Galen's words, delivered with chilling nonchalance, struck Al'Akir like a physical blow, igniting a primal fury that transcended centuries.
Rumble!
A blinding bolt of cerulean lightning, thick as a tree trunk, tore through the swirling clouds, hurtling directly towards Galen's head. The Wind Lord, momentarily satisfied with his explosive retort, watched as the crackling energy dissipated. His triumph, however, curdled into bitter disappointment. Galen stood utterly unharmed, a shimmering, golden, semi-transparent barrier—his Partial Divine Shield—pulsing faintly above him, having absorbed the full force of the strike.
"Is that all you've got?" Galen's voice, dripping with mockery, cut through the roaring winds.
For a being that had existed for hundreds of millennia, a primordial force born of Azeroth's infancy, such blatant disrespect was unbearable. Al'Akir's ancient rage boiled over.
"Enough! You have thoroughly angered me! I accept your challenge, mortal! You will die in my hurricane!"
With a guttural roar, he raised Thunderfury, the legendary blade crackling with untamed power. The endless lightning within the storm clouds above condensed, coalescing into a singular, devastating torrent aimed squarely at Galen. In that same instant, Galen unleashed his full might, his Divine Shield flaring into a complete, impenetrable golden sphere that enveloped him entirely. Thousands of lightning bolts, each a spear of pure energy, hammered against the barrier, engulfing him in a blinding, thunderous cocoon.
"Tsk tsk," Galen mused from within his sanctuary, his voice calm amidst the maelstrom. "This is Thunder Cage. How exciting!"
His casual commentary, a deliberate act of profound disregard, was witnessed by Al'Akir. The untamed Wind God, accustomed to absolute dominion, felt an indescribable humiliation. Not only was he being attacked in his own domain, but his most potent assaults were being treated as mere parlor tricks. How could a veteran demigod, one who had once held sway over the very skies of Azeroth, endure such contempt?
With a scream of pure wrath, Al'Akir unleashed the full, unbridled torrent of his elemental power. This time, it wasn't just lightning. A colossal storm, laced with razor-sharp ice crystals, erupted, sweeping across the entire sky. The dazzling blue light of the tempest resembled a miniature sun, burning with destructive energy.
Beneath them, the very foundations of Skywall groaned. Massive white stone pillars, ancient sentinels of the fortress, buckled and shattered, raining debris onto the platform below. The hundreds of thousands of troops, locked in brutal combat with the ceaseless wind elementals, suddenly reeled. Their ears screamed with an unbearable pressure, the world reduced to a deafening roar of crackling lightning and howling wind. The power of the Wind Lord was truly terrifying, a force of nature unleashed.
On the platform, the Windrunner sisters, locked in a desperate struggle with the Lord of the South Wind, fought with a gnawing worry for their lover. This distraction proved nearly fatal. A thick bolt of lightning, summoned by Siamat, pierced towards Alleria. Only Sylvanas's lightning-fast pounce, tearing her sister from her original position, saved Alleria from certain incineration.
The near-tragedy sent a jolt of primal fear through the three Golden Dragon sisters. They glared at the Lord of the South Wind, who continued to conjure lightning and typhoons, his arrogant demeanor fueling their incandescent fury. If their mistresses were gravely injured under their watch, the three dragon demigods knew they would be compelled to commit ritual suicide before Galen as an act of profound apology.
Nefarian, roaring, spewed a torrent of Holy Light Dragon Breath, forcing back the Lord of the North Wind who had been pressing him in close combat. In the same fluid motion, golden light condensed in his hand, and a Holy Light Cannon erupted, a blinding projectile that tore through the air and blasted a gaping hole in the chest of the Lord of the South Wind.
Yet, the Lord of the North Wind merely watched, a cold, calculating glint in his eyes. He made no move to exploit Nefarian's momentary distraction. This chilling inaction was a direct consequence of the deep-seated discord within the Wind Council.
The Wind Council was a fractured entity, its four members carving the Endless Wind Legion into four distinct factions. They not only engaged in petty squabbles but actively sabotaged each other, even in the face of a common enemy. The Lord of the East Wind, who reveled in the scorching sandstorms of the desert, loathed the Lord of the North Wind's ice-infused power. The Lord of the West Wind, second in power, whose energy encompassed both life and death, possessed a bizarre, mercurial personality—sometimes gentle and vibrant, sometimes sinister and morbid—making him impossible to truly align with.
