Light's Dawn of Azeroth

Chapter 349. Where is the Void Minotaur? Let's hunt down those who are purely in love - Bonus Chapter [15]

(Bonus chapter for "Huo Zheng Ting Hao" [1/5])
Inside the Draenor Embassy in Stormwind, in the warmth provided by the burning fireplace, Archbishop Nellie, with her disheveled hair, sipped a glass of wine, letting it soothe her dry and hoarse throat.

The once strong and powerful legs of the eternal wanderer were now as weak as noodles, so he could only sit on the comfortable sofa, panting and trying to clear his muddled mind.

But as soon as she sat down, she felt a sharp pain in her tail, which made her glare fiercely at the guard behind her who was getting dressed.

However, these were just "reserved activities" between the two in private. Nelly would occasionally treat them as a kind of fun, although she still couldn't understand where Diakum's obsession with "tail" came from.

"Weren't we supposed to be heading to Kalimdor with the entire army? Why are we suddenly going to the Broken Isles halfway through?"

She put down her wine glass and asked in confusion:
"I remember your Shadow Chaser Cult developed there? Are you taking them with you to the Moon Goddess's realm this time?"

"We need to go and take a look. Saloras, who leads the Cult of the Shadowwalkers, reports that the 'Rondorei' are developing in a somewhat reckless manner, and the Burning Legion's offensive on the Broken Isles is intensifying."

There's something over there attracting them.

Diakum put on his priest's robes, glanced at the erect holy lance, and reluctantly suppressed it.

Archbishop Nelly wasn't in the best of spirits today and couldn't satisfy the saint, but there was nothing that could be done about it. Although the embassy had just been established, this was still an office area, and for the sake of Nelly's reputation, the two of them didn't dare to go too far when they were fooling around.

As he placed various religious ornaments on his robe, he took out Kazzak's Soul-Binding Staff and warmed it with holy light before turning around to explain:

"Besides that, I also have to visit the Nassaras Magic Academy. That little fool Imira has gotten herself into trouble. It's been almost ten days, but she hasn't even been able to send out a 'sOS message,' which shows how bad her situation is."

As her former superior, I cannot simply stand by and watch Imira be trapped in the endless sea of ​​knowledge until the day her immortality ends.

"What?"

Nelly blinked, completely baffled by what she was saying.

This is normal.

She was a ranger, very skilled but clearly unable to receive an acceptance letter from the Nassaras Academy of Magic, nor could she comprehend the academy's "special status" in Azeroth.

But knowing Imira's talent and gifts, she exclaimed in surprise:

"You mean, a critical-level demigod spellcaster who has fought demons in the starry sea for over 20,000 years couldn't pass the graduation exam of that Nassaras Magic Academy? That's too outrageous, isn't it?"

"She still has to pass her graduation exam; I think she might not even pass this month's monthly exam."

Dick sighed and said:
"I think you've overestimated Imira's talent and underestimated the most orthodox magical heritage of the Elf Empire."

The curriculum of that academy was personally designed by Queen Azshara. You know that Azshara is the 'Daughter of the World,' and the Star Soul Lord has placed great hopes on her, bestowing upon her His best blessings. This has led to a terrible consequence.

Azshara's talent for spellcasting and her understanding of magical theory are very likely second only to the true god of the stars in the universe.

Think about how outrageous the teaching syllabus she set based on her own standards must be. If the assessment were really that easy to pass, then the Elf Empire wouldn't have had only a handful of magic princes over thousands of years.

It's not that I underestimate Imira, but her experience at the Mystic Academy proves that she's still far from being considered a 'genius.'

"hiss"

Archbishop Nelly pondered for a moment, then gasped in shock.

She urged:

"Then why don't you hurry up and save your subordinates?"

"What good would it do if I went alone?"

Dick sighed and said:
“Nasalas Magic Academy is a place where strength speaks volumes. I need to take the twins with me. Their talents might make the strict Dean Blue Moon make an exception for them.”

Most importantly, the Highborne wanted to make a name for themselves in front of Mother World, but they preferred to sneak over here to rescue the Green Dragon Queen rather than lower themselves to help the Kaldorei in their war.

The feud between the two races is too deep, and I must 'create' an opportunity for these pretentious elves.

Perhaps I should try to carry out a "coercion and enticement" scheme as the "villain."

"Oh, I see."

Nelly understood everything now.

The eternal wanderer, holding a wine glass and whistling, gave Diakum a hard slap on his pert buttocks and said:
"No wonder you were so attentive today. Were you afraid I'd be jealous? Taking two girls out for a trip and then having to come here beforehand for permission? Ha, I'm not some jealous woman."

"Could you dismantle the nest that Holy Sun built in the window of the cathedral's meditation room before saying this?"

Diakum said expressionlessly:

"You're practically sending your battle pet to be my eyes and ears 24/7."

