17. In the future witnessed by the prey, where is the hunter? [Release Celebration: 20/50]

(Bonus chapter for brother "Gervais" [5/5])

"Gulden and his lackeys are over there! Look!"

Riding his wolf at a gallop amidst the earth-shattering chaos, Ner'zhul shouted loudly. Following his direction, the others looked and indeed spotted an untouched ritual platform within the constantly fracturing terrain.

It had originally been a hill, but after the ground rose, it became a depression, perfectly situated among the subterranean magma, forming a "safe zone." Many Orc Warlocks were casting spells within it, while a large number of Orc brute warriors guarded the perimeter with weapons, fighting against the elemental spirits constantly being shaped by the Four Elements.

The battle was quite intense!

Clearly, the power of the Four Elements sensed that the Shadow Council was suppressing and cutting them off. The evil knowledge from the Burning Legion was being manipulated by the wicked ones led by the primal warlock Gulden to sever the elemental forces from the material world.

It was like a miniature "Elemental Domain" cage, stripping away their influence over the material world for a prolonged period.

In this way, the elemental traditions that the Orcs had adhered to for countless years would completely decline due to the loss of power. To protect themselves in the impending racial war, those spellcasters would have no choice but to gravitate toward the path of warlockhood.

At the same time, without the elemental forces purifying the physical world, fel magic could more easily influence and contaminate the material realm.

This was a sinister move to cut off retreat and uproot civilization. Once Gulden succeeded, Orc civilization would truly have no other path left, forced to march blindly down a single road under the infusion of fel energy.

Witnessing this scene, Ner'zhul was frantic with worry.

He shouted and screamed, preparing to charge forward and fight the Shadow Council to the death. Although he was no longer favored by the elements, having served as a shaman for most of his life and personally taught so many shamans how to communicate with the elements, the elemental forces of this world were like mentors and old friends in his heart. He could not stand by and watch the elemental forces be banished and sealed by Gulden.

The old Orc, whose eyes were bloodshot, was pinned down from the left and right by Maraad and Yrel to prevent him from rushing up to throw his life away.

Putting aside the fact that the maddened elements were attacking friend and foe alike, the sheer number of the Shadow Council's lackeys far exceeded the force led by Dike.

"The plan is simple!"

Dike shouted to his warriors amid the roaring elemental storm:

"I will lead you to break through the Shadow Council's blockade. Ignore the elements and do your utmost to disrupt Gulden and the warlocks' spellcasting! Destroy those three Curse Code cores; those things haven't been truly activated yet!

They are shackles meant to restrain the elements. As long as we shatter them, the Shadow Council's dirty tricks will collapse on their own!

Ner'zhul!

You coordinate the elemental forces!

I don't need them to help us, but those angry elemental spirits must at least know friend from foe. Don't let them interfere with our battle!"

"But the elements no longer respond to me," the old Orc said with difficulty. "I cannot reach them."

"Don't worry. When they feel the crisis of destruction, they will turn to you, their 'old friend,' for help."

Dike urged his divine warhorse forward. Drawing his heavily damaged heirloom battle axe, he said:

"Although casually judging others' traditions is a bad habit, I must say that you Orc shamans have been a bit too 'indulgent' toward the elemental forces. Serving does not mean blind obedience, and respect does not mean weakness. A shaman is a user of elemental power, not a servant of the elements.

Call upon them, Ner'zhul.

In this moment of life and death, even the stubborn elements will know who their truly trustworthy friends are.

Maraad and Yrel, remember your duties!"

"Understood!"

The two recruits shouted in acknowledgment, then escorted Ner'zhul to keep up with the Vindicators and Rangers led by Dike.

Calling out in desolate Orcish, Ner'zhul led them across the continuously splitting earth. Fortunately, they were riding well-trained Talbuk stags with extraordinary jumping abilities; if this had been a group of heavy Elekk riders, it would have been a complete disaster.

"Do not slow down! Follow me and charge forward!"

Dike acted as the arrowhead of the charge at the very front. He accelerated continuously, and the Vindicators behind him pushed forward across the fracturing ground. Yet there were always unlucky ones who met with misfortune—true to classic scenarios, as they crossed a widening rift, the Talbuks of three Vindicators failed to keep up the pace, causing them to plunge directly into the fissure.

But a quick-eyed Saint is more than just a Vindicator; the Priest's "Levitation" was cast upon those three Vindicators and their mounts, followed by invoking the Holy Light to use "Leap of Faith," turning the Holy Light into a hand of Diakum that pulled his Vindicators back from the falling abyss to the edge of the cracking cliff.

