Light's Dawn of Azeroth

Chapter 359, Section 49: The King's Duty - The Troll Emperor Has a Responsibility to Protect the Dark Troll Race

Cenarius is the son of Malorne.

It is said to be the fruit of love between the Great White Deer and Elune. The most ridiculous thing is that the love between these two "powerful beings" was arranged by a group of ancient tauren who were powerful enough to hunt down demigods.

But as everyone knows, Tauren love to boast and always exaggerate the truth by a tiny bit, so only Malorne and Elune probably know the truth of the matter.

However, this does not change the fact that Cenarius's bloodline is "noble".

It is the true son of the moon goddess, the forest king born with the favor of the life force, adopted by the dream queen Ysera from childhood, said to have grown up in the Emerald Dream, and is also the origin of the druidic doctrine of the material world, and the leader of the wild gods.

He holds a high position and is quite capable; his only problem is bad luck.

The Deer Antler Man had terrible luck in official history.

He died and came back to life, lived and died again, going through this cycle several times. Being corrupted by strange things was commonplace for him. If it weren't for the fact that he was a "spirit of eternity" blessed by the Force of Life, a demigod of the wilderness, Cenarius would probably have been one of the first big shots to meet his end.

In this timeline, it was equally unlucky, but to be fair, it was much luckier than in the official history. After being fully accepted by the fel energy, all of its exaggerated life potential was transformed into fel energy power. Wielding the plague, it poisoned the stars and made a name for itself over the past ten thousand years.

Sargeras valued it highly.

The Corruptor is the third major demon lord initially recognized by Sargeras, which means that Cenarius's untapped potential in the realm of life has now been fully realized, giving him a significant advantage when facing his weakened father in the dream.

When the Stormrage Brothers led a large group of druids, priestesses of the moon, and watchers into the Emerald Dream, what they saw was a chaotic battlefield.

Old Staghelm, a member of Malorne's kin, had led a large group of druids to "protect their master" here, but they were firmly blocked outside Malorne's dream sanctuary by the satyr demons led by Anotheron and Banehollow. Those filthy nightmares also transformed into various ferocious forms, baring their fangs and claws.

The enraged Old Deerhelm, now in the natural form of a great white deer, rampaged across the battlefield, knocking over the satyrs and nightmares, but he was unable to tear the enemy forces apart to support his master.

Looking ahead from this battlefield, the polluter is fighting a one-on-one battle with the weakened white deer.

But Marloen was clearly no match for her rebellious son.

It is the most powerful and oldest demigod of the wilderness, and can be said to be the original embodiment of the natural forces of Azeroth. It should not be so weak, but the damage from the War of the Ancients has not yet been recovered. For ten thousand years, it has maintained the white moonlight of Elune to shine on the Nightsworn, allowing them to sleep peacefully.

This made Maron's already weakened state even worse.

The main problem is that no one else can do this job.

Elune sculpted the Night Goddess to unleash her Black Moon Fury. The chosen ones should face death with equanimity. Tyrande's unexpected survival was not part of the White Lady's plan, and this was an act of defiance against the principles of life.

If Malorne weren't the White Lady's consort, there would be no way Elune could have persuaded her to send down moonlight to guide Tyrande into slumber.

That was almost the only way among the stars that could allow the God of War of the Night to survive.

"Quick! Help!"

Illidan, wielding his moonblade, leaped forward, making no attempt to conceal his power. He charged in beside Anotheron, immediately entering his demonic transformation. In a ferocious, chaotic battle stance, he roared:

"Saving Malorne is saving Tyrande! Malfurion, I will open the way for you. Go quickly to aid the Lost Watchers! We need that moonlight."

Malfurion, aware of the urgency of the situation, charged into the chaotic land as a ferocious bear-man clad in wooden armor. Behind him, High Priestess Maiev raised her hands and summoned the stars to shower down, unleashing her ultimate attack right from the start. It was truly a perilous moment.

