Light's Dawn of Azeroth

Chapter 230, Section 53: Little Fordring's Fantastic Night - I'm so powerful for becoming Ashbringer 28 years ahead of schedule!
Stormwind Docks.

The port was crowded with terrified civilians fleeing the city. They looked in horror at the burning city and the constant shouts and roars of war. They knew they had to leave the city by boat immediately and seek refuge in the long beach of the western wilderness.

Although there are Riverclaw Gnolls causing trouble there, it's definitely much safer than Stormwind tonight.

The veterans and militiamen have all been mobilized, and some men are saying goodbye to their wives and children, voluntarily heading to the city above the docks to collect weapons and join the fight against the orcs and gnolls.

All the ships in the harbor were in motion. The kingdom's warships had already aimed their cannons at the city, ready to fire salvos upon receiving orders to stop the approaching invaders. Merchant ships, troop transports, and even fishermen's small boats were constantly shuttling between the beaches and docks of the western wilderness.

Fortunately, the two places are not too far apart, otherwise the emergency evacuation would not have been possible.

From the air, the war-torn city is now divided into two parts. Marshal Lothar and his warriors are holding off the orcs and gnolls rushing into the city in front of the commercial district, while the king and the grand duke form a second line of defense in the dock area. The mages gathered there provide ample magical support to the dock area, and the dwarven cannons set up in the dock area are constantly roaring.

The intensity of the battle here is no less than that on the front lines. Moreover, because Fenris Wolfline has personally led his troops into the city, the orcs here are even more ferocious. The most brutal Felblood Orcs, who form heavy infantry, are constantly launching attacks on the positions, and the golems sent by Dalaran are being destroyed at a rapid pace.

Once these steel and rock structures crumble, the king and his warriors will have no choice but to hold them off with their own flesh and blood.

"The strange fall just now and the appearance of holy light now must mean that the battle situation on Lothar's side has reversed! The silver moonlight above is also a bit strange, but Khadgar told me that it is the Kaldorei's moon god magic."

We may have received unexpected reinforcements.

Grand Duke Bolvar Fordragon was not yet fully recovered from his injuries, but he rushed to King Ryan, who was leading his guards at the front lines, and said to his Majesty:

"You must hold out here with the warriors. Once Lothar clears the enemy from the city gates, he will come to our aid. I will lead the knights in a charge."

Look there!

The Grand Duke pointed with his blood-stained gauntlet to the urban area connecting the dock district and the mage district, where SI:7 fireworks were rising. He said in a hoarse voice:

"Master Passonia's assassins paid the price to find the location of that damned orc chieftain. I must risk a raid. If I can kill him, the predicament in the dock area will be resolved on its own."

"But how will you get there?"

Knowing that the Grand Duke was determined to die, Ryan, holding Bolvar's shoulder, said in a hoarse voice:

"The orcs and gnolls have completely filled this place. The charging distance is not enough, and the urban terrain is too narrow. The knights simply cannot break through."

"Use teleportation!"

The Grand Duke pointed to the place where the mages were resting and said:
"Khadgar and Archmage Mordra devised a unique tactic. They would open a portal at the docks leading into the mage quarters. I would lead the knights to charge from there, and once inside the portal, we could directly enter the area where Fenris Wolf was located."

With a bit of luck, we could take down the orcs' temporary command post in one fell swoop.

“You guys alone won’t do! The orcs over there are elite, and they also have a sword saint as a guard.”

General Lireza took the quiver from her daughter and picked up an elven halberd. She said:

"I'll go with you. The rangers I brought have suffered heavy casualties. If I don't kill the chieftain of the greenskins, how can I offer them as a sacrifice to their souls? It's come to this!"

"We'll go too."

The elven archmages acted very righteously at this moment.

The main reason is that the wandering knights and generals are risking their lives, and if they don't show some support, they'll lose their reputation.

But these fellows were shrewd spellcasters after all. Archmage Aethas the Sunreaver, clad in armor and robes, glanced around and whispered to King Llane:

“We will pay the price, but we will definitely kill that green-skinned chieftain! If your city survives because of our sacrifice, then Quel'Thalas must at least receive an artifact in return.”

"What time is it, and you're still thinking about these things?"

The Royal Archmage Andomas, who was crushing a magic gem to replenish his energy, rebuked:

“You pointy-eared people are really crazy. The Staff of Atiesh must go through a selection process, which is not something we can control. If Marshal Lothar doesn’t object, then the Ebony Chill is yours.”

But the greenskin chieftain must die! And all the greenskins in the city must die!

"make a deal!"

The sun-stealer nodded in satisfaction.

