18. Watch as I deliver the ultimate insult to you with the victorious air of a conqueror.

Dick’s theological debate with Lady Ishana was somewhat unfair. The variants and deeper aspects of the Holy Light doctrine he cited were universal wisdom distilled by the Draenei—exiles who had fled for ten thousand years and were known in Eredun as the Banished. Compared to the freely believing Draenei of today, those exiled Draenei two millennia ago were devout servants of the Holy Light.

For the Draenei, the Holy Light was merely an optional faith, but for the exiled Draenei, it was an innate, life-saving force, even forming the foundation of their new civilization. Their understanding and exploration of doctrine naturally existed on entirely different planes.

Dick’s approach was akin to answering ancient questions with modern interpretations, so it was no surprise Lady Ishana was left unsettled. Yet, logically, the Holy Light faith had taken root on Argus for a thousand years and had even helped combat the “Destroyer” plague that nearly annihilated civilization. Its doctrinal level should not still be primitive. But immortals were known for their slow change; without sufficient external stimuli, the Draenei’s internal evolution crawled like a tortoise.

This was true in both theory and doctrine. For example, humans in Azeroth had only been connected to the Holy Light for about 2,800 years, yet their doctrinal understanding and use of the Light rivaled that of Draenei exiles who had fled for over 20,000 years. The rapid learning, summarizing, and self-iteration abilities of short-lived species were an advantage that immortals could never match.

The world was, after all, fair. If you gained immortality, then isolating yourself and failing to keep up with the times—becoming a lonely monster—was the price you had to pay. In that sense, the cycle of birth and death was a blessing; death’s presence made life valuable, and the ever-pursuing death demanded that each moment of life be meaningful.

After Lady Ishana’s “spiritual heart shattered” and she helped Dick unlock the priest profession, the scoundrel eagerly followed Captain Nari to the underground prison where Sachir was held.

“The official line is that evil, destructive creatures tempted some weak-willed arcanists, but their plot was discovered by Principal Archimonde and the Enlightener. Two brave arcanists stood up against the evil, aided by Holy Light heroes, holding out until the arrival of the High Exarch.

In the end, Principal Archimonde gave his life, and the Enlightener, severely wounded, chose long-term seclusion for healing.”

Captain Nari, with a sharp, sardonic tone, recounted the official conclusion to Dick. It was clear this member of the Assassin Court had her own understanding of the matter.

She shook her head. “I know the official story is to appease the public and prevent panic among other arcanist teams, but the truth is that a massive purge targeting all arcanist factions and the Arcane Academy has begun. The days ahead won’t be easy for arcanists and may even drag down our ancient arcane traditions.

But don’t worry.

The Arcane Academy, as a high-level educational institution, shouldn’t be affected. However, from now on, it will be directly governed by the Exarchate, and the position of Academy Principal will be abolished.”

“That’s as it should be,” Dick said without surprise. “An institution as important as the Arcane Academy should be managed directly by the leadership. It’s the most vital talent cultivation system in Draenei society. I don’t understand why it was left to civilian forces for so long, which directly led to today’s chaos.

But I didn’t hear anything from Lady Ishana about the twins’ situation. They weren’t implicated, were they?”

“The two clever rascals?” Nari flicked her injured tail, bandaged but still swinging energetically. She glanced at Dick’s intact tail wrapped in a golden sheath, rolled her eyes, and sighed.

“There they are, just ahead. Those two are really good at seizing opportunities. Kil’jaeden himself promised them entrance into the Assassin Court, and they showed up that very night to ‘apply,’ not even intending to return to the Academy to finish their remaining courses.

Your two disciples are as power-hungry as Archimonde was ambitious, and they share his genius talents.

If they stray down the wrong path, it’ll be another storm waiting to happen.”

Dick did see the twins cozying up to several casters from the Assassin Court. They had shed their student robes for standard assassin armor, trading some charm for stern professionalism, though, absurdly, they retained their sheer stockings.

Hey, how much do you two love such frivolous accessories?

“They’re not my disciples,” Dick tried to explain, but Nari looked surprised.

“Really? But when they registered, they explicitly listed you as their mentor under ‘personal relations.’”

“That was to avoid suspicion,” Dick whispered. “Their former homeroom teacher was Senior Enlightener Argon, leader of the Awakener cult. They personally killed the Academy’s Grand Chancellor, Garasum, and were even directly involved in Archimonde’s death. Although it restored order, it meant they could never return to the Academy system.

