1. Heavens preserve us! The Fallen Arena has tragically lost its top star [Serialized Explosion 4/50]

Hurry! Samara, we must rush back to the village as quickly as possible. The escorts of the holy sarcophagus may have already set out, and everyone in Embaari Village is scheduled to leave by dusk. It is said that Karabor Temple will send an elephant-riding cavalry unit to meet and assist us.

A young Draenei girl, carrying a full set of mining equipment and wearing a sturdy miner's helmet, nimbly climbed up a mountain path. With a light-hearted flick of her small tail, she called back to her panting companion following behind her:

If we miss the timing, we'll be scolded by Vigilant Tenum again. I've always felt that old man has something against the two of us.

You don't say, Yrel, replied the miner's companion with a helpless sigh.

Vigilant Tenum has always thought you have the potential to become a Vindicator. He started training you when you were a child, but not only did you refuse to participate in the Vindicator trials, you threw a tantrum and ran off to be a miner with us.

Forget about him. Even I have a bone to pick with you. You are clearly wasting your rare and exceptional talent.

But I don't like all that fighting and killing! To become a Vindicator, you have to pass that terrifying Demon-Slayer trial. Word has it that it's an ancient tradition established by our fathers back on the world of Argus, where a qualified Vindicator must fight in a team through the encirclement and suppression of demons.

I went with them to Karabor Temple to see it once when I was a little girl, and it scared the wits out of me. The blood of those examinees just kept flowing and flowing.

The young girl named Yrel reached out to pull her physically frail companion. Thanks to years of training, she possessed resilient physical conditioning, and with a swift exertion of muscle power, she hoisted her companion up the slope.

The two stood on the edge of the quarry, looking out over the construction site originally intended for building the temple, and further out at the breathtaking scenery of Shadowmoon Valley. The reason this place was called Shadowmoon Valley was because it remained in a state of gentle eternal night year-round, boasting the most magnificent starry sky in the entire world. The local Shadowmoon orcs were also renowned throughout the world of Draenor for their superb stargazing arts.

With her mining gear strapped to her back, Yrel now happily and comfortably placed her hands on her hips, letting the oncoming wind blow against her as she said to her lifelong companion:

Instead of fighting, I'd much rather become an artisan! Or a traveler, an explorer. I want to follow in the footsteps of our ancestors and journey across various worlds among the stars, to witness those extraordinary sights.

Even within the world of Draenor, there is so much beauty worth experiencing.

Take, for instance, that book recently published by Lady Leyland the 'Traveler': *Lost Sun-Reach: Walking with the Arakkoa*. You know how much I adore those romantic and wonderful travel stories.

That may be true, but you have the talent for it, her good friend Samara said with a sigh.

Vigilant Tenum says you could definitely become an outstanding Vindicator, and perhaps even pass the selection to join the Army of the Light and become a Lightforged, or become a glorious veteran like the seasoned soldiers of the Hand of Argus.

You could even represent the Draenei clan to visit the worlds where our other kin among the stars reside.

You could become a legend among the stars! Establishing miraculous deeds just like the Saint of the Vigilants, instead of being trapped in this tiny world of Draenor and living out your life in obscurity like ordinary folks like us.

Don't be silly, Samara. We are immortal, you know.

Yrel laughed heartily, wrapping her arm around her companion's shoulder and swaying back and forth as she said:

We have plenty of time to plan our lives. Once I get tired of being an artisan and a traveler, I'll sign up for Vindicator training, alright? You don't have to keep nagging me. Can you still walk? Or should I carry you on my back?

We still have quite a stretch of road to get back to the village from here.

I may be naturally frail, Yrel, but that doesn't mean I can't even walk, Samara sighed helplessly.

Actually, I know you're only refusing to leave Embaari Village because you worry about me. Sometimes I really feel like I'm a burden to you.

Don't listen to those jerks talking nonsense!

Yrel hoisted Samara's mining equipment onto her own back, then took her partner's hand and headed toward the distant village while saying:

You are no burden! You are my good friend and my family. The bond between us is as strong as the legendary heroic friendship of the Saint of the Vigilants, Diakum, and his combat brother, Commodore Maldoror!

We are family who can entrust each other with our lives; I would feel miserable without you by my side.

