12. A butterfly flaps its wings to shape the crater of destiny, burying that old fogey, the Vigilant.

"The Vigilant and High Prelate Nari have returned!"

At the break of dawn, the female hunter Santuk, who had been keeping watch outside Emperi Village, rushed into the rangers' resting quarters to share the good news. She said excitedly, "The two commanders must have fought their way out of the orcs' heavy encirclement to make it back. Although it is not yet dawn and quite dark, I could still see the wounds upon them. Both are utterly exhausted.

"The Prelate's armor is battered beyond recognition; one can tell at a glance that they endured a fierce battle! They must have thoroughly crushed the orcs!"

"Oh, a 'fierce battle,' is it?"

Yura, the rangers' second-in-command and a veteran of ten thousand years, rolled her eyes. As she quickly packed away a card game from the table, she seized the opportunity to tear an unseemly paper strip off her own face and remarked to her gambling brothers and sisters, "Well, shouldn't we hurry out to welcome them? Santuk, go prepare hot water right away and fetch a clean set of clothes. I reckon the Prelate will want to bathe the moment she returns."

"Huh?"

The young yet fiercely brave female hunter was dumbfounded. Puzzled, she asked, "Shouldn't wounded people be treated first? What kind of logic is bathing straight away? Aren't they afraid of wound infections?"

"Just go and prepare it as you're told. A ranger lacking a sharp eye will find it hard to get promoted! The most important thing in our line of work is learning to read the room. Trust me, you can't go wrong!

"An old senior wouldn't lead you astray, would she?"

Yura did not want to explain too much.

After all, she needed to preserve a little face for her superior. But when she finally laid eyes on High Prelate Nari, even with nerves tempered into extraordinary resilience by over twenty thousand years of exile, the elite ranger still couldn't help letting out a gasp:

"This is way too exaggerated, isn't it? Just how many rounds did you two do? How did you end up looking like this?"

"Shut your mouth!"

Nari glared fiercely at her subordinate, who had been notorious for speaking without thinking ever since their days back on their homeworld of Argus.

Had they not partnered up way back during their days in the Assassin's Tribunal, and had a deep bond not formed over so many years, Yura's bad habit of running her mouth would have gotten her exiled to the frontier or assigned to "guard the rear" on some perilous mission long ago.

"Come here and support me."

The Prelate uttered these words in a low voice. Yura hurried forward to steady the frail Nari, only to immediately notice the exaggerated hickeys on the Prelate's neck, before catching a glimpse of what also appeared to be redness and swelling around her tail.

"Too extreme."

Yura sighed as though her pupils were undergoing an earthquake:

"Even just looking is enough to tell me how fierce the 'battle' was. Truly worthy of the 'Holy Spear' Dick, leaving even a legendary ranger completely unable to defend herself... Please wait a moment, Prelate; Santuk has gone to prepare the hot water."

"You..."

Faced with Yura's untimely yet bizarrely appropriate "preparations," Nari didn't know for a moment whether to scold her or praise her.

This wretch excelled at being resourceful, which was probably why she had been able to firmly secure her position as a commander despite running her mouth for so many years.

Before long, a barrel filled with hot water was brought into the room. Nari initially wanted to chase her executive officer out so she could bathe quickly and recover her stamina—after all, she had a war council to attend shortly—but she was far too exhaustion-heavy, unable to even lift her arms, and had to rely on her "good sister" Yura to help.

Once that armor was removed, Yura's eyes widened into absolute circles.

Whoa!

Truly worthy of two tens of thousands of years of accumulated emotions; just look at the terrifying consequences triggered when that passion broke its levies! Nari was covered from head to toe in hickeys... Goodness gracious, just how starved were you two?

"Shut up!"

The Prelate issued a preemptive reprimand, blocking Yura's words. Slipping into the warm water to bathe, she finally relaxed. Her numbed body began rapidly recovering its energy, though she soon felt a lingering soreness.

Massaging her temples, she murmured softly, "And to think we already used healing spells. It really was just like fighting a war."

"What? Healing magic was brought out too?"

Yura, who was walking over with a few garments in hand, caught Nari's sigh and was "shocked" all over again. Yet she was smart enough not to run her mouth, instead mentally venting her grievances about her own good-for-nothing boyfriend.

Why couldn't ever he manage something comparable?

Speaking of which, ever since the *Genedar* crashed on Draenor, she and her boyfriend hadn't been in contact for nearly three hundred years.

Hopefully, that fellow wasn't fooling around out there. Although for the immortal Eredar, occasionally straying from the path was considered part of daily romance, Yura considered herself a relatively conservative woman.