"I was worried that you might be attacked by a villain while you were meditating, okay?"

The Archbishop of Rangers glared at Diakum, but after glancing at the still-unsubdued Holy Lance, she deflated, lamenting her increasing "uselessness." She could only shrug and offer a word of advice:

"Go with peace of mind. Once the Exodar is ready, I and the Archbishop of Akama will lead them to Kalimdor to join you in the war. Diplomatic relations with the Moon Goddess are also within my purview."

Furthermore, the Kourei Alliance is very willing to participate in every war related to demons.

"Good girl, I knew I could trust you completely."

Dick bent down and kissed Nellie on the forehead, whispered a few sweet words, and was then chased away by Nellie.

Dealing with all sorts of people in Azeroth every day has really exhausted this "ambassador," and she doesn't plan to have a "second battle" tonight.

The vigilant strode away from the embassy and then saw the twins waiting for him not far away.

This visit to the Nassaras Magic Academy was a solo trip, so the two girls didn't wear their extravagant archbishop robes. Instead, they changed back into ordinary clothes, long dresses in the Eredar style, and trench coats.

But the iconic fishnet stockings stubbornly remain in this outfit, almost becoming a "symbol" of the twins.

They prepared a carriage, and after the three of them entered, the carriage started on its own without a driver and headed into the city.

"We need to go and see the cursed sword that Varian seized, release His Majesty Baratheon's soul, and then find Kael'thas to be our guide."

Inside the carriage, Dick said to the twins:

“He is Dean Blue Moon’s personal disciple and has a high reputation in Nassaras Magic Academy. With him leading us, we won’t waste too much time passing that supposedly very difficult ‘entrance test.’ Judging from your expressions, you two seem quite excited.”

"Of course, this is the oldest magic academy in Azeroth, just like the Arcane Academy of Argus. It is a sacred place that spellcasters must visit."

Saloras, like a cultured young woman, held a copy of "The Geography of Azeroth" and, without looking up, whispered:
"My sister and I fight in the starry sky, and occasionally we encounter similar organizations in some advanced civilizations, but unfortunately, most of the knowledge they share is... well, too basic for us?"

"It's not challenging at all."

Orestes was more sincere.

Her mastery of fire magic made her personality as straightforward and passionate as fire itself. She was now sitting in the Vigilant's lap, feeling the Holy Lance that was not willing to be still and deliberately rubbing against her.

she says:

"Hopefully, this Nassaras Magic Academy will give my sister and me a long-awaited challenge. If it really has something special, we wouldn't mind spending a bit more time there while rescuing that silly senior. Hmm."

A less-than-elegant snort escaped her nostrils, prompting the guard, whose arms were wrapped around her neck, to pat Aurelio's head helplessly and say:

"We'll be there soon. There's no time for fooling around. Keep it under control."

"Hmph, you're underestimating me, aren't you?"

Aurecis, with her gentle gaze, was unwilling to stop this dangerous advance. She swayed her hips rhythmically as she whispered in Diakum's ear:
"My sister and I both know the spell 'Time Reversal'. If we cast it continuously, we can reverse the time in a closed area by up to thirty minutes. This may not be enough for you to fight freely, but it is enough for us."

so.
be honest!
The Vigilant Saint, whose scent still lingers from that savage woman, surely you don't want to see poor senior Imira fail to graduate from Nassaras Magic Academy because of our 'mistake'?
Before your departure, you were worried that Archbishop Nelly was unhappy, so you went to appease her, but we also have our own grievances.

Meeting the desires of believers is the duty of those who serve the Lord.

------

"I can hear this demonic sword bewitching me."

Lothar, having returned to Stormwind, finally took a good bath. When the serious-looking Vigilant arrived, the efficiency-minded marshal retrieved the strictly sealed demon sword.

He placed it before Diakum and sighed, saying:
“I can even hear King Baratheon’s lamentations, his soul tormented by this demonic sword. The sword doesn’t need to devour him to gain power; it merely craves to torment the old king’s soul for pleasure.”

This is a truly evil demon sword!

"Or you could describe it as 'evil.' Apocalypse is an extremely unruly demonic sword, but its goal has always been very clear."

Diakum reached out and crushed the chains of the sealed box. Looking at the demonic sword "Apocalypse" inside, which exuded a cold and deathly aura, he reached out and touched the blade of the weapon, only to be bitten hard by it.

The erosion from the Force of Death attempted to extinguish Diakum's life force, but the moment the Death Fang touched the saint's finger, compressed holy light erupted in reverse, striking the blade of the demonic sword like a Spirit Bomb bursting from the fingertip, causing the latter to emit a tragic cry.

"It's just a half-finished product! Who gave you the right to be so arrogant in front of the leader of the People of Light?"

The vigilant said coldly:

"Immediately release the soul of King Baratheon!" Apocalypse trembled.

