36. Suggestions for the Dark Titan’s Fall

The moment Kil'jaeden returned to the battlefield, the morale of the Seat of the Triumvirate, previously besieged by an endless tide of demons, was almost instantly reversed.

This was especially true for the defenders fighting in isolation. The sight of their commander "returning" from the stars rekindled their fading courage. Led by their respective officers, they surged toward the front lines to reunite with Kil'jaeden. Their commander, who had invoked the power of the world upon his arrival, possessed sufficient strategic vision to know exactly what needed to be done.

Especially after Kazzak, the demon acting as the vanguard breaker, was swiftly dispatched by a "smooth combo," the demonic offensive faltered. Kil'jaeden, in his demigod form as a Guardian of the World, lunged fiercely at the flank, targeting "Highlord Zakun," another demon demigod capable of spearheading the assault.

The fledgling Burning Legion had not yet recruited the perfect frontline commanders like the Annihilan, who were masters of both physical and magical warfare, which left the demons severely lacking in their ability to break through enemy lines. Whether they were Ereduin Doomguards or Fel Lords, these high-ranking demons were true "jacks-of-all-trades," but they lacked the raw, decisive frontline power to seal the deal. If you are proficient in everything, you are proficient in nothing. Unlike the Annihilan, who sacrificed their brains for power, how could one hope to seize merit in the Burning Legion’s grand crusade of destruction?

Especially at this moment!

Facing a battlefield protected by two guardian Naaru, the demons' frontal push was agonizingly slow. They were utterly bewildered.

This was the opportunity! It could even be considered the only opportunity.

"Diarchem! I order you, go protect Velen."

Kil'jaeden, wielding sword and shield, drove the fel demigod back repeatedly. He roared at Diak, who was nearby preparing to lead the Hand of Argus in a counter-charge: "Escort the civilians to safety, do not get bogged down in the fight! He could appear on the battlefield at any moment."

"Understood!"

Riding his heavy Elekk, Diak immediately changed direction. Clutching the searing-hot Grudge of Kazzak, he led his Hand of Argus warriors in a circle through the sea of demons. Every warrior was now invoking the empowerment of the Argus world-soul. Although the intervention of the Dark Titan made the transmission of world power difficult, maintaining enough strength for individual warriors to crush ordinary demons remained within their grasp. They were like knives cutting through butter, rapidly circling back to the defensive zone of the Seat of the Triumvirate and taking over the battle from the Naaru guardians.

"Escort the Prophet to the Ata'mal Crystal dais!"

Diak leaped off his Elekk, not even bothering to wipe the blood from his face, and spoke to the six Chosen of the Light who were protecting the High Exarch by Velen's side: "Let the Prophet wield the relic and replace His Grace L'ura, so the guardian Naaru can focus on the battlefield! Only in this way can we ensure all our warriors are evacuated before the dark hour arrives."

"Diarchem, you go!"

Velen was in poor shape. He had been ambushed by Tichondrius earlier, and the Dreadlord's claws carried a terrifying fel corruption that left the Prophet, even in his Guardian of the World state, unable to recover quickly. He knew his current condition was unfit for such a critical task, so with painful gasps, he handed the Naaru staff to Diak.

He said, "You, holding the Naaru beacon, can activate the defensive array of the Ata'mal crystals. Your Light is different, Diarchem. You wield the relic; I must stay here! I must protect my brother! I must ensure he is not captured by a cruel fate... Let me be selfish for once. Please! Let me be selfish this one time. We cannot lose him!"

Diak nodded.

Moved by the passionate brotherhood between Velen and Kil'jaeden, he took the staff, but did not leave immediately. Instead, he checked the wounds on Velen's back and chest. The Dreadlord's strike had been excessive; its claws had nearly pierced the Prophet's body. Velen was using gathered Light to forcefully suppress the fel corruption, preventing it from exploding within him. As Velen said, he could no longer perform duties requiring prolonged spellcasting, but if the fel pollution in his body were not dispelled immediately, it would leave a terrifying hidden danger. Once the Dark Titan appeared on the battlefield, this fel corruption would be instantly detonated. Should that happen, if Kil'jaeden wasn't saved, and Velen was captured by the Burning Legion first, that would be the worst turn of fate Diak could imagine...

Well, speaking of the choices of fate.

