5. Before returning to his hometown, Dick was the first to reclaim the "inheritance." [Rapid Release 8/50]

(Page 1/3)
(Extra chapter for the “Frostfang Claws” brothers [8/10])

The merchant planning to supply Dick with weapons was named Dana, a native of Ambori Village, accompanied by a sturdy young assistant named Serio.

Both were dressed quite fashionably, clearly worldly traders with ventures across many lands. After chatting with Dana for a while, Dick realized she was quite capable.

She operated her trade business with Ambori Village as her base, managing commerce along the entire “Pilgrimage Route” from the Karabo Shrine through Shattrath City to the Sanctum of Auchindoun. She owned several inns and even a shop selling various artworks at the Karabo Shrine.

Though not among the “trade tycoons” of Draenor, considering she was barely over two hundred years old, her accomplishments were impressive.

According to Dana, her mother had also received the Dawn’s Blessing from the Holy Reliquary at birth.

Dick suspected this was just a clever attempt by the astute merchant to build rapport with him. After all, Ambori Village had venerated the Holy Reliquary for over two centuries, and nearly every child born there had been touched by Dick’s “light.”

That light was an external effect from the transformation of the Sun’s Herald’s holy radiance during his training in the liminal space between life and death. Though it had some healing qualities, it was certainly not as exaggerated as a “blessing.”

Despite Ambori Village having recently suffered a raid—many homes damaged and the corpses of slain orcs and innocents needing burial—the villagers warmly prepared a lavish feast to honor their saintly guest.

The fruit platter featured sweet melons from the Tanaan Jungle, blood apples from the Aranka Peaks, and large grapes from Gorgrond. These were paired with an appetizer platter of tangy yogurt made from Tabu sheep’s milk of the Nagrand Plains. The main course was a steaming platter of Snowhoof beefsteak accompanied by fresh Zangarmushroom slices, garnished with the finest Aruuna hard cheese from Telmor City.

This was truly a “hearty meal,” much to Dick’s satisfaction.

He felt grateful that after long exile, his people had arrived in this perilous world yet still managed to live peaceful and prosperous lives. Even a small village like Ambori could put together such a feast, showing that while the quality of life for the Draenei over the last two centuries could not compare to their homeworld, it was nonetheless commendable.

Their numbers were small—just over two hundred thousand—but even within this compact Draenor, they required few resources to live well.

The feast concluded with a unique cream bread called “Twinheaded Wyvern Claws,” a delicacy said to be a traditional orc dish refined by Draenei chefs.

Dick loved it and devoured two plates in one go, leaving the village children he invited utterly amazed.

They exclaimed that the “Sentinel” possessed the courage of a Snowhoof and the stomach of a Thunder Mammoth! Truly a saint indeed!

Such a formidable appetite was abnormal, but since Dick was universally recognized as the “Saint,” all his abnormalities were easily rationalized.

“Saint, Dana has selected weapons and armor for you,” reported Shantuk, a skilled female hunter from the Holy Reliquary Guard whom Dick trusted. She approached, munching on some cream bread.

“I checked them out; they really are fine weapons. But I think that merchant is shrewd—she might be trying to capitalize on your recent resurrection news to boost her trade. These civilians really have no sense of danger.

As a merchant, doesn’t she know that orcs have been harassing us across Draenor? Though the warriors respond with ruthless retaliation each time, if they don’t get serious, they’ll eventually be caught in the crossfire.”

“Don’t blame her—I’m not fully informed about these matters myself.”

Dick stood, handing the last few sweet blood apples to the children, then followed Shantuk toward the camp where the village guards were stationed.

“We must arrange for the people of Ambori Village to seek refuge at the Karabo Shrine as soon as possible. The wilderness is no longer safe. Also, take plenty of arrows and Akhenite crystal bombs.”

In a low voice, Dick said, “We strike at dawn. I no longer intend to leave the Shadowmoon Clan as a threat.”

“Huh?”

