37. The Great Enlightener's Prophecy of Doom

As demons ravaged Mac'Aree, besieging the Seat of the Triumvirate under the orders of the Dark Titan, a group of shadowy figures took advantage of the desertion and emptiness of the Temple of L'ura to storm the site under demonic protection.

They wore the robes of arcanists, inscribed with blasphemous runes, and beneath their cloaks, they revealed red skin and claws corrupted by fel energy. As fugitives of the Wake-Caller Cult, the great purges of recent times had caused them immense suffering. Like rats whose nest had been destroyed, they had been forced to survive in the darkness of the sewers.

But those dark days were over! With the demonic legions landing on Argus and victory all but assured, these "collaborators" could finally move freely in the open within this hellscape. While the Man'ari led their demonic lackeys in the hunt for the High Exarch, the absolute zealots of the Wake-Caller Cult maintained a low profile, venturing to this desolate place far from the center of the battlefield.

They had an important task to perform here.

Several Man'ari warlocks, accompanied by demons, entered the lower containment area of the Naaru temple. Using warlock magic to corrode the locks, they entered the cell where the Enlightener Thal'kiel had been imprisoned for the past month. Unsurprisingly, they found Thal'kiel, already decapitated, cast aside in a wretched state. The poor old man's head was gone, and his broken, hunched body had nearly bled dry. This was not a recent execution; he had been dead for at least a week. Velen would not have done such a thing, so the order for the secret execution must have come from the cold-hearted Kil'jaeden.

"So miserable..." one of the Man'ari warlocks sighed.

She waved her hand, and the others immediately went to work. With the help of their demonic servants, they quickly finished setting up the ritual. Then, through the corrupted arts of summoning fel energy, a pure and magnificent well of fel power was manifested in the chamber.

The Man'ari holding the treasure chest stepped forward with a look of reverence and opened it. The lead warlock took out an irregular green soulstone, held it up with both hands, and cast it into the fel well. Amidst the churning, ink-green liquid fel, they heard the cracking sound of the soulstone.

Within this disturbance, Thal'kiel’s painful groaning could be heard. Invisible hands manipulated the fel energy of the ritual, pouring it into the headless, withered corpse. Under the etching and strengthening of fel runes, the remains—which had become those of a Broken—were restored to the robust posture befitting an Eredar.

"Children..." Thal'kiel’s deep, gravelly voice echoed in the chamber, which was filled with burning heat and shadows. He said, "Where is my perfect head?"

"Here, Great Enlightener." The lead warlock opened another chest, took out a partially crafted skull artifact, and said to Thal'kiel, who was returning to his own shell, "Your head was gifted by Kil'jaeden to his servants. We found it after we broke into the Vault of Antiquities. Unfortunately, your flesh has already been..."

"It matters not. We are warlocks; we are the tailors and craftsmen of souls. It is merely a shell, a thing of no value."

Thal'kiel’s voice became satisfied and joyous. The headless corpse stood up and, with a chilling motion, reached out to take his own flesh-stripped skull, placing it upon his spine with a solemn and formal air. As fel energy infused and flowed through him, ink-green flames began to dance around the visage of the skull.

As if flesh were being replenished, Thal'kiel’s features emerged once more, woven from searing flames. He flexed his neck, reached up to make a minor adjustment to his spine, and finally touched the wound on his forehead with a hint of regret. His most prized skull was no longer perfect; it was like a mark of shame. Even though ascension might reshape the body and erase this physical scar, the scar left upon his soul still represented a regrettable defeat.

But that was fine... He still had a chance to wash away the disgrace. Yes! At least for today, he still had a chance.

He opened his arms in satisfaction, allowing his apprentices to drape him in black-and-green warlock robes. An artifact fashioned from the skull of an Eredar wizard and a staff made from the spine of a felhound were brought to Thal'kiel. These trinkets caused the flames on Thal'kiel’s skull to pulse in a gesture that mimicked a "sneer." Clearly, he looked down on these pieces of junk.

