This wasn't just any freezing—this was a masterpiece of arcane precision, a calculated manipulation that defied every law of nature and magic combined.
Few possessed the intellect to grasp what had just transpired.
Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider, blessed with talents that erged perhaps once in a millennium; Jaina Proudmoore, whose teoric rise to Archmage in a re decade had stunned the magical community; Aegwynn, the forr Guardian who had shielded Azeroth for nearly a thousand years—even these titans of magical prowess stood slack-jawed and bewildered.
They couldn't fathom why the ice had manifested in absolutely perfect formations the instant it appeared.
If Duke had simply frozen everything within sight, that would rely demonstrate raw magical power. Mortals couldn't conceive of flash-freezing such a vast expanse of ocean, but the greatest wizards knew of Duke's legendary ice-ship rescue operations—such feats weren't entirely unprecedented.
But this? This transcended brute force entirely.
Every frozen surface glead with flawless geotric precision.
Piers!
Massive ice-encased docks stretched from the beach into deep water a hundred ters offshore.
Thirty-six of them in total!
Each pier was wide enough for three carriages to race side-by-side without anyone tumbling into the frigid depths below.
The surfaces weren't treacherous sheets of smooth ice that would send people sprawling. Even without straw or sand, the frozen walkways bore perfectly textured surfaces with just enough grip that anyone could stride confidently across them.
In the next breath, the ice between the docks exploded upward in towering sprays, revealing wide, navigable channels.
The Lordaeron refugees and soldiers gaping from the distant shoreline weren't alone in their stupefaction. Even the displaced mages and apprentices from ruined Dalaran—those sa arrogant scholars who'd sneered at "lesser minds" for years—now stood gawking with their mouths hanging open, producing the most undignified sounds of amazent.
Duke's voice rang out with crystal clarity: "Those thirty-six docks are designated exclusively for civilian evacuation. Ships will enter according to predetermined classifications. Jaina's vessels take the five southernmost berths, the Edmund Trading Company gets the central twenty, and Kul Tiras claims the northern positions. All vessels will follow the current pattern—enter from the south, depart from the north. The first three days are for civilian evacuation only. After that, the Scarlet Crusade and Mage Corps will board from the original Northflow Port."
Duke gestured casually, and beyond the coastline, twelve towering lighthouses erupted from the seabed, their ice-crystal forms blazing with arcane radiance as they shot skyward. These thirty-ter spires bore impossibly clear banners woven from pure magical energy—not only did they designate ship classifications, but massive glowing arrows indicated precise entry and departure routes.
With these beacons, even the most perilous nightti docking operations could proceed without catastrophe.
"Install safety railings along every dock and place illumination every ten yards," Duke commanded. As Kael'thas approached, Duke suddenly rembered sothing else and waved his hand again.
This ti, eighteen enormous grooves carved themselves from beach to deep water.
"Maintaining these frozen docks would drain my mana reserves unnecessarily. Mograine, deploy your engineers to construct proper wooden docks within those ice channels. Make them sturdy enough for our largest warships."
Mograine snapped to attention: "Understood completely, sir!"
Building proper docks was typically a nightmare of engineering challenges. You could dump massive stones into the sea through land reclamation, but if the slope wasn't steep enough, wooden hulls would splinter against the shallows. The standard thod involved pushing enormous concrete blocks into position, securing them underwater, then constructing channels to deep-water anchorage.
Whether wood or stone, every worthwhile pier demanded reliable foundations—proper pilings driven deep into the seabed.
And driving pilings through churning waves? That was a miserable ordeal regardless of the era.
If Dalaran's magical constructs or Karazhan's enchanted servants were still operational, they could have completed such work regardless of cost. Using manual labor would require weeks or months of backbreaking effort.
But Duke's channels were completely isolated from the sea's chaos—what difference was there between this and constructing buildings on perfectly level ground?
Nobody dared trust their own eyes.
"MIRACLE!"
Commoners and mages alike shouted Duke's praises, desperately hoping that by elevating him to divine status, they might sohow bridge the impossible gulf between themselves and his power.
This had transcended mortal capabilities entirely—what else could it be but divine intervention?
Moreover, with the Alliance having lost two entire kingdoms and Antonidas transford into a terrifying lich, people instinctively craved psychological comfort.
Who cared if Antonidas had fallen? They still possessed the legendary hero Duke Edmund, didn't they?
Younger, more powerful, more impossibly legendary than ever.
Obvious conflict warred across the devastatingly handso features of Prince Kael'thas, and everyone could witness the struggle between his conscience and his deepest desires.
Anyone with rudintary magical knowledge understood that this display far exceeded what any Grand Magus should be capable of achieving.
Though he despised admitting it, Kael'thas's rationality insisted that Duke had shattered that fundantal limitation.
This felt like the cruelest possible jest.
He, Kael'thas Sunstrider, possessed talents that erged perhaps once in a thousand years. He boasted the bloodline and personal tutelage of Anasterian, one of only two Sun-King magisters, plus access to millennia of royal magical secrets and the incomparable power of the Sunwell itself.
Yet he'd wasted countless centuries banging his head against the gates of Antonidas-level power without gaining entry.
Kael'thas felt nothing but crushing humiliation.
This marked the second ti.
First ca Antonidas's teoric rise.
Now Duke had repeated the performance.
Kael'thas bowed his head in sha, unable to et Duke's gaze. He worked his mouth for long monts before finally forcing out words: "Sir Duke, have you achieved breakthrough to the Grand Magus level?"
Duke's response carried strange undertones: "If you're asking about 'Sir Duke,' I won't provide answers. If you're asking about Duke Edmund, that's an entirely different matter."
Kael'thas felt ashad of his own cowardice. He recognized Duke's subtle correction and suddenly his thoughts crystallized. Raising his head, he locked his erald eyes directly onto Duke's dark pupils: "Duke Edmund, if it's possible, I desperately need to understand the secret of surpassing Antonidas's limits."
Duke released a weary sigh: "As your friend, I can tell you that I haven't truly reached Antonidas's level. I've gained trendous advantages because my magical circuits sohow resonate with his patterns. If the Scourge weren't so absolutely terrifying, I'd be mortified by this borrowed power. But given our circumstances, I believe I've committed no sins."
Kael'thas understood imdiately.
And burst into bitter laughter!
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