Diak looked at the Eredar warriors still fighting in the roar of the demon horde behind him, then looked back at the Naaru ship floating above the Seat of the Triumvirate. The last batch of civilians from Mac'Aree were being transferred into it. Only a few hours remained before the Dark Titan's thirty-day ultimatum.

This was truly the moment of fateful choice. Diak knew it was time to "cheat."

His "Light Doctrine: Hand of Fate" could only exert its most powerful effect under such circumstances. So, under the gaze of Velen and the Chosen of the Light, Diak, holding the Naaru beacon, gripped the staff forged from brilliant Light with both hands and raised it high, shouting: "O Light! Primal Light! The moment to reverse fate has arrived. Please, lend me the power to shake destiny once more!"

This was not like the scriptures priests used to call upon the Light, nor was it a battle motto for defenders. But when Diak called out, the brilliant radiance that had pierced the darkness at the dawn of the universe responded almost instantly.

Just like that night in the Great Lecture Hall when he first swore his oath, a beam of holy, intense light descended from the sky, which had been obscured by fel corruption, tearing through the clouds of gloom and shining upon Diarchem.

The Light was so heavy and scorching that it formed a tangible shockwave, rolling out in all directions with Diak at its center. In Diak's eyes, those dancing golden runes composed the information he most needed to see at this moment:

[The Eredar civilization and the world of Argus are at a crossroads of destiny; any minor interference is enough to turn the tide of history elsewhere.
[Fateful Choice] activated!
Light Doctrine: Hand of Fate has been empowered!
Individual Holy Power bonus added!
Radiant energy pool temporarily expanded to ∞, Holy Power recovery speed temporarily increased to the current individual limit.
Light affinity compatibility temporarily increased to 'Perfect'.
Under the state of Holy Power combustion, individual strength is temporarily raised to 'Demigod: Threshold'. Due to the world power bonus, the current individual strength after stacking the amplified states is 'Lesser Demigod: Holy Prime'.

Warning!
After the combustion of the Radiant energy pool ends, you will enter a 'Weakened State'. Current Holy Power pool combustion speed is: Moderate.
Your 'Hand of Fate' empowered state can be maintained for: thirty minutes.
Please wield the blade of Light and reverse destiny!]

"Thirty minutes..."

Diak raised his left hand, looking at his fingers, which were almost entirely cast into crystal by the Light. Clusters of radiant runes rotated in his hand as if they were an inherent part of him. At this moment, he was like a being of light, transforming into a human-shaped halo amidst the surging Holy Power, so bright that even Velen could not see his face. The Chosen of the Light watched as if witnessing a miracle as the "being of light" reached out and placed his hand on the Prophet's wounds.

"I don't know how long it will take for you and Kil'jaeden to overcome the dark fate, but I can only buy you thirty minutes. Hurry!" he whispered.

In this empowered state, Diak didn't even need to chant holy words to channel the flowing light into a Holy Heal upon Velen. The filthy fel energy was ignited and purified like gasoline.

After finishing this, Diak rose and walked toward the Ata'mal crystal dais. Ignoring the terrain, he leaped up with a priest's Leap of Faith, and with the flapping of the glowing wings behind him, landed lightly upon the relic of the Eredar.

The guardian Naaru, L'ura, was currently holding the relic here, shaping a barrier that covered the battlefield to withstand the constant fel attacks fired by millions of demons. It was tied here, unable to perform any healing.

But after Diak reached out and touched the surface of the Ata'mal crystal, L'ura was liberated.

The Naaru emitted a light, ethereal sound to convey its gratitude and blessing to Diak, then took flight. It hovered in the air above the battlefield, its crystal body rotating at high speed, releasing its Light in a more aggressive posture. In addition to emitting rings of Light to directly dispel the demons charging into the Seat of the Triumvirate, it transformed into empowered strength applied to every soldier still fighting.

The five heroes who had been besieged by a squad of Fel Lords were in dire straits, but after L'ura's Light enhancement, radiant runes emerged through their tattered armor, making the defenders feel as if they had entered a "temporary Light-forging."

Farya's eyes lit up with golden flames at this moment. The fatigue in her body was dispelled, and the Guardian of Kings she had previously lost was reshaped. A pair of scorching, light-forged wings unfolded behind her. The surge of power made the young defender roar and swing her light-forged spear, killing the strong enemy before her in coordination with Tramon's holy strike.