I’m barely rehabilitated as a ‘gym teacher’ now, with some recognition from the High Exarch, so they know how to weave new connections.

You’re right, Nari. Those two geniuses haven’t put their talents to any righteous use.”

“Then I guess they need a good, hard training,” Nari squinted. “I don’t like having overly clever people under my command, especially since most of our work is clandestine. Their personalities need serious tempering. Leave it to me; I’ll have them obedient in no time.”

“Better be careful,” Dick advised. “The twins may be scheming, but their talents are real. Though they’re not graduated yet, if a fight breaks out, you might not be their match. Ah, geniuses can do as they please.”

“Heh, I think you don’t truly understand the Assassin Court’s skills, but I’m too lazy to explain. Go ahead—Sachir’s cell is at the deepest level.”

Nari handed Dick a key and cautioned, “Captain Talgas holds you in high regard. Although he knows it’s impossible to recruit you, a high-ranking guard, into the Assassin Court, we will extend you proper goodwill. But Sachir’s status is special, so don’t linger too long in conversation.

Also, all discussions here will be fully recorded. It’s our duty—don’t take it personally.”

“No problem. I’m just asking a few questions,” Dick thanked her and moved forward with the key.

The twins brightened upon seeing him and eagerly tried to cozy up, their warmth making Dick slightly uncomfortable. He hadn’t forgotten that the last time they were this close, they were trying to poison him.

“You two come with me. Bring paper, pen, and arcane recording stones,” Dick said thoughtfully.

“The conversation with Sachir will be recorded by you, giving you some professional presence and performance indicators in the Assassin Court.”

“Hehe, I knew you wouldn’t let your own fall behind,” Sarolas laughed heartily. Her sister Orices raised an eyebrow. After getting their equipment and politely asking Captain Nari, they followed Dick to the deepest cell.

The security was excessive.

Four senior guards plus two arcane steel sentinels guarded the door. Inside, two Naaru priests purified Sachir’s body of fel energy. Counting the Assassin Court guards of this underground prison, the resources devoted to Sachir’s custody alone could form an elite strike force.

Dick guessed that what he saw wasn’t even the full extent of the security; surely hidden watchers were always present.

Anyone wishing to rescue Sachir would first have to defeat the priests in the Naaru temple above and the guardian Naaru, Rul’la, who had long been stationed on Argus.

Legendary priests like Lady Ishana aside, a single Holy Light Naaru was a genuine demi-god level being. In such circumstances, unless a Burning Legion demon lord personally intervened, Sachir’s remaining days would be spent behind bars.

“Click.”

Dick and the four guards nodded; they stepped aside. The key slid into the heavy magical door, and as it opened, Dick finally saw Sachir.

The Enlightener looked older than before.

He still maintained a twisted posture. Though fel energy could be purified, the physical mutations caused by exposure were permanent.

He hunched over with a bowed back and fel spikes protruding grotesquely from his spine. His crystallized arms were bound tightly in chains of Holy Light, and heavy shackles encircled his waist, neck, and legs.

Under such restraints, Sachir could neither stand nor even move his neck with ease.

Two senior priests left the cell, unwilling to hear anything that might require Assassin Court review.

The cell itself was decent. Draenei traditionally avoided cruel prisoner treatment; the place was clean and even had chairs for rest.

“Enlightener, I’m here,” Dick said as he pulled out a chair and sat opposite Sachir.

“Can you still answer my questions?” he asked.

“You... come to interrogate me?” Sachir struggled to lift his head.

Within his cloudy eyes, remnants of a green fel halo flickered faintly. Even so, his defeated state seemed exaggerated, like a battle loser’s cinematic.

In just three days, the once aged Sachir appeared as if he had aged millennia; hair gone, dark spots covering his body, and Dick noticed his hands and feet looked shrunken—abnormal atrophy.

This was not abuse by guards but one thing only: Sachir’s spiritual pillar had collapsed.

His mind had fallen into despair, triggering the Draenei’s unique and bizarre “Destroyer” degeneration.

“This is not interrogation, nor mockery. I merely want to earnestly ask you some questions,” Dick said tersely.

“And your current state... you are close to becoming a Destroyer.”

“You know of the ‘Destroyers’,” Sachir said with a bitter laugh. “Those fools dismiss them as mere horror tales, but you know the form my end will take. I underestimated you, Diakum.