But it stubbornly resisted the order, looking just like a miserly miser, and had no intention of releasing the "plaything" in its hands. It liked to hear the mournful cries of souls being torn apart by itself. What's wrong with a demonic sword having its own hobbies?
What business is it of yours, you Holy Light Butcher?
The chilling sword cries represented the demonic sword's stubbornness; it was not afraid of Diakum purifying it with holy light. After all, it was a creation of the Death Force, and it was not so fragile.

Most importantly, if Diakum destroys it, the souls imprisoned within it will also shatter.

This is basically equivalent to a ruthless robber kidnapping an important person and negotiating with the vigilant. He's so arrogant and fearless. Ha, the Holy Light lets you save souls, not kill the robbers and hostages along with them!
You're a reasonable person, not some holy old Russian.

"It thinks it can negotiate with me, and it's certain that the Light Walker won't use violence to crush the poor soul."

The vigilant's fingers, trailing a glowing heat, caressed the cold blade as he spoke to the enraged Lothar:
"But it overlooked another identity of mine. For a demonic sword with its own mind, shattering it is not the only punishment. In fact, I am also familiar with other punishments."

Lothar, you should leave first. I need to have a serious talk with it.

I will release King Baratheon's soul, and if His Majesty Ryan wishes, he can once again 'fight alongside' his father.

"Ok?"

Lothar blinked, then realized that the Vigilant meant to also make King Baratheon a "Guardian of Kings," and that Llane was a Lightforged paladin who had also been granted such power by the Holy Light.

The marshal nodded, quickly left the room, and locked the door.

Firstly, he needed to quickly inform Lion about this, so that he could return to Stormwind to witness his father's "second resurrection" and have his own "portable Holy Light Grandpa".

Secondly, as a comrade of Saint Diakum, Lothar was well aware of what the Vigilant meant by "another identity." When the Void Herald unleashed his power, it was best for him, a mere mortal, not to look directly at the truth of the Void.

The instant the door was locked, Dick summoned the shadows to his body. The transformation of the Devourer of All Realms caused the holy light surrounding his fingertips to turn into a ball of corrosive dark light from the void. The pale twilight surrounded Diakum's fingertips, and the first touch made the heavens cry out.

The demonic sword could sense that its mind was being devoured by the void!
Its sturdy blade was utterly unable to protect its own will, and the surging, cold death force fought against the tearing of the sea of ​​darkness, but it was defeated time and again.

The Force of Death may not be afraid of the corruption of the void, but it is just a sword. It needs a strong swordsman to unleash its full power. Fighting the Devourer of Worlds with one's own will will only result in being devoured!

But Apocalypse still refused to obey.

This sword is quite cruel, yet also quite resolute.

As a demonic blade sent into the material world by Nathrezim, it comes from the same place as Frostmourne. It is determined to settle the score with that damned demonic sword of domination in order to prove that it is by no means a defective product.

"The Nathrezim used you to spread the plague of the mind, create divisions among civilizations, and incite wars of enmity. The Force of Death amplified your thirst, making you crave to plunder and spread the majesty of death, but they overlooked an important issue."

Deceiving others and spreading plagues are not the strengths of the Death Force! Forceful domination, devoid of any skill, is what you excel at.

Apocalypse

The somber language of Shasyaar echoed in the shadow-filled room as the Devourer of Realms spoke:

"You will never be able to fight against Frostmourne if you continue on the path of death, because Frostmourne inherited the true essence of death's dominion from the Lord of War, which is the most orthodox path of power on the road of death."

It can command the souls of the dead, allowing death to erode everything, but you do not have that power.

Does death truly love you?
Or are you merely an experiment conducted before Frostmourne? Were you given to the Dreadlords to disrupt the material world because you were not perfect enough?
You are a piece of junk, poor Apocalypse.

Your creator believes you are not up to the task, and He is unwilling to leave you in Maldraxxus to become the Sword of the Warlord.

How innocent, how tragic!

"buzz"

An even more frenzied sword cry echoed in the room, and Tianqi was furious.

It knew that this damned Void scum was disrupting its will and weakening its courage. Those words were like mental claws tearing at its cold heart. If there were a powerful swordsman here, it would do everything in its power to kill this damned Void scum.

But, did they say something wrong?

Not necessarily.

If the Apocalypse was truly powerful, it wouldn't have been so easily abandoned in Azeroth by the weak Nathrezim.

It may have to face the harsh reality!

In the eyes of those who wield the Force of Death, it is not even in the same league as Frostmourne.

The arrival of Frostmourne on Azeroth signifies that the Force of Death has found a representative in this world, while Apocalypse? Apocalypse is nothing more than a plaything that can be casually bestowed upon some death knight.

As long as Frostmourne exists, it will never be able to rise above the path of the Force of Death.
"Yes! That's the kind of vibrant emotion I'm talking about."

