Light's Dawn of Azeroth

Chapter 505, Section 44. You mean, you plan to kill me in a nightmare filled with negative emotions? - [710]

(Bonus chapter for "SaSaXD" brother [7/10])
"Beware of dreams?"

Lothar, who had just entered the city, frowned. He looked at Colonel Blackmore beside him and said:
"What does it mean?"

"I don't know either, Marshal, but from what I've observed, the situation has been quite stable these past few days."

The werewolf colonel shrugged, escorting the marshal into Durnholde Castle, which he had personally captured three days earlier, while muttering:

"To ensure we wouldn't be ambushed, I specifically adjusted the soldiers' rest schedule to ensure that at least half the people in the city were always awake."

"You did a great job, demonstrating the talent of an excellent commander."

Lothar nodded, looking at Durnholde Keep, which still bore the marks of battle but had been tidied up by the werewolf colonel. This fortress of Lordaeron had become his army's garrison and front line in Hillsbrad Foothills, and from its walls, one could see as far as Tarren Mill.

With both the castle and Southshore occupied, Tarren Mill became the Dragonborn's last major stronghold in the region.

But that city is very difficult to conquer.

Behind it lies the towering Alterac Mountains. With a large number of dragonborn currently stationed in the Kingdom of Alterac, Tarren Mill can receive ample aid. Once Lothar prepares to attack the city, a brutal, meat grinder-like battle will erupt in Hillsbrad Foothills.

Fortunately, Lothar will not choose this direction to attack.

The terrain of the Alterac Mountains is too treacherous. As long as the Dragonborn guard a few passes, they can block the army's advance. The Old Horde, which swept through the land in the official history, was also stopped here. If King Perenold had not chosen to surrender, the Old Horde would never have been able to enter the Kingdom of Lordaeron.

Now the same choice is before Lothar; the Marshal had already decided on the way here to take a different path.

The Vigilant had earned the goodwill of the Gilnean Worgen, and he could easily advance all the way north from Silverpine Forest into the Tirisfal region. Although that route was riddled with fortresses and defenses, it was still easier than fighting the Dragonborn, who had the terrain advantage, in the Alterac Mountains.

More importantly, time!
Lothar must make sure this civil war ends as soon as possible.

However, in order to tie down the enemy forces in this area, the Marshal still needs to conduct a covering operation in Hillsbrad Foothills.

"General Danas Torbjörn is about to arrive at Dunholde Castle, and General Windsor will be his adjutant. You and your Stonewall Brigade will also be transferred to fight under Danas's command."

Dalaran will move to the vicinity of Durnholde at midnight tonight, and Archmage Antonidas and his spellcasters will provide you with various forms of support.

In the castle's command center, Lothar gave the werewolf colonel a private instruction:
"You must attack Tarren Mill."

"We don't have enough troops!"

Colonel Blackmore immediately shook his head and said:

"The Ravenholdt assassins have brought us intelligence on the dragonborn in the Alterac Mountains. Forgive my bluntness, Marshal, but if you choose this path to break through, you'll have to commit the entire Seventh Legion and the Faith Guard, and even then, there's no guarantee you'll succeed."

The terrain of the Kingdom of Alterac is too treacherous.

That country, situated in a harsh, cold land with limited resources, has managed to survive the attacks of surrounding nations to this day thanks to its naturally fortified terrain.

"Yes, I know we can't take it down, but you still have to fight."

Losa waved his hand.

He didn't elaborate further, but the colonel understood that this was a military operation to tie down the enemy, and that the marshal's real offensive was not going to be here.

Blackmore was a veteran; he didn't ask any more questions, but simply saluted, indicating that he would complete his mission.

“If necessary, we can retreat to Eagle's Nest Mountain.”

Lothar reminded:
"We must make full use of the terrain advantage of Durnholde Castle and keep the main force of the Dragonborn tied up here! I need twenty days, or at least half a month."

"We will definitely complete the mission!"

The colonel nodded, then asked:

Are you going to Nanhai Town next?

"Yes, I'll wait for our 'friends' there."

Losa said with a smile:
"With their involvement, the situation in the Northern Frontier will no longer fluctuate. However, since our assassin friends have warned us to be wary of dreams, simply arranging rest time is not enough."

I noticed an abandoned church in the castle. Let's make use of it, Blackmore.

Let the chaplains preach there, let the flame of holy light be lit here, I firmly believe that the shadows cannot extinguish this flame, and let the icon of Goldrin be placed in the castle as well.

Our 'friends' will feel comfortable because of this.

"Werewolf?"

Blackmore had this guess in his mind, and then he was sure of it. It seemed that Marshal Lothar had not been simply resting in Stromgarde these days. He had used diplomatic means to win over the Gilnean werewolf hunters.

No wonder the marshal was so confident.