Let's go. We'll return the mining gear, and then we'll all join the escort of the Saint's Sarcophagus to the City of Karabor. I'll take you to the Aldor sanctuary to listen to the priests lecture on the scriptures. Isn't that what you love?

I just hope to become a priestess, Samara murmured softly.

They say the blessing of the Light can dispel some physical weakness. I also wish I could be as healthy as you, so you wouldn't have to worry about me accidentally choking to death while eating and constantly stand guard by my side.

You've been like this since we were kids... always overprotective.

Though I heard High Priestess Ishana say that 'overprotectiveness' is also a necessary qualification for becoming an excellent Vindicator, and even part of the moral code of the Light. From that perspective, Yrel, you really are a natural-born seed for a formidable Vindicator!

Ugh, stop, stop, stop, say no more!

Yrel grew a bit exasperated. She simply grabbed her little friend's hand and made her break into a full sprint alongside her, ensuring that her frail companion wouldn't have any breath left to chatter on about these troublesome matters.

However, as the two girls ran, they realized something was terribly amiss.

Amidst Samara's heavy breathing, Yrel suddenly clamped a hand over her mouth and pulled her to dive into the nearby twilight brushwood, pressing her head down to conceal them both among the dense foliage.

Hush!

Yrel made a silencing gesture and whispered to Samara:

Look ahead. Orcs!

Hm?

Samara raised her head and looked in the direction of Yrel's finger. Sure enough, a group of savage orcs with green war-paint smeared across their bodies were riding their dire wolf mounts through the trees. Their numbers were quite substantial, and it was clear they intended to fight here.

Samara saw many orcs laying traps along the Pilgrim's Road ahead.

They are carrying oil and torches.

Samara whispered in panic:

Are they going to burn down our village? Where did these orcs come from?

Judging from my understanding of the different symbols of the orc clans, these should be orc hunters of the Bleeding Hollow clan. Only they would smear themselves all over with these strange war-paints. However, I haven't seen the emblems on those leaders before; they might be orcs from other regions.

Yrel wasn't particularly scared.

She knew that although Embaari Village had a small population and no garrison, it was still guarded by Vindicators and high priests protecting the Saint's Sarcophagus. If it were just these orcs, it would be difficult for them to breach the defenses of the Ata'mal crystal towers that the Draenei had erected around the periphery of the village in a short time.

However, what worried her about another matter at this moment:

Samara, you must take the path back to the village immediately! Go find Priestess Minala and Vindicator Tenum, and tell them about the orc raid! I suspect these fellows aren't planning to attack the village—they intend to ambush our convoy transporting the Saint's Sarcophagus!

Judging by the time, the convoy will be passing through here very soon.

These orcs are going to steal or even desecrate our sarcophagus.

Light above, once something like that happens, the fury of the veteran soldiers of the Hand of Argus alone would be enough to scorch the entirety of Draenor. Those zealots have always regarded the Vigilant as the symbol of their moral code.

These orcs are simply courting death!

Maybe they are doing this on purpose; they intend to manufacture dangerous friction!

Samara's heart was pounding wildly as she whispered:

When I was helping out in the sanctuary, I heard the Aldor priests discussing it. Some say there is a group of wicked individuals among the orcs who have been meticulously plotting to provoke a full-scale war between the Draenei and the orcs.

You know that for many years in the past, at least the local Shadowmoon orcs bore no malice toward us. They would purchase the crystal lenses we polished for stargazing, and many Draenei priests even learned their astonishing stargazing techniques from the Shadowmoon clan.

The orcs weren't this crazy from the beginning; they were very simple and honest.

I was even friends with a young orc astrologer girl. Rekal is a kind-hearted shaman apprentice who told me a lot about orc traditions. Some bad apples must have misled them!

Oh, what is the use of talking about this now? I have no interest in how the orcs changed, but we must protect our sarcophagus!

Yrel unstrapped two mining picks from her back and gripped them as weapons. She said to Samara with a serious expression:

You and I were both children born under the blessing of the sarcophagus. They say you almost died of weakness when you were little, and it was the light radiating from the sarcophagus that saved you. The Vigilant blessed and healed my best sister!

That is the supreme sacred artifact of all Draenor Draenei!

It protected our fathers through their long exile, and we cannot allow the orcs to desecrate it!

Absolutely not!

I'll stay here and figure out a way to warn the approaching convoy, and you hurry back to the village to get help.

