Light's Dawn of Azeroth

Chapter 624, Chapter 85: Old man, your warship is the most useless!
"We're about to return to a lucid dream. Everyone, prepare to evacuate!"

Amidst the ruins of Ny'alotha, the Sleeping City, orders from Archbishop Saloras reached the ears of every Lightforged fighting there. These well-trained giants of the Holy Light immediately formed a retreat formation, taking turns covering each other as they withdrew from the battlefield.

They are here on orders to halt the spread of Void creatures in Ny'alotha, while simultaneously carrying out a decapitation strike against N'Zoth's Void elites.

The objective was clear: to send N'Zoth's elite troops to meet their evil leader, who was now in heaven.

This task is not difficult for the Lightforged Chapter; they are used to taking on the most dangerous duties in a war and winning.

Moreover, the Lightforged Chapter, due to the war powers of the Highlords, are truly fearless.

Even if they accidentally die, the commanders can bring them back from the realm of death in time. If the commanders can't defeat the death guards, there are higher-ranking generals. If the generals can't defeat them, they can seek help from the archbishop.

If the Shadowlands send out Saints or Marquises of Death, then their invincible Saint Diakum will naturally take action himself.

Anyway, the Lightforged Chapter's authorized strength is 2000 people. No matter how many battles we fight, this number must be 2000 people in good condition. No matter who comes, it won't make a difference!
Of course, not dying doesn't mean you won't get hurt.

In fact, the intensity of the series of wars in Azeroth was outrageous, resulting in an alarmingly high number of wounded Lightforged.

Generally speaking, those who enter the embrace of the Holy Light don't need to worry about ordinary injuries. The flow of Holy Light within their bodies is enough to cover and heal ordinary injuries. If they are left with disabilities, it must be due to other forces at work. However, the Lightforged are exceptionally skilled at using mechanical prosthetics. As long as they are willing to try, replacing all four limbs is not a big problem.

In the event of a head injury or a fatal spinal injury, if one is unwilling to undergo flesh and blood reconstruction in the game "Twin of Light and Shadow," one can also abandon the physical body and become a more powerful "Zealot" armed construct.

Therefore, these Eredars are simply outrageous.

In the face of death, they made many generous choices, unlike ordinary people who, once they die, are truly dead, without so many miracles or so much grace.

As the Lightforged retreated, Heya and her War Bear Valkyries also received orders to evacuate.

But these Vrykul, caught up in their frenzy, didn't seem to have had enough, even though they had already seized most of Ny'alotha under the leadership of the Lightforged and hunted down at least three Void demigods.

Their casualties were also considerable, but as everyone knows, heroic deaths are not a source of sorrow for the Vrykul, but rather an honor. Who knows, these guys might even throw a grand feast for these "ascended" dead when they get back to Storm Peaks, with lots of music and excitement.

However, Odin's Sky Fortress is now destroyed, and the World Mother has explicitly forbidden Odin's golden Valkyries from guiding souls to create Thunderforged Heroes. Therefore, where these Valkyries' souls go after they die is a very troublesome matter.

They have their own beliefs.

This means they will most likely fall into the hands of Hela, the goddess of death.

"Sister, stay in the Abyss of Hell and continue fighting there! Never yield to Hela."

Heya, leaning on her blood-stained sword, knelt beside a Vrykul woman who was coughing up blood and seemed on the verge of death. She grasped the warrior's hand and cried out:

"Soon I will lead my fearless brethren into Hela's underworld. The Vigilante Saint described to me the vision of the world of the dead. A warrior like you should go to Maldraxxus, the land of eternal strife, and fight to the end of time in that paradise of conquest."

That is the true 'Hall of Heroes' for us Vrykul.

I assure you that you and the other warrior spirits trapped in the Underworld will eventually go where you truly belong. I assure you that Hela cannot hold you captive for long.

Share this news with your other sisters!
"Do not yield, for I will summon you again when I have marched into hell."

The Vrykul, who was coughing up blood, nodded with difficulty, then turned to look at the remains of the Void creatures she had killed beside her. The rather spectacular pile of severed limbs represented a fierce and frenzied slaughter, symbolizing that her process of fighting to the death as a Vrykul was full of glory.

The "trophy" filled the dying man's eyes with satisfaction.

She closed her eyes and let herself die in the arms of her fierce fighting sisters.

Other female Vrykul raised their weapons and shouted as they charged in all directions, seeking to capture another skull to send off their fellow warriors.

Of course, such "farewells" are very likely to cause new casualties, so there will be another wave of mourning, another wave of farewells, and then the vicious cycle continues.

Battles among the Vrykul often degenerate into such messy skirmishes that either all the enemy or all the Vrykul are killed in action; it is rare for a Vrykul to flee the battlefield.