Amidst continuous acceleration, Dike let go of the reins, allowing his divine warhorse to continue charging forward while he cast spells with one hand.

Power Word: Fortitude, Prayer of Spirit, Inner Fire, and other priestly divine spells were cast upon his warriors in a "mass casting" style accompanied by the Saint's loud chanting. The enhanced holy magic flashed and expanded into auras, ensuring that every Vindicator in this squad carried an imposing aura of righteous brilliance when they charged into the chaotic area where the Shadow Council resided.

This was the meaning of a Priest's existence.

Healing was only part of their duty; having a priest accompany a combat-ready squad could guarantee they operated at 200% combat efficiency.

The wolf riders of the Shadow Council also noticed this sudden appearance of Draenei, grinning fearlessly as they converged their formation and rushed to slaughter them.

"Why are these Orcs green?" Yrel asked loudly with wide eyes.

"They drank demon blood! They are already 'half-demons,' be careful!"

The Vigilant replied casually, casting Mass Power Word: Shield on the warriors the moment they engaged, absorbing the first wave of damage from the Orc wolf riders' decapitation blades.

In this collision, seven Orcs were sent flying, while three Draenei were knocked back.

Clearly, the Orcs who had drunk demon blood far surpassed their compatriots in strength, physique, and ferocity. That foul, berserk blood granted them demon-tough skin and a destroyer's strength, activating their racial berserk traits so their eyes glowed red like ferocious ghosts.

Yet the fate of corrupted beings who dared provoke the Vigilant was never pleasant.

The three Orc wolf riders lunged at the divine warhorse; Dike batted one away with a battle axe forged of light-blades, Nari blasted another to pieces with her precision hand cannon from the distant flank, and the last one was about to sink its ferocious blade into the Saint's body when a ferocious spectral wolf suddenly materialized, lunging forward with a howl. The moment the spectral wolf Gola hit the ground, only a fraction of a torn body remained behind it.

The fierce and domineering spectral wolf expressionlessly chewed on the Orc corpse in its mouth. Finding the taste of demon blood utterly disgusting, it shook its head, threw the severed limb aside, and felt a sudden weight on its back the next moment.

Its useless new master nimbly leaped onto its back.

"Charge! Gola, I order you."

Riding the spectral wolf mount, Nari patted her pet's head and took the safety off her large-caliber demon-hunting rifle. Seeing that the proud Wolf-Mother showed little reaction, she could only say helplessly:

"All soul shards go to you."

"Awooo?"

"Ten! I guarantee with the hunting rifle in my hand, you get to eat ten warlock souls today, at least! Provided you behave yourself, so charge! Pick whichever one you want!"

Urged on by Nari, the spectral dire wolf finally moved.

Amidst Nari's exclamation, the creature leaped into the air with its master, entering the mysterious "Soulwalking" state and vanishing from the battlefield just like an assassin's shadowmeld. When it reappeared carrying the Archon once more, its sharp claws tore apart the bodies of several guarding brute warriors.

Gola disdained these inferior souls.

What it hungered to taste was the soul of the high-ranking female Orc warlock casting spells nearby. This craving was perceived by Nari through their soul link, and the next second, a lethal bullet blasted forth in an aimed shot. The female Orc warlock blocked the shot using her mastery-level Demon Armor.

She looked greedily at the spectral wolf beneath Nari, about to mock the blue-skinned woman's overestimation of her own abilities, but before she could speak, with a loud bang, a second bullet drilled right through her teeth into her mouth, causing her head to explode on the spot like a watermelon.

Heh, Ranger technique—double-tap load and shoot, kid!

"Awooo..."

The female Orc warlock's soul screamed as it fled toward her soulstone, but the next second it was firmly clamped in Gola's jaws. Amidst the head-shaking tug-of-war of the spectral wolf, which could perceive and bite souls, this resilient soul quickly turned into nourishment and merged into the spectral wolf's body.

That satisfied whimpering signified that Gola had given preliminary approval to its new master.

Hmm, this Draenei Archon was barely qualified to hunt alongside it; under its training, this slender blue-skinned woman would surely become an excellent pooper-scooper.

However, when Nari eagerly steered her mount to search for the next target, she noticed Gola looking back behind them. Turning her head, she saw Dike casually crushing an Orc warlock's skull with one hand, leaving several scattered, smoldering heaps of ash and bones around him.

The Holy Slaughterer's killing efficiency was simply terrifying.

While the Archon took down one high-ranking warlock, Dike had already completed a penta-kill over there.

"Fine, fine, he barely counts as the 'male master,' so his kills go to you too, alright?"

