33. The Longest Day · The Hour of Farewell Has Come—Set Forth

The Great Battle of the Antoran Plains raged for two full days.

It concluded with a successful defense by the Eredar. As the final ship of civilians was sent away, the demons ceased their assault and began to retreat. However, much like the aftermath of the Battle of Krokuun, the demons left behind a land scarred by bones, death, and fel corruption.

The fertile grain-producing region was now a thing of the past. Everywhere lay pools of molten fel and shattered earth. Even the sky, once clear, was now completely shrouded in thick, sulfurous, stinking clouds. The Antoran Plains had been renamed the "Antoran Wastes."

Standing upon the crumbling walls of Antorus, currently undergoing a full evacuation, a weary Dick looked out over the land that had once been the heart of Eredar civilization, now riddled with gaping fissures.

Corrupted magma welled up incessantly from the mantle, replacing the sweet rivers and lakes. It transformed this land—which had nurtured millions—into a barren hellscape, turning it into the exact desolate wasteland he remembered from his memories.

Only demons could survive here now.

On the city gate before Dick hung the severed heads of a series of Burning Legion high demons, including High Fel Lord Zakuun, the Scourge Doom Lord Kazzak, and the Queen of Hatred Alisara, among others. Outside the gate, a mountain of demon skulls stood as a testament to the glorious martial achievements of the Eredar in this war.

Yet, looking at this land that had completely lost its final breath of life, not a single surviving Eredar warrior would call this battle a "victory."

They had defeated the terrifying demons for the second time, but the losses this time were far more harrowing than those of the Battle of Krokuun.

Grand Archon Kil'jaeden was severely wounded; the battlefield commander, General Erodus, had fallen in battle. The Assassin’s Court had lost two-thirds of its members, the Teleportation Court was completely wiped out, the local garrison of the Antoran Plains had been decimated, the newly reorganized Mac'Aree Garrison Legion was reduced to less than ten percent of its strength, and the Hand of Argus Legion had once again reached the brink of total annihilation.

Of the twenty-five hundred men under Dick’s command, only three hundred and seven remained after the battle.

Kil'jaeden no longer needed to worry about the scarcity of Argunite crystals. After this battle, even excluding the recruits, there were enough crystals to issue one to every surviving veteran.

In other words, having lost the Antoran Plains, the Grand Archon’s remaining forces available to guard the capital of Mac'Aree were fewer than one hundred and fifty thousand.

It was not that the Eredar were truly out of soldiers; rather, the location of the Antoran Plains was vital. It was the harbor hub connecting to the Eredar Governorates on the continent across the Eredas Sea. Now that it was occupied by demons, communication and reinforcements between the continents were completely severed.

The people across the Eredas Sea, also under demonic invasion, could only rely on themselves.

"Dick, it’s time to go."

Captain Nely’s voice sounded from behind. Dick pulled his gaze away from the scorched earth.

He looked at Nely. She was quite lucky; while her commander, Talgath, had lost an arm, Nely had finished the entire Antoran war with only a scar across her neck.

It had missed her spine by only an inch.

Dick had treated her himself, spending a full day using Light-based cauterization and various healing spells to pull her back from the edge of hell. But such a wound meant Nely’s voice would never regain its former clarity.

Her hoarse tone seemed filled with an eternal, indelible sorrow.

"Has Maldran awakened?" he asked.

Nely nodded. "Just now. He is attending his uncle’s funeral. The Grand Archon intends to bury General Erodus in the Antorus City Hall, alongside the remains of the warriors we recovered. The survivors hope you will personally preside over the memorial ceremony."

"Me?" Dick shook his head. "I am just a newly minted priest. I have no qualifications to lead such a high-level memorial service, nor do I have any experience. Are the high priests of the Temple of K'ure not here?"

"They are gone," Nely said numbly. "They all died. Yesterday, the Cathedral of Light in Antorus was struck three times in ten minutes by Infernals guided by Dreadlords who had infiltrated the city. The priests and the wounded within all perished. Now, you are the highest-ranking official priest in the Antoran Plains."

Dick nodded, picked up the *Wrath of Kazzak* at his side, and prepared to head to the Antorus City Hall.

As he walked, Nely whispered, "Can we... really win?"