But these three veteran councilors shared one common disdain: they despised Siamat, the Lord of the South Wind, whom they viewed as having risen through mere flattery rather than true strength. Their animosity stemmed from a deep-seated desire to control the lower wind elementals, a prize they coveted above all else in their endless existence. Another councilor meant a smaller share of the elemental army. And Siamat, the weakest of the four, was, in their strength-obsessed elemental world, a creature that should have been driven out, not elevated.
Nefarian was genuinely surprised by this internal strife, finding the wind elementals' disunity almost comical. Yet, the leader of the Golden Holy Dragons harbored no illusions. After this day, Skywall would be utterly reshuffled.
Roar!
With an earth-shattering bellow, Nefarian lunged back towards the Lord of the North Wind, resuming their brutal dance of death.
On the platform below, Alleria struggled to her feet, supported by Sylvanas. Seizing the moment while the Lord of the South Wind reeled from Nefarian's attack, Alleria pulled a crystal-clear vial from her satchel and swallowed its contents in a single gulp. Instantly, the charred skin on her body, ravaged by lightning, began to flake away, and her wounds healed at a miraculous, visible pace.
Sylvanas gripped her war bow, her eyes fixed on the Lord of the South Wind, who was desperately urging his Wind Core to close the gaping hole in his chest. "Damn it! He's about to recover, sister, are you okay yet!"
"I'm fine!" Alleria's voice was laced with cold, lethal intent. "But something must happen to him!"
The Windrunner sisters exchanged a fierce glance, a shared anger burning in their eyes.
Then, a double whistle pierced the air. Ripples shimmered in the space behind Alleria and Sylvanas. In the next instant, two long, serpentine forms—one shimmering purple, the other gleaming gold—tore through the fabric of reality, appearing beside the sisters.
It was Yu'lon and Nalak, the Windrunner sisters' loyal animal companions!
"Yu'lon! Nalak! Go!"
(You can't fight with your mounts! I call foul)
Swish!
A purple blur flashed. Malac, the Storm Lord, surged forward like a bolt of lightning, striking the Lord of the South Wind full in the face. The bowl-sized hole in Siamat's chest was still only half-repaired; Alleria's rapid recovery, fueled by a bottle of Life Spring for what was a mere skin trauma to her, had denied him any chance to fully recuperate.
Yu'lon, the ancient, ten-thousand-year-old dragon, moved with equal swiftness. She flashed behind the Lord of the South Wind, unleashing her flame breath directly onto the wound Nefarian had inflicted. Though the flame was the power of the sun, its attributes mirrored Holy Light, making it devastatingly effective against the elemental being.
The already grievously wounded Lord of the South Wind was caught completely off guard by the synchronized assault of the two legendary Cloud Serpents. As he desperately tried to fight back, two swift arrows, loosed by the Windrunner sisters, struck him directly in the face, piercing both his eyes!
Though a wind elemental, not a creature of flesh and blood, his eyes were still his organs of sight. Sudden, agonizing blindness plunged Siamat's heart into a terrifying panic, causing him to unleash uncontrolled whirlwinds and lightning in all directions.
But Nalak, the Lord of Storms, was impervious to these wild strikes. He soared directly into the fray, using his massive, thick body to entwine the flailing Lord of the South Wind. As Nalak bound Siamat in a crushing embrace, Yu'lon also rushed in, his sharp right claw piercing Siamat's chest and tearing out his whirlwind-shaped elemental heart!
"No!"
Accompanied by the Lord of the South Wind's final, unwilling roar, his body dissolved into a gentle breeze, dissipating completely under Nalak's relentless squeeze.
On the platform, the death of Siamat dealt a crippling blow to the Wind-Without-End Legion. Under the overwhelming suppression of Nefarian, Onyxia, and Sabellian, the remaining three members of the Wind Council were steadily forced into a desperate retreat.
High above, Al'Akir continued his reckless, furious assault, wantonly unleashing his power, desperate to declare to the world the terrible price of daring to provoke the Wind God. Galen's few taunts had, unexpectedly, created this perfect attrition scenario, a delightful surprise for him.
"Are you ready?" Galen mentally projected into the Heart of Origin, querying his hidden allies.
Lai, Thorim, and Hodir, the three mighty Titan Watchers, replied in unison: "We are ready! We can teleport at any time!"
"Then activate it directly and send him away!"
Galen held no fear of Al'Akir. His current Holy Shield Technique could endure for three days and three nights without faltering. Even if his internal Holy Power was exhausted, he could draw upon the immense reserves of K'ure, D'ore, and Aragorn. Al'Akir's attacks were utterly useless against him. Galen's need for helpers stemmed from the Wind God's incredible speed. Should Al'Akir realize his defeat and attempt to flee, Galen would struggle to pursue him. Thus, this meticulously crafted trap was designed for a definitive kill. If Al'Akir perished within Skywall, his death would be absolute, with no chance of resurrection.
