Light's Dawn of Azeroth

Chapter 515, Section 54: When petals fall upon the royal city, an old man on the throne is about to suffer.

Beneath the gates of Lordaeron, Uther stopped the white soldier who swung his battle axe to behead Garithos.

As the elves entered the city, he crouched down, dragged the dragonborn general, who had been waiting for death with his eyes closed, aside, and, under the tense gaze of the dragonborn who were suffering from the elven onslaught, asked:
"If you are loyal to Terenas, why did you send out those messages?"

"I am loyal to the kingdom, but not to the black dragons. In my eyes, they are also enemies that must be driven out. Why not cause some trouble for the black dragons?"
I'm not trying to help you!

Gareth coughed painfully; his lung had been punctured, and he spoke in a hoarse voice:

“Uther, you are a despicable traitor. We are not on the same side. I simply wanted to use you to get rid of those satyrs and naga. There shouldn’t be so many alien races roaming this human land. Even without them, we can still protect Lordaeron.”

Your Majesty's court is in utter chaos!
This is not the kind of atmosphere one would expect from a human empire.

However, perhaps His Majesty has indeed taken the wrong path, but what about Lothar?

Lothar shamelessly mingles with other races; the empire built on this land should be a purely human empire! No elves, no werewolves, and no monsters like me!”

"Since you so despise yourself now, why did you drink the dragon's blood in the first place? If you were to call upon the Holy Light..."

Arthas's voice rang out in front of Garithos, causing him to open his eyes.

Seeing the prince, bathed in holy light, standing before him, and witnessing the sorrow in the prince's eyes, General Garithos coughed a few times. As drops of hot dragon blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, he said:

“I called out, I prayed when Blackwood Town was destroyed by demons, but the Holy Light did not answer me, Your Highness, I am not as lucky as you.”

When we are besieged by demons and need help, Deathwing appears before us; and when you need guidance, the Vigilant lights the way for you.

I became a monster, but I banished the demons; I have not failed my kingdom. You embraced the holy light, but can you be blameless before the land that gave you birth and nurtured you?

"I"

Arthas could not answer, but Grand Duke Mograine beside him rebuked him:

“Even during the most difficult times in the North Frontier, priests and paladins were still being born here, and priests were still active even in the city of Lordaeron. The Holy Light has never abandoned the Kingdom of Lordaeron, and you should have had more faith in your faith.”

"maybe."

Garithos didn't want to argue anymore; he struggled to say to Arthas:

"Scatter my ashes in the city. I want to protect this place forever, Your Highness. Please give His Majesty a final moment of dignity. Do not let His Majesty perish at the hands of foreign races!"

He swallowed the dangerous Shadowflame, like an implosion of fire surging within his body, eventually turning into a fireball that burned away his flesh and blood.

The heavy battle axe fell upon his body, sending scorching ashes flying and drifting through the streets already filled with the sounds of war. Arthas looked up as the towering black dragon towers shot out beams of light to counter the enemies attacking from the sky, like celebratory fireworks illuminating the gloomy sky.

He watched as the intensely hot embers from Garithos' self-immolation shimmered with orange light and danced across the battlefield, resembling clusters of flower petals falling before his eyes.

There were no red carpets, no cheering crowds, only war, roaring soldiers, and a city destined to be ravaged by war today.

He is back.

He returned to his homeland with an army set to conquer Lordaeron, and faced his father, who had gone mad with madness.

Arthas felt a chill of fate's malice, but he quickly dispelled the cowardice in his heart, the last thing needed on this battlefield. The prince reached out and let a few embers fall into his palm.

Then he clenched his fist, as if trying to draw strength from the ashes.

"Don't let it affect your mind; those are just some very extreme statements."

The soldier beside him whispered a reminder:

"If you waver, the Holy Light will..."

"I know, I'm not a child, and I'm not as fragile as you think."

Arthas looked at the burning Osmar Garithos and whispered:
"He was a narrow-minded, blindly loyal, and prejudiced man. His ideas cannot be taken as truth. Even he himself was full of doubts about the present-day Lordaeron. But he will still be remembered by this city and by me."

Osmar Garethus may be our enemy, but he is a hero of this land.