General Lireza, who was beside him, did not say much. Ensuring the interests of the kingdom was also her duty as a wandering general.

Before long, the assassins, who were likely to never return, prepared themselves in the wide area of ​​the dock. Grand Duke Bolvar Fordragon personally led the knights, and almost all the royal knights were already there.

The elves also mounted their warhorses and followed them.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Madra. I misunderstood you because of some things that happened before, and I even spoke rudely to you, which damaged your reputation. I apologize to you here.”

King Llane said in a deep voice to the cold-faced Archmage of Dalaran before him:
"I will formally apologize to you after the war ends."

"I still believe that you Stormwind people are a bunch of barbarians!"

Exhausted from constantly casting spells, Archmage Mordra shook her head and said:
"But compared to the current situation, the loss of personal reputation is insignificant. I will stay here and hold out with this city until the very last moment; it is my duty as an archmage. Your Majesty, please hold on, hold on until victory."

Now, let's leave, we need to cast a spell!

"Don't let other soldiers get close here."

Khadgar solemnly reminded him:
"Maintaining the portal to a level that allows the knights to pass through at high speed requires a large amount of magic power. If a problem occurs, it could blow up half of the dock area. Do not approach before we finish casting the spell!"

"The front line is now in your hands, Your Majesty."

"Ah."

King Ryan stepped back a few paces, expressing his respect to the mages casting spells in unison before him.

"You come, or should I?"

Archmage Mordra glanced at Khadgar and said:
"I heard you learned a lot from Medivh?"

"Let me do it. You used up too much magic power teleporting civilians earlier."

Khadgar stepped forward, and under his command, a dozen mages formed a combined spellcasting formation, pouring magic into his body. The heavy pressure made the young Khadgar feel his bones humming.

But he gritted his teeth and pressed his purple yew staff against the ground.

Professor Medivh's secrets about teleportation magic swirled in his mind, prompting him to shape the portal in a way that differed from orthodox teleportation techniques. Because Lady Aegwynn had previously torn open Stormwind's spatial system, making the portal take shape was easier than Khadgar had imagined.

Grand Duke Bolvar saw that the swirling arcane magic in front of him had formed an open portal.

He pulled down his mask, spurred his horse forward, and accumulated kinetic energy over the distance of several hundred meters, making his armored warhorse faster and faster.

He could even see through the portal several green-skinned barbarians staring in confusion at the strange magic door that had suddenly opened beside them. One of the fools was even reaching out to try and extinguish it, while a warlock in the distance was shouting something in terror.

Bolvar even saw Fenris's Wolf Pulse!
The orc chieftain who had inflicted a humiliating defeat upon him beneath the Tower of Azura stood at the edge of that meadow, beside him lay the corpses of several slain mages and assassins.

"I'm here, you villain!"

The Grand Duke said softly.

The next instant, like an arrow released from a bow, he rushed into the portal. He could clearly hear the sound of space shattering, but he no longer cared.

"boom"

The heavily armored knight who rushed out of the portal slammed into the green-skinned man in front of him, sending him flying like a cannonball into a distant tower. When Fenris Wolf lowered his binoculars and looked back, he saw his defeated foes leading a fierce and isolated army into his temporary command post.

The Black Wolf God's pack tried to stop them, but they could only be sliced ​​apart layer by layer.

"Chief! Let's go!"

The warlord of the Thor clan grabbed his battle axe and shouted:
"I'll hold them off here!"

"Go? Where are you going?"

Fenris said with a sneer:
"The battlefield in front of the city has been retaken by Lothar and those strange elves, and we're trapped here! It's hard to say if this was their original plan, but it's crazy enough and exciting enough! Like wild beasts caught in a trap, now all that's left for us is one last path."

What do wild animals do when faced with a hunter's weapons?

He staggered onto his demonic wolf steed, grabbed his golden plundering sword, and amidst the roars of the Thunder God clan warriors, he shouted:

"Warriors of Frostfire Ridge, follow me to meet the enemy!"

------

"What are those humans doing on the dock? Why is the space shaking so violently?"

Above the clouds over the war-torn city, Lord Lethorn, the dragon, looked with puzzlement at the Stormwind docks, which were now mostly ablaze.

It was supposed to go with Zul'hild to attack Northshire Abbey, but it noticed that its companions had suffered heavy casualties in Stormwind, so it came alone to check the situation. When it arrived, it found that almost all of the dragons it had left behind had been killed.

This enraged Lesson.

They followed His Majesty Eranikus to embrace fel energy in order to save their people. What others saw as corruption was seen as sacrifice by them, which is why these dragons were so united.