The choice of Lai, Thorim, and Hodir was strategic. Besides Lai and Hodir's mastery over lightning, the trio had, hundreds of millennia ago, defeated Al'Akir once before. Ancient records spoke of how these three Titan Watchers commanded the skies and storms, driving the wind elementals back to their lair on Azeroth's highest peak. When Al'Akir stubbornly resisted, the very sky had blazed with roaring thunder. In the end, the Watchers had turned his own methods against him, defeating him in the high heavens and sealing Skywall.
At this very moment, Al'Akir continued to blindly vent his power. The most amusing aspect was Galen's subtle reduction of his Holy Power output, carefully fostering the illusion that with just a little more effort, Al'Akir could shatter the Holy Shield Technique.
Three brilliant white lights flashed around Galen. The colossal forms of Great Watcher Lai, Storm Lord Thorim, and Frost Lord Hodir materialized. Instantly, an intricate elemental net, woven from crackling ice and searing lightning, sealed the surrounding sky, trapping Al'Akir.
"Al'Akir! In ancient times, we showed you kindness, for you were one of the oldest lifeforms in this world. Today, we grant you no such reprieve. I represent the order of Azeroth to carry out the final judgment upon you!" Great Watcher Lai's voice boomed, and he condensed a bolt of pure lightning in his hand, a searing blue chain that slammed into Al'Akir.
Roar!
Though the trap sprung swiftly, Al'Akir's inherent speed allowed him to narrowly dodge Lai's full blow. But in the next instant, Thorim swung his mighty Thunder Hammer, and a lightning strike erupted, sealing the space directly in front of Al'Akir.
"Damn it!" Al'Akir's eyes, wrapped in purple silk, narrowed with a grim realization. The lightning chains not only blocked his escape routes, but the very air around him grew frigid. A vast amount of ice crystals condensed, clinging to his form, drastically hindering his legendary speed.
"Die, Al'Akir!"
In this inescapable trap, Galen tore open an acceleration scroll. With the blessing of his Holy Light Wings, his form blurred, appearing instantly behind Al'Akir. Then, Ashbringer, gleaming with righteous fury, plunged deep into the chest of the Wind Elemental God.
The once-solid wind elemental form of Al'Akir, now grievously wounded, began to dissipate at an alarming rate. The two dazzling thunder lights on his shoulder armor flickered, dimmed, and then, with a final spark, extinguished completely.
As Al'Akir's colossal body dissolved into nothingness, a faint blue elemental core, pulsating with raw energy, drifted down from the sky. Galen swiftly caught it.
"Pure Wind Elemental Essence!!!"
The moment it touched his hand, Galen felt the immense, vast elemental energy contained within. This single core, he knew, if absorbed by even the lowest-level elemental life, could instantly forge a new Wind Elemental Lord. It contained not only the pure essence of the wind element but also a fragment of Azeroth's elemental authority, a legacy from Al'Akir's primordial birth.
The battle on the Skyreach platform did not cease with Al'Akir's demise.
Among the remaining Wind Councilors, the cunning Lord of the North Wind attempted a desperate plea for surrender. "Golden Dragon on the opposite side," he rasped, "is it too late for me to surrender now?" He convinced himself that his previous, full-force attacks were merely part of the battle, and his inaction when Nefarian distracted himself to attack Siamat could be seen as an act of mercy. At least, that's what he desperately hoped.
"The master has ordered!" Nefarian's voice was chillingly devoid of emotion. "For the mistress's path to promotion, elemental life above demigod will be killed without mercy! Lord of the North Wind, please embrace death!"
As he spoke, Nefarian secretly condensed a Holy Light Flame.
"Damn it! You're launching a sneak attack!"
This was the last thought of the insidious Lord of the North Wind. He, who specialized in unleashing insidious yin winds and launching sneak attacks, never imagined that he, the hunter, would fall in his own favored field.
The defeat of the Lord of the North Wind accelerated the collapse of the Wind Elemental Army. The Lord of the East Wind and the Lord of the West Wind, without a word, tacitly abandoned their legion and fled. Onyxia and the others made no move to pursue them. The entrance to Skywall, the Skyreach fortress, was sealed. These two remaining Wind Demigods were trapped within, and it was only a matter of time before Galen's Crusaders hunted them down and annihilated them.