"We can!" Dick placed a hand on her shoulder and said warmly, "The sacrifice of our warriors has bought precious time, child. The Naaru’s ships are closer to our world than ever before."

"But there are only five days left of the thirty-day doomsday countdown," Nely clenched her fists. "If they don't come, if they don't make it, if they are playing us... then we... aren't we just..."

"Trust in the Light! They will come!" Dick interrupted her hesitation. "Be patient, child. Come, I need some assistants. Call Imira; she only has a leg injury, she can still fulfill her duties as a priest."

An hour later, in the central square of Antorus—a city as dilapidated as if it had been carpet-bombed—Dick, dressed in bishop’s robes, stood on the podium with a limping Imira, under the watchful eyes of the surviving soldiers.

His arm was still bandaged, and he could only flip through the holy scriptures with one hand. Beside him, Imira turned pale with every step she took, nearly falling because she could not stand steadily.

Yet, no one mocked their frailty. Even Grand Archon Kil'jaeden, sitting below them, did not feel it was inappropriate.

After all, the Archon himself was in a wheelchair.

Previously, fueled by the power of the world, he had personally slain two demonic demigods, and the number of demons who died by his blade was countless. By the end, even the frenzied Fel Lords and Doomguards retreated in panic before Kil'jaeden’s destructive charges. He had truly fulfilled his duties as Grand Archon on this battlefield.

The dark impression of "The Deceiver" in Dick’s mind had been replaced by the image of the Grand Archon fighting alongside his people.

Once, Dick had believed the War of the Ancients fought by the Night Elves was the most brutal anti-demon war in this physical universe, but now... the War of the Ancients?

*Pah*, what garbage!

In the past twenty-five days on Argus, at least nine demonic demigods had been buried here, countless legendary demons had fallen, and the corpses of lesser demons, head to toe, could fill the entire Eredas Sea... twice!

Every demon leader Dick could name or recognize had died in this world... well, at least once.

Even a cunning bastard like Tichondrius had been forced to lead an assault, only to be personally purified by old Velen three days ago during the raid on the Seat of the Triumvirate.

Although all these glorious results were built on the desperate support of the infant World-Soul of Argus, did your Azeroth not have a World-Soul?

Although this version of the Burning Legion was only an early iteration—lacking high-level commanders like the Man'ari as a core, without the recruitment of top-tier muscle like the Annihilan Pit Lords, having yet to develop war machines like starships, and lacking the "Undying Blessing" of the Fel-corrupted Argus—in a horizontal comparison, the brutality, kill count, and "gold content" of the Battle of Argus far surpassed those pointy-eared softies who only knew how to beg their ancestors and guardians—even legendary races and dragon aspects—for help, and finally had to sacrifice their own world’s continental shelf to win a difficult victory.

What about the Eredar?

The Eredar had no Dragon Aspects, no Wild Gods, no servants of Order!

The Eredar had no allies! They could only rely on themselves; they could only trade their own sacrifices and the pollution of their homeland for one precious day after another.

Most importantly, the two leaders of the Eredar were dutiful, and the commander class was heroic and fearless. They did not proactively surrender to the Dark Titan like the stupid bitch Queen Azshara and her Highborne insects.

This was enough for Dick to be filled with respect for his new identity and the beginning of his new life.

"Hmm..."

Dick stood on the podium, the soldiers below watching him in silence.

Behind him was the City Hall, filled with the remains of the fallen. Those recovered "holy relics" were laid out in the most solemn manner. Keepers holding purifying torches waited to ignite them, ensuring that the fallen would not be desecrated by the demons that would inevitably follow.

He gathered his thoughts for a moment, closed the scripture, and decided to "improvise." He would plagiarize a sermon from Velen from ten thousand years in the future, then start with the signature aria of a priest:

"Blessed are the holy. For the filth spread by the wicked has been burned away by fire, leaving behind no shame.

Blessed are the humble. For the tongues of the arrogant demon-born that sought to proclaim darkness have been plucked out, and they shall take nothing away but the response of the sword.

Blessed are the brave. For the cowardly servants whispered that you and I would perish at the hands of evil, but the towering walls built by the sacrificed have time and again become the spine of the world, upholding our undefeated faith.