Then be careful.

Seeing Yrel's resolute expression, Samara knew she couldn't persuade her otherwise. She could only turn, drop to all fours, and crawl away through the other side of the forest, taking the mountain trail back to Embaari Village.

That mountain path was treacherous to traverse.

However, the two of them had grown up in Embaari Village, and Yrel had dragged her along exploring the mountains and rivers all the time, so she was extremely familiar with the terrain.

After Samara left, Yrel moved her body with vigilance and caution. To avoid letting the sharp-nosed dire wolves of the orcs pick up her scent, she followed the instructions of an old village hunter and rolled around in a muddy swamp within the forest to mask her odor.

The girl truly possessed the talent of a warrior; the ironclad composure she displayed in the face of crisis—panicking not at all—was already enough to leave many warriors in the dust.

She nimbly climbed high up into a tree and, relying on the exceptional vision of the Draenei, peered outward. A few minutes later, aided by her keen eyesight, she spotted the convoy escorting the Saint's Sarcophagus making its way along the Pilgrim's Road toward this direction.

Several elekks were pulling a wagon carrying the ancient stone sarcophagus, surrounded by a few talbuk riders as escorts. Those were the elite mounted rangers of the Krokul military, every single one of whom was said to be a skilled shaman.

Though their numbers were small, they were all elites.

I must find a way to warn them!

Yrel grew somewhat anxious. The orcs had already laid an ambush in the surrounding jungle, and seeing that the convoy was about to enter the kill zone, the girl quickly hatched a plan. She grabbed a flask of oil and a fire-starter from her mining equipment, and after shaking it a few times, she hurled the flask of oil against a nearby tree.

The sound of the glass shattering immediately drew the attention of the orcs lurking around the jungle, and right after, Yrel tossed the fire-starter right toward it.

*Whoosh!*

Blinding flames instantly ignited, racing up the tree canopy like a torch lit beneath the perpetually dim eternal night of Shadowmoon Valley.

Anyone who wasn't blind could see this brilliance!

The talbuk knight at the head of the convoy also noticed the flames igniting in the forest ahead. She immediately waved her hand to halt the convoy, and a ranger within the ranks swiftly cast Eagle Eye to inspect the area, spotting Yrel clinging to the branches and frantically waving hand gestures at them.

Those were tactical signals from the Vindicator manual, meaning "Enemy nearby!"

Ambush! Quick! Defend the sarcophagus!

The ranger shouted on the spot while quickly and skillfully launching a distress signal flare into the sky.

A red enemy-encounter signal burst open in the heavens, its specially crafted formulation capable of lingering high in the air for a long time without dissipating. The presence of this signal would summon nearby Draenei warriors to reinforce them at top speed, which in turn elicited vexed growls from the orcs.

Since the ambush had failed, they would just charge in head-on!

It didn't matter; they had the numerical advantage on this trip anyway!

Accompanied by the roars of dire wolves, hundreds of robust orcs howled as they rushed out from their hiding spots.

These brown-skinned wild warriors brandished torches and oil as they approached the convoy, attempting to ignite flames to burn these Draenei, while a constant barrage of thrown javelins and throwing axes provided cover. Yet, if it were merely a group of Bleeding Hollow hunters, they would be completely powerless against the protectors of the Light.

Given the physical conditioning of the Draenei, they certainly didn't flinch from the orcs in a direct confrontation.

The problem, however, was that the combatants participating in this ambush were not just orcs!

As the first wave of attack initiated direct combat, accompanied by bizarre, low-pitched roars, a pack of hounds of the nether leaped out from a green energy vortex, howling as they lunged at the convoy from another direction.

Demons?!

The lead Vindicator roared, bellowing:

The orcs have colluded with demons! Damn it! They ignored our warnings, they have fallen, we've been discovered by the Man'ari... Quick! Defend the sarcophagus, don't let the demons near! Do not let these defiled filth disturb the peaceful slumber of the Saint of the Vigilant!

Demons?!

At this moment, Yrel, still perched in the tree, also caught sight of those ferocious nether-hounds.

Although every Draenei child had to learn about the Burning Legion in their youth, and their coming-of-age ceremonies even included exams specifically on demonic lore, this was undeniably the very first time the young Yrel was seeing real demons with her own eyes on Draenor.