The female hunter was startled. Quietly, she said, “But there are thousands of Shadowmoon orcs in that fortress, Saint. Under Archbishop Nari’s orders, we have scouted there before. The Shadowmoon Clan is the most skilled in spellcraft among orc tribes. They possess mysterious necromancy capable of raising the dead to fight. That’s why, though few in number, they hold leadership positions among orcs.

Orcs are very superstitious; they respect ancestral spirits, and the Shadowmoon Clan, abundant in shamans, holds a status in their culture akin to priests among Draenei.

I’m not underestimating your holy power, but once the Shadowmoon shamans raise the undead from that great tomb, their army numbers will swell to a terrifying degree.

It’s even possible they could unleash a flood of the dead sweeping through the entire Shadowmoon Valley. I’ve heard that some of the greatest orc warriors throughout history are buried in the Shadowmoon Clan’s great tombs.”

She paused, then continued, “Orc civilization remains tribal, but they are born warriors with formidable strength. Their number of legends is quite impressive. You just awoke and only know orcs through two battles.

But I must emphasize, these rioters do not represent the elite orc warriors’ capability.

Great Prophet Velen does not want war to escalate for this very reason. Orcs are a strange species with extremes of potential—though we hold technological and civilizational advantages, our awkward population size means if true combat breaks out, orcs will not be defenseless.”

“Ah?”

Dick looked at this female hunter who often stared at him with a strange gaze and spoke in a scattered way, confused.

“When did I say I want to destroy the Shadowmoon Clan? I only said we cannot allow this threat to persist. Do you think your ancestors were heartless executioners?”

“???”

Shantuk was stunned.

She hadn’t expected this “dog saint” to turn the tables on her.

So you’re not the butcher, meaning you didn’t burn those orcs alive in Ambori Village before, right?

But she couldn’t show this emotion and only apologized, “Sorry, I misunderstood you. So, what’s your plan?”

“The Shadowmoon Clan has clearly split, child.”

Dick narrowed his eyes and said,

“Remember the shadow flames we saw in Ambori Village? That’s not normal power—that is void shadow that corrodes elements. If the Shadowmoon Clan truly worships elements and ancestral spirits as you say, they would not use such dangerous shadow powers on a large scale.

Yet you personally witnessed the Shadowmoon warlocks’ methods just now—they have practiced this power for a long time.

You must understand that in any faith-based group, disputes between new and old factions are often fierce. The Shadowmoon Clan cannot convince all shamans to accept void powers, meaning some traditionalists will never yield to new trends.

They have effectively split!”

The Sentinel looked toward the distant Shadowmoon fortress and said,

“We must find those orthodox shamans unwilling to submit to corruption. Old Velen wishes to resolve the conflict through negotiation. I understand his concerns and the correctness of this choice, but he hasn’t found a truly suitable negotiator.

If the Shadowmoon shamans hold such high status among orcs, we should engage through them!

Orcs have clearly been tempted by demons!

Therefore, we must assist orcs in a ‘restoration of order,’ helping the innocent resist internal corruption, just as we did when eradicating the Awakener cult—separating the fallen from the pure arcane practitioners.

We must not resort to blanket collective punishment. This concerns the future of two species. Blind hostility will only drive neutrals to our opposition.”

The female hunter’s eyes widened. After a few seconds, she whispered in shock,

“You intend to sow division within orc civilization? To make peaceful orcs fight mad orcs?”

“Uh, why does ‘pursuing peace’ sound so sinister coming from you?”

Dick shook his head and said,

“You really should read the holy scriptures more often to cleanse your mind, child. I’m merely proposing a tactical approach from a diplomatic perspective to support Velen’s peace treaty.

We did this during the Second Co-governance Era.”

“That was twenty-five thousand years ago, Saint. I understand those times seem like yesterday to you, but to us, they are as distant as myths.”

Shantuk sighed softly, “I was born on the path of exile, never saw Argus’s landscapes, much less learned the ‘ancient wisdom’ you speak of.

But honestly, Archbishop Nari has always praised you as an outstanding ‘strategist.’ Everyone thought it was her way of romanticizing her late husband, but it turns out she was just stating the truth.”