Archimonde underestimated you too.

This is our deserved fate. After all, losers are meant to be shamed.”

Sachir showed no concern for his fate. He had essentially given up, seeming indifferent as his terrifying cloudy eyes appraised Dick. The grotesque scar on his forehead—the one Dick had carved with a throwing axe before losing consciousness—was clear. Not fatal, but a mark of disgrace.

“Ask. Our time is short. Get to the point,” Sachir muttered, lowering his head.

“If you ask the right questions... I will give you the right answers.”

“Why did you fall so quickly?”

Dick didn’t hesitate. “In my experience, an outstanding arcanist like you, protected by the Order Force, though sometimes arrogantly blind, should not be so easily corrupted by pure fel energy. Other casters may have been deceived by the ‘Benefactor,’ but can’t you see the ‘Benefactor’s’ true nature?”

“I know what It is, and what It wants. My duty should have given me the will to resist, but I tried.

I failed.

That’s all.”

Sachir sighed. “A terrible question. I feel you’re wasting what little time we have...”

“But Argus did resist the Dark Titans! Our world holds the most precious ‘Blessing’ in the stars, and I’m not talking about the Holy Light!”

Dick cut him off, staring intently. “I don’t believe you don’t know of It! You, comparable to the ‘World Guardians,’ must know of Its existence! You know that if we properly harness this Blessing, we can escape the Dark Titans. We absolutely can!

Though their absolute power differs greatly, both possess the same great power at their level—the same supreme power.”

“!!!”

Sachir suddenly lifted his head. His movement was so violent that the Holy Light chains clattered, alarming the guards outside and even drawing Nari’s attention.

This was the first sign of agitation Sachir had shown since his imprisonment three days ago—clearly, Dick had touched a nerve with a question that pierced the hopeless old man’s core.

But the old sorcerer didn’t care. His cloudy eyes gleamed with an odd mixture of surprise and delight. After several seconds of staring, he laughed strangely.

“Heh, you know It! You actually know It! You know the deepest, oldest, most terrifying secret of our world! Ha! You, a mere guard without wisdom, know what only the greatest arcanists and shamans could!

Velen and Kil’jaeden did not believe it, yet you understand it so clearly—Its connection to the Dark Titans and Its incomparable potential...

You are certainly no ordinary Draenei, Diakum!”

“Could it be that I heard the world’s call at some moment?” Dick said with a straight face.

“Since we both know of Its existence, stop hiding it. Sachir, tell me: Why, knowing that salvation lies beneath our feet, would you so resolutely kneel before the Burning Legion?

Are you truly just a madman thirsting for power?”

“Then go see for yourself.”

Sachir did not answer. Perhaps cautious not to reveal too much, he seemed unwilling to let many know of the “secret” he was discussing with Dick.

He lowered his head, sinking back into despair.

“Go to the deepest part of the petrified forest of Krokuun, where Draenei civilization was truly born, where the ancestral shaman Ogura signed the ‘Covenant’ with the world of Argus. Find the sacred stone and touch it. See the despair I witnessed with my own eyes!

If you, like Ogura and I, are among the chosen of this world, you will understand why I would forsake all dignity and honor to become a loyal hound of the Dark Titans.

I did not deceive you, children, all of you! I betrayed the sacred tradition left by the ancestral shaman, buried all my reason and faith, and as a groveling traitor, I brought fel into this world—only to preserve the last ember of our civilization.

To become Aman’rai, letting fel corrupt soul and body, turning into a destroyer roaming the stars, crushing the last shred of dignity beneath my own feet.”

Nari behind Dick couldn’t help but scold, “You call that ‘salvation’?”

“Heh, at least you all survive because of it. The dead cannot pass on civilization; a civilization without people is meaningless.”

Sachir had no intention of arguing with Nari. Perhaps she was the “fool” he deemed unworthy of his time. He raised his head to look at Dick and said:

“The Holy Light cannot save us! Neither can arcane or elemental paths. Child, in these perilous times, do not be deceived by the light before your eyes.

The Holy Light, Arcane, and Fel are no different. They all came to Argus with the same purpose.

They are not our allies, only treacherous ‘seekers.’ The true power of the Draenei civilization does not come from these external forces!

If you truly want to do something for our world and people, you must first transcend your faith!

I faced that despairing question and gave my answer, and you have broken it.

If you have truly heard the world’s call, you must also face that despairing question. I look forward to seeing if your answer differs.