He did not bow to the demons, but bravely fought against and drove out the alien races. However, the black dragon and the Void Witch killed him!

This made me furious.

Let's go. "

The young man, clad in black eagle armor, raised his warhammer, letting his holy light shine across the battlefield. He shouted to the surrounding warriors:

"Let the prince of Lordaeron seek justice for the heroes of Lordaeron."

Sir Uther watched with satisfaction as Arthas made his firm vow, while the soldiers from the Kingdom of Lordaeron roared in response to the prince's call.

They followed him as he charged toward the Black Dragon Tower, defeating the terrified dragonborn and storming into the spire to destroy the dark ritual that bound them together.

More people rushed into the city.

The opening of the flank gates was a signal that the dragonborn on the walls were no longer resolute. After General Garithos's death, they lost their commander. More importantly, with Lothar's army already inside the city, there was no point in holding the walls any longer.

Some dragonborn commanders led their warriors into the city, preparing to fight the invaders in street battles, while others held their ground on the city walls.

They must fulfill their duties during this darkest hour, until the war ends.

However, the predicament of being attacked from both inside and outside caused the city walls to fall faster than imagined. After the fortresses at the city's main gate were completely destroyed by the Lightforged Dawn Overlords, the Watchers, who were sitting firmly in the army formation, finally stood up.

He looked at the first hand of his pocket watch, which had returned to its original position, and then looked up at the sky.

A few seconds later, Aegwynn's weary voice rang in Diakum's ear:

"The Sunwell floating city has returned to Azeroth. We are currently hovering above Karazhan and will be teleported to Lordaeron in one hour."

"How is the 'Black Devourer' in condition?"

Dick asked a question, and Aegwynn replied:

"The Twin Realms Traveler has been taking good care of it, preventing astral energy from invading it. Its activity remains in the state it was in when we left, and it is ready to carry souls at any time."

"Very good. I'll be waiting for you at the Royal Palace of Lordaeron in an hour. Don't be late."

Diakum let out a long breath, glanced at the second hand of his pocket watch that was returning to its place, put it back into the Judgement armor, and with a clenched fist in his left hand, Ashbringer jumped into his palm amidst a dazzling light.

On the high platform, the Guardian swung his holy blade forward, signifying the arrival of the final assault.

The various formations outside the city began to move forward, even as the towering "Black Dragon Wall" continued its counterattack.

A golden flame, summoned by Diakum, roared down from the sky like a giant holy fire meteorite, striking the top of the city gate.

Amidst the howls of the Dragonborn, the fiery cloud formed by the eruption of the Holy Flame swept over the city walls, melting the boulders into lava. In the ever-expanding lava pool, Ragnaros, the Lightlord, roared as he rose.

The golden, light-forged hand of the fire demon and Kazzak's raised spear of destruction crashed down simultaneously. With a deafening roar that shook the earth, the unbreakable wall of black dragons wailed and collapsed. By the time Diakum and his warriors approached the city gate, a small portion of the wall had already crumbled, revealing the gloomy scene of the city to everyone.

General Garethus's earlier despair was justified.

After the Vigilant made his move, the city that the black dragons had painstakingly rebuilt was no match for him.

But as the majestic giant broke through the city walls and entered the city, scattering its scorching light of purification in all directions, the ancient howl of wolves echoed from the depths of the city.

A pack of wolves is being released, seemingly intending to help the Dragonborn repel the invaders when they suffer a heavy blow.

That number is staggering.

"Lylar Flame Fang has appeared."

Archbishop Nelly, a hunter with an exceptionally keen sense for wild beasts, sensed for a few seconds and said to Diakum:

"It released all the wolves it had abducted from Gilneas into the city. Those werewolves controlled by the Moonscythe couldn't distinguish friend from foe! They were not only attacking Lothar's army, but also the dragonborn in the city."

That old werewolf has gone mad.

It unleashed the full power of the Moon Scythe, intending to transform Lordaeron into a vast graveyard of blood and death! Furthermore, Goldrinn seems to be watching this place closely.

I sensed a beastly aura, something beyond reality.

"Don't bother."

