When it came to vision, the best among the four was undoubtedly Sylvanas Windrunner.
This wasn't just because she was a ranger but also due to her elven bloodline and the natural inheritance of the Windrunner family.
However, as the figure drew closer to their camp, they gradually realized that it was neither the orc they had suspected nor a fully armed adventurer. Instead, it was a woman—someone who, by all logic, should never have appeared in these desolate mountains.
She was a human woman with black hair, dressed in a noble gown that was utterly out of place in this rugged wilderness.
Perhaps due to the harsh environment she had been traveling through for an extended period, her clothing was filthy and riddled with tears. What should have been delicate, pampered skin and silky smooth hair had instead been tainted by the hardships of the wild.
Whether from the exhaustion of trekking through such an unforgiving landscape or sheer starvation, she clutched a long stick as a makeshift cane, moving with great difficulty and at an agonizingly slow pace.
Yet, none of this could conceal her natural grace and beauty.
Judging purely by appearance, she was undoubtedly one of the most stunning among humans. Even by high elf standards, she could rival the Windrunner sisters in beauty.
Though the harsh conditions had left her in a pitiful state, neither the grime nor her disheveled appearance could diminish her elegance and charm.
In fact, the torn clothing exposing glimpses of skin and her frail, weakened state only added a certain vulnerable allure to her presence.
A woman like this would garner sympathy no matter where she went.
Yet, she now found herself in the desolate mountain ranges near Grim Batol.
Despite realizing that the approaching figure was merely a frail woman, none of the four made a move to reveal themselves or offer aid.
Each of them was an elite in their respective fields, yet they all instinctively remained hidden.
The reason was simple—her presence was far too suspicious.
A lone human appearing at this very moment, in this exact place? It was too much of a coincidence for anyone to believe.
Whether it was Sylvanas, perched atop the trees, Kurdran Wildhammer standing beside Alaric, or Garona Halforcen, who had already blended into the shadows, all three turned their gaze toward Alaric, awaiting his decision.
Alaric didn't immediately respond. Instead, he cast a series of detection spells on the approaching figure.
"Detect Magic," "Detect Undead," "Identify Illusions," "Arcane Sight," and "True Sight"—he unleashed them all in succession.
With such a comprehensive set of spells, no illusion or disguise, no matter how powerful, could remain hidden. Within the spell systems of Azeroth, there was simply no magic capable of escaping Alaric's scrutiny.
Of course, no magic was truly infallible. If someone truly wanted to deceive Alaric, there were still methods.
The first was a self-created legendary-level disguise spell. This type of magic required an incredibly high level of mastery—at least that of Aegwynn, the Guardian of Tirisfal—to develop.
Even then, the cost of maintaining such a spell was significant. However, a mage of that caliber would have no reason to engage in petty deception here, making this possibility highly unlikely.
The second was the innate shapeshifting ability of dragons.
This transformation allowed a dragon to assume the form of a mortal race, though it did not let them mimic another individual.
Instead, they would take on a unique humanoid form specific to their draconic identity—essentially the reverse of an Animagus transformation.
This change was an actual physical alteration, making it nearly impossible to detect.
However, a transformed dragon's abilities would also be restricted to that of a mortal, serving as a natural limitation.
If any dragon were likely to be lurking in this area, it would be Deathwing, Neltharion. As the mastermind behind the Demon Soul conspiracy, he undoubtedly had reasons to keep an eye on Grim Batol.
If it truly were him, Alaric would actually be pleased. The other Aspects had long been preparing, following his plan, to ambush Neltharion here. If the black dragon Aspect showed up earlier than expected, it would only make things easier.
Unfortunately, the figure before them was a woman—not Neltharion's humanoid form.
Once he confirmed the results, Alaric finally spoke in a hushed voice.
"She's neither a ghost nor an illusion. No disguise either—she's a real human."
Hearing this, Kurdran could barely contain himself. He was already eager to step forward and help the seemingly helpless noblewoman.
However, Alaric held him back and whispered, "Not so fast. Let's probe further."
He then gestured toward a shadowy patch near the bushes.
That particular spot, which had seemed completely still, suddenly quivered ever so slightly before returning to its silent state.
A few seconds later, the weak and weary noblewoman felt a sudden gust of wind behind her. The next moment, a chilling sensation pressed against the back of her neck.
Simultaneously, an overwhelming killing intent surged from behind, sending a shiver down her spine.
"Don't move."
A cold female voice commanded in the common tongue.
Perhaps because she hadn't heard another human voice in a long time—or maybe because she was simply relieved to find fellow humans—the noblewoman's expression momentarily brightened.
However, upon sensing the icy touch at her neck and the merciless tone behind her, her excitement quickly turned into panic.
She had already realized what was pressing against her neck. She also understood the precarious situation she was in.
To her, this was likely an encounter with bandits.
"You… You… Hello, miss…" Her voice trembled with fear. It took her a while to calm down before she could speak coherently. "Please… please don't hurt me. I… I won't move."
"Good." The cold voice remained unyielding. "Since you understand your situation, follow my orders. Otherwise, I won't hesitate to slit your throat."
"I… I understand. I will cooperate." The noblewoman shivered, resembling a frightened fawn.
Her delicate features and pitiful expression could have easily melted any man's heart, compelling them to comfort her.
However, the "female bandit" remained entirely unfazed. The noblewoman's beauty had no effect on her whatsoever—not even a slight change in tone.
"Now, I ask, and you answer. If you dare to lie… you should know what will happen."
"I… I understand." The noblewoman nodded pitifully. "I won't deceive you."
"I hope so," the female bandit replied indifferently. "First question: Why are you here?"
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