choice but to plant this new World Tree."
She stepped closer to Galen, her gaze still fixed on the immense silhouette before them. Her expression was a study in contrasts: pride in the tenacity of her people, sorrow for their losses, and an unyielding determination to guide them through the darkness. As a ruler, one of the highest leaders of the night elves, her feelings towards Galen Remar were a tangled web of conflicting emotions.
On one hand, Galen Remar was once her and Malfurion's closest comrade. He had saved her life during the War of the Ancients, and had also been instrumental in saving Malfurion. She still kept the banana Galen had given her – a small token of a bond forged in the fires of war – and she still felt the weight of the favor she owed him.
On the other hand, Galen Remar's existence had irrevocably divided the night elf race, cleaving them into the factions of Hyjal and Eldre'Thalas, a schism that had endured for ten thousand years.
Though most night elves outwardly maintained that Hyjal and Eldre'Thalas were united, Tyrande knew the bitter truth. Thalen Tendrils had consistently defied her orders, and Fandral Staghelm had openly challenged her decrees, his words like barbs that tore at the fragile unity of their people.
For ten thousand years, Malfurion had remained in slumber, leaving Tyrande to navigate the treacherous currents of night elf politics alone. The army, fiercely loyal to Eldre'Thalas, only deepened her anxieties, a constant reminder of the simmering tensions within her kingdom. Tyrande felt powerless to alter this course, left with no other choice but to allow the situation to fester.
She had once hoped that Galen Remar's death at Mount Hyjal would provide an opportunity for the night elf race to finally heal and reunify. She had planted Teldrassil, and it had flourished under the care of the druids. But fate, it seemed, was not on her side. She soon discovered that Malfurion and a great number of druids were lost within the labyrinthine depths of the Emerald Dream. With the archdruids unable to mount a rescue, she was left with no other option but to resurrect Galen Remar, a desperate gamble for the sake of her people.
Galen, for his part, remained seemingly oblivious to the turmoil in Tyrande's heart. Even if he sensed the storm of emotions within her, he gave no indication.
The complex dynamic between them was a source of dark amusement for him. This feeling of being both hated and needed, of wielding such influence over her, was, in his own twisted way, "absolutely wonderful!"
Moreover, Galen held a rather dim view of Tyrande's leadership. In his eyes, her thinking was too narrow, her vision too limited to guide the night elves through the challenges that lay ahead.
At this moment, Galen's attention was still fixed on Teldrassil, the new World Tree.
The very sight of it stirred a sense of profound unease within him.
In his previous life, his first foray into the world of Azeroth had been as a night elf druid. He vividly remembered the hours of frustration and confusion he had endured as a newbie, struggling to navigate the treacherous paths and satyr-infested caves of Darkshore. The memory of those early struggles, the endless grind and the lurking dangers, was etched into his mind.
"Teldrassil does not bear the blessings of the Dragon Aspects," Galen stated, his voice flat and devoid of any comfort. "It cannot bestow immortality upon our race. It is merely a new home, not a true World Tree."
His words, though undeniably harsh, carried the bitter sting of truth.
"And during this time," he continued, his gaze sweeping over the assembled night elves, "many of our people have fallen ill, have they not? Instead of fixating on the restoration of immortality, perhaps it would be wiser to dispatch our druids and priestesses. Let them use their divine magic, their natural spells, and their knowledge of herbs to heal the sick among our clans. The well-being of the living should be our most immediate priority."
What Nordrassil had given the night elves, in addition to the Bronze Dragon Aspect's blessing of immortality, was also the Red Dragon Queen's vibrant blessing of life. It had made the night elves strong, resilient, and virtually immune to disease.
Galen turned back to Tyrande, his expression unrelenting. "Ten thousand years ago, before the rise of the World Tree, was not the healing of the sick one of the primary duties of your priestesses of the moon? Has the passage of time truly dulled your memory of those ancient arts, and made you forget how to cast healing divine spells?"
Tyrande's face flushed with a mixture of shame and frustration.
Galen's words struck a raw nerve, hitting upon a painful truth. The night elves, long accustomed to a life free from disease and suffering, were ill-prepared to cope with their current vulnerability. They had lost so much, so quickly, and the loss of their former resilience was a heavy blow.
This was, in part, why she had been so driven to plant Teldrassil, and why some druids had been willing to dedicate themselves to its care.
Deep down, the vast majority of their people yearned to reclaim the blessings of the World Tree, to return to the days of health, vitality, and eternal life.
"Ding ding ding ding!"
The sound of the harbor bell, a mournful chime that echoed across the water, announced the arrival of a ship. Slowly, a vessel with sails of deep purple glided into view, docking at the harbor.
The arrival of the transport ship seemed to ease the tension in the air, offering a brief respite from the weight of their conversation. Tyrande seized the opportunity, turning to Galen with a renewed sense of purpose. "This is the Wave of the Moonsea," she explained, her voice regaining some of its customary authority. "It plies the waters between Auberdine Port and Rut'theran Village, nestled at the base of Teldrassil. We should board it quickly, and proceed to the rescue of Malfurion as soon as possible."