It must be said that although Odin's methods of elevating war heroes were cruel, his guidance and cultivation over the years have indeed turned the Vrykul into a true warrior race, a group that are full of true warmongers.

What's most terrifying is that they, regardless of gender, take pride in this.

But today's battlefield is different. Even the most fanatical Vrykul warriors don't want to be trapped in N'Zoth's lingering lucid dream. So after they've had their fill of killing, they obediently boarded the Exodar ship.

As the jewel-like spaceship, gleaming with holy light, carried the warlike she-wolves into the air, the changes in the land below could be clearly seen from the starship's observation windows.

The city of the Dark Empire reflected in N'Zoth's lucid dream had long been shattered in fierce battles. The secondary guns of the Exodar bombarded the city, almost tearing it to pieces, leaving it devoid of any twilight glory, looking like a forgotten wreckage and ruin in history.

The fact that so many Void creatures perished within it, their flesh and bones, makes it difficult to purify, means that although this dream did not shatter with N'Zoth's death, it will still become a void in the material world.

It shimmered with a strange light, like an inflated soap bubble, as if it might burst at any moment.

Meanwhile, the city of Boralus, on the other side of the dream, is faintly visible in the reflection, signifying that the city that was replaced in the past is about to return to the material world.

"Look!"

One of Heya's battle sisters shouted:
"Those worms! They're rushing out of the sea, my God, those huge octopus monsters! They really hunted that sea monster, but why are they rushing into this city that's about to return to nightmares?"

"That's the Savior Swarm's strategy."

Archbishop Saloras was very pleased with the Vrykul's performance in the war and had decided to recruit a small squad from the Vrykul to lightforge and fill the vacancies after the severely wounded Lightforged veterans retired.

In response to the Vrykul warriors' curiosity, the High Priest explained:

"It is difficult to find a breeding ground for swarms filled with void energy in the material world. Even if there are such holy places, their area is not large enough for the swarms to maintain their daily activities on a large scale."

Lady Anveena has been troubled by this for a long time, but N'Zoth's Lucid Dream is a very special dream plane. The Thousand-Bearded Demon used his unique path power to establish it on the foundation of the dreams of all beings. Now that Daelin has become the Queen of Ny'alotha, it means that this dream also has its own master.

It does not easily dissipate and is filled with void shadows; its area is the size of the island of Kul Tiras.

We would be hard-pressed to find such a perfect pastoral habitat, therefore, the Savior Swarm's combat forces will remain stationed in this void dream for a long time. They will hunt and reproduce within it until Mother World needs them on the battlefield. Then, the Savior Swarm will mobilize from the dream and become the nightmare of all invaders.

"That sounds dangerous."

Heya leaned against the window, watching the swarm of insects dragging the still-not-quite-dead body of the enormous void sea monster "Erzumat" from the sea, as if watching a group of "ants" carrying precious food into their nest.

The savior wiped her blood-stained Heart of Azeroth pendant and muttered:

"Isn't this dream somehow mysteriously connected to the kingdom of Kul Tiras? In my understanding, N'Zoth's lucid dream is like a 'shadow' of Kul Tiras."

"There's a good chance that the two will interact strangely at some point, keeping such a dangerous swarm of insects in the shadows of a bunch of mortals. If something goes wrong, it won't be much weaker than this war today." Heya's concerns made the archbishop nod.

Saloras said softly:
"Such a hidden danger does exist, but even without the swarm, this dream will remain here. The former king of Kul Tiras has become the master of this 'Shadowlands,' and I believe Her Majesty Daelin Proudmoore will protect this dream for her people and country."

Of course, this void is not just a pasture for insects, nor is it merely a shadow of the present world.

It might even become a 'place of exile' in the future.

The archbishop paused, and under Heya's surprised gaze, she said:
"This is just an idea for now and may not be implemented, but for those bastards who do bad things and endanger the world's security but cannot be killed directly, it would be better to throw them into this dream once and for all than to seal them in a magical prison where they may escape at any time."

Anyway, the Kul Tirans also have this tradition.

Their Toldagor Black Hell is infamous throughout the entire eastern continent.

As they spoke, the transition from reality to illusion was completed. It was as if, in just a few seconds, the ruined city of the Dark Empire had transformed into Boralus, a city that had just experienced a "day trip to hell."

The destruction the city suffered in its lucid dream has not been restored; the entire city is still engulfed in the smoke of war.

The ground was littered with the filthy flesh and blood of dead void creatures. The state priests of the Arathi Empire, along with a group of devout and daring followers, held torches and cursed as they set the corrosive matter ablaze, hoping the flames would purify everything.

Meanwhile, the swarms of insects that failed to enter the dream world during the transition between reality and illusion continued their advance towards the city.