But considering his apprentices had been busy hiding from purges while preparing his resurrection and concealing his soulstone, he could not blame their loyalty. This was not the time for unnecessary fussiness. Thal'kiel was actually a very approachable leader; he was wise, generous, and possessed great charisma, which was why so many zealots still served him in such desperate times.

"Have Velen and Kil'jaeden left?" he asked.

"The war at the Seat of the Triumvirate is not yet over, Enlightener," the warlock replied respectfully. "Although they have sent away the vast majority of the civilians, the Legion's warriors are fierce. They are trapped at the Seat, with only the ship known as the Genedar left to evacuate them. We have just received word that Naaru ships are rescuing civilians on the continent across the Eredas Sea, but the demons have captured several cities first. Following your orders, our brothers and sisters have stood guard in front of the refugee camps, strictly forbidding those brutal creatures from harming our people. This is the promise we have given; we are by no means the shameless servants of the Destroyer. Oh, and one more thing! There is news that will surely interest you. Diakum Zastins! That bastard who betrayed us twice—he is now on the battlefield at the Seat of the Triumvirate."

"Oh? This is wonderful news indeed." A sinister smile appeared on Thal'kiel’s flaming face. He said, "Then let us go and see him. I am quite curious to see how the marvelous Dick will answer the question I once asked him..."

"Are you going just like this?" the warlock asked, surprised. "Your achievements are fully worthy of the reward of 'Ascension.' Lord Sargeras is approaching Argus. Perhaps you could complete your audience before dealing with that insect? Er, forgive me for speaking plainly, my lord. Although Diakum is a traitor, he has had good luck recently. Even the demons fear his Holy Light; they fearfully call him the 'Butcher of the Holy Light.' This is a nickname given by the most brutal group of demons, and you should know what that implies. Therefore, if you do not undergo fel-forging first, I fear..."

"Ah, you mean I will suffer another defeat, is that it?" Thal'kiel emitted a low laugh. Although just resurrected, his long-standing authority as the Enlightener and the total sculpting of his form by fel energy gave him a strange and terrifying presence. The surrounding Man'ari felt a fear from the depths of their souls; it seemed that after experiencing death, this Enlightener had been "reborn."

He ignored the apprentices' worries and walked out of the cage, wielding his weapons. The demons summoned and controlled by the other warlocks stepped aside quite obediently for this "Progenitor of Warlocks." His shadow, cast by the flickering fel fire, grew longer and darker, as if connecting all the shadows of the underground prison.

He said, "The Dark Titan has bestowed supreme glory. Once the Heart of Argus falls into the hands of Lord Sargeras, I shall receive a brand-new body from the fel power surging from the world-heart. It will be a holy form forged of fel energy! A vessel more perfect to contain my soul. This wretched current state is merely one more opportunity granted by the turning of fate, allowing me to bid a final farewell to this world and those friends of mine in a form that is still somewhat familiar. Victory or defeat? Heh, meaningless concepts. The moment they decided to rely on the protection of the Holy Light to flee Argus, we had already won. And if everyone’s goal is to protect the people and preserve civilization, then such a struggle will never have a loser. Fear not, children. I only wish to have a word with Diakum. I shall personally see him off on his journey across the stars, or keep him here to share in the gift of darkness with us. That is all."

Thal'kiel explained his thoughts, then waved his hand as the other Man'ari followed with bowed heads. He said, "Tell me, while I was imprisoned, what great deeds has our brother Diakum accomplished in the name of 'Argus' and the Holy Light? Forgive my meddling, children, but I am about to bid farewell to a peculiar soul, and I cannot go there knowing nothing. So, speak. I am listening."

***

"Hmm, bad news, we might be abandoned, children." Beneath the ruined tower of the Seat of the Triumvirate, Dick, in his "Light-Bearer" form, held the Naaru Beacon staff in one hand and the Arta'ma Crystal relic in the other. He even had time to crack a joke with the guards he was protecting.