"Let us be gone then," Galen replied, his tone suggesting a weariness that belied his immortal nature. Yet, beneath the surface, a spark of resolve flickered. "Is that not the very purpose of my return?"
With that, he turned and strode towards the waiting ship, a night elf-style vessel of elegant design, its purple sails billowing in the wind, eager to carry them into the heart of the gathering storm.
The emerald glow of his night vision painted the crypt in shades of jade as Galen's gaze settled on the figure in the corner. Malfurion lay still upon a bed of woven straw, his long, viridescent hair a stark contrast against his chest, tangling with the thicket of his beard. Above, his brow was etched with deep furrows, lending a stern gravitas to his profound stillness. A soft, argent luminescence, the very essence of Elune's grace, shimmered around him, a silent ward against unseen harm.
Though his spirit wandered the labyrinthine paths of the Emerald Dream, Malfurion's golden eyes remained fixed on the vaulted ceiling, clouded with an unsettling confusion. The persistent crease in his brow spoke of a troubled slumber, far from the druidic peace he should have known.
"Malfurion…" Tyrande's voice was a fragile whisper, laced with anguish as she leaned over his still form. "Oh, my Malfurion… why do you leave me alone, again?"
Witnessing the raw grief of the Night Elf High Priestess, the wife of his revered mentor, Broll found himself compelled to step forward, to become the voice of reason amidst the despair.
"Highlord," his voice resonated softly within the stone chamber, "the Archdruid has been lost to the Emerald Dream for nearly two years. Countless attempts to recall his soul have met only with silence."
A somber echo followed his words. "Furthermore, Highlord, while a druid's slumber in the Emerald Dream can last for years, a disquieting unrest has taken hold within the sleeping crypts of Teldrassil."
A shadow crossed Broll's face. "Dark, twisted creatures, monstrous in their form, have materialized within these sacred spaces, slaughtering many of our sleeping brethren."
Mutated monsters? Galen's mind recoiled at the image of those crawling, tentacled horrors.
"Most alarmingly," Broll continued, his voice heavy with dread, "Teldrassil itself, our nascent World Tree, is afflicted. Its mighty branches, once vibrant with life, now bear leaves that are withered and shrunken, while others are blackened and curled like dying embers. Even the leaves that remain green have sharp thorns."
He paused, the weight of his next words palpable. "And it worsens. The fruits that once nourished our people, now pale and putrid, hang heavy on the boughs near our villages, emitting a sickeningly sweet stench. No Night Elf, no druid, dares to consume them. Should this blight spread, starvation will claim us."
The unspoken fear hung heavy in the air – the potential collapse of Teldrassil. It was more than just a tree; it was the symbol of their hope, their second chance at immortality and power. Its demise would shatter their morale, a devastating blow to the entire Night Elf race.
"These mutations are not isolated to Teldrassil," Broll revealed, his tone grim. "The very portals to the Emerald Dream across Azeroth are tainted. For half a year, the Green Dragonflight has remained silent, their wisdom lost to us."
Galen nodded slowly, comprehension dawning in his eyes. "I suspected as much. My recent emergence from the Emerald Dream has given me a grim understanding of these events. The Emerald Nightmare stirs." He recalled the Dragon Queen's struggle against the encroaching corruption during the Battle of Mount Hyjal. But the Burning Legion's resurgence, the threat of the Lich King, the mysteries of Ulduar – these had demanded his immediate attention.
"Come," Galen said to Broll, his voice firm despite the somber surroundings. "Let us leave them to their grief."
Broll watched Galen depart, a newfound respect etching itself onto his features. In the face of such despair, Galen's quiet resolve was a beacon of hope. He felt a surge of confidence; Galen would find a way to awaken Malfurion. Driven by this conviction, Broll hurried to follow.
Outside of Malfurion's cave, a group of Druids were craning their necks in anticipation.
When Broll and Galen came out, their eyes were full of hope.
The leader's slumber and Teldrassil's inexplicable ailment were truly exhausting the Cenarion Circle's Druids.
"How is it, mentor?"
Fandral's tone was full of worry, but Galen keenly captured a hint of schadenfreude in his eyes.
This guy!
He needs another beating!
Galen knew what he was thinking. Although this old elf had outstanding talent in the Druidic path, and was Galen Remal's disciple and Cenarius's grand-disciple, he had always been overshadowed by Malfurion due to seniority.
Although Malfurion was mild-tempered and a nice guy, his own mentor hadn't appeared for ten thousand years, and he disagreed with Tyrande's political views, but the Archdruid always took sides!
How frustrating!
Now that Malfurion was trapped in the Emerald Dream, and the Teldrassil project, which Tyrande personally presided over, had problems, wouldn't the Eredar family dominate once they messed things up?
Thinking so deeply, Galen felt that it was okay to proceed according to Fandral's ideas!
He had a human base, the orcs had long become his vassals, the Lich King had been replaced by him, and he also had an undead army. Now, as long as he once again took control of the night elf regime, the four-race base would be in his hands in disguise.