Blessed are the righteous. For the arrogant world-destroyers stepped upon our blessed land with the wish of annihilation; they rained down fel-fire to burn our souls, refined our minds with curses, and tortured our bodies with blades, but the Eredar responded to them with equal wrath of protection.

They wished for us to wail, and so, they are wailing.

They cursed us to suffer, and so, they are suffering.

They expected us to despair, and so, they are in despair.

They shamelessly craved for us to kneel at the feet of their evil masters, and that is exactly what they did!

The shameless feared violence and drew their blades against the weak, and so, they saw with satisfaction those who followed the guidance of goodness and faith, raising their holy blades without fear to challenge the malicious strong.

We have not fallen!

We still advance!

We have trampled through the fires of fel, dispersed the black mists of shadow, struck down the demons of cowardice, and slaughtered the abominations of hell!

Soldiers! Commanders! People! We can proudly stand tall in this wasteland of war, lift our heads, and answer that question of destruction to the world that watches us.

The Eredar are still here! Argus stands unbroken!"

Dick raised his one arm, and with a ferocity that a priest should not possess—his face twisted into the mask of a warrior—he shouted and punched the air:

"Let the Dark Titan come! Let the destroyer of the star-seas come! We will answer His question, and we will respond to that doomsday proclamation!

He can destroy us, but He cannot terrify us!

He can kill us, but He shall never conquer us!

In the name of the world, we will continue to fight; we will fight until the very last moment, until the day we become the torches ourselves. Now, it is the demons’ turn to answer! It is time for them to answer the question we have posed!

At this very moment, is there still a frenzied demon who dares to arrogantly step into the world of the Eredar in the name of their dark master?

Cheer, everyone.

The Eredar are immortal! Long live the World-Soul of Argus!"

The soldiers were stunned.

Even Kil'jaeden looked on in astonishment.

They had expected to hear the soothing words of priests, expecting a moment of peace for their souls after crawling back from the hell of a brutal battle. But this Brigadier General Diacum had replaced the memorial prayer with a declaration of war.

Under the gaze of the spirits of the fallen, this iron-blooded "Butcher of the Light" promised them that no sacrifice would be in vain.

This damn priest hadn't mentioned a single point of the doctrine of the Light throughout his entire speech. Are you really a priest certified by the Naaru? Where is your mercy, kindness, holiness, and gentleness? Did you use them as bait while you were frantically slaughtering demons?

Go back and re-read the scriptures!

But...

It was so stirring!

It should be like this!

Warriors should replace weak prayers with hot, boiling blood; defenders should respond to the enemy’s roar with an indestructible will.

Memorial?

No!

It wasn't time for that yet!

The last demon to enter Argus had not yet been cut down; their evil master was still advancing through the stars. The time for comforting the spirits of the fallen had not yet come.

"Long live Argus!"

In the deathly silence, Commander Kil'jaeden, sitting in his wheelchair, was the first to roar. Then, a battle cry as passionate as a storm swept through the ruined city.

Krokuun was finished; they would continue to fight in Antoran.

Antoran was finished; they would continue to fight in Mac'Aree.

Mac'Aree was finished; they would enter the towering mountains where their ancestors once lived. If the mountains were finished, they wouldn't mind piloting broken starships to continue the resistance on the Eredas Sea! Until the last inch of this world fell into the hands of fel, that would be the moment their souls returned to the embrace of the World-Soul.

Surrender?

Sorry, that option did not exist!

It was never an option to begin with.

"We will continue to fight, Uncle. Rest in peace."

Keeper Maldran, dragging his broken body, personally lit the torch to ignite the remains of General Erodus. Behind him, the five young warriors and keepers, eyes filled with tears, each held a torch. Even the usually arrogant twins were there; they gently placed their flames beside the remains of the dead.

The golden fire quickly ignited, merging into one, allowing the golden Light to fall as a brilliant plume of light under Dick’s calling, sending the spirits home.

Dick ultimately fulfilled his professional ethics as a priest.

He stood before the City Hall to pray and offer absolution for the dead. The golden flames danced, mixing with gentle ashes and drifting in the scorching wind, like a final farewell from the sacrificed to their comrades.

Those ashes playfully kissed the cheeks of the warriors who were still shouting battle cries, then rode the wind toward the Antoran Wastes outside the city.

