Before Andreas could answer, the infuriated Linus was the first to lash out at Tortheldrin.
"Prince Tortheldrin! You actually let your own citizens absorb demon energy to alleviate their magic addiction? Is this what you call 'living with dignity'?"
Tortheldrin remained silent for a moment, then asked back in a self-mocking tone, "Mr. Starscar, have you ever experienced the agonizing pain of being unable to draw any magic?"
Linus retorted angrily, "Of course I have! And it is precisely because of that experience that I firmly oppose your use of such a desperate, suicidal method to obtain energy!"
"Arcane and Fel represent Order and Chaos respectively. According to the research of Nar'thalas Academy, the two can indeed be converted into one another under certain specific conditions."
"However!" Linus pointed at Tortheldrin and rebuked him righteously, "While your magic arrays are ingeniously designed, they are far from the perfect conversion standards established by Nar'thalas. To this day, no one has ever reached that standard!"
"As the leader of the Shen'dralar, it is impossible for you not to know the consequences of absorbing incompletely converted Fel energy!"
"Shut up!"
Killing intent flooded Tortheldrin's face, and an obscure green light flickered deep within his eyes.
"You, an outsider, cannot possibly understand how difficult the struggle for survival has been for the Shen'dralar since losing the Well of Eternity! You have no idea how much I have sacrificed to protect my people!"
"Since you have discovered our most important secret, don't even think about leaving this city alive!"
Tortheldrin retreated into his ranks and raised his right hand. The personal guards following him immediately lowered their center of gravity and assumed combat stances.
"You—"
Andreas reached out to stop Linus, who was still struggling to accept the situation.
"Linus, save your breath. This fellow Tortheldrin has already been corrupted by the Fel energy contained within the demon's essence."
"What?!"
Andreas's words, spoken without any attempt to lower his voice, caused a collective gasp among those present. Even several scholars who had just rushed from the Great Library to observe the situation showed expressions of shock.
With a subtle curl of his lip, Andreas spread his arms and questioned loudly, "Fellow citizens of Eldre'Thalas, I am Andreas Moonshadow of Moonshadow's Rest. I have two questions for you."
"Who in Eldre'Thalas has absorbed the most demon energy, and has that person's temperament become increasingly unpredictable over time?"
Andreas's sharp questions were like a heavy hammer striking the hearts of the onlookers. Some turned their heads thoughtfully to look at Tortheldrin, whose face was twisted with hideous hatred.
"What are you looking at me for?!"
Provoked and enraged by Andreas's highly suggestive words, Tortheldrin roared violently, "Do you all intend to rebel?! Obey my orders—seize these outsiders and their grand speeches. Dead or alive, it doesn't matter!"
"Hehe~"
Andreas calmly folded his arms. Seeing the suspicious and hesitant expressions of the Shen'dralar present, his smile deepened.
Tucked within the folds of his robe at his waist, Xal'atath, the Blade of the Black Empire, was quietly pulsing with a faint purple light, wordlessly applying mental suggestions and inducements to everyone on the field.
"Prince Tortheldrin, judging by the reactions of our fellow kin here, I seem to have hit upon the truth."
Fel is a power representing chaos and destruction; without an iron will, it is extremely difficult to master perfectly. In Andreas's memory, aside from Illidan, very few—whether Warlocks or Demon Hunters—could truly control Fel energy with perfection.
The members of the Council of the Black Harvest were obsessed with courting death, and among the Illidari, those seduced by demons into joining the Burning Legion were not few in number.
Clearly, Tortheldrin was not a man of steadfast will.
To those craving power, Fel possesses an extraordinary allure. If control is not a concern, it is undoubtedly an ideal energy for rapid growth. As the leader of the Shen'dralar, Tortheldrin's desire for strength was not inherently wrong, but his mistake lay in recklessly absorbing vast amounts of incompletely converted Fel energy.
Although the energy he used personally was still Arcane, the influence of Fel had begun to take hold of him—first and foremost manifested in his increasingly volatile temper.
Now that things had come to a head, Tortheldrin actually lost his previous agitation and anger; his expression returned to a cold calm.
"Nonsense. I am the leader of the Shen'dralar. Every decision I have made was to ensure the survival of our people."
Giving the conflicted Shen'dralar no more room for thought, Tortheldrin pointed his Moonglaive at Andreas.
"Personal guards! Since the citizens are unwilling to act, you shall set an example. Show them the true will of the Shen'dralar!"
"Yes!"
The personal guards Tortheldrin brought were fanatically loyal confidants. Upon receiving their master's command, they immediately drew their weapons and closed in on Andreas and Linus. The Arcanists in the rear also began chanting, preparing their spells.
Linus looked nervous. Outnumbered as they were, he quickly huddled closer to Andreas.
"Lord Andreas."
"Don't panic." Andreas glanced at the Marine Arcanists who had just arrived and calmly ordered, "Withdraw from the battlefield first. Work with the others to construct a teleportation array to bring in reinforcements from outside the city. During the time it takes to complete the spell, I will do my best to hold them back."
Without waiting for Linus's response, Andreas unslung the staff from his back. At the tip, the Tear of Elune began to glow.
Seeing Andreas standing alone to block them, the personal guards felt a surge of fury alongside their contempt; this posture clearly showed he looked down on them.
"Overestimating yourself... Die!"
"Clang!"
Andreas swung Xal'atath with his left hand, parrying the longsword of the leading warrior. Simultaneously, his footsteps shifted nimbly as he swept the Staff of G'Hanir across. A sharp spear of pure energy suddenly flared from the Tear of Elune at the tip.
The sudden change caught the front-line warriors off guard. The sweeping tip of the light-spear sliced across their heavy plate armor. Although not enchanted, the plate armor worn by these guards was meant to be the strongest defense, yet it was sliced through like paper by the light-spear atop the staff.
Warm blood sprayed from the chests of the front-row warriors. Andreas took the opportunity to thrust his staff into the ground. A small-scale vibration of Shadow energy pushed the warriors backward. The several "iron cans" flying backward into the formation momentarily disrupted the enemy's ranks.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Andreas charged his power for a moment. Shadow Vines erupted from beneath the ground, clawing and waving to block the enemy's path of advancement.
However, the Arcanists in the rear of the personal guards had already completed their spells and were about to unleash them upon Andreas.
Just in time to test this out on you.
With a twirl of his staff, Andreas chanted his incantation at an extremely rapid pace.
"Silence! Mana Burn!"