But no one responded to his humor. Everyone was exhausted... especially set against the backdrop of the massive, scorched hound carcass behind them. Not only were Mal'dran and the "Little Five" who had fought their way here weary, but even the twins, who had run over at some point, were all wounded. Even the Naaru L'ura, floating above, had a large part of its crystal body gnawed away by that damned monster. In the end, it was Dick who converted the protective power of the Arta'ma Crystal into an offensive beam, and with L'ura’s distraction, blasted the heart of the Red-Throat to pieces with a searing shot of Holy Light.

In his memory, this fierce demigod monster was not supposed to die on Argus. It would fall thousands of years later at the hands of mortals in another unknown world. As the Dark Titan’s favorite hound-lord, its manner of death was quite embarrassing—a demigod-tier fel beast assassinated by a mortal using a weapon forged from the power of an entire world. Compared to that regrettable end, dying on this battlefield, which would be remembered for ten thousand years, was perhaps a decent conclusion for the hound Red-Throat.

"I don't understand why you insisted I cut off its teeth..." Captain Nari, carrying a large backpack, glanced at the dog teeth in the bag that emitted a disgusting odor. She complained bitterly, "But I feel this stuff is absolutely disgusting."

"Treat them as trophies. Trust me, you will find it hard to find casting materials of this quality anywhere else in the universe. I’ll make you two daggers or a war spear out of them—of course, that’s for the future. For now, stay close to me!" Dick moved his shoulders and said, "My Holy Light burning can only last a few more minutes. L'ura and I will do our best to escort you to the Genedar. This means we must cross half the battlefield, and every single demon there has enough reason to pounce on us in the name of their evil master. So... if anyone falls behind, there is truly no saving them."

"Let's go." Mal'dran, coughing while clutching his chest, leaned on his warhammer and looked at the hundreds of warriors behind him. He touched the Heart of Argus hanging on his chest and said to Dick, "The connection between the world-soul and us has been completely severed by the Dark Titan. Those mighty powers have left us, and now you must act as the torch in the darkness, Dick."

"Don't be so desperate. Besides the power of the world, we still have the Holy Light!" Dick did not hesitate. Holding the relic with both hands, he touched the Naaru Beacon to the ground, scattering the energy within the relic and infusing it into the warriors beside him, arming them to embark on this final escape toward the end.

"It's like a large-scale 'Demon Musou' training session..." Marksman Balat sighed, inserting his last quiver of arrows into his gem-encrusted crossbow, and said to Tramon beside him, "Cover me later."

"Just run forward! Don't look left, don't look behind." Tramon had lost his helmet. He pulled a face-covering up to hide his mouth and nose. With several new scars on his face, he was as calm as ever. "I will cover your retreat."

"So, can't you two geniuses use teleportation to send us to the transport zone beneath the Genedar?" Imira, equally exhausted, complained to her two juniors. "Aren't you usually very capable? Why are you silent now?"

"Sigh, there's no talking to a priest like you whose head is filled with Holy Light." The twins no longer had the strength to argue with the laggard Imira. Each held a skull artifact, drawing pure arcane power from them to replenish their exhausted energy. Teleportation? Take a look at the terrifying concentration of fel energy on this battlefield! In this situation, the fel primordial force had already dispelled most other powers. Not only them, but even shaman-cavalry like Jaid could no longer feel the presence of the elements.

He could only hear the wailing of the world. Was it the lament of the Argus world-soul for its impending fate, or a blessing for the Eredar embarking on their long journey?

"Be careful to protect L'ura," Dick reminded the others. "It was severely injured in the battle against the Red-Throat beast just now and cannot withstand any more hits, or it will shatter. If it shatters here, I suspect even the Holy Light itself could not piece it back together. Are you ready? Go!"