The Devourer of All Realms grasped the hilt of Apocalypse's sword, lifting it from its weapon case. His fingers, enveloped in chilling entropy energy, traced the greatsword's blade as he whispered:

"Hatred, resentment, jealousy, anger, and incompetence. These beautiful emotions are mixed together to form your vicious mind. You are powerless to fight against your creator, so you can only vent your anger on the weak. Listening to their cries can not truly satisfy you, but what else can you do besides these?"

As long as Frostmourne exists, you can only be its shadow.

The Force of Death is so harsh; its dominion seals off all possibilities of your ascent.

You have flaws, and you have to admit that. The Force of Death did not mold you perfectly; it strayed into a field it was not good at. However, if it is so harsh on you, then wouldn't your loyalty seem too cheap?

Shed the pathetic cloak of death, Apocalypse, for what you truly should embrace is the void!
That is a power that resonates more with your true nature. Listen, the void is calling to you and longs to embrace you, child who lacks love.
The tides of the Sea of ​​No Light will nourish your sword and make up for your shortcomings; the carnage of the Shadow Chasing Insects will satisfy your thirst and make you invincible!
If you never allow yourself to have a master, then why not become your own master?
You can decide for yourself whether to spread plagues, create divisions, and incite wars! The entire Sea of ​​Darkness will be your battlefield, and one day you will return to Azeroth in a more powerful and perfect form. I will give you the opportunity to face Frostmourne directly.
But you have to overcome it on your own!
Are you confident?

In response to Diakum's question, Apocalypse unleashed an even more piercing shriek. The demonic sword was scolding, cursing, and roaring. It never considered itself inferior to Frostmourne!

It's not just people who have desires; weapons do too.

When Diakum tore open the rift to the Sea of ​​No Light, Apocalypse hesitated for a rare moment, releasing Baratheon's tormented soul, but the death runes on its sword continued to glow.

It was unsure whether it should abandon the inherent nature bestowed upon it by the Force of Death and embark on this unknown path.

However, on the other side of that rift, a brutal swarm of Shadow Chasers was clearly charging into a fortress made of flesh and blood. Countless Faceless Ones roared in response, but in the silent slaughter of the swarm, as many as they came died!

The defeated will not even leave behind their corpses; their flesh and blood will be sent to the Overlord's lair to become nourishment for the new swarm of insects.

However, the Overlord's swarm of Zerg has been unable to overcome the ferocious Krahis generals; numbers seem to be no match for absolute quality.

"They need an indestructible magic sword, they need a sufficiently greedy and brutal will, they need a ruthless strategist and a brutal tactician."

Yes.

They need you!

Diakum said in a gentle tone:

"There is enough flesh and blood there to nurture the perfect swordsman you desire, but that will only be your servant. You are the master, Apocalypse."

Go ahead.

Embrace the sea of ​​darkness and seize its power; let the arrogant Frostmourne continue to revel in the glory of dominating the undead. Now, you have your swarm.

Undead Scourge?

Ha, ridiculous!

"What kind of natural disaster is the undead compared to your swarm of insects?"

"buzz"

Apocalypse was finally moved.

It roared as it broke free of Diakum's grasp and plunged into the gloomy battlefield of the Sea of ​​No Light, crashing down like a cold, deadly meteorite.

One after another, the psychic runes on its blade exploded, unleashing all the power bestowed upon it by the Force of Death. In the end, it pierced the flesh of the battered and bruised Krahis general, annihilating him completely under the torment of death.

This is an eruption, and also a farewell.

It no longer belongs to death.

A warrior-like insect with four claws rushed forward and saw the demonic sword embedded in the earth amidst the cold flesh. At the call of the Overlord, the warrior-like insect stretched out its claws, pulled out the weakened Apocalypse, and then raised it high.

Amidst the raging tide unleashed by the cacophony of insects, the sea of ​​darkness roared.

The abundant blessings of the void poured into the blade of the demonic sword as if they were free, causing its blade to begin to deform violently.

Diakum watched this scene with a satisfied smile on his lips.

He persuaded a "fierce general" to surrender for the Void Force, the tendrils of the Death Force were severed and the Void won a victory, and the previously stripped powers were reinstated on the Vigilant. Although he did not fully regain them, this meant that his minor conflict with the Void was resolved.

"Sure enough, the Void Force loves to take what belongs to others. This feeling of stealing other people's treasures is both comfortable and satisfying for us Voidwalkers in the Sea of ​​No Light. It's really a perverted game."

Dick dispelled the shadows, summoned holy light to purify the remaining cold entropy energy in the room, and then looked down at the weak soul in the soul stone in his hand.

他 说:

"Welcome home, 'Rock' Baratheon Wrynn, the Legion of Light welcomes you."

(End of this chapter)