10. Being able to make a date two thousand years late—you truly are a prodigy! 【Rapid Update 13/50】

Appearing as a projection within the Shadowmoon Sanctum, the defiler Cenarius babbled on, trumpeting the invincibility of the Burning Legion. However, neither of the two "listeners" present had any mood to listen to this Destroyer's sermon.

Ner'zhul realized he had been used as a pawn by the demons, having already made a catastrophic mistake within orc civilization through a series of terrible actions.

At this moment, he was in absolute agony.

Meanwhile, the Sentinel Saint was looking up and down at this alternate timeline's defiler, his mind currently swirling with a storm of various inspirations.

The leader of Azeroth's wild demigods, an outstanding representative of the prime force of life, one of the most important guardians of the Kaldorei lunar realm, and the prime source of the druidic heritage—the Forest Lord Cenarius—had actually been corrupted by fel energy!

And he was brazenly serving as a demonic lord within the Burning Legion. First, this indicated that the War of the Ancients ten thousand years ago had proceeded as scheduled, but with unexpected results. Second, the ripples caused by the wings he, this butterfly, had flapped on Argus were by no means restricted to the Eredar.

The history of Azeroth had already been astonishingly altered, indirectly due to his participation.

The appearance of the defiler Cenarius signaled that the "Dark Portal official history" in his mind had been officially invalidated at this very moment—another cruel joke played upon him, the hand of fate, by an unwilling destiny. Yet, this time, the joke was clearly played on a bit too grand a scale.

The good news was that this mighty fel demigod was still babbling on about the "Burning Crusade," which indicated that their invasion of the world of Azeroth launched ten thousand years ago had not succeeded.

That world, which harbored the Supreme World-Soul, was the "destination" planned by the Dark Titan for the Burning Crusade.

Azeroth still existed, and the Supreme World-Soul had not yet been destroyed.

The bad news was that if even someone as deeply respected among the life-domain wild demigods as Cenarius had been corrupted by the Burning Legion, it sufficiently proved that the tragedy of the War of the Ancients ten thousand years ago exceeded Dick's imagination. Perhaps the entire group of wild demigods had suffered a terrifying blow.

What about the night elf Kaldorei lunar realm, then?

Did they still exist?

If the lunar realm failed to survive ten thousand years ago, then when the Burning Legion launched its second invasion of Azeroth, which faction would step up to bear the brunt of resisting the demons?

Hmm.

Various questions swirled in the Sentinel's mind, giving him a splitting headache. He then looked down at Ner'zhul, who lay there like a corpse, and finally fixed his gaze upon the defiler's projection.

He said:

"So, Kil'jaeden and Sathrovarr were unwilling to participate in the hunt for the Eredar, so they found a scum like you to shoulder this heavy responsibility? Everything happening in the world of Draenor is being orchestrated behind the scenes by you, an otherworldly bastard?"

"Ah, truly the die-hard scum left behind on Argus."

Cenarius said with an arrogant and cold voice:

"You guessed the thoughts of your scum brethren all at once. The Conqueror Kil'jaeden and the Forger Sathrovarr both have their own little schemes in this great crusade; they haven't the slightest clue how to lead the Supreme Master's army of destruction. They foolishly dispatched that idiot Mannoroth to carry out the hunt, but its stupidity had long since enraged the Dark Titan, so I stepped upon this path of grand enterprise!

I! The defiler of the stars! The witherer of all things! I am truly honored to personally complete the cause that they resisted.

The Antoran clan, the Atama clan, the Jadedni clan...

The number of Eredar sanctuaries destroyed by my own hands exceeds your pathetic imagination, and the destruction of your Draenai clans is a foregone conclusion. Velen and Haddon's skulls shall become yet another proof of the Burning Legion's glorious achievements.

Yet now, there is one more name on my list!

You!

'The Sentinel' Diacum Justinis, your skull shall become my proudest collection. I shall prove with facts that only an outstanding defiler such as myself is worthy of the promotion personally bestowed by Lord Sargeras."

"You actually feel a sense of glory being someone's dog."

Dick stared at him, frowning as he said:

"In other words, every debt has its debtor, and for the past ten thousand years, you have been acting as the executioner for the Eredar exiles, is that right?

Very well, defiler Cenarius. When you lead your demonic host to set foot upon this world, I shall await you here. I shall let you experience firsthand why the demons of over twenty thousand years ago terrifiedly called me the 'Butcher of the Holy Light.'