Tyrande was her closest friend; the two had lived together in the Temple of the Moon in Suramar, and she could not bear to watch the Nightsworn burn to ashes in the Wrath of the Black Moon.

And this is the devil's trick!
The Corruptors ambushed Malorne to kill the Great White Deer, hoping to eliminate the Kaldorei resistance and trigger the Night God of War's loss of control, thus disrupting the defenses of Mount Hyjal.

If it really succeeds, then there's no need to fight this final battle.

The whistling moonfire meteors smashed through the obstacles in their path, and then, amidst Maiev's shouts wielding her holy staff, the blinding "Lunar Orbiter Cannon" descended, blasting the satyrs into a state of utter despair. But these creatures, having battled wits and courage with the night elves for ten thousand years, and being the only demon race to have proliferated on a large scale in the material world, also had their own principles.

If the polluters' plan succeeds, Cadore will surely suffer a devastating blow and even perish today!

Ha, we'll fight to the death to stick it out to the end!
A massive satyr lord seized the druid before him, then turned to look behind him. Cenarius had plunged the spear that poisoned the stars into the body of the Great White Stag. The monstrous plague was swirling around and corroding Malorne, and the power of fel energy was surging, threatening to transform the mighty nature demigod into a greater demon.

That was a harbinger of the victory it had promised.

Lord Savaric of the Sats hesitated for a moment, then hardened his heart, took out the filthy horn, and blew it in the dream.

As if summoned by some war, the rift in the nightmare opened here, and wave after wave of satyr barbarians charged out from within, howling. The scale was so great that it seemed to have summoned all the satyrs hidden in the shadows of Felwood Forest.

They must wage a decisive battle here and buy the polluters time to corrupt Malorne.

"Ms. Maiev!"

Commander Ilyasana, the Watcher, rolled out of the shadows and shouted to the High Priestess of the Moon, who was maintaining the divine bombardment:
"There are more and more Satyrs, we can't break through, and the Nightsworn are on the verge of self-destruction. We must... we must use forbidden magic!"

The white-haired Ms. Maiev felt a chill run down her spine.

She surveyed the battlefield, and when she heard Malorne's whimper as she suffocated from fel energy, the High Priestess of the Moon's heart trembled. In this race against time, there was no time to summon more warriors into the battlefield, and if she wanted to defeat the enemy as quickly as possible, she should indeed use forbidden magic.

As descendants of one of the oldest civilizations, the Kaldorei possess a wide variety of forbidden arts, but the most suitable for this dreamlike battlefield is still...
"Defend me!"

Maiev interrupted the spell and said in a low voice.

Several veteran Watchers immediately came to his aid, and under their protection, the High Priest took a deep breath and took out something heavily sealed from his baggage.

That was a combat sickle.

With its ancient and simple design, the staff has a handle made of ancient wood and a blade made of wolf fangs. The blade and staff are covered with runes of the moon god. As soon as it is taken out, a desolate moonlight descends and the faint howl of wolves echoes in this filthy battlefield.

"Lord of Fury, Goldrinn, please forgive me for breaking your seal and releasing the most ferocious wolves beneath the crescent moon. But the war against demons has reached a critical moment. If we cannot turn the tide now, Mount Hyjal will be overthrown in an instant."

Please forgive my arrogance.

Maiev planted the scythe in the ground and used ancient chanting to break the seal on the scythe.

Goldrinn's helpless sigh echoed in her ears, just as the white wolf had predicted to Diakum in Sunlight Forest: under immense pressure, the Kaldorei would surely unleash their most destructive legion.

This is like drinking poison to quench thirst.

But at least it can help them defeat their formidable enemy and give them hope of rescuing Malorne and the Nightsworn.

"The rage of the scythe claws is now unbridled. From now on, the Emerald Dreamland will become their hunting ground. You'd better watch yourselves."