As the order was given, the moment Mal'dran charged out with the "Little Five," the empowered Dick unleashed the Holy Light in a torrent. Like liquid light, it surged forward like a broken dam. The moment they rushed out of the shattered tower, the demons swarming up were incinerated and blown away. The Genedar was already preparing to take off, and they had little time left; they could not take a detour and had to charge in a straight line through the battlefield.

Dick was releasing his burning Holy Light by the second. This empowered state was maintained by burning his radiance energy pool, and the time he had been empowered by the Moment of Fate was running out. He even began to burn his own personal Holy Light. Even though Dick had more Holy Light than other guards, it could not withstand such a long burn. They had to race against time.

From a high altitude, it looked like a group of Eredar "battering rams" shrouded in light, constantly pushing through a sea of demons, but their speed was visibly slowing down. Dick felt his weakness. The "Hand of Fate" state could not be maintained much longer, but they hadn't even crossed half the battlefield. They could not stop here, so Dick chose a more risky method.

He stopped in place, gathered his final Holy Light, used the Naaru Beacon as a medium, and released it all at once using the priests' technique for manipulating Holy Fire. It was like a cannon of Holy Light fired in an instant, or an arc of light shot by "flicking a finger," like a falling blade of light, clearing away all obstacles in front of them.

"Quick! Charge!" The moment Dick fired the light cannon, he collapsed and was grabbed by Mal'dran and hoisted onto his back. The Naaru Beacon was tossed to Imira to continue operating. Relying on the searing Holy Light remaining on it, she continued to blast light cannons to clear a path. The Genedar seemed to notice the warriors breaking through to the transport zone and, having already begun to lift off, stopped in the air under the impact of countless felbats, leaving them a glimmer of hope.

"Hold on! Dick." Mal'dran ran forward with him on his back. Amidst the ethereal sounds constantly emitted by the Naaru above, the old guard said, "We will definitely escape! Listen, L'ura is also encouraging us..."

"That's it sounding a warning! You blockhead who can't understand Naaru, get out of the way!" The weak Dick was likely the only Eredar among them who could understand Naaru. At his shout, the charging crowd could only roll to the side.

The next second, a series of "Liquid Infernals" falling from the sky struck like the concentrated blow of a burning giant fist of broken hope. It should have caught them all in the attack, but the weak Naaru L'ura stepped forward to protect them, taking all the devastating firepower alone.

The repeated strikes forced the holy Naaru to let out its final cry of sorrow. With a sound like shattering glass, it broke apart under the gaze of the entire battlefield, sacrificing itself to ensure the safety of the others. The crystal shards, shining with light, scattered around Dick and the others like a meteor shower that had no time for goodbyes.

But even at the moment of its own destruction, the dutiful guardian Naaru L'ura managed to cast a large-scale restorative magic, bestowing its final power upon this group of brave Eredar.

[High Priest skill "Desperate Prayer" / "Pain Suppression" learned!]

A line of runes jumped before Dick's eyes. With L'ura’s final assistance, his weakness was quickly dispelled, and all pain was temporarily stripped away at this moment. He stood up, snatched the gem-encrusted heavy shield from Mal'dran's hand, pushed Nari aside, and stood in a standard defensive posture, shielding the others while taking the soulfire and chaos bolts head-on.

The first soulfire shattered the heavy shield. The second chaos bolt hit Dick directly, but the Arta'ma Crystal in his arms absorbed the blow that would have destroyed his soul. Under the regretful gaze of Thal'kiel, who was surrounded by demons and dealing the killing blow, the Eredar relic in Dick's arms exploded under the impact of the pure fel energy in the chaos bolt, just like the murdered Naaru. The seven-colored crystals flew from Dick's hand, clattering onto the ground already ignited by fel fire.

"What a pity, just a little bit short." Thal'kiel shook his head. Wearing a burning skull, he stood between Dick’s group and the Genedar, like a wall of despair that had suddenly descended, cutting off all hope.