With the help of the werewolves, the formidable multiple lines of defense in Silverpine Forest are no longer an insurmountable obstacle.

Colonel Werewolf glanced at the military map again. The stalemate in the Quel'Thalas direction couldn't last forever. Perhaps in a few days, the Sun King's army would also attack the Stratholme region.

That would mean a three-front war!

Moreover, the outcome of each front would have a fatal impact on the Kingdom of Lordaeron, and King Terenas could not abandon any front, which meant he had to send out every Dragonborn under his command.

But where would he get more troops to defend Tirisfal Glades?

The encirclement is complete, brilliant!
The Marshal truly deserves to be called a strategic mastermind of the human camp. Being able to command one's own army well is nothing special; the real talent of a commander lies in knowing how to get the enemy to "cooperate" with one's strategic actions.

I am far behind in this regard and still need to learn more from the Marshal.

With these thoughts in mind, Blackmore followed Lothar to inspect the camp and defenses, and finally visited the wounded soldiers' camp. At dusk, it watched Marshal Lothar depart for Southshore under the escort of his Iron Horse Knights.

Thinking about the imminent attack on Tarren Mill, the colonel decided to stay up all night to consolidate the resources at hand and try to make a good impression on General Danas when he arrived.

It has to be said that ambitious werewolves don't need anyone to urge them to become "roll dogs" (a term used to describe people who are driven by ambition).

But it was this plan to stay up all night that, by some strange twist of fate, allowed the colonel to escape a quietly approaching danger.

When it heard the commotion outside the door, Blackmore realized something was wrong. It grabbed its sword and rushed out to see its guards falling one by one.

They were not attacked, but after falling to the ground, they began to snore softly.

It was as if an invisible wind of drowsiness swept in from the darkness, making the colonel's scalp tingle instantly.

Be careful of your dreams!

The warning from the Ravenholdt assassin made it immediately realize what it should do. As if being chased by an invisible, sneaky hand, the werewolf burst into speed, smashed through the door at the end of the corridor in a few steps, leaped down from the height of the castle, used its claws to pierce the rocks to slow itself down, and then rolled to the ground.

In the darkness, it raised its head and could clearly see a gray-black "wind" that had enveloped its command post and was spreading throughout the entire castle.

It must be some evil trick played by the dragonborn of Lordaeron!
Blackmore stormed into the camp and personally rang the alarm bell. The piercing sound jolted the sleeping soldiers awake, and they left the camp under the shouts of their officers. Then they heard the werewolf colonel roaring:
"Where's the priest? Where's the priest! Quick! Ignite the Holy Flame! Also, weren't you all learning that strange 'Wall of the Heart' spell from the Lightforged in Stromgarde?"

Use it now!

The monsters in our nightmares are hunting our warriors; we cannot let them succeed.

"Colonel!"

A loud, somewhat fearful voice rang out from the city wall as the dwarf shouted:

"The dragonborn knights of Tarren Mill have left the city! Their target is our side, damn it! Those bastards are going to take advantage of the chaos to attack the city."

"Pah, they're dreaming."

Blackmore roared:

"Priests, set up the mental defenses! The rest of you, get on the walls! I risked my life to take this castle; they won't take it back so easily."

Meanwhile, in Nanhai Town.

Lothar, who had just taken a nap on his cot, suddenly opened his eyes. The Heart of Azeroth in his chest was burning hot, like a flint that had scalded him awake.

The marshal leaped up, grabbed his sword, and rushed into the house next door, slapping Daenerys's face but unable to wake her.

Bai Zu, like his other guards, was dragged into a dream. When Lothar rushed out of his room, the entire Southsea town was as quiet as a dead land.

When I looked back at the sea, all I could see was a strange, gray-black fog.

Did this thing come from the sea?

So Nanhai Town was the first to be hit, tsk, what bad luck.

Lothar made a sarcastic remark, but he wasn't particularly afraid. He called out to his ancestors and guardians while summoning his "comrades" with the Heart of Azeroth.

After hearing Lothar's description, Khadgar, who was still in Stromgarde, immediately reminded him:
"It sounds like some kind of nightmare spell. It is said that the leader of the Naga is nicknamed 'Nightmare King'. Considering that there are Naga everywhere in the waters near the Kingdom of Lordaeron, we can confirm that 'Naga King' Xavius ​​is also an 'evil companion' of the Dragonborn."

"Khadgar"

Standing alone in Southshore, Lothar, surrounded by nightmares, said helplessly:

"I'm telling you this not so you can help me analyze things and come help me right now! This is clearly aimed at me; they want to behead me."

"I've already tried to open the portal, but the bad news is that they were clearly prepared. The teleportation spell is severely disrupted. To prevent myself from becoming the next person who needs to be rescued, I've decided to fly there more safely."