Goldrinn's voice echoed in Maiev's ears. The moment the High Priestess of the Moon looked up, she saw a magnificent yet wild white giant wolf pounce from the dream to the Defiler, its claws sweeping and forcing back the Great Demon Lord who was corrupting Malorne.

It wasn't for Elune.

It came only to challenge a powerful enemy and incidentally rescue the Great White Deer. Malorne is currently the only known consort of Lady Elune.

Once the Great White Deer is gone, "Silver Moon Obsessed Woman" will probably become even more relentless in her pursuit of Golding, which is a future Golding absolutely does not want to see. So, Deer Brother, you'd better continue to shoulder the burden of appeasing the obsessive woman.

"Wolves of the scythe-clawed pack! Hear my command! The ancient enemy, Satir, lies ahead. Unleash your fury and annihilate the evil!"

Maiev broke the final seal, and the Priestess of the Moon raised the war scythe high and swung it down fiercely towards the battlefield.

The wolf-fang scythe tore through the dream, carving a rift leading to its deepest part. When the first ancient wolf howl echoed, the satyrs who were fighting off the elves on the bustling battlefield turned around almost simultaneously.

These goat-hoofed demons smelled something unsettling, something that reminded some ancient satyrs of the wars of nine thousand years ago.

Lord Savaric of the Sat trembled, touching the hideous claw marks on his neck. As he turned his gaze, the familiar, enormous figure emerged shakily from the deepest part of the dream.

An old white werewolf, its beard disheveled like a wolf's mane, its eyes cloudy and filled with murderous intent.

It strode out, first sniffing the familiar winds of war, then unceremoniously snatched the Moon Goddess's Scythe from Maiev's hand.

The return of its weapon elicited a satisfied howl from the scythe-clawed wolf. It stroked its crystallized claws on the blade, then, scythe in hand, charged into battle.

The first step was still the characteristic unsteady gait of an old man, making one fear that he might fall and die.

The second step became agile, as if rekindling an ancient passion, allowing the rage to materialize around it, transforming into a furious crimson battle armor.

The third step flashed past the shadows, and with a swift movement of the scythe in his hand, he cleaved several satyrs blocking his path in two. The stench of blood ignited his ferocity, and with a low roar, the shadow behind him stretched and expanded in an instant.

Like a dream gate wide open, one after another werewolves with scythe claws charged out from the reflection.

In an instant, the hunting pack took shape, and in an instant, the wolves howled and charged.

Like a gray-white torrent sweeping across the land of dreams, the satyr demons, who had just been baring their fangs and claws, scattered in chaos as if they had seen their natural enemy, trying to escape.

But it's no use!
Nine thousand years ago, during the war against the Satyrs, the Scythe-Claw Druids earned their reputation by fighting their way through the Satyrs. They were the true "Wolves of the Wrath," and the only furious kin recognized by Goldrinn. Before this howling pack of wolves, the mere Satyrs could be crushed with a flick of their fingers.

"rush!"

Seeing Lyral Flamefang, the Scythe-Clawed Wolf, charging towards Dreadlord Banehollow with the Scythe of the Moon, the old Staghelm, now free, called out. He joined forces with Malfurion and the others, and in one fell swoop, they broke through the Nightmare's final barrier, finally reaching the Dream Sanctuary of Malorne. The deadly battle between Goldrinn and the Corruptor made the place resemble hell, but Malorne's dire situation was even more worrying.

As a member of the Great White Deer's retinue, Old Deer Helmet transformed into human form and rushed to his master's side, trembling as he reached out to touch Malorne's antlers.

The fel-powered, withered spear that poisoned stars pierced Malorne's body from the back, a fatal wound. Meanwhile, the filthy plague, like green beams of light, coiled around the Great White Deer's limbs, forming fel shackles that drew in the fel energy that distorted the void.

If left unchecked, Malorne will suffer the same defilement and depravity as her son.