(Page 2/3)

“Wait!”

Dick’s voice suddenly rose several octaves as he glared at Shantuk and scolded,

“What do you mean ‘Nari’s late husband’? Explain yourself! No running!”

“Ah, Saint, I suddenly remembered I must fulfill my scout duties. I need to use the cover of night to scout outside the Shadowmoon fortress for tomorrow’s mission and locate our captured comrades.”

The slip of the tongue made the female hunter leap away like a rabbit, activating her cheetah guardian and vanishing with two backflips.

She knew she was in deep trouble.

After all, the matter of the archbishop’s “late husband” was a joke only whispered among the ranger enclave sisters.

Officially, Draenei society had never acknowledged the romance between the archbishop and the sentinel. Even over twenty-five thousand years, fan-made love stories about “General Diakum x Archbishop Nari” had been endlessly recycled.

There were even some rather racy fanbooks featuring them as protagonists.

Normally, such portrayals of heroes would be severely punished, but in the Eredar era, this race had long struggled with population growth. If these exaggerated fanbooks and fabricated but beautiful love stories helped the Draenei produce more children, then Diakum and Nari had actually done a good deed.

That was the awkward reality.

This reality left even Saint Dick helpless.

He flicked his strong tail in frustration, using the sturdy golden tail cuff to decapitate a wild “Merciless Executioner” by the roadside, venting his anger. Then he strode into the provisional camp of the guards.

Merchant Dana was energetically selling her wares to the guards.

She truly had excellent goods!

Upon hearing of the orc harassment of the Draenei, the savvy merchant had imported a batch of high-quality crystal-forged weapons from Shattrath City, intending to sell them to pilgrims along the route for self-defense. Now, unexpectedly, she had a group of elite guards about to embark on a mission—a fortunate coincidence.

Dana had it all planned!

Once the sentinel used her weapons to defeat the Shadowmoon rioters, her assistants would promote their signboard and expand into the armor and weapon sales trade, advertising, “Top-notch weapons even the sentinel endorses!”

Wow, that was a godsend for advertising!

Best of all, she wasn’t lying. Even the strictest universal advertising laws couldn’t fault her.

“So, where’s the best sword in the village?”

Dick asked. Dana, who had just sold two crystal-forged spears to the guards as throwing weapons, turned immediately. With a respectful expression, she personally lifted the lid of a weapon chest behind her and gestured politely to the sentinel.

The general approached and glanced inside. There lay a massive Eredar-style battle axe.

Its blade was forged from an alloy and crystal using Eredar craftsmanship, with molten crystal shaped into a sharp, elegant curved edge. This was clearly a magical weapon. Below the main blade floated two crystal blades, combining to form a brutal weapon with devastating power.

Adorned with purple crystals, the handle was of moderate length, perfect for a two-handed grip by an Eredar warrior for savage close combat decapitations.

Dick recognized it instantly as a standard-issue elite weapon for Eredar guards.

“I saw many guards wielding such weapons in Mac’Aree.”

Dick stroked the weapon with a hint of nostalgia and softly asked,

“Does it have a name?”

“Yes, Saint.”

At this moment, Dana’s clever face showed a trace of sadness. She softly said,

“My father brought only this weapon when fleeing our homeland. It is said he used this battle axe to escort my grandmother and mother onto the Naaru’s ship. Though he died thousands of years ago defending the ship from a demon ambush, I have kept it as my family’s heirloom and remembrance of our homeland.

Yes.

Saint, its name is ‘Legacy.’”

“A fine name, though somewhat tender for a weapon.”

Dick reached out and lifted the battle axe single-handedly—a weapon normally requiring two hands for an ordinary Eredar. When he infused it with holy light, the crystal blade and edges gleamed brilliantly. Such excellent energy conduction was clearly the craftsmanship of Mac’Aree’s master jewelers—authentic indeed!

