"Off you go!"
With a stylish spin kick, Andreas struck Tortheldrin square in the face. Under the eccentric gazes of the gathered citizens, the Shen'dralar leader slid backward across the smooth floor, spinning while frozen in a full-split position.
Andreas looked at Tortheldrin's face, which had turned from red to a bruised black, with a hint of pity. I hope his "lower assets" didn't catch fire from the friction against the floor.
Only now did the personal guards, who had been trapped by the Negative Vortex, finally regain their freedom. They scrambled apart in a disheveled state, and several of them rushed forward to pull the nearly fainting, split-legged Tortheldrin back into their ranks.
"It's finished!"
Linus' cheer came at the perfect moment. A deep blue Arcane glow flared from the large teleportation array behind Andreas, and members of the Marine Corps who had been on standby outside the city marched out, weapons ready and vigilant.
"The outcome is decided."
Andreas smiled as he watched Tortheldrin struggle to break out of his split posture with the help of his subordinates. "Prince Tortheldrin, your Fel corruption has been exposed for all to see."
"You... shut up! I haven't lost yet!"
The signature green glow of Fel energy flickered in Tortheldrin's eyes. He tried to move his recently forced-together legs forward, but they trembled violently. The intense pain caused his facial muscles to twitch uncontrollably; it seemed he would have no combat capability left for the foreseeable future.
Andreas ignored him for the moment and turned toward the Shen'dralar citizens, whose expressions varied wildly.
"Fellow kin of the Shen'dralar, after the battle just now, you should all understand the truth, shouldn't you?"
"I am giving the choice to you." Andreas raised his hand to halt the Marine Corps' advance. "Either pretend you know nothing of today's events and continue your loyalty to Tortheldrin while absorbing demon energy..."
"Or, abandon the darkness for the light, forsake a fallen leader, and embrace a new life. Everything... is for you to decide."
At this point in time, Eldre'Thalas had not yet fallen into large-scale madness caused by the widespread, reckless absorption of demon energy. Andreas's words caused many to furrow their brows in deep thought.
Several scholars from the Great Library were the first to make a decision. They sighed softly, and without immediately voicing an opinion, they stood calmly, waiting for the common citizens to make their choice.
Clang!
An Arcanist guarding the "Energy Pool" dropped his staff and said with a somber expression, "I don't want to be polluted by Fel like Prince Tortheldrin. I choose the second option."
Intelligent beings often have a herd mentality; once the first person spoke up, the Shen'dralar present quickly voiced their opinions one after another.
About 30% were unwilling to believe that Prince Tortheldrin could be so eroded by Fel as to lose his mind. They were deeply concerned about the uncertain future that change might bring; this group hoped to maintain the status quo.
More than 50% chose to embrace a new life. The war with the Burning Legion was still fresh in their memories, and many Night Elves present had been directly threatened by demons. They were resolutely opposed to being tainted by the same energy as their enemies.
The remaining 10% or so chose to abstain, unable to decide which side to follow.
Andreas shrugged and turned to look at Tortheldrin, who wore a look of utter disbelief.
"The results are in, Prince Tortheldrin. The Fel corruption in you isn't deep yet. If you turn back now, perhaps there is still—"
"Heh... hehehe... HAHAHAHA!"
Tortheldrin staggered as he pushed away the guards supporting him. Being abandoned by his people caused him to feel a profound sense of doubt regarding his life up to this point.
"I have worked tirelessly for Eldre'Thalas for thousands of years, and this is the end I receive?"
He swept a sharp, piercing gaze across the Shen'dralar people. Most who met his eyes instinctively lowered their heads.
"Very well!"
With a twisted, hideous expression, Tortheldrin dropped his Moonglaives and pulled a small Arcane crystal from a pouch at his waist.
"Since you traitors are unwilling to obey my commands, then... you can all die with me!"
Snap!
As the Arcane crystal was crushed, the Arcane prison hovering over the energy zone dissipated.
Immol'thar, having been drained of energy for a long time, appeared extremely withered. However, upon suddenly gaining the freedom it had dreamed of, its spirit surged with excitement.
"ROAR!"
Andreas looked at Tortheldrin wordlessly. "Utterly foolish... just like a certain stupid woman who treats power as her very life."
Linus, watching the battle, naturally knew who Andreas was referring to, and he fully agreed with his lord's assessment.
As one of the original veterans who followed Andreas from An'narathis to establish Moonshadow's Rest, Linus had always been repulsed by Tyrande's excessive lust for power. To maintain her authority, she did not hesitate to exploit the friction between commoners and nobles, binding her position to the commoners and relying on the suppression of the Highborne to gain popular approval.
In Linus's view, Andreas—who founded Moonshadow's Rest and the Shadow of the Dark Moon sect—would never use such clumsy methods to consolidate his authority.
The reality was exactly as Linus thought; Andreas held such "praise one, trample another" tactics in utter contempt. Although he had never held a management position in his previous life, Andreas was, after all, a traveler who had absorbed the historical lessons and experiences of another world.
After three years of governing in An'narathis, Andreas had gradually integrated the knowledge from his other world into practice. Judging by the results, it seemed to be working well; at least he didn't need to rely on underhanded ways to maintain his charisma like Tyrande, whose governing abilities were subpar.
Immol'thar's escape sent the surrounding Shen'dralar into a panic. They scrambled to flee the underground prison that had been specially prepared for this "power bank."
Andreas turned toward Prisim, who had been standing by as a bystander since the start of the battle. "Miss Thief, your doubts have vanished. Have you finally made up your mind?"
Prisim, leaning against the wall, nodded silently. Her silhouette vanished from the spot instantly.
Under Andreas' gaze—which was akin to having a "reveal hidden" cheat active—the thief who had vanished into the shadows did not take the opportunity to attack him or the other Marine members.
She used Shadowstep to cross the space, appearing directly behind the fanatical Tortheldrin.
"Hahahaha! Die, all of you! The Burning Legion shall— ugh!"
The eyes behind Prisim's mask showed a complex emotion, but there was no hesitation in her hands. Two daggers pierced through Tortheldrin's chest from behind.
"You! Prisim.."
Looking at Tortheldrin's disbelieving, hideous expression, Prisim sighed softly. "Prince, you have become less and less like yourself. I do not wish to see the wise leader once revered by hundreds of thousands of Shen'dralar turn into a demon. I am sorry."
Slash!
Two blood-stained daggers carved blurs through the air. Tortheldrin's heart was shredded first, followed by his wide-eyed head being severed by Prisim's swift blades. At that moment, his neck hadn't even begun to spray blood.
"Rest in peace, eternal leader of the Shen'dralar."