The vigilant whispered:

"We're heading towards the palace. Deathwing is returning; he's approaching the material world, and I don't want him to disrupt the founding of the human empire. You go and assist the warriors in destroying those Black Dragon Towers!"
Saloras, take this.

Dick handed the constantly vibrating blade of the Dark Empire to his lieutenant. As Saloras received the Void Blade, she could hear the sharp, violent roar and ferocious desire of the Black Iron Witch Queen within it.

"Block Xaratas's escape."

He instructed Saloras:
“She will see everything she wants today, at the cost of her becoming a ‘rebellious child’ and returning to Anther’s embrace. Today, Lordaeron is not only Deathwing’s final destination, but also hers.” “Yes.”

Archbishop of Holy Twilight nodded.

Carrying the Blade of the Dark Empire, she followed Diakum toward the Dark Palace shrouded in void energy, taking the opportunity to get used to this fallen artifact crafted from the claws of an ancient god.

This thing is very powerful. The Old Gods are dead, but their corrupted power remains dangerous and brutal, making it an extremely dangerous medium of power for every traveler on the path of shadow.

Like the Twilight Hammer, the Dark Empire Blade possesses the powerful potential to become a conceptual artifact.

When she held it in her hand, Saloras's perception of the void became clearer, and none of the strange minions floating in the darkness of the city could escape her senses.

After a moment, she reminded him:
"The Nightmare King has returned. Perhaps it was forced by N'Zoth. It seems reluctant, but it still hides in this dream, intending to do something dangerous."

"It's best not to do that."

Aurecis pursed her lips and said:

"Commander Diakum prepared a 'surprise' for it. And N'Zoth, after being dealt with so many times, doesn't it learn anything?"

"The Thousand-Bearded Demon and Xalatas have an ancient pact."

Dick shrugged and said:

"Believe me, N'Zoth doesn't want to provoke me at this time, but it has no choice. Certain covenants of the Void must be obeyed, and even the Old Gods would find it difficult to bear the consequences of breaking them."

"Indeed, the city is in such a state of fighting, yet those fierce Void Lords from Ny'alotha, the Sleeping City, have not appeared. Apart from Xavius, N'Zoth has not sent any subordinates here."

Its involvement here is even less pronounced than in Quel'Thalas.

Nelly fired an arrow, shooting down a fire-breathing dragonborn, and then sent her Sunhawk, "Holy Sun," to circle the city in search of prey.

The archbishop complained:

"As expected of the most cunning Old God, N'Zoth is certain that Lordaeron will not meet a second end today, and he has effectively abandoned this place. My ability to harm Void creatures is limited, so I will not go to the palace with you."

I must live up to my identity as a hunter; they are searching for Lylar Flamefang.

I'll go help!

------

The once bustling commercial streets leading to the Royal Palace of Lordaeron are now filled with gloom.

General Gavinrad, the commander of the Lightfang Clan, could see a blinding void rift above the palace when he looked up. It was like a crimson galaxy winding and twisting around Terenas's court.

If judged by scenery alone, it's not bad.

The dim starlight is filled with mystery, making people always want to look into it.

Of course, considering that thing is a reflection of the Sea of ​​No Light seeping into the material world, each time you see it, you have to endure the torment of your mind being weakened.

Since you've already started losing sanity, the best way to deal with it is to control your curiosity, don't look at it, and don't listen to it.

“It’s right here! I feel the call of the Moon Goddess’s Scythe, and that old werewolf is hiding here.”

Gene kept twitching his werewolf nose, seemingly sniffing out something hidden in the shadows, while Old Staghelm and his junior brother Hamuul were among them.

Lyral Flamefang is a full member of the Cenarion Circle, even though it embraced rage nine thousand years ago. Druids always have to give their fellow disciples an explanation.

Old Staghelm was casting natural buffs on the others, and he reminded them:
"Don't try to communicate with Lylar Flamefang. That guy was the first archdruid to accept Goldrinn's wrath, and he has become one with Goldrinn's untamed wildness."

A demigod can withstand uncontrollable, wild rage, but Flame Fang cannot and has no intention of doing so.