She looked back; the defenders and priests on the battlefield were all under the empowerment of those radiant runes.

Even Commander Kil'jaeden received the favor of the Light, allowing him to gain the upper hand in his one-on-one fight with Zakun, slaying the Highlord again in less than ten seconds.

The demons' morale plummeted visibly at the sound of Zakun's wails, and they were subsequently slaughtered and driven out of the Seat of the Triumvirate's battlefield like a flock of sheep by the defenders led by Kil'jaeden.

The situation seemed to have tilted toward the Eredar at this moment; the most dangerous hour seemed to have passed.

But with a slightly panicked chime from K'ara, the guardian Naaru guarding the central courtyard, a violent fel reaction appeared on the battlefield once more. Like a converging fel storm, as the dark green sulfurous gale blew, cruel cheers rang out among the retreating demons.

Under Kil'jaeden's wide-eyed gaze, several unremarkable demons were selected and illuminated by fel beams as if by a "divine descent." Their bodies inflated rapidly as if blown up with air, their life rank and individual forms becoming more hideous and insane under the dissipation of the "Demon-Forging" power.

That was "Ascension"!

That was the peak of growth that all demons in the Twisting Nether pursued. A blessing that should have been rare was scattered like an inexpensive favor at this moment.

To use an improper analogy, it was like a grand opening sale.

More demon-forging beams lit up in the increasingly clamorous fel storm, and accompanied by some strange and desolate roar, a massive fel rift was torn open by crimson crystalline claws at the forefront of the Seat of the Triumvirate battlefield.

Then, a twisted beast with kingly, distorted demonic horns, wings on its back, and a burning tail charged out. It was hungry; its massive mouth, dripping with corrosive saliva, hung open, spitting fel fire while grabbing nearby demons and throwing them into its mouth, snapping their limbs. Its eyes, like firestorms, stared fixedly at the crystal emitting holy protection on the highest tower of the Seat of the Triumvirate. And at that "crystal puzzle" hovering high in the sky, constantly emitting songs that it loathed.

"Ha, Red-Throat has arrived!"

The cunning Tichondrius flapped his wings and hovered in the air, the Dreadlord laughing: "The scorched hound most favored by Lord Sargeras has reached the battlefield. It is the eyes and claws of the Dark Titan; our supreme master has approached this world. The Eredar are finished! Demons! Warriors of the Burning Legion, the supreme sovereign of the Twisting Nether is watching you; please Him with war and destruction. The promotion you crave is close at hand! Charge!"

The Dreadlord's claws swept forward, causing a dozen meteors of hellfire wreathed in fel flames to crash fiercely toward the Seat of the Triumvirate protected by the Light.

He roared: "For the great cause of the Dark Titan! Charge, kill them all!"

"Roar!"

The destroyer hound raised by the Dark Titan flapped its wings, which covered the sky, and took to the air. Wrapped in fel fire like a burning mountain, its target was clear: it went straight for L'ura, who was blessing and strengthening the entire battlefield in the air.

Tichondrius, the cunning one, hid in the long shadow of the scorched hound, attempting to ambush Diak, who was guarding the Ata'mal crystal, the moment the frenzied beast collided with the guardian Naaru.

But as the saying goes, Diak was a cheater!

He knew the information about all the Burning Legion leaders like the back of his hand, and naturally, he knew the attack methods and action patterns these demon leaders favored. The moment the Dreadlord struck him with that hypnotic claw, the Guardian of Kings he had obtained on the Antoran Wastes suddenly jumped out from Diak's light.

The spirit hero, wielding a warhammer, knocked the Dreadlord right on the forehead. This guy's strength was directly inherited from Diak's main body, and now, in his Hand of Fate state, he was a temporary demigod, so the destructive power of the Guardian of Kings rose accordingly.

The Dreadlord, hit on the forehead by a hammer, was completely stunned.

Before he could retreat, he saw Diarchem, in his "being of light" form, turn around and swing the Naaru beacon artifact like a warhammer, smashing it into him. No technique, no tactics, just brute force!

The "Demigod Strike" in the state of Holy Power combustion was like a head-on collision with a holy meteor, submerging Tichondrius in a "sea of light" while shattering one-third of the tower's top structure. Most fatally, the Guardian of Kings perfectly replicated this strike in the next second.