Feasible!
However, Eredar was just a spare piece he had placed ten thousand years ago. Galen didn't expect this city to grow to such a scale.
However, the real power of Eredar was still the four million troops trained by his War Trees and Knowledge Trees. Most of the native night elves still favored the rule of Malfurion and Tyrande.
Take it slowly.
Galen had this idiom in his mind.
"Malfurion's condition is terrible. He is dying."
Galen's calm tone contained shocking news!
"I must re-enter the Emerald Dream as soon as possible and rescue him from the dream."
Galen emphasized the word "rescue".
"He's… dying?"
A being that the Druids hadn't noticed suddenly made a surprised sound.
Galen turned his head to look. This was a half-elf, half-deer creature.
He had the head, arms, and torso of a night elf, as well as the lower body of a stag. He had huge antlers standing upright on his head, and a mane of leaves hanging down his back. His right hand was gnarled and twisted like the roots of an old tree.
From the huge antlers on his head, it could be seen that he was a Keeper of the Grove, a son of Cenarius!
Galen had never seen him before, but the other Druids immediately knelt to pay their respects, and even the priestesses brought by Tyrande bowed to him.
However, this Keeper of the Grove didn't seem to like such greetings at all.
"Get up! Everyone! I don't need anyone's worship."
The Keeper of the Grove added sullenly: "I am sorry that I could not save Malfurion."
After the Keeper of the Grove finished speaking, his four agile legs moved, and colorful wildflowers bloomed in his footsteps.
"Nice to meet you, Senior Galen Remar! I am Remulos, the guardian of Moonglade!"
"Remulos? Are you Cenarius' son?"
Galen finally remembered who this Keeper of the Grove was. Cenarius had two sons, one named Zaltar, but most people didn't know of his existence. Galen knew him because of his beautiful companion.
The other was Remulos in front of him. He was the guardian of Moonglade.
"That's right, I am Cenarius's eldest son!"
This strong guardian confirmed Galen's guess.
The Remulos before him was a second-generation god, a natural demigod. Although he was among the weakest, his life form was that of a demigod, and he could freely enter and exit the Emerald Dream, becoming the guardian of Moonglade.
All of this was thanks to him being a descendant of Cenarius. His father was a demigod, so his descendants had a high probability of also becoming demigods.
However, Galen was no longer envious of the demigod rank. With the resources he currently had, he could artificially create demigods.
As long as his Arator and Legolas were properly nurtured, reaching the high ranks of legend would not be a problem. Adding some high-level heroic spirits as nourishment, breaking through the essence of the soul would allow them to enter that legendary realm.
...
However, the prerequisite was that they themselves had to cultivate to the peak of the legendary rank, otherwise Galen's feeding would be counterproductive, and they would only become the weakest demigods like his cheap mentor.
"No wonder!"
Remulos's tone was quite low.
"The growth of the Emerald Nightmare is unprecedentedly rapid. Its mad whispers are now clearly audible in most of the Emerald Dream! What's worse, the erosion is still accelerating, and more and more guardians in the dream are being corrupted in body and soul without warning..."
Galen thought for a moment and suggested, "I propose moving Malfurion's body to Moonglade. It is filled with the power of nature, and with the care of the Priestesses of the Moon, Malfurion's body will not lose its vitality."
"In addition, I will re-enter the Emerald Dream to search for Malfurion's soul and help him return to the real world as soon as possible."
Galen's proposal was approved by most people, but some druids exchanged glances with obscure expressions.
"Mentor, let me go with you!" Fandral Staghelm eagerly spoke, hoping to act with Galen.
"Highlord, we can also assist you in entering the Emerald Dream to find Malfurion's whereabouts!" Many archdruids wanted to join Galen's team.
Galen glanced at the group of archdruids who volunteered, his heart full of rejection.
Tsk, tsk, tsk, look, Fandral Staghelm, the leader of the Flame Druids, was deeply trapped in Wailing Caverns, creating the Fang Druids Naralex, and the corrupted archdruid Sharawn and Moonclaw in Moonclaw Vale...
You guys want to kill me!
Reject, must reject!
"No, you have more important things to do, which is to cooperate with Lord Remulos to heal Teldrassil! And those druids who are also sleeping need your care!"
Galen said righteously, "As for Malfurion, I will take care of it!"
Remulos was a demigod born after the Battle of Mount Hyjal. He had heard about Galen's magical abilities from his father, so he strongly agreed with Galen's proposal. The other archdruids had no choice but to obey.
As for the other tauren druids, troll druids, and quilboar druids who were just here to help, they had no objection to Galen's proposal.
"Highlord, then I will leave the matter of the mentor to you. Although I am fortunate enough to become an archdruid, the Emerald Dream still contains many mysteries. I believe you are the most likely person to save the night elf race..."
Broll's flattery was not taken to heart by Galen. At this moment, he was already thinking about how to enter the Emerald Dream.
Others thought that after the War of the Ancients, he, like Malfurion, was sleeping in the Emerald Dream, but in fact...
He never even stepped into this land of dreams