At the same time, the weapon’s attributes appeared before Dick’s eyes:

[
Weapon Name: Legacy
Weapon Type: Classic Eredar Style Standard-Issue Double-Bladed Battle Axe
Weapon Quality: Masterwork · Epic
Weapon Traits: Durable · Sharp · Superior Energy Conduction
Maker: Forging Workshop under the Council of Regents’ Technology Court
Item Description:
[High collectible value, moderate practicality. Considering it lacks reliable weapon effects, my advice is to make do with it. Nowadays, there are few mortal weapons that can match your strength.

But try not to break it—after all, the merchant lady is already prepared to squeeze some coin from the saint.

Wow, truly a clever and bold soul.]
]

“Good weapon. I will not dishonor your father’s courage or your family legacy, child.”

Dick swung the battle axe twice.

Although it still felt somewhat light, it was much better than ordinary weapons.

But Dana’s surprises did not end with the weapon. The astute merchant opened another chest, revealing a full set of eight-piece Draenei-style armor.

Hmm, how to distinguish Eredar style from Draenei style?

They were quite similar; the latter was simpler, lacking the exaggerated, gem-studded splendor of the Eredar style—reflecting the exiles’ frugal customs.

This armor was a typical example—no crystals decorating it, but still following Eredar aesthetic principles.

Dick touched the dusty armor and turned to Dana, saying,

“I guess this armor has a story worth hearing?”

“Hmm, not really. It’s from my ex-boyfriend.”

Dana flicked her tail awkwardly and said,

“That guy cheated on me with my cousin, got caught red-handed, and after ruining his reputation in several nearby towns, reportedly fled to Faralun to become an archaeologist.”

“Wait! You’re only two hundred years old, right?”

Dick was stunned for a moment, then sternly said,

“At our age, close relationships with the opposite sex are strictly forbidden. Your bodies are not yet developed enough to bear healthy offspring! That’s irresponsible.”

“Ah, heavens! Holy Light!”

Dana covered her face in despair and said,

“You sound exactly like my mother. But the problem is, my mother—who is over twenty thousand years old—just last month found me an ‘uncle’ barely over three hundred, and she’s enthusiastically planning for me to have a younger brother or sister.

She intends to accomplish this over five hundred years. She’s a contemporary of yours.

Every time I return home, she nags me about how, back in Mac’Aree, the young and beautiful her stood by the roadside scattering petals for your triumphant return, and you even winked at her.

I mean, we’ve been exiled so long, Saint.

Could you stop imposing ancient rules from tens of thousands of years ago on today’s youth?

You know, Lords Velen and Hadon both worry so much about our people’s difficulty in reproducing that they’re going bald. I’m one of the few willing to date and have children—a prized catch in their eyes.”

This exchange made several guards nearby suppress laughter, and Dick didn’t know how to respond to such a cultural gap.

(Page 3/3)

He could only sigh like an old man out of touch with the times, lamenting the decline of the world, then shifted his focus back to the armor. As before, glowing runes appeared before his eyes:

[
Armor Name: Tahamath Defender’s Sacred Armor
Armor Quality: Fine / Epic
Armor Traits: Blessed Armor · Enhanced Defense
Special Effects:
[3/8]: Slightly increases armor value
[5/8]: Slightly boosts radiant energy recovery speed
[8/8]: Grants passive skill [Blessing of the Tahamath Saint], enhancing holy spell effects and greatly increasing armor value.
Maker: Craftsmen of the Tahamath Followers
Item Description:
[Tahamath was a Draenei saint, yes, someone like you!

But unlike you, who awakens after twenty thousand years to fight again, he sacrificed himself protecting the people on an unknown world, leaving only legends and a revered saint’s name.

So wear this commemorative armor with dignity—don’t disgrace the saintly order, got it?

See the orcs in the Shadowmoon fortress?

Go!

Slaughter them all!

Offer a grand blood sacrifice to the Holy Light, dedicate their skulls to the Seat of the Holy!

Then lead the veterans of the Argus Hand on a punitive crusade through this wretched world! General Warbringer, we revere you!]
]

“You’re truly complicated,” Dick thought, weary of the weapon’s ridiculous description.

