With Neltharion's flight, ownership of Highmountain changed hands.
The terrain within the Fallen Black Dragon King's lair had been utterly transformed by the devastating strike from the Hammer of Khaz'goroth. Countless amber-like, translucent stone pillars now pierced through the cavern, adding a touch of dreamlike wonder to the eerie landscape.
"Cough! Cough!"
Sharp, rapid coughing came from Huln. The Tauren, renowned for his ferocity during the War of the Ancients, now appeared incredibly withered and weak.
"Phew..."
Supported by Igrul—whose face was filled with both respect and regret—Huln was helped down to a small, level patch of ground. It took him quite some time to finally steady his breathing.
Clenching his fist to gauge his condition, Huln forced a wry, self-deprecating smile. "Cough... By the grace of the Earth Mother, I managed to avoid losing my life on the spot."
Andreas placed his right hand on Huln's shoulder. A faint, non-elemental energy pulsed through the Tauren's body, allowing Andreas to quickly grasp the extent of his condition.
"Sigh..."
With a complex expression, Andreas sighed. "Thanks to the natural hardiness and resilient life force of the Tauren, you've barely survived after forcibly wielding the Holy Hammer. But..."
Huln waved a weak hand. "It is no matter. Igrul, Andreas, do not blame yourselves."
"Saving Highmountain and the future of the Highmountain tribe was my duty as High Chieftain from the beginning."
"You were only external help I invited. You had no obligation to pay such a heavy price for Highmountain. Please, lift your heads."
Igrul's expression remained conflicted. "Setting Lord Moonshadow aside, we Drogbar are also natives of Highmountain. We had a responsibility to restore peace to our homeland. To let you bear it alone..."
"Enough."
After resting for a while, Huln struggled to stand back up with Igrul's assistance.
"Cough... There is no need to speak further of what has already happened. Chieftain Igrul, if the Drogbar are willing to guard Highmountain together, the Highmountain tribe welcomes you at any time."
Igrul hesitated for a moment before finally nodding. "I will do my best to persuade my people, but the process is destined to be difficult. We need time."
The Drogbar had been enslaved by the black dragons for thousands of years. The servility in their bones and the isolationist tendencies born of long-term lack of outside contact would be difficult to erase in a short period. It might take generations, or even dozens of generations after regaining their freedom, before the Drogbar could slowly change their overly wary attitude toward the outside world and other races, and learn to reintegrate.
Though Huln appeared gruff and burly, he had not become the High Chieftain chosen by all tribes through brute force alone. He saw Igrul's brief hesitation but said nothing, only giving the Drogbar leader an encouraging pat on the arm.
Cared for by the surviving Tauren warriors, Huln, Andreas, and the others began to move slowly toward the exit. The rear exit had been destroyed by Neltharion before he fled, with collapsed stones completely blocking the secret passage. The group had to navigate the magnificent amber pillars and return the way they had come.
The sight of Neltharion's pathetic retreat greatly emboldened the Drogbar who had been enslaved for so long. Along the way, Andreas and the others saw countless Drogbar cheering loudly, waving primitive stone weapons as they hunted down the remaining black dragonkin in the caves.
"Wait."
As they passed a corner, Huln suddenly signaled the group to stop. He turned toward a hatchery guarded by several whelps and dozens of dragonkin.
A large group of Drogbar was launching a frenzied assault on the demoralized dragons. Despite the presence of whelps, the Drogbar used their numerical advantage to force the dragons back. Seeing the Drogbar drive the dragonkin away and raise their stone weapons to smash the dragon eggs, Huln hurriedly intervened.
Igrul, knowing that most of his people did not understand the Kaldorei language, switched to Titan and sternly shouted to stop the group.
"Stop! High Chieftain Huln has something to say!"
Upon seeing Igrul, the Drogbar quickly knelt one by one, prostrating themselves before him in a display of deep servility.
"It is Igrul the Dragonslayer, our great leader!"
"Thank you, Dragonslayer, for leading us out of enslavement! From this day on, the Drogbar are free once more!"
Seeing that his people still couldn't break the habit of kneeling at every turn, the short-tempered Igrul frowned, looking as if he might snap at any moment.
"Igrul, calm down," Huln advised. "Habits formed over thousands of years are not so easily corrected. As you said, the Drogbar need time to slowly wash away the slave mark Neltharion carved into your hearts. Have more patience."
"...I understand."
Igrul testily waved away the fawning sycophants. The group then accompanied Huln to the hatchery, where a large number of unhatched eggs lay on the warm ground, waiting for natural incubation.
Andreas sensed the Shadow aura clinging to the eggs and shook his head helplessly. "These eggs must have been produced after Neltharion was corrupted."
"Regrettably, they have been influenced by the Fallen Black Dragon King. We must destroy all of them."
"Perhaps, but I believe not every egg has been tainted by the corruption."
Huln pulled away from his subordinates' support and slowly began to inspect the black dragon eggs one by one. Seeing this, Andreas felt a sudden spark of realization.
Could it be that among these is the egg of Ebysshian—the only unaffected black dragon?
Sure enough, after Huln's patient searching, he finally found a pure dragon egg. Andreas, an expert in Shadow energy, could not sense any trace of darkness within it. Receiving a nod of confirmation from Andreas, a childlike, joyful smile broke across Huln's face.
He held the egg high above his head and said with relief and joy, "Miracles truly do happen. To remain pure despite the influence of the fallen eggs around it... this child might one day become the hope of the Black Dragonflight."
Perhaps it was a coincidence, or perhaps it was destiny.
As Huln held the egg high, the "lotus in the mud" began to hatch. A delicate little claw, covered in translucent fluid, broke through the shell. A whelp's head, eyes not yet open, poked out and emitted a series of tiny, non-threatening chirps.
Huln watched expectantly as the little dragon climbed out of its shell and slowly began to eat the shell that had once protected it. Holding the confused dragon baby in his still-trembling hands, Huln leaned his broad face in close to observe.
Sensing a strange presence, the little dragon instinctively breathed a small puff of flame toward Huln. Though the flame was weak, it was more than enough to ignite the braided beard on Huln's chin.
"Whoa! Whoa!"
Holding the little dragon with one hand and frantically patting his beard with the other, Huln was in a state of comical panic under the amused gazes of Andreas and Igrul.
After extinguishing the fire in his beard, Huln couldn't help but laugh as well. He reached out and gently tapped the little dragon's nose.
"Feisty little fellow. With those black horns, you shall be called... Ebonhorn (Ebysshian)."