Remember to bring a few more 'old friends' along to join in the grand event when the time comes, so that your demise can have a bit of a sense of ritual.

Get lost!

Demon, spouting harsh words here only demonstrates your ignorance and ridiculousness. But I have one last question: you, defiler, which world do you actually come from? Has the decayed death plague you wield already spread to your homeland?"

"Regrettably, not yet."

The defiler's hideous, demon-forged body laughed uproariously as it vanished into the vortex of fel energy.

Amidst the收敛 (contraction) of that striking ink-green corrosive radiance, it said:

"But not for long. I am also looking forward to returning to my homeland in the near future with a more glorious posture.

Of course, I shall take your head along with me. I will let you see with your own eyes what a magnificent posture the Legion you have always resisted now possesses, and how brilliant the sea of stars ignited by us is.

If you still possess a shred of sanity, Diacum, if you truly wish to protect your people, then the time left for you to make the right decision is running short."

"Hum—"

The fel radiance gathered at this moment into a flickering and dimming arc of light, leaving extinguished light spots in the eyes of the two. Afterward, the entire Shadowmoon Sanctum plunged into dead silence. Following the successive eruptions of the Holy Light and fel energy here, the void power that had originally entwined this place had quietly dissipated.

This was a good thing.

It receded some of the filth from this once-sacred place, and also spared Dick the trouble of having to clean it up all over again.

He bent down and, hoisting Ner'zhul up like an old chicken—the despairing and heavily wounded orc—the latter muttered to himself:

"Kill me. Execute me, this sinner of a hundred generations. I have failed my clan; I have led them into the abyss of demons... I have lost all my honor, and I am no longer worthy to live."

"Hmm, wanting to die now might be a bit late, Your Excellency."

Dick ridiculed:

"The Holy Light has instructed me to bring you back from this cruel destiny of destruction, Ner'zhul. The heavy responsibility you must bear next is a hundred times more terrifying than death, but you have no right to refuse!

Knowing that a grave mistake has been made, you should pick up the mindset of righting the wrongs. Things haven't deteriorated to the point where an old orc needs to sacrifice himself just to win a glimmer of survival. At least from my perspective, the current situation is much easier than the kind of 'fight or die' scenarios we faced over twenty thousand years ago.

Let me ask you, do you know what your good disciple Gul'dan is currently planning to do?"

"That demonic lackey of his and his Shadow Council are planning something extremely dangerous! You, Draenai, you must stop him!"

Ner'zhul regained his wits at this instant.

He grabbed Dick's wrist with his remaining strength, crying out and pleading:

"You must stop him! Otherwise, the war that will erupt between the orcs and the Draenai will leave no room for any turning back."

"Very well, knowing what he is about to do is enough."

Dick tossed a ball of healing Holy Light onto Ner'zhul, saying:

"Get up yourself and leave with me. Since you also want to stop this war manipulated by demons, then behave yourself properly from now on!

First, stop the Shadow Council from completing those dangerous undertakings; first, eliminate the scourge among mortals, and then find a way to deal with the threat of the Burning Legion. The demons roaming the sea of stars are not as terrifying as you think.

They can be resisted and they can be defeated, provided that this world must be united—not just the Draenai or the orcs, but the power of the entire world must be united together!

This is what I am going to do next, Ner'zhul, and I need your assistance."

The Sentinel stood up and said:

"There is still some time; you can consider it yourself, sinner."

Sinner.

This unique designation was like a heavy shackle, causing Ner'zhul's just-straightened body to collapse once more in this instant.

---

Male orcs inherently had a tendency toward hunchbacks due to their physical structure. Coupled with Ner'zhul's aging and his current weakness, he looked truly elderly at this moment, just like someone with one foot already stepping into the coffin.

He looked as though he could collapse at any moment, but it couldn't be now!

The things Gul'dan had done to his clan, the things Gul'dan was about to do to the entire orc civilization, and the disasters he wanted to unleash in this world—all of this left Ner'zhul mentally exhausted and filled with remorse.

If not for his initial indulgence and blind trust, Gul'dan, a limping wanderer who had lost his clan, could never have acquired so much power in such a short time. Many people had warned him clearly, but under the influence of "Rulkan," he had lost the foresight and vigilance a chieftain ought to possess.

Half of all the sins committed by Gul'dan belonged to him!

Now, as a sinner, he had no qualification to pray for a swift and painless death. He had to stop everything he had personally triggered, and then walk through the remainder of his life bearing those pains and guilts, in the hope of earning the forgiveness of the ancestor spirits.