Malfurion was more rational at this point. Seeing the Great White Deer lying in the Holy Land, unable to even stand up, he knew that Malorne was probably beyond saving.

It is too weak.

The polluter's dream attack is a fatal blow.

"We must not let Malorne fall into fel magic!"

Malfurion gritted his teeth, reached out and placed his hand on Staghelm's shoulder, and whispered:

"We must release the pure spirit of the lost guardian, letting it hide in dreams and await the resurrection of nature's cycle."

"I"

Old Staghelm was unwilling to end his master's life with his own hands, but then he saw the pleading eyes of Malorne lying there on the verge of death.

It was so painful.

It didn't want to become as filthy a life as its poor child.

The cold moonlight of Elune shone down, enveloping Malorne's body, revealing a sorrowful sense of impending farewell, while Goldrinn's cries of pain and the Corruptor's cruel laughter indicated that their time was truly running out.

Goldling was unable to defeat the Corruptor single-handedly; even delaying was a struggle.

They cannot allow the second Wilderness Demigod to die because of their hesitation.

"Why are you crying? It'll be back soon."

Illidan the Starhunter strode forward, clutching a Nathrezim's fel-powered skull, while Anotheron wailed in agony as Illidan's inner demons tore him apart.

Another great demon became the Starhunter's "food," making him even wilder after his feast. He reached out and absorbed the energy from the Skull of the Dreadlord, entering his most frenzied Demonhunter form. After throwing a few words at Old Staghelm, he once again unfurled his fel-powered bat wings and charged at the Corruptor with his Moonblade in hand.

"Do it!"

Malfurion pulled his disciple to his feet, and when he turned around, he saw that his other disciple, Hamuul Runetotem, had also come to assist with the Tauren Druid. But to Emerald Heart's surprise, Hamuul had turned into a "Fire Tauren" after not seeing him for a while.
Although his great druid disciple was still dressed as a druid, flames were wrapped around his shoulders, arms, body, and bull horns. These flames were not ordinary fires, but rather the shadows and shields of sunlight, giving off a sacred, cumin-like feel of "roasted beef."

“Mentor, this is the legacy of the Sun Spirit.”

Hamuer explained briefly:

"The combination of the sunfire and the forces of nature from Rukhmar, the demigod of Draenor, is something I've only just begun to understand, but I can help! The sunfire is the best counter to evil. I've been studying with the Lightforged for a while and have mastered the technique of releasing solar storms. I'll perform the purification for Lord Malorne."

"Do it. Don't let Marorne suffer any more pain and humiliation."

Malfurion, in a sorrowful tone, pulled the weeping old Staghelm back a few steps, then saw Hamuul loudly call for the Sunfire to descend.

Almost identical to Diakum's solar storm, it ignited in the blazing sun. Normally, this flame would not harm a nature spirit of Malorne's caliber, but now that Malorne was determined to die, the flames spread like wildfire in an instant.

Its life force is transformed into fuel to fuel the solar wind, striving to preserve the purity of its eternal spirit amidst the pollution of evil energy.

But Malorne, the oldest and wisest demigod, knew what was most important to Mount Hyjal and the Kaldorei at the moment. So, as the sunfire burned, the great white stag let out mournful cries, as if praying to its mate to send down moonlight so that Tyrande Windwhisperer could live.

Lady Elune hesitated.

Although He is the true God of the life force, He cannot violate the morality of life. The Moonlit War God is a symbol of life and death; they are destined to die at the moment of their birth.

However, Lady Bai was, after all, a goddess with deep feelings.

Unable to ignore her dying pleas, she sighed helplessly as the moon shifted, casting a cold ray of moonlight upon Mount Hyjal.

But this is the last time.

As the true God of life, He cannot violate the rules He has set for Himself; to do so would be to provoke death and would lead to extremely dire consequences.

"You have been defying death for over ten thousand years, have some self-respect."