They were home.

"Sir, behind you..." Imira suddenly whispered. Dick opened his eyes in surprise and looked to his side.

Clusters of golden light points were gathering. Soon, amidst the exclamations of the keepers and priests, they formed the image of an Eredar keeper composed entirely of the Light.

It was neither male nor female, nor was its identity known.

It wore complete gem-encrusted armor and held a radiant warhammer, standing like a shadow beside Dick, as if to thank this priest for his magnificent memorial sermon, allowing the sacrificed to let go of their final burdens and return to the Light.

They couldn't let his reverence leave empty-handed; this was the reward from the sacrificed.

【External power connected! Power path determined as: Holy Light Prime. Power form: High-purity radiant energy aggregate. Power connection form: Radiant Covenant.

High-level Paladin skill "Guardian of Ancient Kings" learned.

High-level Paladin skill "Ardent Defender" learned.

High-level Priest skill "Spirit of Redemption" learned.

Note!

This radiant energy entity is an aggregation of the righteous spirits of the Light who were unwilling to depart. It will appear in the physical world in different forms when summoned.

When summoned as "Guardian of Ancient Kings," the radiant spirit will replicate all your attack actions and fight alongside you.

When summoned as "Spirit of Redemption," the radiant spirit will replicate all your healing actions and fight alongside you.

Note!

This spirit shares your Stamina value. When your health drops to zero, the radiant spirit will sacrifice itself to restore 35% of your health, apply "Divine Shield" to you, and release "Holy Shock" at nearby enemies.

Note!

After the radiant spirit sacrifices itself, it will consume your radiant energy pool for reconstruction. The reconstruction time varies based on your life tier and affinity with the Holy Light.

At your current tier, the time required for radiant spirit reconstruction is: fifteen days.】

"The Light has manifested..."

The devout keepers and priests witnessed this "miracle" with their own eyes. They were moved to tears, ready to kneel and pray, but Dick pulled them up one by one.

The Brigadier General shouted:

"The spirits of the fallen are unwilling to depart; they wish to continue to fight alongside their kin as radiant spirits! Quick! Chant your oaths, warriors! Let the immortal spirits sign the covenant of protection with you...

Praise the Light!

It has sent us exactly what we need at this moment!"

Imira, still in a daze, began to call out under Dick’s guidance, and the other young warriors followed suit, praying. One after another, radiant spirits walked out of the holy fire, choosing their companions.

But Maldran hesitated to call.

"You... don't want to disturb your uncle's rest?" Dick whispered.

Maldran shook his head. He touched his heart and said: "I am too heavily injured, Dick. After assisting you in slaying that great demon Zakuun, I have... ah, such spirits should be left to the more promising youth."

"Don't say stupid things." Dick supported his old friend. "You are as strong as a talbuk; you can fight for another thousand years! Ten thousand years!"

"No." Maldran smiled. "I know from my wife’s letters that the arcanists at the Academy of Mysteries have developed new magic under the pressure of war. They can channel the souls of the fallen into powerful arcane construct guardians to continue the fight. They call them 'The Immortal.'

I know my situation.

You don't need to comfort me.

After I die, I will continue to protect you in another form."

"I won't allow that to happen. Stop putting a death flag on yourself! Your children are waiting for you to go back."

"You... did you just swear? Does the Light allow you to do that?"

"The Light doesn't care about my private life. I mean... huh?"

Before Dick could finish, he looked up at a certain summons. Then, he saw the first brilliant beam of light streak across the distant horizon—the direction of Mac'Aree—followed by a second, a third... within seconds, those beams connected into a radiant rain of light, completely illuminating the sky that had been gloomy due to fel pollution.

It was as if the dark clouds were torn apart, allowing brilliant sunlight to shine once again upon the land of Argus.

"They are here!" Brigadier General Maldran muttered beside Dick. "The Naaru have come! The messengers of the Light have come! Hope... hope has arrived. Our children and families are saved... Hahaha, our sacrifices were not in vain.

Do you see, Uncle?

Your sacrifice and the sacrifices of the other heroes were not in vain..."

——————

"The first batch of Naaru and their ships have arrived from the nearest star sector. Forty-seven small gem-starships have already begun receiving civilians."