Therefore, when the Dreadlord, submerged in Light and at a loss, screamed and fled, he was chased down by the Guardian of Kings and knocked in the back.

"Ah!!!"

The Dreadlord was not dead yet.

This guy was tough; he did not receive the ridiculous second death that other demigod demons had received today.

But the scene of him spinning and falling into the ruins like a villain in a cartoon was enough to make him lose all face in front of his demon minions. After all, the Nathrezim, those "specialized students" who put all their points into reconnaissance, disguise, and conspiracy assassination, were fine for bullying ordinary soldiers, but why would you go out of your way to provoke a cheater like Diak?

If it weren't for the need to maintain the Ata'mal crystal relic's continuous infusion to generate a barrier to protect the battlefield, Diak had at least nine ways to kill you!

Nine ways!

"Ah..."

At the same time Tichondrius was beaten, a mournful cry from L'ura came from above Diak's head. Clearly, as a guardian Naaru, it was at a loss after being targeted by the fierce hound raised by the Dark Titan. Facing Red-Throat's frenzied biting and tearing, the Naaru, not adept at melee combat, could only use its crystal body to resist the poisonous fangs and ghostly claws.

Under the fierce blows of the opponent, L'ura's body shattered into pieces. Those scattered crystal fragments spread like a rain of light.

This was normal; a Naaru didn't even have hands... Expecting it to swing a fist of Light in melee combat was wishful thinking.

"Retreat!"

Kil'jaeden had already issued a retreat order on the front lines.

The newly ascended great demons selected by the Dark Titan's might on the battlefield had gone insane. To win the favor of their supreme lord, they were slamming into the Eredar's defensive lines in a suicidal manner. The casualties among Kil'jaeden's servants within a few minutes had forced the positions just recaptured to change hands again.

At the same time, besieged by three frenzied great demons, he was also feeling overmatched.

Perhaps the Dark Titan's proximity to Argus was causing the connection between the world-soul baby and the Eredar to be completely severed; Kil'jaeden could clearly feel his power slipping, and the other warriors were the same.

They could not afford to waste time in a stalemate!

He led the Hand of Argus's most skilled soldiers to the front, buying time for the other soldiers to retreat, while the Naaru ship in the rear was approaching the center of the battlefield. Because K'ara and L'ura were determined to protect the battlefield and their Eredar friends, the Xenedar ship, piloted by their Naaru comrades Ka'ra and D'ore, attempted a "field emergency rescue" to bring these soldiers trapped in the sea of demons into the cabin.

With the Naaru ship's "teleportation landing," such a rescue could theoretically be completed, and those injured soldiers were being pulled into the ship by arcs of teleportation light.

But Kil'jaeden was too far away!

The ship could not risk approaching the meat-grinder of the front lines. The demons also had fel cannons firing; if hit too many times, the Naaru ship would fall.

This meant the commander and his warriors had to break out!

"Kil'jaeden! Come to me!"

Just as the commander hesitated whether to give up on life and fight to the death here, he heard Velen's voice.

He turned his head and saw his brother, wielding Diarchem's war-spear staff made of demon horns, leading the Chosen of the Light, trying to reach him. Looking at Velen's anxious expression and hearing his call, Kil'jaeden erupted with courage once more.

His cold heart was melted as if by a warm flame, leaving no room for fear or regret.

He grabbed the severely injured recruit Akama and old Haddon, who were by his side, and dragged them, leading the remaining warriors through the siege of frenzied demons, struggling to advance toward Velen.

Both brothers were thinking of saving each other at this moment.

Even though the bonus of world power was fading, relying on Velen's desperate pouring of Light, which transformed into aggressive waterfalls and sweeps of holy storms, the two groups successfully reunited.

"Go!"

Velen helped Kil'jaeden up.

The Chosen of the Light carried the weak warriors, rushing toward the last place of hope on the battlefield that had already collapsed in all directions.

The demons were roaring!

Excitedly, they surged into the Seat of the Triumvirate from all sides like a rolling, turbid current, eager to plant the demonic banners at the core of Eredar rule, declaring that this world had been seized by them. The Eredar warriors, enduring shame and pain, helped their companions run toward the ship in the center of the battlefield.

More warriors had been isolated on the battlefield.

They could not break through the sea of demons and could only bless their people with their final strength to have a safe journey, then pick up their weapons and complete the final slaughter with the demon spawn from all sides.