Nari helplessly twitched the corner of her mouth. Only then did Gola satisfy itself by leaping in place to enter Soulwalking, reappearing behind Dike to devour the five screaming souls. But as it chewed, the soul beast sensed something was wrong.

Why were these warlock souls so hollow?

Its mouth, its stomach, and its brain simply didn't match up!

"Nonsense."

Dike glanced at the hungry soul beast.

"The demons I purify cannot return to the Twisting Nether to resurrect. These warlocks drank demon blood and are half-demons, so for them to retain half their soul after being killed by me is already their good fortune.

Want to eat?

Go hunt for yourself!

You, a majestic soul beast, don't even have the ability to fight your own battles?"

"Awooo..."

Intending to enjoy a hearty "buffet," Gola was deeply disappointed, its attitude toward this "male master" souring as a result.

It stealthily attempted to bite Dike amidst the chaos, only to witness the Saint unleash a brilliant outburst of the Sun Herald's light, executing a brutal Ashen Verdict that instantly purified an unlucky victim into ash at the very moment of a slash, followed immediately by a Divine Storm to cancel the attack recovery frames, obliterating two elemental spirits driven mad by fel energy nearby.

The scorching ash swirled around Dike, the victims' screams still lingering in the air.

The spectral wolf suddenly realized its previous thoughts had been somewhat "blasphemous." Hmm, this male master was far too powerful and extremely cautious, possessing countless methods and strength to deal with spiritual entities. A "frivolous dancer" like itself had better not provoke him.

"Gulden!"

Wielding his light-blade battle axe in one hand, Dike strode forward into the casting zone amidst the earth-shaking tremors. Every demon-blooded brute who stepped up to block him was casually cleaved down by a single swing of his axe.

Feeling the sulfur stench of fel energy again after twenty thousand years ignited Dike's battle intent. The blazing sun purification surrounding the Sun Herald radiated like forged light, as if draping him in a Holy Crusader's cape, causing scorching consecrated purifications to burst forth wherever he walked. The cascading ripples expanding in the form of Divine Nova burned away all dark spirits in the vicinity.

The sight of him walking all the way forward, leaving behind only desolate ashes and charred skulls, terrified those Orc warlocks, startling even Gulden, who was presiding over the Curse Code ritual. Turning his head in surprise, he saw a giant Draenei shouting his name, head held high, charging at him like an enraged Talbul-headed beast. The ferocious posture genuinely startled the limping warlock.

*Did the Draenei still have such heavy hitters?*

*When did this fellow arrive?*

Yet Gulden was not Gulden for nothing; a cold sneer soon appeared on his face.

He noticed that this light-forged-looking Draenei had charged too fast, detaching himself from his warriors. *Good! Relying on being a legend just to charge alone, are we? Very well!*

*Let me show you a good show. Did you really think we Orcs don't have legends?*

"Get lost!"

Gulden casually gathered a ball of crimson soulfire and hurled it out.

This fel power, sufficient to vaporize any living creature, was rapidly "melted" the moment it entered the halo around Dike, and by the time it reached Dike's front, it was shattered into a flurry of dancing sparks by a single punch from the Vigilant, serving little purpose other than to interrupt the Saint's charging pace.

At the same time, however, a heavy, formidable hunting staff struck down with the lethal swiftness of a hydra's bite.

The first strike hit Dike's shoulder, then spun smoothly; the second struck his kidney, and the third hit the bend of his knee. Relying on the experience of Warchief Kilrogg Deadeye—who had picked the absolute most perfect moment to appear and ambush—any creature that took these three imposing "warning blows" of his should have dropped to their knees.

Then he would follow up with a final strike to blow the opponent's head apart!

The plan was good, and the execution was flawless.

The only problem was that the moment Chieftain Kilrogg gathered all his momentum for the finishing blow against Dike, that mountain-splitting hunting staff was caught... bare-handed by a large hand radiating holy light?

*Thud.*

The ground beneath the Saint's feet shattered, fully demonstrating the brutal power of that blow—a force capable of effortlessly bludgeoning a Clefthoof to death.

Yet before his eyes, no matter how Kilrogg Deadeye gnashed his teeth and twisted his face in a furious attempt to yank back his hunting staff, the weapon remained completely motionless, held firmly in front by Dike's expressionless, five-finger grip.

His already tattered Tethamart Holy Armor completely shattered under the Orc legend's blows, shoulder guards, chest plates, and leg greaves flying off in explosive bursts, but there were not a single scratch on Dike's body.

Even though this hunting staff, forged from Gronn bones, was embedded with a row of hydra teeth and possessed a destructive force in close combat easily rivaling legendary weapons like Gorehowl or the Flame Blade Thankers, facing Dike's "Naaru physique," this bit of destructive power was simply not quite enough.