Lady Maiev clearly heard the lament of the moon goddess in that instant. As the High Priestess of the Moon, she knew that this was a very clear and solemn "oracle," and she could also guess that the moon goddess was referring to Nordrassil, the World Tree that granted the night elves eternal life.

The tree granted the night elves immortality, making the Kaldorei immortal. However, how could the Force of Death tolerate such an act of an entire race fleeing death?
They defied death, and they will pay the price.

This echoes the World Mother's rebuke. Alas, even if this demonic invasion is repelled, the Kaldorei will not have an easy time afterward.

The sun's fire was still burning, but Hamuul had only ignited the spark. This could be considered Malorne's choice to fiercely self-immolate in the face of irresistible fel corruption, and its life force rapidly dissipated.

Those vibrant seeds of life scattered across the land of dreams as the great white deer struggled to its feet, giving birth to new hope.

Amidst the mournful cries of the forest guardians and tree spirits, they witnessed their ancestor, with his last strength, wrapped in the fire of the sun, launching a final charge against their defiled father.

Marorne still had the rebellious son's spear stuck in her body, but the great white stag lowered its head in an instant, turning its antlers, which were wrapped in flames, into the most powerful blades. Its four hooves trampled and galloped, turning its burning life into a desperate charge.

Goldrinn's hind legs were broken, but the enraged white wolf, in coordination with Malorne's desperate charge, used a pounce to push the Corruptor backward.

"boom"

In the "High Speed ​​Stag's" earth-shattering "blazing car" collision, the Corruptor's chest was pierced with a bloody wound. As Malorne swung his antlers one last time, tearing the Corruptor's body open, causing it to scream in agony, Goldrinn pounced and broke off one of its dark green fel antlers with a claw.

But that’s about it.

Malorne's final struggle was exhausted. As its fiery body fell, it transformed into a final burning wind and dissipated in the dream forest, leaving only its enormous, charred antlers as a natural relic.

"puff"

The wounded Corruptor grabbed its decaying stellar spear, watching with a cold smile as Goldrin limped away into the dreamlike mist, too lazy to even give chase. Instead, it turned to look at the night elves glaring at it from behind.

Malfurion, Illidan, and Maiev are all here.

"You've walked right into my trap, waiting for your prey to walk right into it!"

Cenarius raised his left hand, which was wrapped in decaying thorns, and let the emerald plague coil around his arm like venomous snakes. He sneered:
"You failed to save Malorne, now tell me, who will come to save you?"

"Demon! Step aside!"

A deep roar echoed from the churning dreamscape behind, causing the Corruptor to look up in surprise and see a golden-armored Tyrannosaurus Rex, even larger than itself, striding heavily toward it.

"The Loa, the guardians of Azeroth, reside here! You have no right to act arrogantly here!"

The Loa, the royal family of Zandalar, roared, as did Rezan, the god of strength.

Beside it, one powerful Loa after another appeared. These guys were not strong enough to fight against the Corruptor, a great demon lord, but the problem was that each Loa held a clump of Azerite crystals in its claws.

That pure blood of the world can amplify all power; it is the supreme gift of Mother World.

"You can't kill every single one of us, Polluter!"

The good-natured Akunda shook its head and called upon the thunder, roaring:
"But if we swarm you, we can overwhelm you. Want to take the gamble?"

"Ha, you appear like wolves, yet speak like dogs."

Cenarius commented dismissively:

"You only dare to show off your power by relying on the strength of the Star Soul?"

It bent down to pick up the antlers left behind by its "old father," Maroron, after his self-immolation, and waved its hand with a cold smile, saying:
"Fine, I'll spare your lives today! Loa, don't come to Mount Hyjal to join the fun. This is the last mercy you can get. Otherwise, after Nordrassil falls, your Dazar'alor will be next."

Get out of here.

Go back to your den and tremble in fear!

Ps:

Double monthly pass event begins!

Please vote for me! Please vote for me! There will be an extra chapter on the 1st of next month!
(End of this chapter)