A few minutes later, unable to resist asking a few more intimate questions, Yura fled in panicked disarray, chased out of the room by several angry bullets. Holding her head and muttering curses about how boring that old woman was, she bolted out the door intending to grab some food before returning to continue standing guard for the Prelate.

Yet by the time she cursed her way to the village kitchen, she happened to see a familiar figure sitting there, ravenously devouring leftovers.

"Oh, Brigadier Dick! Why are you eating leftovers? Didn't you call a cook to heat this up for you?"

Yura exclaimed, "You're the hero who saved Emperi Village, after all, and you're a saint."

"Shut up! Keep it down. Did you sneak over for a midnight snack too? Come on, then, I'll share some with you."

Dick casually split the leftovers he had found in half and handed them to Yura.

Unfazed, this thick-skinned individual walked over, sat down at the table, and began eating with gusto.

She and Dick were old friends.

They had cooperated back when the Wakener Cult was stirring up trouble in Oronaar, and during the subsequent Thirty-Day War, she had followed Brigadier Dick right through to the end. She was also a veteran of the Hand of Argus, still wearing her Heart of Argus pendant around her neck to this day.

Compared to the exaggerated reverence and adoration other Draenei held for Diakm, Yura's reaction was far more genuine.

After chewing down a clefthoof blood sausage, she looked left and right, then lowered her voice and asked, "So? How does Prelate Nari taste?"

"Mm, very smooth."

The saint gave a vaguely ultra-high appraisal.

This made Yura's eyes light up.

As expected, compared to a shy, ten-thousand-year-old virgin, Lord Holy Spear was far more open-minded.

Thus, she began probing into several more intimate details, leaving Dick completely speechless. He put down his spoon and looked helplessly at Yura, whose eyes were wide open and practically glowing with gossip.

"I think it's better if we don't discuss these matters. I'd rather not see you punished by Nari and sent to the frontier as a scout."

With an elderly, "I'm doing this for your own good" tone, Dick smoothly and cunningly changed the subject. He asked, "Where's your hype man? How come he's nowhere to be seen?"

"Oh, Malass? After leaving Argus, he went to the Army of the Light, and later joined the Lightforged fleet commanded by Lady X'era, running around between various Eredar refugee worlds all day long.

"On the surface, he's responsible for relaying military orders and recruiting new soldiers, but in reality, he dabbles in black-market trade to stash away some coin."

Yura casually replied, "He said he was saving up to buy a sightseeing ship from the ethereal brokers of the Nether, and that once Argus was reclaimed, he'd take me to wander the starry seas. But I figure that's probably just sweet talk from a bad man to trick me. Still, when you're out and about, you always have to leave him a bit of face, so I just pretended to believe it.

"Sigh, ever since the *Genedar* crashed on this cursed border world, I haven't been in touch with my boyfriend for over two hundred years. I'm afraid he probably thinks I'm dead."

"My condolences," Dick said offhandedly.

"But this is a chance to test your relationship, isn't it? Those steadfast Eredar remain single for long periods after losing a partner.

"However, since your boyfriend is a recruiter for the Army of the Light, he must know a great deal about the other Eredar sanctuaries. Right now, I'm very concerned about the situation in those places; tell me about it.

"Previously, inside the orc holy site, I ran into a Greater Demon who called himself the 'Defiler.' He said he has been hunting down our people all these years."

"Right! The Defiler, Cenarius—a super bastard who excels at plague and wields death!"

Yura said through gnashed teeth, "Before he showed up, the operations to hunt down our people were all managed by Kil'jaeden's lieutenant, the 'Breaker' Mannoroth. That's a doltish, brawny, big-bottomed demon leader who acts heavy-handedly without much systematic planning. Though he'd launch world invasions from time to time, they were always small-scale and controllable.

"Coupled with the protection of the Lightforged fleet and the Army of the Light, during the ten-thousand-plus years the Breaker chased us, the Burning Legion's invasions against our people never caused severe losses.

"The Defiler is different!

"He is entirely bent on the extinction of the Eredar!

"In less than two hundred years since he took power, seven Eredar sanctuary worlds have been breached and slaughtered, and an even greater number of sanctuaries were forced to migrate due to the influence of the plague demon army under his command.

"That bastard even boasts smugly of being the 'Destroyer of the Eredar,' treating it as his supreme achievement.