Ah, the shell named ‘Sachir’ has burned out, children.

He has burned and given all for you and this world. He will die when night falls, and at the dawn of that ultimate abyss, he will be reborn! Then, you will meet the true ‘Enlightener.’

Good luck, children.

And good luck to you, stranger who calls himself ‘Diakum.’”

Dick stood calmly. From Sachir’s final words, he realized the old sorcerer seemed to see through his disguise. Perhaps because he knew the real Diakum had died that night in the assassination attempt, yet the madman didn’t expose him.

It was a farewell and the end of this inquiry. Sachir clearly would answer no further questions.

He had done all he could and suffered failure. Now he had enough strength to selfishly keep the rest for himself and savor what little time remained with this world.

“Your conversation was like it was encrypted!” Nari frowned as she reviewed Sarolas’s meticulous notes.

“What does the frequently mentioned ‘It’ refer to in your dialogue? And that secret only you, Sachir, and the ancestral shaman Ogura know—why do even the two High Exarchs not know it?

Most importantly, if they don’t know, how do you?”

“It’s hard to explain in a few words, Nari,” Dick rubbed his wide forehead and touched his horns. “Even if I told the truth, no one would believe it without seeing it firsthand.”

“But you have to explain, Dick. This record is for Commander Kil’jaeden. I don’t think he’ll tolerate you glossing over it.”

Nari, out of concern as a friend, whispered, “You can withhold it from me, a mere nobody, but when the High Exarch summons you, you’d better tell everything clearly. It’s for your future.”

“Future? If we even have one,” Dick’s mood darkened.

From Sachir’s desperate words, which felt like a dying testament, he sensed ominous portent.

He believed he had killed Archimonde, which had skewed the Draenei civilization’s fate somewhat. According to history, after Sachir and the Awakener cult’s rebellion was suppressed, hundreds of years would pass before Argus faced the Dark Titans and Burning Legion’s despair.

His original plan was to use the remaining time to strengthen the Draenei for disaster preparedness.

With proper use of those centuries, reversing that tragedy was possible. If he could connect with the two Naaru remaining on Argus and the yet-to-be-formed Holy Light Legion’s other greats, perhaps they could push Argus’s power limits to resist the Dark Titans’ apocalypse.

Such a miracle could not be achieved by mortal effort alone.

But Argus was no ordinary planet!

Though not as remarkable as Azeroth, the “Chosen World,” Argus possessed its own unique power. This power was the source of Dick’s confidence in attempting to “defy fate.”

This unique power was what Sachir and Dick referred to as “It.”

The Star Soul! The World Soul!

A strategic existence independent of the six primal forces of the universe, only the strongest and luckiest planets could nurture such a miracle.

Azeroth would later become the stage where the six primal forces converged because it harbored the “Supreme Star Soul.” Upon awakening, it would shatter the deadlock among the six forces and determine the material universe's final fate. Thus, all but fel sought to possess it, while Sargeras, the fel-controlling Dark Titan, feared its corruption and sought its destruction.

Argus too nurtured a Star Soul.

Though not as powerful as the “genius child” of Azeroth, it was of the same great magnitude and could potentially resist the Dark Titans.

And if it couldn’t win, it could still escape!

With the Star Soul’s willing cooperation, and aided by Draenei technology, magic, and the Holy Light, a “Wandering Argus” plan was conceivable.

If the Star Soul wanted to flee, even the Dark Titans would have to expend effort to find it.

But it seemed Sachir had tried to leverage the Star Soul’s power to turn the tide, yet ultimately chose to embrace fel. This indicated he thought Argus’s hidden power was insufficient to change the world’s fate.

If this was true, Dick’s plan needed immediate revision.

First, guided by Sachir, he must see the current state of Argus’s Star Soul.

As Dick furrowed his brow, deep in thought, a Naaru priest hurried in.

“Please come quickly! The High Exarch’s envoy awaits outside the temple. The two High Exarchs are ready to see you.”

“Alright, let me prepare. I’ll be there shortly,” Dick nodded.

He glanced once more at Sachir’s cell, tamped down the swirling emotions and thoughts in his mind, and left the prison.

Returning to the surface, seeing the enthusiastic civilians undergoing Holy Light baptism, Dick couldn’t help but wonder: Facing the approaching Dark Titans and Burning Legion, do the Draenei truly have no choice but to abandon their homeland and flee?

Is this cruel fate truly irreversible?