But ever since entering Azeroth, his companions had been dying one by one, a fate Lord Lethon could no longer tolerate. If the blood of his comrades had been spilled in this damned city, then he would take their pain and rage and utterly destroy it!

However, it is not stupid.

After witnessing the ancient anti-magic alliance appear here, Lethorn realized he had to take a smarter approach and noticed the spatial tremors in the dock area.

It crept silently past and saw the knights passing through a massive, magically powerful portal.

This amused the dragon.

These human mages are truly "creative," but if portals can be used like this, why didn't anyone try it in previous eras?
"Hehe, the Weaver probably won't tell you what kind of disaster would result from such a massive amount of magic being brutally applied to a spatial system."

Lord Lethorn stared at the portal that was about to close, as it spread its enormous wings and swooped down from the sky.

It's going to destroy that thing!
If the magic goes out of control and causes a massive explosion, it will absolutely tear the entire dock area apart, killing and ripping it up along with all those foolish humans.

Their own people shed blood here, so they must pay the price.

"not good!"

Sylvanas, who was on high alert, was the first to spot the dragon's attack. Realizing that its target was the dangerous portal, the Windrunner immediately drew her bow to try and stop it. However, she had not yet grown into the powerful ranger general she would become, and several magic arrows she fired could not stop the dragon from getting closer.

"Stop it! Quickly!"

The previously injured dwarf mage, Millhouse Manastorm, waved his hands and screamed:

"Don't let it get near the portal, or we'll all die!"

"Boom, boom, boom"

In an instant, more than a dozen large fireballs hurtled into the sky, and the arcane missiles and ice arrows mixed in with them turned this wave of magical attacks into a dangerous barrage. But just before being attacked, Lethorn flashed into a strange "ethereal form," causing the magic to graz him as it flew into the sky and burst into dazzling fireworks.

Even though it is no longer the guardian dragon, it still remembers how to enter the Emerald Dream.

Even though the dream world no longer welcomed it and kicked it out a second later, it was enough for Lord Lethorn to complete this deadly attack until a dwarven cannonball hit it squarely in the head.

The immense impact tilted the dragon's head, causing the deadly venom it spewed to glide along the edge of Archmage Mordra's body, melting an entire patch of ground.

Startled and covered in a cold sweat, Khadgar didn't have time to dissipate the magic and threw it into the sky. The massive amount of arcane energy exploded as it ascended, and the resulting circular shockwave, like an invisible hand, knocked everyone in the entire dock area to the ground.

Tinnitus and blurred vision are normal occurrences; it's the collapsed stone pillars and crumbling city walls that represent the kind of disaster that would have occurred if the dragon had hit the portal.

Ser Tirion Fordring, who had fallen from the watchtower along with the dwarven cannon, was dizzy and tried to get up. It was he who had fired that shot in the critical moment that saved everyone on the dock.

As a military nobleman of the Kingdom of Lordaeron, operating dwarven cannons was not difficult for the young Sir Fordring. It was precisely because of his skill in archery and horsemanship and his devout faith that he was assigned by King Terenas to escort Archbishop Alonsus Faol.

Sir Fording had no intention of seeking the limelight, which was not in his nature, but he simply could not bear to watch a disaster unfold in this mournful city.

Especially after witnessing the legendary miracle of holy light a few days ago, he was determined to fulfill his faith vow in this city, even though he was not a nobleman of the Stormwind Kingdom, he still felt a great responsibility to his fellow countrymen.

However, Sir Fording's brilliant shot did indeed get him into trouble.

As he rubbed his aching head and climbed out of the rubble, he was met with the sight of a massive dragon head rising from beneath the dock, its yellow snake eyes, filled with rage and hatred, staring intently at him.

"insect!"

Lord Lethon, who was also blown off the sky by Arcane Explosion, was now in a terrible predicament, but he had caught the "culprit".

It stared at the human warrior whose head was still bleeding, and with a classic dragon breath, it completed its charge. Then, under Sir Fordring's desperate gaze, the polluted and corrosive dragon breath erupted before its eyes, turning the world it saw into complete darkness.

I'm done.

His wife would surely be heartbroken when she heard the news of his death.

He hadn't even had a chance to have a child yet, even though he and his wife had already chosen a name for the child.

As the end came, Sir Fordring closed his eyes, deciding to face his end with equanimity, for dying in such an epic war was not a sign of despair for a warrior.

His name may be passed down through the ages in Stormwind and throughout human history.
"Have you reminisced enough, Tirion Fordring?"

A deep voice sounded in Sir Fordring's ear, causing him to open his eyes in surprise and find that he had not been melted into the vicious dragon breath.