For the past two hundred years or so since the *Genedar* crashed onto the world of Draenor, the Burning Legion felt more like a terrifying yet somewhat unreal legend to the younger generation like her.

Seeing these horrifying creatures charging across the land trailing corruption with her own eyes, Yrel—bold as she was—was thoroughly frightened, but she immediately realized that the guardians of the sarcophagus were in a perilous situation.

They were elite, but their numbers were far too small.

The orcs had released demons to tie them down, and many Bleeding Hollow hunters had already taken advantage of the chaos to charge toward the sarcophagus. The defenders simply couldn't intercept them all.

Seeing several Bleeding Hollow hunters already starting to batter the sarcophagus with hunting clubs in an attempt to pry it open, Yrel could take it no longer.

As a child raised listening to the legends of the "Vigilant," she could not permit the sarcophagus to be desecrated by orcs. However, she did not let anger cloud her judgment; she knew she hadn't even passed the Vindicator trials and was no match for these savages in a direct fight.

She could only win through wits.

Yrel slid down from the tree and, relying on the Draenei's innate physical advantages and the Vindicator training she had received, swung her mining picks to beat back a dire wolf with an injured leg. Dodging arrows with a tumble, she surged toward the edge of the battlefield.

Panting heavily, she tossed out an explosive charge used by miners to scare off the dire wolves, then whipped out the bone whistle at her waist and blew into it with all her might.

As a young Draenei aspiring to be an artisan and explorer, Yrel had studied a wide variety of miscellaneous subjects, including the knowledge of taming elekks. She loved helping the village herders feed these massive, loyal, and brave beasts. It was said that talbuks, ray-beasts, and elekks had followed the Draenei across the starry sea from the world of Argus to Draenor, forming an integral part of their cultural heritage.

The elekks pulling the sarcophagus were not combat-trained, and they grew extremely panicked amidst the assault, even trampling several nether-hounds to death. At that moment, their reins were being severed by Bleeding Hollow hunters, and cruel orcs were attempting to slay them with hunting spears, driving the elekks into a frenzy.

Hearing the familiar call of the bone whistle, the massive beasts immediately bolted wildly, dragging the wagon straight toward the direction of the sound.

Caught off guard, several orcs were sent flying by the impact and flattened beneath heavy hooves. As the elekks charged through the fray dragging the sarcophagus, Yrel braced herself and ran a few steps, executing a swift climb onto the elekk's saddle amidst the dangerous whizz of passing arrows. Clinging tightly to the saddle, she grabbed the reins to guide the elekk in breaking through the vanguard, while casually tossing out a Naaru's blessing to heal the wounds she had sustained in the previous skirmish.

She didn't know where to go, but she had to get the sarcophagus out of this chaotic zone.

The brave young adventurer's escape proceeded remarkably smoothly. The orcs shouted and roared, yet failed to halt the enraged elekks, to the point where Yrel, clinging to the beast, momentarily felt as though she truly had a real chance of breaking out of here.

Perhaps she could even become a hero who guarded the sarcophagus!

Though she claimed she had no interest in fighting and killing, the youngster was secretly yearning for the first deed of glory she could offer to her people.

Yet, just as she broke out of this patch of woodland, a massive creature shrieked and swooped down from the high heavens, beating its twin wings. The wicked gale it kicked up almost swept Yrel right off the back of the elekk. Upon catching sight of the beast's pale fur and two ferocious heads, Yrel gasped aloud.

A two-headed proto-drake!

And given that iconic pale hide, this was clearly the leader of all two-headed proto-drakes in Shadowmoon Valley—the beast revered and feared by the orcs as "Moon's Breath," Amokava.

For many years past, unfortunate orcs and Draenei herders had continually fallen victim to sudden raids by this creature. It loved nothing more than feasting on the Draenei's talbuks and elekks, occasionally taking down orc mount-wolves for a change of palate.

Worst of all, astride this untamable beast rode a rugged orc.

The latter cackled as he spurred the newly tamed beast downward, causing Amokava to spew arcane energy that engulfed the rampaging elekk while hurling the hunting spear in his hand. The weapon impaled Yrel through her waist and abdomen, and the brute force of the collision sent the poor youth crashing alongside the overturned wagon by the roadside.

Yrel felt as though she were dying.