When Kil'jaeden, Dick, and the other commanders returned to the Seat of the Triumvirate via teleportation, Velen greeted them personally.

The old prophet, whose face was etched with exhaustion, was beaming at this moment, the gloom that had shrouded him for days seemingly dispelled. He stood on the highest tower of the Seat of the Triumvirate, pointing at the gem-ships hovering above the towering mountains of Mac'Aree, scattered like a fleet waiting for inspection.

He said to Kil'jaeden:

"The Naaru’s starships can transport civilians directly into them. I have already ordered the Administrative Court to consolidate the civilians of Mac'Aree according to their place of origin. Governor Haddon assisted me in completing the evacuation schedule. The civilians of Oronaar will be transported within three days, which is exactly when the second batch of Naaru starships will arrive at Argus.

That is the true main force; the remaining one hundred starships are enough to take everyone away."

"What about the civilians on the continent across the Eredas Sea?" Kil'jaeden asked. "The Naaru are all in Mac'Aree. What about over there?"

"The grand fleet dispatched by Xe'ra, Mother of the Light, will be responsible for that side. Their five ships—one large and four small—are enough to take the civilians there." Velen made the holy sign on his chest, sighing repeatedly:

"It is truly the blessing of the Light! The Naaru have promised that they will transport our people to different safe worlds and ensure they help our people through the most difficult pioneering moments. I have broken up the structures of the Administrative and Security Courts to ensure that every ship has personnel capable of serving in dual administrative systems as civil governors and military commanders."

The Grand Archon said:

"K'ure and L'ura have sent me word that the starship *Genedar*, which they are aboard, will remain in Mac'Aree as the ship to receive the final batch of warriors."

"No!" Kil'jaeden closed his eyes and waved his hand. "You go with them! Velen, the people need you. I will stay in Mac'Aree with the soldiers to buy you the final time for the transfer. The demons will not allow us to send the civilians away; they will soon launch an assault on Mac'Aree..."

"Sargeras' great demons are all dead, Commander. Their resurrection in the Twisting Nether takes longer than ordinary demons," Dick said softly at this moment.

"Even frenzied demons become a disorganized mob without the command of strong leaders. The defensive pressure on Mac'Aree will be much easier than on the Antoran Plains.

We don't need to keep all the soldiers here. The people need not only leaders but also guardians. I suggest splitting up the veterans holding Argunite crystals, ensuring as much as possible that every immigrant ship has a squad."

Speaking of this, Dick gritted his teeth and looked at Velen.

He said: "I request that you board the Naaru’s ship immediately! I will take over command of the defense of Mac'Aree."

"What? Now? Are you joking?" Kil'jaeden laughed in anger.

He glared at Dick and scolded: "Are you saying you want to snatch my command at this time? Are you planning to mutiny? Brigadier General Diacum! I order you to stand down!"

"No, my brother." Velen reached out and placed his hand on Kil'jaeden’s shoulder. Gentle Light seeped into his body, healing and sealing his power.

The prophet said softly: "This is also my intention. Compared to me, perhaps the people need you to lead and protect them with fiery resolve. The Light has prophesied our tragic fate, but I intend to... defy it! Where are the Chosen of the Light?"

*Clack.*

Six burly Chosen of the Light, holding radiant spears, stepped forward. Then they heard Velen strike his staff on the ground and shout:

"Escort Commander Kil'jaeden to the ship! Let him lead the first batch of people away from Argus! The subsequent command of the war will be taken over by myself and General Diacum."

"No! Velen, you cannot do this! You cannot deprive me of my honor! Damn it! I order you, let me go!

Velen!

Don't do this!

Without me to protect you, you will die on the battlefield!"

Realizing that Velen was not joking, Kil'jaeden, who was being "protected" away from the Archon’s hall by the six Chosen of the Light, struggled fiercely.

The panic in this moment even surpassed his anger.

But the source of that panic was not the loss of his authority; he saw a certain determination on Velen's face, which seemed to make him realize that something worse than death might be unfolding.

He would lose him!

He would lose his brother, and that place of sacrifice was supposed to be reserved for himself...

"We said we would face the end together, you promised me, Velen! Stop! Don't leave me behind..."