"That fellow aspires to become one of the Burning Legion's Demon Triumvirate, though he clearly cannot compare with veteran leaders like Kil'jaeden the Conqueror, who focuses on conquering the starry seas, or Xhul'horac—no, the Forger Xal'atath—wait, the Forger Xal'atath wasn't right, the Forger Tichondrius? No, the Forger... well, old-school leaders like Xal'atath... wait, no, the Forger was... whatever, old-school leaders like Xal'atath."

*(Author's internal self-correction: Let's keep the Eredar lore straight—Forgers, Conquerors, etc.)*

"His behavioral style is completely different from the other two demon monarchs as well. He is the purest kind of demon! Saint, every violent act associated with demons that you can possibly imagine, that Defiler has committed it!

"He takes pleasure in destruction."

"That is his mission."

Dick drank his spicy clefthoof innards soup to replenish his depleted energy, then said, "He admitted as much to me himself, saying that Kil'jaeden and Xal'atath were unwilling to press their former kin too harshly, so they specifically found him to fulfill this duty. I'm curious: does the Army of the Light know the specific origins of the Defiler, Cenarius?"

"There has been some intelligence sharing."

Yura thought for a moment and replied, "Roughly around the time the Eredar sanctuaries were being continually breached, the Army of the Light issued threat bulletins regarding the Defiler to all Eredar starry-clan factions.

"Word has it that the fellow and several of his destructive warlords hail from the very same world that was invaded by the Burning Legion—a monumental war personally directed by Kil'jaeden, with the Forger assisting from the rear.

"The Defiler is a classic example of corruption guided entirely by the hands of the Forger, marking one of the Burning Legion's most glorious victories during a grueling war of attrition.

"There are also whispers that in his native world, the Defiler used to be a distinguished World Guardian—occupying a status much like yours in the hearts of the Eredar.

"In short, they used to be good people, but now they are heinous villains.

"Still, the world they originated from was truly formidable. According to secondhand intelligence the Army of the Light obtained from the ethereals, that world withstood the Burning Legion's full-scale invasion, and even repelled the Legion after paying a horrific price.

"That is something even we and the Otaar could not accomplish."

"Oh? The Defiler has accomplices?"

Dick's interest was piqued. He gulped down his soup and asked, "Tell me in detail. Since this fellow takes pleasure in hunting and slaughtering Eredar, I don't mind delivering a dose of Eredar wrath when the opportunity arises!"

"Splendid! We need a mighty, fierce champion like you to take the field." Yura cracked her knuckles, bit into a large red sausage, and introduced further details to Dick:

"Under the Defiler's command serve three vicious greater demons as his lackeys: 'The Annihilator' Lycanthoth, who wields packs of fel-spectral wolves; 'The Shatterer' Agamaggan, who commands endless brutal strength; and 'The Nightmare Tyrant' Eranikus, who masters nightmares and corruption.

"All three of these greater demons share the crime of destroying Eredar sanctuary worlds.

"Just like their wicked master, they are stained with the blood of our kin, and the Lightforged warriors of the Army of the Light harbor a bitter, bone-deep hatred for them.

"They are also the claws and teeth the Defiler uses to tear down worlds. That cunning and wicked greater demon leader rarely shows himself in person, unless a world invasion is running into severe difficulties.

"Rumor has it that he commands a corrupt demon army forged from death, plague, and fel—made up of corrupted druids and fellows known as 'Fel Elves' who are his diehard loyalists."

"Those corrupted druid leaders shouldn't happen to be named 'Malfurion,' right?"

Dick digested this information and asked another question. Yura shook her head:

"No! I've never heard that name, but I do know the Nightmare Tyrant commands a corrupted dragonflight. Those are genuine behemoths! Nothing like those pathetic two-headed proto-drake subspecies on Draenor.

"Word is that the Army of the Light has clashed with that dragon army several times, with losses on both sides.

"In short, based on our current understanding of the Burning Legion, the Defiler's faction has become an undeniable pillar within the Demon Triumvirate. It's only a matter of time before the Defiler stands on equal footing with the Conqueror and the Forger.

"That is hardly good news for us.

"I've heard Malass say that the Defiler reportedly dislikes commanding millions of crude demons to assault a world savagely; he prefers using 'his own people.' However, that's partly because the command authority over orthodox demons rests in the hands of Kil'jaeden the Conqueror, leaving the Defiler with zero influence there, forcing him to command fringe demon legions instead.

"Although the two sides occasionally cooperate, for the most part, they mind their own business.

"According to ethereal merchants with astonishing intelligence networks, there is a power struggle among the demon monarchs as well."

"And what about the Forger?"

Dick finally brought up the question he cared about most. He said, "The Defiler formed the corrupted demon army, the Conqueror commands orthodox demons, but what about the Forger? What kind of forces does our 'old friend' have?"