Before his eyes, the holy blade descended from the sky, transforming into a golden barrier of light that shielded him from the vicious breath, leaving him unharmed.

"Your brilliant will and courage to protect have been seen by the Holy Light. I hereby appoint you as the 'Ashbringer of Stormwind tonight,' granting you the right to wield the Holy Blade to vanquish evil and uphold justice."

Go on!

Hold it.

Become the punisher in my place, wield the holy light, and uphold your righteousness.

As the saint Diakum whispered, Tirion Fordring took a breath, looking at the holy blade floating before him, waiting to be grasped. It was a greatsword of Draenei specifications, somewhat too large for a human.

However, compared to the negligible damage that ordinary weapons could inflict on the evil dragon before them, such a scorching giant blade was far more suitable for slaying the dragon!

"buzz"

Fordring grasped Ashbringer without hesitation.

He was a devout believer, and he was somewhat disappointed that he hadn't been able to participate in the consecration ceremony during the war. But now, fate had given him a different kind of opportunity in this war-torn city.

The Holy Light favors the brave.

Ashbringer "lent" his holy power to Tirion Fordring, allowing him to be cleansed by pure holy light, and condensing his profound righteousness into golden wings of vengeful fury behind his body.

This guy's compatibility with the Holy Light is frighteningly good!
Her talent in the Force of the Holy Light is in no way inferior to Yrel's, and she could even hold her own against the Vigilant when he first awoke in Draenor.

Through the "enlightenment" and inspiration of the vigilant, the moment the primordial light discovered this "promising talent," it generously opened up a glorious destiny for him.

"Evil dragon! The Holy Light grants me judgment upon you!"

Fording was enveloped in an astonishing light and heat.

He could feel his armor melting, he could feel an inexhaustible power surging within him, and he could feel the holy light whispering to him, urging him to do great things!
With that deep roar, Fordring, wielding the Holy Blade, charged forward a few steps and leaped into the air amidst the cheers of countless warriors. He gripped the Holy Blade with both hands and unleashed a powerful slash amidst Lord Lethorn's furious roar. The holy light exploded and shattered, transforming into a scorching holy storm that swept outwards, causing the tormented dragon to flap its wings and soar into the sky.

It's scared.

It knew that a Lightwalker with terrifying talent had been born among the humans of Azeroth.

It knew it had to escape!

The Demon-Slaying Oath attached to the Ashbringer and the "Ashbringer" trait inherited from the Vigilant were enough to kill it here. Just like those unfortunate demons, once it died here, it could not return to the Twisting Nether to be reborn.

Despite Zul'hildr's repeated reminders, he had carefully avoided Diakum, yet he still couldn't escape this judgment from the Holy Light?
Ah, Your Majesty Eranikus, I apologize, my incompetence has once again disappointed you.

In the cold sky, above the clouds, Fordring, wielding the holy blade, gripped the dragon's horns tightly. He chanted the mantra of the holy light and slashed down with the scorching blade again and again.

The dragon howled in anguish, and bursts of holy light flashed continuously above the clouds.

Finally, under King Ryan's fierce gaze as he clenched his fist, the dragon that had nearly wiped out everyone plummeted miserably towards the front of the city, crashing like a meteorite into the beam of light in the commercial district that was constantly emitting a holy aura.

The torch was still burning, guiding the warriors of Stormwind.

"It's time to fight back."

The king, sword and shield in hand, rose from the defensive line.

He looked at the ferocious orcs before him, stepped forward, picked up his sword and shield, and began to charge. Behind him, the warriors followed steadfastly.

They want to take back their city.

Beneath that radiance, Fordring, who had nearly been half-dead from the fall of the dragon, coughed and dragged his holy blade out of the ruins. He saw Saint Diakum maintaining the Great Consecration Ceremony in the light.

He immediately stood up straight, straightened his armor which was half melted, brushed the dust off his body, strode forward, and presented the holy blade with both hands.

"Thank you for your support, Saint Vigilant. I and this city will forever be grateful for your salvation."

he whispered.

"It was your courage that saved you. I was just a passing-by, nosy warrior of light. How could I have saved you?"

Diakum in the light said softly:

"Didn't I say that?
At least tonight, you are the Ashbringer of Stormwind. Before dawn, you can wield it to your heart's content to win glory and honor for yourself. Consider it a reward for seeing you reverse your fate with your own hands.

So, Tirion Fordring the Dragon Slayer.

Go on!

Unleash your battle cry, lead your people to reclaim what you have not yet lost, but remember the precious things worth defending and fighting for, and do not lose your way in the light.

(End of this chapter)