The excruciating pain of being pierced through her torso wrung a groan from her lips, but as she raised her head, she saw the noble sarcophagus tumbled unceremoniously onto the ground, its heavy ancient stone lid cast aside.

No!

She let out a cry and lunged forward, trying to protect the saint's remains from being desecrated by those damned orcs.

Several fierce orcs broke from the surroundings, grinning savagely as they strode forward. One of them carried the severed head of a ferocious, roaring Vindicator. He looked at Yrel, who was empty-handed and leaning against the stone coffin, the hunting spear still transfixing her waist and abdomen with its barbs embedded deep in her flesh.

This brave Draenei woman was a dead cert.

What a pity.

The orc licked his lips, speaking in a heavily accented Draenei tongue:

Kargath's arena is just lacking a 'blue wildcat' scratching and clawing like you. But no matter, once Chieftain Kilrogg leads us to smash Karabor Temple, we will capture plenty more wild gladiators just like you for entertainment and sport!

You shall not... come near the sacred relic!

Yrel gritted her teeth and cursed, only to be met with the derisive laughter of the berserk orcs.

As the massive two-headed proto-drake landed, the orc chieftain riding it hopped down. He rudely shoved the other orcs aside, strode forward wielding a massive executioner's axe, stared at Yrel, and then curled his lip in disdain.

This wasn't a warrior at all, merely a weak civilian. Killing such a person would simply soil his weapon and tarnish his honor.

Yet orders were orders, leaving no room for hesitation. He raised the great axe, intending to cleave this Draenei who dared to obstruct the Horde.

Yrel closed her eyes, knowing she was beyond saving.

Legend had it that the Saint of the Vigilant saved the Draenei in the cataclysm over twenty thousand years ago, and now their descendants faced dire peril once again. She just wondered if the exact same kind of hero could step forward to turn the tide this time?

Pondering this, Yrel felt a fierce rush of wind.

It was the sound of the battle-axe slicing down.

I am going to die...

She wondered if her corpse after death would be sent to the Auchindoun sanctuary, to be buried there alongside her parents. Come to think of it, her parents had once been formidable Vindicators too, having died a glorious death shortly after she was born to protect their kin from savage sylvan spriggan creatures.

Perhaps her reluctance to become a Vindicator had something to do with that reason as well.

Her life—which was relatively brief by the immortal standards of the Draenei—flashed before Yrel's eyes in a whirlwind. Most segments depicted the peaceful and wonderful life she shared with Samara in Embaari Village, while a small fraction consisted of memories from traveling to other places.

To be honest, a kid her age couldn't possibly have any truly unforgettable experiences. At barely over a hundred years old, according to Draenor Draenei traditions, she was just an underage cub.

Several seconds passed, yet the imagined excruciating pain never arrived.

A perplexed Yrel opened her eyes. Her "life review" had already looped three times—why hadn't the Grim Reaper shown up to collect her? Was hell taking a day off?

Yet right in front of her, that ferocious orc was bulging with muscles, his eyes blazing crimson as he gritted his teeth and even let out a war-cry, desperately trying to force his battle-axe downward to cleave Yrel's skull. However, a hand radiating scorching light was raised from behind Yrel, casually pinching the razor-sharp blade of the axe between its fingers.

The fingertips carried a blazing high temperature that was actually melting the metal. Amidst the stunned gazes of all the surrounding orcs, that "Hand of the Light" pushed inch by inch, effortlessly shoving the executioner's axe—swung with the orc chieftain's full might—away from the victim's neck.

This spectacle made Yrel's eyes go wide as saucers.

She even momentarily forgot the agony in her waist and abdomen. Turning her head, she saw a Draenei enveloped in light sitting up from within the sarcophagus, his eyes equally filled with bewilderment, wearing the dazed expression of someone who had just woken up with a bit of bedhead annoyance.

Yet this did not detract from his magnificent glory at this moment. The peculiar holy light that Draenei maidens witnessed from childhood swirled around him in a joyful, almost vivified posture, and faint, ethereal singing seemed to echo all around.

Dawn-like morning light rose and lifted, banishing darkness and bringing forth light.

Everyone was shocked.

Until Yrel let out a weak shriek:

Light above! The legendary saint has resurrected! The Vigilant has risen from his coffin! Haha, orcs, you're dead meat!