"Uh, intelligence on his faction is the scarcest."

Yura sighed, "It's not that the scouts of the Army of the Light aren't competent; it's mostly that the fellow stays on Argus the vast majority of the time. He rarely takes the initiative to participate in the Burning Legion's campaigns to burn the starry seas, but every war he *does* participate in kicks up a truly exaggerated spectacle.

"As for the core of his power...

"It's the Man'ari!"

The high ranger used a complicated tone, speaking through clenched teeth:

"The Forger corrupted our noble kin with fel energy, keeping them firmly under his control.

"He claims this corruption is a form of 'protection.' Aside from a large number of high-ranking Man'ari serving as spellcasting muscle, the Forger also controls the Burning Legion's intelligence network. I hear that all Nathrezim demons and Shivarra ruin-witch priestesses report directly to him.

"The only good news is that Kil'jaeden and the Forger seem to adhere to some kind of rule.

"They don't massively and proactively invade our sanctuaries, which leads some of our kin to believe that Kil'jaeden and the Forger still harbor a shred of conscience. Those impulsive fools once tried to contact them seeking 'help.'

"The outcome, naturally, was completely akin to using meat dumplings to beat a dog—gone without a trace.

"Yet you just said you encountered a projection of the Defiler in the orc holy site?

"Ah, that explains the orcs' restless movements. Those idiots are being driven by demons to act as pawns without even realizing it, especially that jumping jack of a Shadow Council!"

Yura cursed:

"According to intelligence gathered by our scouts, well over half of the orcs' current war-fever was whipped up by those malicious warlocks!"

"When you realized the orcs were beginning to dabble in fel magic, you should have taken decisive action! Now we've lost the initiative."

Dick shook his head and sighed, "Did those young Draenei not realize the danger, or did you veterans fail to see it either? I refuse to believe Velen and old man Hatuun would remain irresolute upon receiving intelligence like that.

"I've already 'disciplined' Nari just now, so I want to ask: what on earth happened among our people to make you lose your vigilance to such an extent in this world, allowing the minions of fel magic to operate right under your noses for nearly a dozen years?"

"This isn't Prelate Nari's fault, though that brooding old woman probably relished being 'punished' by you."

Yura curled her lip before lowering her voice:

"Right now, the Draenei are governed by the Prelacy Council. Saint, the Prophet Velen has been recuperating all these years, while High Exarch Hatuun commands military force as the security foundation of our people—those two are fine.

"The problem lies with several of the Prelates.

"Archbishop Akama and Prelate Nari are both veterans of the Battle of Argus who lived through ten millennia; of course they know the threat of fel magic. But the 'younger faction' led by Consul Ossaar, the leader of the caster class, felt we had no reason to meddle in internal shifts among the orcs. It's not that they were unaware of the demonic threat; they simply believed that a handful of warlocks pursuing fel magic wouldn't short-term impact orc civilization.

"Most importantly, taking military action against orc society as a whole over the minor movements of a few rogue warlocks was indeed far too absurd. We Draenei simply cannot stoop to such hegemonistic villainy.

"Therefore, you can't really say Consul Ossaar underestimated the enemy.

"He truly made his decision after careful consideration. Prelate Maladaad, leader of the priest class, agreed with Consul Ossaar's view on this matter. As for the final Prelate, Hatuum—ah, Hatru, the leader of the artificer class—well, he's a pacifist.

"Although Archbishop Akama, leader of the Vindicators, insisted on investigating the traces of fel magic, he also had to coordinate the disputes among the various Prelates and couldn't be overly radical. Consequently, Prelate Nari was left as the sole hardliner.

"It was an impossible battle to fight single-handedly.

"Speaking of which, your woman has been bullied to this extent, shouldn't you storm into Karabor Temple, use the majesty and authority of the Vigilant Saint to grab those clueless idiots, and slap them hard across the face a few times?"

"You just want to see the world burn, don't you? Much like a malicious handmaiden by Nari's side, your self-image is truly bizarre."

Having eaten and drunk his fill, Dick glanced sideways at Yura and said, "Besides, the time isn't right yet. Something is definitely wrong within the upper echelons of our people. Right now we simply can't pinpoint where the rot lies, but the four Prelates other than Nari are all suspects.

"I saw Akama follow Kil'jaeden back onto the battlefield during the decisive battle on Argus with my own eyes; he is undeniably a hero!

"Yet his suspicion cannot be washed away just like that.