Still, for fine-quality armor, this set’s attributes were quite good—at least better than the lightforged gear he received twenty-five thousand years ago, which had been compromised by corrupt officials.

This showed that the Draenei’s craftsmanship had improved during exile.

“I’ll take this armor too.”

Dick turned to Dana and said,

“If I see your ex-boyfriend, I’ll give him a stern talking-to on your behalf.”

“You’d better kick him hard in the third leg for me.”

Dana said irritably,

“That bastard claimed my cousin was better than me, cough cough. I won’t say such filthy words in front of you. This armor needs resizing. I’ll take it to the smith, but since it’s magical armor, adjustments are easier. You can wear it in battle by tomorrow morning.”

After speaking, Dana bowed politely, then left with her assistant, grinning slyly.

Ah, the plan is working!

The saint accepted the weapons she offered—now the sign “Endorsed by the Sentinel” could be made in advance.

She was about to make a fortune!

She would become as wealthy as the Void Lords’ Nexus Princes! She would be a universe-class magnate! Go, Dana!

Dick ignored the merchant’s ulterior motives, chatted briefly with the guards, instructed them to rest well, then prepared to return to the village to fulfill his priestly duty: delivering a sermon to soothe the villagers’ wounded spirits.

But just as he left the camp, he saw Iriel rush out, panic-stricken. Upon seeing Saint Dick, she ran to him, tearfully saying,

“Saint, my sister Samara has been captured! I thought she was hiding in her room, but I couldn’t find her anywhere. It was Dana who told me she saw Samara, who had come back to report, being seized by several orcs outside the village amidst the chaos.

She must have been taken back to the Shadowmoon fortress.

It’s all my fault!

I sent her back alone to report. If she had stayed with me—

Heavens!

Samara is naturally weak. She won’t survive harsh torture. I must rescue her immediately!”

“If that child had stayed with you, I wouldn’t have been able to save her either.”

Dick shook his head and said,

“It’s not your fault. It’s just cruel fate not allowing the beauty of this world to endure. Don’t worry, child, we will find Samara. At dawn tomorrow, we will set out to the Shadowmoon fortress to rescue her!”

“Just us?”

Iriel sighed,

“There aren’t enough of us. There are too many orcs there. Samara always liked making friends with Shadowmoon orcs. She even has an orc girl friend who is an apprentice priestess in the Shadowmoon Clan. They often stargaze together at night.”

“We won’t be alone, because the Holy Light never lets its warriors walk alone.”

Dick looked toward the path from Ambori Village to the Karabo Shrine and said,

“The desecration of the Holy Reliquary has already happened. If those in the Karabo temple do not react, they do not deserve to lead our people. Be patient. At dawn, at least one reinforcement will arrive.

Prepare yourself, rookie Iriel.

This will be your first true war. Honor your sister, and honor your Holy Light.”

——————

“Hurry! Faster!”

On the night road, a commander rode a battle Tabu sheep, shouting to the hundreds of cavalry following behind,

“Archbishop Akama orders us to reach Ambori Village before dawn. We must ensure the Sentinel’s safety. These orcs are courting death—ah! Holy Light, may you send down purifying fire to burn these troublesome bastards.

I dare not imagine what will happen if this news reaches Telmor City and awakens those fanatical veterans.”

“No need to awaken the veterans, sir.”

The commander’s adjutant sighed,

“You saw Captain Malrad’s furious face—the kind that would devour anyone in rage. I’ve followed him for so long, but this was the first time I saw his anger boil over.”

“That’s obvious.”

The commander sneered,

“That Sentinel is regarded like a father by Captain Malrad and his sister, especially after their great mother fell ill and passed. He is their only family now.

Bah!

Those stupid orcs destroyed everything themselves.”

“Sir, as a guard officer, you shouldn’t swear. Though everyone thinks so, bah, the Great Prophet has worked hard to broker peace, but this sudden incident might ruin it all. War on Draenor might now be inevitable.”

“Ah, let the Holy Light punish my blasphemy. I’m tired—let it all be destroyed.”

(End of chapter)