Seeing Arthas waver, Yogg-Saron became visibly excited. His void energy flared, and his hideous throat-tentacles lashed out, dripping a sticky, nauseating substance.
"I swear in the name of the Void! As soon as you submit, I will command my minions to deliver all my wealth and resources to a location of your choosing! Once you have the goods, help me break out of this prison, and we will rule Azeroth together!"
Arthas turned to look at his companions, his eyes barely concealing his mockery.
Tyrande covered her mouth and chuckled, her eyes curving into crescents. To an outsider, she might have looked merely amused, but as the High Priestess, she knew this was all a grand performance. A man who had dared to pour his entire being into the earth during the explosion of the Well of Eternity to prevent an unhealable wound was not someone easily swayed by trinkets.
Vereesa raised an eyebrow and silently mouthed: "Nice acting."
Ysera smiled faintly and shook her head, her dream energy rippling outward. She rarely smiled, but the absurdity of an Old God being swindled was too much to suppress. Thalyssra hid a laugh as the Arcane light on his fingertips flickered. They all understood the game; Arthas was going to thoroughly toy with the Beast of a Thousand Mouths.
"Words are meaningless," Arthas said, his voice dropping into a serious, convincing tone. "Have your henchmen gather the supplies. Once I see the goods, I will believe you. With these resources, I can continue the war against the Burning Legion."
Arthas emphasized the Legion to sell the lie. Yogg-Saron knew the Legion were his mortal enemies—they had shattered the continent once and cost the world its immortality the second time. To Yogg-Saron, it made perfect sense that a king would want an Old God's treasury to fund a defense against Sargeras.
"Okay, I promise you," Arthas added, turning back with a grave expression. "Bring the supplies. I want to see them with my own eyes before I consider breaking your seal."
Overjoyed, Yogg-Saron let out a sharp, piercing screech. He sent a void-message through the barriers of Ulduar, reaching every dark corner of Azeroth.
"Wait, Arthas! In less than three days, the wealth will arrive! Then, we usher in the Age of the Void!"
For the next two days, Arthas and his wives watched as tribute poured in from across the globe. Piles of adamantite ore formed small mountains; void crystals gleamed with a faint purple light; box after box of ancient relics and military supplies filled the open square outside the prison.
Yogg-Saron's minions, desperate for their master's freedom, even sacrificed a group of cultists to open massive void portals for transport. When the final batch arrived, Arthas waved his hand. The warm golden power of the world soul enveloped the area, and the "spoils of war" vanished into his spatial storage.
He was surprised that Yogg-Saron still commanded so many followers. But now, they had been tricked into revealing every secret cache. Yogg-Saron's remaining value was now purely as a "giant power bank" for the Soul Furnace.
"Arthas! I've given you everything! Now help me out of this mess! Hurry!" Yogg-Saron's urgent voice rang out, the prison walls trembling under his impact.
Arthas scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Help you escape? Yogg-Saron, you've been in this hole so long your brain has rusted."
The golden light intensified, intertwining with Frostmourne's chill. A ray of Holy Light rose from the runeblade, transforming the sinister weapon into a sword of celestial radiance.
"I have gained the approval of Azeroth's soul. I am her protector. Your empty tricks are nothing but the antics of a clown." He paused for effect. "Oh, and thank you for the supplies. I'll be using them to reinforce your seal and arm the soldiers who kill your minions. It's ironic, isn't it? The wealth you've gathered over millions of years will now protect the world you sought to devour."
"You! You dare play me?!"
Yogg-Saron's voice turned violent, filled with a primal, overwhelming rage. The void energy surged wildly, but it was firmly held by Ulduar's ancient anchors.
"Arthas! I'm going to kill you! I'll tear you to pieces!"
The Old God's roar shook the facility, but he was helpless. He watched as his wealth was stolen and his "ally" stood outside the door, indifferent to his fury. The sense of humiliation was more painful than the chains. The master of manipulation had been outsmarted by a greenhorn.
Vereesa finally burst out laughing, patting Arthas on the shoulder. "That was ruthless. You've left the old man penniless."
Tyrande smiled broadly. While her man's tactics were underhanded, it was righteous punishment. Yogg-Saron had caused the Night Elves too much grief; this was simply the bill coming due.
"Only you would dare to toy with the Void itself like this," Ysera said, her voice soft and charming.
Hela and Jandice walked over together. For three days, they had been refining the plan to reinforce the cage while using illusions to torture the prisoner. They wanted Yogg-Saron to believe he was being devoured by his own kind while the Soul Furnace drained him dry.
As the supplies were shipped to Lordaeron, the Soul Furnace was assembled. Malyon, the goblin engineer, and High Tinker Mekkatorque arrived to assist, eager to learn from Mimiron, the forefather of their craft.
Another day passed. The morning light streamed into a room made of vines, filled with the scent of nature. Ysera mired in sleep, mumbled something and turned over. There had been no sweet vows or weddings; they had simply become "roommates." She didn't care for societal norms, but she knew that once you belonged to someone like Arthas, his possessiveness meant you were his forever.
Jandice and Hela entered as Arthas woke. Jandice carried a washbasin; Hela carried a tray of breakfast.
"The design for the Soul Furnace is complete," Hela explained as she massaged his legs. "Construction finishes today. We have enough scrap from the steel soldiers for materials. However, while the furnace extracts soul power, we need a specific device to extract Anima."
Arthas picked up a polar cod dumpling and tasted it. "Can you build it? I have a design here."
He pulled a blueprint from his pack—a relic captured from the Emerald Dream. Hela studied it carefully, ignoring the "morning service" Jandice was performing for their master.
"A brilliant design," Hela noted. "It studies Anima—likely the work of a demigod. No, wait... this is a replica adapted for the Void. If I'm not mistaken, this belongs to Xavius, doesn't it?"
She knew the history. Xavius had been causing trouble in the Nightmare right next door to her home in the Broken Isles. She recognized his handiwork immediately.