"Careful!"

Farya's scream made Velen, who was retreating, look back, only to see three Mo'arg brutes—ascended on the battlefield—rushing toward them with red eyes.

The Prophet's eyes widened.

In this instant, he had no time to think. He reached back, shielding Kil'jaeden and the others, and in his most extreme state, burst forth with the Light to form a defensive barrier of "Power Word: Barrier."

"Boom!"

Three explosions rang out at the same moment. The frenzied Mo'arg melt-demons, temporarily ascended to the edge of demigod status, detonated themselves in an attempt to kill the two High Exarchs of the Eredar.

They knew such a glorious result could win them supreme honor, but they underestimated Velen's determination and the Light's favor upon him.

Such a terrifying self-detonation blasted a rift filled with fel energy into the ground, but Velen miraculously protected everyone. The price was that he, having absorbed all the damage, entered a true near-death state in this instant.

He collapsed into Kil'jaeden's arms, blood flowing from his eyes, his broken staff falling to the ground.

"No... no! No, no, no!"

Kil'jaeden panicked.

Even when facing the siege of countless demons, he had not changed his expression, but at this moment, holding his dying brother, he felt as if one of his feet had already stepped into hell.

He had returned here under the pressure of fate precisely to avoid such a terrible result, but because of his return, his brother had fallen into this despair.

"Velen... don't leave me..."

The High Exarch held his brother and let out a desperate, beast-like roar.

Talgath, who had been following him, used his one arm to fire an arrow, knocking over a demon guard that had lunged at them. He shouted at Kil'jaeden in a hoarse voice: "Commander, send Lord Velen to the Naaru; he might still live! The Light loves him so much; the Light will not allow him to leave at this time."

"Yes, that's right... the Light! The Light will heal my brother. He is destined to shine for eternity; the Light has shown me that future! I will not allow that future to be changed before my eyes! I will not allow it!!!"

Kil'jaeden gritted his teeth and stood up.

He had wanted to escort Velen to the ship in the distance himself, but the demons had completely sealed the surrounding paths. With just one glance, Kil'jaeden knew he had to make a decision.

"Talgath, my final order to you!"

The commander turned, handed Velen to the Chosen of the Light, and said to his most trusted lieutenant: "Escort Velen to the ship, protect him for me..."

"My apologies, my Lord, but I refuse."

Talgath, the leader of the assassin house who walked in darkness and shadow, had also let go at this moment. He very freely reloaded his gem pistol with one hand and said: "I have served you for thousands of years; your will has always been the direction of my progress. At this moment, when you intend to do something foolish, I cannot choose to leave you alone. Lord Velen has the protection of the Light, but you only have us... Therefore, please allow the Assassin House to accompany you on your final journey."

"Hmph, this is your own choice. After stepping into hell with me, don't regret it."

He patted Talgath on the shoulder, reached out and pulled the Heart of Argus hanging on his chest, kissed it gently, and placed it in Velen's hand.

He said goodbye to his brother in this way, then picked up two blood-stained gem greatswords from the ground. With his back to the evacuating crowd, he said to Talgath and the defenders following him: "Raise my battle banner! Let those demons see where the High Exarch of the Eredar is, let them charge at me... If they want my head, let them come and take it themselves!"

Rays of Light were applied to Kil'jaeden and his warriors like a final blessing.

The commander looked back at the highest tower of the Seat of the Triumvirate.

Diarchem Zastins, that "being of light," was holding the relic and trying his best to protect the entire battlefield.

He really had tried his best, but he could not save everyone, just as he himself had tried his best, but could still only run toward that dark fate.

So be it.

So be it.

Wearing a battle robe and glowing cloak forged from the Light, Kil'jaeden dragged two burning greatswords toward the battlefield where the demons were most numerous, expressionless. Anyone who did not belong to the Eredar would be ruthlessly cut down by him.

He saw his subordinates fighting a desperate battle.

He could not abandon them!

Just as he ultimately could not allow himself to abandon this world.

Even when he looked up every time, he could clearly see that figure standing beyond the firmament...

The Dark Titan, Sargeras...

His footsteps were approaching, but so what?

He had indeed seen the same fate in different prophecies; he might really become that "red-skinned, one-eyed Ogre," but so what?

If you want our allegiance...

Come and take it yourself!