No!

He no longer possessed the qualification to beg for forgiveness.

Ner'zhul tremblingly picked up the broken Shadowmoon Prophet's staff from the ground.

He looked at those silent stone pillars in the darkness around him. Those sacred relics once used for consoling the spirits were gazing at him with cold eyes, like countless orc ancestors suspended in the darkness, speaking not a word yet rebuking him with an attitude of censure.

For a shaman, this was definitely the most terrifying punishment.

He practically stumbled as he fled the place, lacking even the courage to make a promise to those ancestors who had grown utterly disappointed in him.

Shame and pain crushed him, driving this exhausted soul to absolute agony.

"Clank."

The stone gates of the sanctum fell a few seconds later, completely sealing this place off from the outside world.

Before those heavy stone gates, Ner'zhul knelt and wept silently. The ugly spectacle of an old, muddled, and weak orc displaying such behavior was truly unbearable to watch. The Sentinel knew this old fellow needed some time, so he walked toward the exit.

He didn't care what Ner'zhul was thinking at the moment; he just needed this guy to pull himself together.

At the present node where war was about to break out, Ner'zhul's existence was absolutely necessary. The brutal Horde of official history had not yet fully formed at this time; the first Warchief Blackhand had just been chosen and had yet to establish his rule, the various clans did not fully obey him, and the fiercest batch of legendary chieftains among the orcs had not yet drunk the demon blood.

They could still be saved...

But if things were delayed any longer, the foundation of the orcs as a civilization would completely collapse.

These brown-skinned fellows would experience a collapse even more desperate and painful than the Eredar, and then embark upon their "exile" under an even more pitiful identity. What was worse, this exile would directly impact another world, making an already dire situation go from bad to worse.

"Come to think of it, the difficulty of accomplishing this is quite high. Should I just go to Telmor to summon the ten-thousand-year veterans of the Hand of Argus, reorganize my legion, and launch a grand crusade to purge Draenor, wiping out all the orcs who drank the demon blood?"

Dick narrowed his eyes, thinking thus:

"That might perhaps... be a bit faster."

As the Hand of Fate chosen by the Holy Light, harboring such a thought was somewhat horrifying, but fortunately, Dick was merely thinking it. The current situation was bad, but not yet bad enough for him to transform into the "Butcher of the Holy Light."

There was still hope for them all!

Provided that he was fast enough.

He stepped past the stone steps of the Shadowmoon Caves, turning onto the path leading away from here, when he unexpectedly saw another figure leaping down from the large platform ahead as he rounded a bend.

She walked with nimble strides, wielding a hunting halberd crafted from gemstones and some kind of ferocious beast's tusk, with a sapphire battle bow slung across her back. On the platform behind her lay a giant scavenger worm, heavily corrupted by void power.

That thing looked like an armored giant serpent, and heaven knew how long it had lived in this dark cavern.

Being able to single-handedly fight such a ferocious beast, the martial prowess of the lady before him was evidently quite terrifying.

The moment Dick saw her, High Prelate Nari, who had just jumped down from the stone platform, also caught sight of the giant man enveloped in a holy, faint glow.

Her gaze froze into a daze at this moment, carrying even a trace of panic and helplessness. Her lithe and agile body also halted its movements; due to excessive shock, she even dropped her hunting sacred artifact, "Red-Throat's Fang," onto the ground.

With a thud, it pierced straight through the rock, demonstrating the terrifying destructive power of the item.

"Hi, Nari."

Dick wore a gentle smile, raising a hand to wave at his old friend. Suppressing the inner excitement and yearning, he tried to joke in as calm a voice as possible, but his trembling vocal cords betrayed his true thoughts.

He called out:

"We finally meet. Seeing that you still have all your limbs intact, I'm truly..."

"Thud."

The other party lunged forward like a shell out of a cannon, crashing into the Saint's embrace with a rocket-headbutt posture.

She seemed to want to use this method to confirm whether the fellow before her truly existed, or if it was merely another illusion she occasionally saw in her dreams over the past twenty-five thousand years.

She hugged him tightly.

A legendary ranger's strength was not insignificant, even causing Dick to feel a trace of compression and suffocation. Yet he did not blame her; instead, he extended both arms to wrap around Nari, drawing the girl—who had been separated from him for over twenty thousand years—into his embrace, just as she was embracing him.