Those void flesh and blood are deadly to humans, but they are the perfect nutrients and biomass for the swarm. They are like hardworking cleaners who will take care of the "cleanup", making sure to dig up and take away the last bit of filth and flesh hidden in the city.

Although doing so will definitely destroy the city, look at Boralus Port now. The city center has such a huge crater where N'Zoth's spirit emerged. It needs to be rebuilt anyway, so it's better to let the Zerg swarm help demolish the city.

Meanwhile, in front of Proudmore Fortress in the center of the city, the Emperor and his army and allies were resting, not daring to relax for a moment, lighting the braziers of holy flames to illuminate the darkness clinging to the earth.

Everyone was exhausted and had experienced the mental pressure from the ancient gods.

They shouldn't have been resting in a lucid dream, but after returning to the material world, when the warm sunlight pierced through the clouds, some soldiers finally let go of their worries and fell fast asleep on the spot.

Supported by Daenerys and the White Soldiers, Lothar raised his hand and waved to the sun-drenched Exodar in the sky, a farewell to the brave and virtuous.

Throughout the city, survivors crawled out of their hiding places, filled with fear and trepidation. Only when the sunlight shone into this desolate city did they realize that they had truly escaped that nightmare that seemed to never end.

They clung to each other, weeping, and praying to the holy light or something else, hoping that such a disaster would never happen again.

However, when some veterans rushed onto the city walls on the coast, they were surprised to find that on the sea at the edge of their line of sight, in the dissipating gray sea fog, there seemed to be a fierce naval battle taking place.

Who exactly is still fighting there?

------

"Attack! Keep attacking!"

Drake Proudmoore roared.

On the smoke-filled deck, the commander of the Imperial Fleet, his face covered in soot and his body stained with indelible blood, continued to brandish his command sword, directing his flagship and several nearby warships to continue their counterattack.

Drake's eyes were bloodshot, but he knew the situation was bad.

The Imperial fleet he brought had already lost half of its warships, yet he still couldn't see any hope of victory in this naval battle. The pirate Duke Farrell on the other side was a ruthless and dangerous opponent. He had integrated the remaining three fleets of Kul Tiras and recruited a group of pirates as flanks.

His ships outnumbered Drake's by two to one, and were of equal or even greater quality.

Most importantly, Farrell's fleet has enough Tide Sages to be assigned to every warship, while Drake's side only has a loyal faction of Tide Sages under Master Thomas Zelling.

They could only be stationed on important warships.

It could be said that Drake knew from the very beginning of this naval battle that he would have a hard time winning, but he still came, because he had to buy time for the Imperial Army's war on land.

Otherwise, given the terrain of Kul Tiras, a single bombardment by Farivel's fleet around the city's coastline would be enough to halt the Imperial offensive.

Despite such a large numerical disadvantage, Drake and his naval commanders have truly exhausted all their resources to push the war to this point, but they are also at their limit.

The biggest problem is that the enemy has already formed an encirclement on the sea, making it impossible for Drake and his fleet to retreat.

"boom"

Another round of shelling followed, forcing Drake to watch helplessly as an Imperial warship in front of him exploded into a fireball on the sea.

Those were the veterans who had followed him since the time of the plague. They could have witnessed the establishment of the empire and bid farewell to this cruel battlefield, but now they have become the souls of the dead beneath the waves, forever remaining in this place not far from their homeland.

"boom"

Drake, his eyes bloodshot, slammed his fist on the gunwale and turned to shout:

"Raise the Blood Flag! A warning to all commanders and warriors of the Imperial Fleet: we will fight to the death here!"

"woooooo"

A strange, low horn sound suddenly pierced through the chaotic artillery fire and surging tides on the battlefield, causing Drake, standing beneath the newly raised blood flag, to turn back in astonishment to look at the dissipating gray sea fog at the edge of the battlefield.

He saw a fleet, vaguely visible, appear on the battlefield in a rather bizarre way; it was a fleet he had never seen before.

It's not realistic at all; it looks like toy ships made by gluing together broken pieces of material. But there are so many of them, all kinds of ships, some without masts, and some flying all sorts of pirate flags.

They brazenly and arrogantly charged into the battleground from the flank, and when the enormous flagship appeared before Drake, the prince exclaimed in surprise and delight:

"It was Father's flagship! It was the Sea King, but why did it become like this?"

"Hi, son!"

Admiral Dalyn's shouts echoed in Drake's ears as the tide surged by; the old sailor yelled:

"I've brought your younger brother and sister to reunite with you. Now tell me, isn't your old man amazing?"

Ps:

There are no double monthly tickets this month, and there are only three days left. Please vote with your monthly tickets, brothers and sisters!

(End of this chapter)