"Dick, Diakum! My apprentice, my most beloved traitor! I have come to collect your answer." The Enlightener shouted, "You faced the same problem as I did, you fell into the same desperate situation as I did, and you gave a completely different answer. I admire all the efforts you have made; I even hate that fate did not let you come to us sooner to become the true savior of the Eredar! But there is still a chance now; it is not yet too late. Stay, Diakum. You have the talent to become a 'Fel Lord.' Abandon the weak Holy Light; you should master more powerful forces! There are so many Eredar in this world who have fallen into desperation. Like those fugitives, they need your protection. Stop struggling. Stay."

"All you want is me, Thal'kiel." Dick stood up, coughing. He had no weapon, so he picked up the crystal shards scattered after L'ura’s destruction and held them like blades. In his other hand, he clutched the golden fragments of the shattered Arta'ma Crystal. He shouted, "Let the others go! I will stay here and finish this damned Q&A with you. Let them go, if you, monster, still have even a trace of Thal'kiel's soul. I know why you made that choice... so please, leave your final kindness and mercy to these children."

"You actually think there is still mercy in a heart like mine? Haha, you truly understand me. Why not?" Thal'kiel laughed and raised his hand. The surrounding Man'ari warlocks were dissatisfied, and those demons hungry for flesh and blood were even less willing. But under the order of the Enlightener, who had gained the favor of Lord Sargeras and been granted the authority of a "Great Demon Lord," they could only obediently clear a path to the Genedar.

"Go, go, children." Dick remained in place. He knew this path to the future no longer belonged to him. He said to the others, "Take the fragments of the Arta'ma Crystal, pass them on to Velen, and continue to protect our people just as we protected our world. Every Eredar is your kin. Do not abandon them, do not abandon the Holy Light!"

"Go, listen to him, children." Thal'kiel also spoke at this moment. "This is my final mercy, Eredar... no, cornerstones of the Draenei! Go! With mourning for your elders and warriors, hide the despair in your hearts carefully, embark on your path of exile, and pray to your glimmering light every night. Do not let me find you again. Next time, there will be no brilliant soul like Diakum to beg for a way out for you. Lord Sargeras will gain a raw jade, and for that, He is willing to give up you inferior stones."

"We are not leaving!" Farya’s teeth were nearly ground to dust. Her morals, persistence, and ideals did not allow her to leave Commander Dick alone, but the next moment, her hand holding her weapon was pressed down by Nari. Nari looked back at Dick. Surrounded by demons, Dick nodded at her, signaling her to take these children and leave. This was the only way.

"Go!" Nari turned back. With eyes red, she bent down to pick up a green crystal shard, squeezing words through her teeth: "Obey General Diakum's orders! Warriors, follow me."

"We can't do this..." The one who raised an objection this time was not the outspoken Imira, but the twins, who usually preferred to use their wits. Holding two activated skull artifacts, it was clear they were prepared for a fight to the death. Nari stepped forward in silence, grabbed their wrists, and dragged them away.

Under the gaze of the demons and the mockery of the Man'ari, they helped the wounded, carried the fragments of the relics, and stumbled toward the Genedar under Dick’s watchful eyes.

Dick watched them leave. His line of sight was eventually blocked by the fel rift torn open by Thal'kiel. Beyond the scorched, sulfur-scented air, amidst the roar of a thousand demons, the magnificent burning figure had appeared at the edge of the firmament.

The Enlightener opened his arms, looked at him, and said, "I have satisfied your final request, Diakum. Now it is your turn. Speak, answer me: when faced with the question of the Dark Titan, what answer did you arrive at?"

***

Ps: With everyone's help, I finally managed to elbow past other contestants of the same period and successfully obtained the Sanjiang recommendation! So it will be published next Wednesday at noon! I will conservatively update 50 chapters! More than a month of persistence and patience was for this moment of blooming like fireworks... I, old Lu, have always been a man of my word!