Khadgar said:

"Don't worry, Rhonin is closer to you. Besides, are you really sure you're awake right now? Is it possible that you've also been dragged into the dream, but the Heart of Azeroth's protection has kept you from falling into Xavius's nightmare?"

Do you remember the tower in Elwynn Forest that the Shadow Council used to occupy?
The dreams there are 'layered,' and I suspect Savus used the same method.”

"How do I determine this? I'm not the spellcaster."

Losa frowned and asked a question.

Khadgar paused for a few seconds, then said:

"Try slashing yourself! If this is a dream, you'll definitely wake up because of it. Give it a try."

Lothar stared speechlessly at the Heart of Azeroth in his hand, then sighed, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it until it was crushed.

When the Heart of Azeroth was shattered into pieces, the Marshal confirmed that he had indeed fallen into a dream. But couldn't that bastard Xavius ​​have been a little more attentive when he was lying?

Would anyone actually listen to such a stupid lie?
Meanwhile, in Bai Zu's dream.

"You lied to me!"

Varian dropped the dagger in his hand, clutching his bleeding abdomen, and stared at Daenerys, who was standing in front of him with her hands on her hips, laughing wildly.

The latter laughed so hard he almost fell over, and finally, under the watchful eyes of the White Soldier, he pierced his body with his claws, then tore off his "skin" in a horrifying manner, revealing the hideous and ugly face of the Sat Demon.

"You humans are so funny."

Nasat flexed his claws, flicked his tail which burned with dark flames, and grinned menacingly at the white soldier against the backdrop of his furry neck:

"If I had known you were so easy to fool, I should have tricked you into sending your soul to my lord. Don't worry, the Nightmare King isn't here. You little guys don't need my lord to deal with you personally."

I'm not afraid to tell you.

You won't die no matter how badly you're tormented in your nightmares, but when your soul is overwhelmed, your heart stopping is just a result of suggestion.

Besides, I don't think those Naga who are rushing ashore will show any mercy to a little guy like you.

The Naga are all crazy! Never play with them.

of course.

I, too, am a Sartre like him.

The satyr demon swung its claws at Varian, but the white soldier nimbly flipped over to dodge. Varian clutched his own stabbed abdomen and charged into the complex dream labyrinth behind him.

Sartre, who was pursuing him, was not in a hurry.

They spent a long time and paid a heavy price to drag the entire Silverpine Forest and the surrounding area into a nightmare, so it would be a shame not to hunt them down properly after all their hard work.

Moreover, the Nightmare King has been hiding in the shadows of the world for so many years, and now that he has finally made a high-profile appearance, how could Lord Savis satisfy his wicked mind if he didn't show off a lot?

Hehe, humans, it's "hunting time" now!

------

"puff"

Diakum performed a 720-degree spin in mid-air and then completed the performance of being knocked away with an extremely difficult "airborne blood spurting" move.

He fell to the ground in a sorry state, the claw marks on his chest seemingly having some kind of special effect, preventing the vigilant from getting up for a long time.

No matter how powerful one's external self may seem, it is all "fake." In this nightmare land woven and constructed by the Nightmare King, everything seems to have to obey its will.

Dick lay on the ground, silently feeling the weakness he hadn't experienced in a very long time.

The last time I was so easily knocked away was probably in the Great Lecture Hall of Oronar City, wasn't it? Hmm, more than 20,000 years have passed in the blink of an eye. Time really flies.

"cough cough"

He coughed a few times, clutched his chest, and got up.

His over six-meter-tall body was "compressed" to the level of an ordinary Draenei, giving Diakum a feeling of "returning to the starting village".

He even began to wonder if he was actually still fast asleep in the Mysterious Academy, and that everything he had experienced so far was just a dream.
But since you're already thinking this way, why not go even further?
Maybe I'm still lying in that house I bought with my wallet emptied and a 20-year loan, and all of this is just a midsummer night's dream while I'm comfortably enjoying the air conditioning.

"Do you want me to think this way, Savis? Do you want me to become weak as you wish, so that you can take advantage of my vulnerability and perhaps manipulate the Vigilant's body and power through some evil means?"

Perhaps you are plotting some ridiculous scheme to transform me into a Void Vanguard in order to please the Sea of ​​Darkness, who doesn't actually like you much.

Diakum wiped his mouth and looked up at the ever-changing gray-black mist around him.

Like a living thing, the mist constantly changed and sculpted Savas's "classic face," which looked as hideous as a hanged ghost.

The Nightmare King is the progenitor of the Sartres, and naturally possesses the ugliest and most ferocious face among all Sartres, as well as a bizarre serpentine lower body, in order to showcase his outstanding resume as a "three-surname slave".

In response to Diakum's words, the abstract face of Savas, sculpted in the dark gray mist, twisted and roared:
"You're doomed! Diakum Zastins, you can proclaim your confidence, but the moment you were swallowed by the nightmare, you were already trapped."