The cave, still lingering with chilling power, grew quiet at this moment.

Dick could even hear the rapid beating of her heart within her chest, that exaggerated frequency representing the unmasked release of a certain emotion.

"I'm back."

He lowered his head, pressing his smooth chin against Nari's long hair, and spoke softly:

"Though the wait was a bit long, you are no longer alone."

"Ah—"

This response jolted Nari back to her senses. Only then did she realize how ambiguous their current state was, and she hurriedly reached out to push the Saint away, her face flushed red as she argued loudly:

"Th-this is merely a... welcome for a resurrected comrade from wars past!

Right!

This is merely welcoming the great Sentinel back among our people during this precarious moment. You have no idea how dangerous the situation we face now is—just like the Great Evacuation of Argus twenty-five thousand years ago.

That is no exaggeration!

The Prelate Council has already realized that war is imminent, and we are making our final preparations. But your return at this time is undoubtedly the enlightenment of the Holy Light!

Dick, the people need your leadership!

Just like the responsibilities you shouldered in that war of the past."

The Prelate spoke a long string of words, while Dick simply maintained his gentle smile and listened. After she finished speaking, Dick nodded and said:

"Mm, I'm glad to see you too."

"Damn you! I'm talking to you about serious matters."

The Prelate's cheeks grew even redder and hotter.

She sensed something strange in Dick's eyes, which made her somewhat ashamed to meet his gaze.

Yet their reunion had arrived so abruptly, as if fate intentionally refused to give her any more time to react, causing all those chaotic emotions in her mind to surge forward at this moment like a rushing flood about to breach the dikes of her sanity.

Taking advantage of turning around to retrieve her weapon to calm herself down, she then took a deep breath, turned her head, and said to Dick:

"Your actions today were truly irresponsible. Although I know your martial prowess, entering an enemy's lair alone is something you shouldn't be doing in your current status! If the people learned that their Saint suffered harm in the Shadowmoon Tombs, it would be of no help whatsoever to the current precarious situation...

Wait!

There's a sound behind us!

Come over here, Dick!"

---

Nari alertly grabbed her hunting halberd, leaped nimbly in two or three steps to Dick's side, and watched the cave that was making noise behind them. Under her gaze, Ner'zhul walked out haltingly, leaning on a broken bone staff, which made Nari narrow her eyes.

She glanced at Dick, and the latter nodded to her, saying:

"We must bring Chieftain Ner'zhul to the Karabor Temple. He has witnessed the mastermind behind all these dark plots firsthand with the aid of the Holy Light.

It's the demons, Nari.

The Burning Legion did not give up hunting us during the Draenai's two hundred years of peaceful tranquility. They patiently waited for our people to drop their guard, and then intended to use the orcs as a tool to slaughter us in this inescapable world.

I had intended to say that you, the Ranger Prelate, were somewhat too slack, failing to discover the threat in advance, but facts have proven that the truth behind this matter is more complex than I imagined.

This is not entirely your fault.

Now, let's leave here.

Return to Embaari Village first, and then we will discuss the next steps. Besides, do you know why, upon waking up and knowing full well that Velen was at the Karabor Temple, I chose to contact you first?"

"I understand," Nari said in a low, serious tone:

"News of the Sentinel's sacred sarcophagus being moved was only notified to Embaari Village and the Vindicators, yet the orcs obtained the intelligence and set up an ambush in advance. That alone explains a great deal. You're right, Dick, I've grown a bit too complacent over the years...

I'm sorry, I failed the expectations you once had of me."

"Don't be foolish. What failure or non-failure? You're still alive, you're still fighting, and you haven't given up yet—that alone is a great comfort to me. Pay no mind to what I instructed Shanthuk to tell you earlier; that was merely hoping your response time would be faster."

Dick patted the Prelate's shoulder, saying:

"Let's head back first. Ner'zhul's injuries are severe; did you bring a flying mount?"

"Mm, my spirit drake is just outside. Follow me!"

In work mode, Nari was just as crisp and decisive as Dick remembered. She led the two out of the Shadowmoon Caves, and right at the entrance, Dick spotted those Shadowmoon warlocks slaughtered by arrows and bullets.

Those fellows seemed intent on summoning something here, but their ritual had been interrupted by Nari. A heavy sulfur smell still lingered in the spot, and the orcs used as sacrifices had suffered severe fel corruption.

Considering that Dick had been inside the Shadowmoon Caves all along, and this sanctum had no second exit, what those warlocks were trying to do went without saying.