*What?*

*Trying to break my defense, are you?*

*Is the broken stick in your hand a legendary weapon? Did you really think this Grand Lord's "Legendary Weapon Resistance" was just for show?*

"Kilrogg Deadeye..."

Dike uttered the name of the one-eyed old Orc before him.

Where his five fingers gripped the hunting staff, "liquid" Holy Light had already begun to permeate the sturdy weapon, even extending light-forged cracks across its surface. The toxins on the weapon were completely useless against the blue-skinned Saint; his own body, blessed by the Holy Light, possessed more than enough natural resilience to generate extreme resistance to poison.

All these details caused Kilrogg's single eye to widen in shock.

He suddenly realized he had fallen into a hunter's ultimate taboo: full of confidence, he had set a trap, using Gulden as bait to assassinate this Draenei legend while he was off guard. But prior to that, he had never bothered to thoroughly investigate the true background of this strange blue-skinned legend.

Everything he knew came from Gulden, but could anything coming out of a warlock's dog mouth be trusted?

*This...*

*This giant single-handedly caught a fatal blow without injury? Is this the true weight of a Draenei "Saint"?*

"You sacrificed your eye to witness your own death, arrogance leading you to believe you are invincible until that death arrives. But I don't think you need that remaining eye of yours anymore."

The Vigilant bantered:

"To let yourself be ordered around as an assassin by scum like Gulden means your eyes were blind long ago!"

Momentarily channeling his burning holy power, he released his grip on the hunting staff and swung the shattered battle axe of light-blade shards with one hand, cleaving straight down toward Kilrogg. The latter had no time to retreat and could only grit his teeth, grasping the hunting staff with both hands in an attempt to parry.

Parry he did!

Amidst the dying wail of the heirloom battle axe, the instant the two weapons collided, the battle axe Dike had "tortured" for so long finally fulfilled its ultimate weapon duty.

Its sturdy main body melted completely in the infusion of scorching Holy Light, but it persisted to the very final moment. Even after the physical body melted away, it still stubbornly constrained the blistering Holy Light to form the shape of a battle axe, completing this single strike.

*Bang.*

The hunting staff that Kilrogg had crafted himself in his youth from the remains of his prey burst apart into fragments. The shattering light-blade battle axe carried the Saint's cold killing intent, slicing in from Kilrogg Deadeye's left shoulder and exiting from his right chest under the explosive propulsion of the scorching light, flashing past like a blade of light. The moment the attack was completed, the glowing battle axe in Dike's hand dissolved into scattered shards of light.

Only a melted iron hilt, no longer worthy of being called a "weapon," remained in his grip.

The heirloom battle axe had fulfilled its mission; its final fruit was the severe wounding of an Orc legend.

The Bleeding Hollow Chieftain was sent flying as if "one-shotted," landing pathetically upon the shattered stones. Yet from his nearly cleaved chest, not a single drop of blood flowed, because the light-blade had been moving so fast and possessed such high temperature that it instantly cauterized and carbonized the wound upon cutting.

At that instant, the solitary eye left to Deadeye suddenly beheld a vision.

In that image, upon a desperate battlefield, he was hoisted into the air by a hand filled with Holy Light, searing currents of light pouring into his body like endless water forced into a balloon.

Explosion and incineration were his ultimate end.

That was his newly revised "death."

In that fleeting vision, Kilrogg Deadeye noticed that the pinky finger of the hand executing him wore an antique signet ring set with a triangular crystal.

And the moment the vision dissipated, as Kilrogg Deadeye was hoisted up from the ground by Diakum, the heavily wounded chieftain clearly saw the hand lifting him.

The signet ring on that left hand was gleaming brilliantly in the light.

*It was him!*

*He would die at the hands of this Draenei Saint!*

Fate had arranged it thus, but *not now!*

The moment in his foreseen death vision was not right now! He would not die today, he would not die here!

"Ah!"

The outburst born of a desperate situation caught even Dike slightly off guard.

This Orc legend, despite having only a breath left, actually managed to break free of his grip. Watching the staggering back of the warlock stumbling into the chaotic zone, Dike praised Kilrogg Deadeye's tenacious will to survive, then assumed a throwing posture right where he stood.

After a one-second wind-up, he hurled the melted axe hilt like a remote Executioner's Sentence.

The object transformed into a streak of blazing light the moment it left his hand, chasing after Kilrogg like a falling star. Upon impact, it engulfed the latter along with every Orc and elemental spirit within a twenty-yard radius in a descent of holy fire.

The massive burst of milky-white light flames meant it was highly unlikely anyone could survive there.