Lylar Flamefang has become the embodiment of the wolf god's most ruthless hunting will. It has long abandoned humanity and wisdom, and represents the mad form that werewolves will eventually become when they let their bestial nature control them.

It kept recruiting wolves after being released, not because it had any evil plans, but simply because it craved hunting and killing.

There's no need to try to persuade it; we've tried for thousands of years, and it's beyond redemption.

Giving it rest is the only way to provide relief.

White Pawn!

what happened to you?
You don't seem to be acting right?

Old Staghelm keenly noticed the White Pawn's strange behavior. Ever since entering this dark city, Varian Wrynn had been tilting his head as if listening to something speaking to him.

"It's Goldling."

Varian, clutching his Thunder Axe, explained somewhat awkwardly:
"The white wolf kept talking to me, but I felt like it was talking in its sleep, it didn't make any sense, it was just trying to urge me to fight."

"Oh, that's normal."

Hamuul, a kind-hearted minotaur, explained in a low voice:

"The Wolf God's physical body is dead, and its immortal spirit sleeps in the Emerald Dream. Occasionally, it will be attracted by some special things, but the Wolf God is asleep after all, and you can't expect it to have any logic in the dream."

But to receive such attention from Goldrinn, young man, you have quite the talent for combat.

"If you perform well later, you might become the chosen one of the White Wolf God."

"But I don't believe in Goldling."

Varian curled his lip and said:

"I may be a warrior, but I believe in the Holy Light, okay?"

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter."

Hamuer, leaning on that abstract, eternally burning torch, said with a smile:
“Goldling is different from other demigods. It will bless you if it likes you, no matter what you believe. Conversely, if you really believe in it, it will be unhappy. As the Watcher commented, Goldling does not like ‘good children’.”

"whoosh"

An unusually bright flare fell from above into the dark street.

The thing fell at an extremely fast speed, and when it landed, it burst into an extremely dazzling light like a flashbang.

The problem was that the werewolves and druids around them were all staring wide-eyed, searching for the hidden trace of Lylar Flamefang, when suddenly they were hit by a "flash," causing many of the werewolves to cover their eyes and scream in pain.

Damn it, whose good Samaritan used a flashbang to clear the way?

The dog's eyes are blind!

The good news is that this flashbang, which dispelled all the darkness, also successfully revealed the ancient werewolf master who was hiding in the corner preparing to launch a sneak attack.

Lylar Flamefang hated the blinding light. When he was dispelled and put into the shadows, he roared and pounced to attack Old Deer Helmet, but was instead struck in the back by White Soldier who jumped up and hit him with his battle axe.

Amidst the clashing of lightning, the ancient werewolf was defeated using weapon effects. Then, Lord Godfrey's gunshot rang out, and Staghelm transformed into an armored reindeer and charged headlong into it.

A brutal battle erupted, and the white soldiers were eager to rush forward and slash, but as soon as they charged forward, they were kicked back by Archbishop Nelly who jumped down.

"Open your eyes and see if this is the battlefield you belong on? Flame Fang can take your life with just one basic attack."

Knowing that Diakum valued Varian Wrynn highly, Nellie reprimanded him sternly:

"Go outside and block those werewolves that are coming. A good warrior chooses his opponents carefully, understand?"

"But I believe I can join the fight!"

The soldier retorted, his neck stiff with arrogance:
"The Vigilant taught me that the way of the swordsman lies in seizing opportunities. I did that in Stromgarde Keep. Just one support move can create an opportunity for others to break through the enemy. That guy's Moon Scythe is incredibly sharp. It would be absurd to let Old Man Staghelm take it head-on."

He'll be sliced ​​into venison!
Also, what were those flares you used to make made of? They almost blinded me!

"Hmph, my boyfriend is the Saint of Light."

Nelly drew her bow, nocked a sniper arrow, and as she aimed at the lightning-fast werewolf, she whispered:

"You can make a powerful flare by just plucking a hair or a fingernail from him. I even have dragon breath bombs made from the dandruff of a vigilant, the kind that can burn hundreds of undead or demons to death in minutes."

how?

You want one too?

Ps:

Today's chapter announcement will most likely be delayed by 1-3 days. Please don't panic, fellow readers!
(End of this chapter)