The orcs in this vicinity had first been culled by a wave when Dick rushed in, and then, after gathering to perform evil deeds, they ran into Nari who had rushed to the rescue and were culled yet again. To say the entrance to the sanctum was running with blood was no exaggeration at all.

However, the orcs under Gul'dan's command were truly unhinged; seeing people emerge, they roared and charged forward into battle again.

"Don't entangle with them!"

Dick pressed down on Nari's hand as she reached for her battle bow, saying:

"Let's fall back first. You summon the spirit drake, and I'll hold them off."

With that, the Saint casually picked up a discarded halberd nearby and charged out. The blazing, scorching radiance of the revived Holy Light instantly flooded the area; the Harbinger of the Rising Sun's unreserved release of light and heat made it difficult for even the bone-constructs unleashed by the orcs to draw near.

Nari successfully used her dragon-whistle to call down her loyal spirit drake. She pushed Ner'zhul onto the saddle and was about to call Dick over when she noticed that the fellow showed no intention of leaving whatsoever.

The Prelate initially wanted to scold this reckless Saint, but then a bizarre possibility crossed her mind.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Nari turned back to Ner'zhul and said:

"Go to Embaari Village by yourself. The Saint says you are important, and he and his Vindicators also rescued those Shadowmoon orcs tortured by the warlocks—those people, even in their darkest despair, believed you could set things right.

If you don't want to disappoint them, and if you truly repent, wait for us in Embaari Village!

You can also run away, orc!

Let's see if I can catch you again after I finish my business."

"I will not run anymore."

Ner'zhul clutched his still-bleeding wound, speaking in a low voice:

"I shall shoulder my duty. Lastly... I wish you two a smooth 'date.' Heh heh, I was once young too... Go on quickly, don't let a lonely and burning heart be neglected."

"Huh?"

Nari wide-eyed glared angrily at this babbling old orc, but the latter only cast a subtle glance at her and then at the Draenai Saint in the distance. As an orc deeply acquainted with matters of the heart, how could he fail to perceive the bizarre emotional undertones between these two that needed no words to express?

"Go on, Flash, take him to Embaari Village."

Nari patted her spirit drake.

The clever beast let out a couple of soft cries, licked Nari's finger with its tongue, and then flapped its huge, butterfly-like wings to lift off into the air, accelerating until it vanished into the clouds.

Just seconds after the spirit drake flew off, the Saint who had been fiercely slaying enemies a moment before walked back to Nari's side amidst a heap of freshly minted ashes, wearing an expression of regret that seemed to say, "Oh dear, how unfortunate, I missed the final evacuation."

The Prelate stared at him. Dick casually tossed the halberd aside and asked:

"Do you know why I sought you out first after waking up?"

"I already answered that question, Dick. Did you sleep so long that you've developed senile dementia?"

Nari chided him.

Dick shrugged. Under Nari's wide-eyed stare, he leaned down and kissed her pristine forehead, then murmured in her ear:

"Let me tell you a secret: during all those years I slumbered, I could still hear the outside world. I knew there was a girl who, whenever she had time, would stand outside my sarcophagus and say some strange things. So, tell me, Nari."

He asked:

"On the day the Genedar crashed, those words you failed to finish at the very end... I mean, those two words... I really want to know."

"Are you out of your mind?"

Nari pushed the Saint away with a blazing red face, saying:

"We are currently in an orc fortress, with several thousand corrupted orcs out there who have gone mad and want to choke the life out of us. Are you certain you want to ask about this right now? Can you do something serious!"

"Compared to serious matters, I merely wish to complete a date that has been delayed for twenty-five thousand years."

Dick whistled, calling his sacred steed forth from a burst of shining light.

He vaulted onto the mount, extended a hand toward Nari, and invited:

"I know a place nearby with truly wonderful scenery, and dusk happens to have arrived. So, brave and dashing ranger lady, would you care to accompany an old man who has slept for over twenty thousand years to appreciate the sunset?"

Looking at the hand extended before her, Nari bit her lip. She took Dick's hand, allowing herself to be pulled up onto the steed, seating herself right in front of Dick in an embrace-like posture.

She said:

"The situation is dire; we are returning immediately after watching the sunset! We both have work to do."

"No,"

the Sentinel shook his head, saying:

"Let all serious matters go to hell. Tonight, even the will of the Holy Light must take second place to you. Hold on tight, I'm accelerating."

(End of Chapter)