Ordinarily, this would be the moment to charge up and deliver the coup de grace, but the elemental tremors rolling in from behind grew increasingly intense—Gulden's Curse Code was about to be completed! With only a few final chants remaining, that cunning warlock had likely ambushed the legendary hunter right here precisely to prevent his spellcasting from being interrupted!

Without a moment's hesitation, Dike threw himself bare-handed toward the spot.

Across the constantly collapsing earth rifts and magma, the four Elemental Lords of Draenor had all manifested.

They possessed exaggerated yet unique appearances suited to their status, but regrettably, the elemental power of a small world was insufficient to shape demigod-tier elemental monarchs; their strengths were merely those of pitiful legendary beasts.

Such power, utilizing the elements' direct influence on the material world, was quite effective against mortals, even capable of easily shattering cities and tearing apart the earth, but it fell short against Gulden, who manipulated fel energy.

Amidst the venomous and frenzied Gulden's roaring, unceasing chants of the Curse Code, the Four Elemental Lords wailed and screamed. Their connection to the material world was being severed, and they were growing weaker.

Yet the elements refused to concede defeat just yet. Roaring, they sought to fuse their remaining powers together to form a destructive force capable of fighting back against the fel bindings before them.

This fusion was irreversible...

"Ner'zhul! Make them stop!"

Dike roared:

"Don't let them commit suicide! Doing this won't stop Gulden; it will only plunge Draenor into an apocalyptic crisis driven by elemental exhaustion! Have the weakened elements hold on! The Holy Light will save them today!

I'll handle the Curse Code and the warlocks!"

Dike strode forward.

He was weaponless now; though he could use "Blade of Light" to forge a sword of radiance, that was merely an emergency measure. As he continuously knocked over and choked out the resisting warlocks and Orcs, he reached into the Augu'rai treasure chest and snatched out the upper half of his long-broken Staff of Kazzak's Wrath.

At this moment, Gulden was entirely wrapped and enveloped in a thick fel barrier, as if sealed within an emerald-green glass orb. Ordinary weapons could not interfere with him; protected by this fel infusion, Gulden was virtually invincible.

The increasingly weak, heavy punches of the four Elemental Lords could not shake him, drawing triumphant laughter from Gulden, the kind belonging to one who possessed ultimate power.

Yet Dike did not believe there was any truly invincible power in this world!

Even the Divine Shield granted by the Holy Light could be broken by sheer force. If even a Paladin as powerful as Tirion could fall in battle due to a shattered divine shield, then no matter how much the Holy Light favored him, he had to maintain reverence for other forces and constantly avoid the same fate befalling himself.

This green-skinned Orc warlock before him, who showed no reverence for power, needed to learn this lesson as well!

Gulden was clearly still too young, not yet understanding this truth. But it mattered not; the Saint would teach him immediately.

He channeled power on the spot, igniting his immense holy power at this very moment. Utilizing the legendary talent "Forge Light" and the wild pounding of the radiant heart within his chest, he continuously poured scorching, hot-white holy flame into the Staff of Kazzak's Wrath.

When this broken weapon let out a wailing cry it could no longer bear, when even the trapped soul shards of Kazzak within it began to scream, Dike took a two-step run-up and executed an "execution throw."

The moment the broken staff left his hand, it turned into a white ray of light, striking Gulden's "invincible barrier" in a near-straight line.

With a muffled *crack*, Gulden—who was currently reveling in his "power"—was scared half to death. Having just witnessed Dike obliterate Kilrogg in a single move, he knew this Saint was formidable, but fortunately, the gift bestowed by fel energy was strong enough.

That fellow had merely pierced his barrier without harming him.

*Ha.*

*The advantage is mine! Destiny is on my side!*

Having dodged a fatal blow, Gulden used foul language to mock Dike for going blind, missing his mark at such a critical juncture. Yet the moment he turned his head back, he couldn't help rubbing his eyes.

*Hmm?*

*Why are there only three Curse Runes left in front of me?*

*Where did the remaining two go?*

*What the hell, who stole the Curse Runes I spent years painstakingly modifying?*

The very instant this ridiculous thought arose, Gulden felt the elemental power that had just been suppressed to the point of requiring fusion to fight back suddenly surge back to life, as if recovering its stamina.

Belatedly raising his head, he saw that "missed" broken spear now embedded a hundred meters away in the cliffside across the rift. At the center of that cratered "light-forged impact pit," the two Curse Code fragments he had personally forged were cracking and melting.

*Damn it!*

*Diakum didn't miss; that attack wasn't aimed at him!*

*As expected of the Holy Spear...*

*True marksmanship, a one-shot bullseye.*

(End of this chapter)