"Yura, after daybreak, take the rangers and escort the villagers of Emperi to Karabor Temple for refuge. Report what happened here to Velen—do so without going through the Prelates, and temporarily keep my resurrection a secret, letting only Velen know.

"And tell Velen he doesn't need to worry about me for the time being!

"I will operate alongside Nari to smooth out some unstable elements before the war in Shadowmoon Valley officially erupts.

"If possible, Nari and I will attempt to hunt down the Shadow Council and their wicked leader, Gul'dan. If such an operation succeeds, we might avoid a full-scale war with the orcs altogether.

"Most importantly, you must escort these orc civilians and Chieftain Ner'zhul to speak with Velen. That is crucial!"

"Huh? Escort them to Karabor Temple? At a time like this?"

Yura's mind went blank.

The high ranger commander sighed, "Right now, orcs are frequently raiding and harassing our people in various regions, with casualty reports coming in from all over. They've gathered thousands of warriors in Shadowmoon Valley—what they're trying to do goes without saying.

"To let orcs into the city at a time like this... I'm afraid they'll be beaten to death on the spot by outraged, radical citizens."

"Well, that's your problem to deal with, Yura."

Dick stood up, flicking his tail lazily as he said, "You had plenty of leisure to care about what kind of positions and postures Nari and I used; surely you must have enough boundless energy to handle a little trouble like this. I refuse to believe that safely transporting these orcs could stump a ten-thousand-year veteran of the Hand of Argus.

"In other words, if you can't even manage this, then Nari punishing you to serve as a frontier scout would be a completely normal and rational move."

"Cough, cough, I was just curious and asking casually! There's no need to go that far!"

Yura protested frantically, though Dick clearly had no intention of giving her room to negotiate. Yet just as the two well-fed individuals were stealthily slipping out of the kitchen, Dick thought of another matter.

He said to the crestfallen Yura:

"I heard from Nobundo that Brigadier Malduran's son, Maraad, is currently working under Archbishop Akama?"

"Right, that kid became a Vindicator captain, quite brave indeed."

Yura flicked her tail and said, "He was supposed to enter the Vindicator sequence over ten thousand years ago, but because he had to take care of his mother and sister, he never enlisted—not until a little over a hundred years ago, when Brigadier Malduran's widow passed away from illness at the orphanage in Telmor. Only then did Maraad become an official Vindicator.

"Yet he is remarkably fierce, quickly becoming a role model for Vindicator recruits.

"During the orcs' tentative attack on Karabor Temple some time ago, that kid led a squad and routed an orc force several times their size, winning high commendations for himself and Nobundo from Archbishop Akama. He's about to make a name for himself.

"Still, that's only natural.

"That kid spent all these years in Telmor, which is the garrison for the veterans of the Hand of Argus. Because of his father and you, the veterans have always treated him as one of their own, training him heavily and teaching him battlefield skills. So he basically comes with built-in warfare talent."

"Splendid. When you get to Karabor Temple, deliver an order to Maraad on my behalf. This is a classified directive; he must accomplish it without anyone noticing. You can tell him this is one of his 'new recruit evaluations' for joining the 'Hand of Argus' legion."

Dick instructed:

"The operation I'm about to launch is a guerrilla decapitation strike against formidable enemies. I must have sufficient elite manpower to execute it properly."

"Why make it so complicated?"

Yura rolled her eyes and said, "I'll just dispatch scouts to make a trip to Telmor. Though there are fewer than forty veterans left over there, once they arm themselves, never mind the Shadow Council—charging straight into the orcs' stronghold in the Nataan Jungle would be an absolute breeze.

"Even if they can't unleash their full strength against orcs, their holy righteousness stands in sharp opposition to demons.

"Once the orcs summon demons, you'll have thirty-some legendary followers in a matter of minutes, more than enough to punch straight through the Draenor world."

"But they need to stay there to stabilize the threat from the Nagrand plains."

Dick shook his head and said, "The Warsong clan is no spineless lot like the Shadowmoon clan. Once that clan launches an offensive, even the warriors led by the veterans will face immense pressure. Let them guard the place in peace.

"Shadowmoon Valley has me; that is quite enough.

"The Hand of Argus legion has withered too much over the years, and I must select recruits to replenish its ranks. This war arriving right now is precisely on time."

He stroked his signet ring, feeling the dormant world-soul willpower.

He stated:

"The Draenei have grown far too lazy and slack over the years; these youngsters need to see blood to understand the heavy oath we bear. Those weaklings, those careerists, those cultists—let them hurry up and enjoy their final moments of peace.

"They will soon face the discipline of the 'Hand of Argus.'

"Let us hope they put on a respectable showing!"