In this nightmare world that belongs to me, I am your master, I am your judge, I am your warden!
I have an eternity to mold you, strip away your courage, strip your faith, and crush your will. Ultimately, you will kneel at my feet, becoming the destructive hand of the Nightmare King.

"You deserve it too?!"

Dick sneered:
"What the Corruptors, the Old Gods, the Void Lords, and even the Dark Titans couldn't achieve, you, a traitor who betrayed arcane and fel energy and ultimately embraced the Void, dare to dream? You really dare to dream."

Let me guess, you and your cronies must have put in a lot of thought and effort to drag an individual like me into the nightmare you've woven.

The price is necessary, and the sacrifice is also necessary.

I suspect that the black blood miners of the Rustwater Conglomerate have been digging up from the ground over the past few months and has been sent to Silverpine Forest, buried beneath the earth as one pollution node after another, supporting this enormous nightmare world.

I suspect that Xalatas, as your assistant, presided over the entire ceremony, which allowed the nightmare to spread to such a wide area in such a short time.

I suspect that your master N'Zoth also opened up a portion of the reflection of Ny'alotha, the Sleeping City, to weave this nightmare territory for you, one that is enough to trap me.

They really went to great lengths, but unfortunately they chose the wrong executor.

The vigilant snorted and said:
"If N'Zoth could be a little braver and come in person, what you just claimed might become a reality. After all, what would a Lightwalker like me know about the mysteries of nightmares?"
This is indeed a path I am unfamiliar with.

"Hmph, keep bragging! I'd like to see how you escape from this 'three-surname slave'."

Savis swung his claws, and a blackish-gray mist swept over, trapping Diakum and lifting him into the air. Then, black lightning crackled and struck down.

Diakum, who was transformed into an ordinary person in the nightmare world, was powerless to resist. The continuous shadow lightning strikes charred his skin, leaving him in a rather miserable state.

"This is a cage designed to imprison you! It's big enough to trap a god!"

The King of Nightmares screamed:

"Even the Supreme Star Soul can't help you. He himself is lost in the Void Dream of the Thousand-Bearded Demon. You're finished!"

"cough cough"

Dick coughed and spat out a clump of black blood.

He weakly shook his head, thinking to himself:
"It can block my Void Power because it is a Void Demigod, and it can prevent the Holy Light from seeping in because it understands the Holy Light. It knows the principles of how these two powers work, so it can isolate them."

But people cannot imagine things they have never seen out of thin air, and Sartre was no exception!
"I happen to possess a skill that it has never seen before. Its master may have seen it, but N'Zoth doesn't know how to isolate it."

“Tell me, Savas, how many people have you dragged into nightmares this time? What hateful sadistic methods have your ridiculous, weak henchmen devised to crush them?”
Do you know how much despair, anger, hatred, rage, fear, and doubt such pain and torment can breed?
You torment me as if you already have the victory in your grasp.
You're pretty proud, kid!

Dick said softly, and in that instant, his weakness seemed to heal, as if the previous weakness was just a dream. He seemed to have regained his strength, or at least some of it.

Savas did not respond to the taunt.

It didn't have time to answer.

It sensed something "strange" rapidly growing in its nightmare world, appearing in every layer of nightmare, growing with every scream, and roaring in every wave of pain.

They arrived so quickly, as if they were the masters of this nightmarish land, while he and his saty servants were the outsiders.

"Even among the Old Gods, your master was the weakest. It helped you create an octagonal cage, but unfortunately you accidentally locked yourself inside as well. Perhaps that was Xalatas's original idea."

That guy really went to great lengths to get me to take off that mask, but as I said, he sent you to carry out such an important mission.
Whom are they looking down on?

Diakum broke free of his restraints, and the Seven Colors of Fiend energy burst forth from all parts of his "weak" body.

Against the backdrop of the Seven Fiends' bizarre roars or laughter, Diakum unleashed his fiendish power on such a large scale and without reservation for the first time.

He landed on the ground surrounded by seven-colored smoke, half-kneeling and touching the soil of this nightmarish land. He picked up a handful of soil, stood up, and then let the soil slip from his fingertips.

"Savis, you've done a great job with this Nightmare Land. It's mine now!"

As the nightmarish sands slid from Diakum's fingertips, the screams of countless satyrs wove together like background music for the fierce battle. The Nightmare King stared in disbelief as he watched the Vigilant, whom he had clearly defeated, "fully resurrected" as if nothing had happened and was already jumping around "warming up."

Like a contestant in a Jadeni competition, he said:

"I hope you didn't send all your satyrs in, because I have no intention of letting any bad seed escape. Oh, by the way, Queen Azshara appointed me as her 'court advisor,' I heard that position previously belonged to you?"
Great.

Come on, let's have a little 'peer exchange'.

(End of this chapter)