Light's Dawn of Azeroth

Chapter 718, Section 86: Zovar: Holy Light Butcher, I'm here to negotiate! - Bonus Chapter [55]

(Bonus chapter for the "Overseas Lingjinggan" brother [5/5])
The Moonlit Warriors thought Diakum's idea was too outrageous.

They stubbornly believed that it was impossible to save a Moon Goddess, especially when facing a powerful enemy and the Moon Goddess had to pray to Lady Elune for more power. Mortal vessels always have moments of disintegration, and the wrath of the Black Moon was simply uncontrollable.

Even a master blacksmith, in his final frenzy, only regained a moment of clarity.

But Dick revealed that he had connections with the Moon Goddess and emphasized that he would definitely invite Lady Elune to personally appear for this rescue operation.

Having said all that, the three Moonlit War Gods really couldn't refuse.

They agreed on a time and returned to their respective territories. At the moment, both Ardenweald and Revendreth had a lot of things to do, while Maldraxxus was still at war.

The conquest of the Creation Academy by the Black Hand Marquis of the Soul Chosen Academy has entered its final stage. This is not a solo confrontation between the Soul Chosen Academy and the Creation Academy, but a joint effort by the four academies of Soul Chosen, Sharp Eye, Ritual, and Wither to overwhelm the Creation Academy.

Even if the Marquis of Gamar was powerful, all he could do in the face of such a large army was to launch a difficult defensive campaign.

When the floating city of the Spirit Brokers arrived in Maldraxxus once again, and when Diakum arrived at the Theatre of the Dead, a place where the locals used to fight death gladiatorial combats, the triumphant horns of the Chosen House resounded throughout Maldraxxus.

Messengers riding on stitched dragons flew along the Maldraxxus's conquest route, raising blood-stained battle banners and shouting the victory message, "Gammar has died by the hammer of Blackhand! The Secret House of Creation has returned to the control of the Lord of War!" This excited and thrilled the entire Maldraxxus.

So the elite soldiers who had not participated in the civil war immediately decided to hold an unprecedented gladiatorial contest at the Theater of Mourning to celebrate their victory.

After discussing it, the necromancer lords who managed the Theater of Mourning decided to throw all the "top-quality goods" that the brokers had just delivered into the arena so that the young men could have some fun.

Thus, a series of powerful creatures, including the Abyss Lord captured from the Twisting Nether, the Primal Thorn Beast seized from the Material World, the Fallen Naaru lured from the Sea of ​​No Light, and the Bone Dragon Lord painstakingly crafted by the master craftsmen of the local Institute of Creation, were thrown into the Theater of Mourning, replacing the daily but uninteresting Hundred-Player Battle Tournament.

These undead, who regard brutality and conquest as virtues, hope to celebrate the reunification of Maldraxxus's power through such bloody gladiatorial combat.

The dead here are all madmen!

If they can't find enemies outside, they'll wage war from within. After all, war is their only desire, and whoever can provide them with enemies is a good friend of Maldraxxus.

Diakum sat in the audience of the Theater of Mourning, watching the gladiators and liches, who had been ordered to challenge powerful enemies, charge towards those mad and terrifying foes. One wave of challengers was wiped out, and the next wave rushed into the square almost seamlessly.

The audience wasn't just filled with local spirits; there were also spectators from other countries.

They, like the local undead, were immersed in the intense battle, howling with excitement, wishing they could jump down and join the fray.

Well, of course such behavior is permitted!

Maldraxxus never hates those who break the rules, provided you have the skill to defeat a powerful enemy in front of the local undead. They will cheer for you, even if the one defeated is their friend or family.

Maldraxus is a "living" land of conflict and strife.

There are no weak plants here; the bony spikes that pierce the ground can be transformed into the best suture needles with a little modification, and the local flying insects secrete a kind of insect glue that can be used to repair any broken body.

This land will adjust its ecosystem according to the needs of the warriors, producing nutrients that will make them stronger.

Clearly, when the Lord of War shaped this land, he had considered the enormous losses that would occur if a group of cosmic slashers were gathered together.

Therefore, in Maldraxus, death is merely a form of "entertainment".

Local spiritualists and stitching masters have a million ways to help you sew yourself up. As long as you dare to fight and strive, you will always be rewarded here, and all your ambitions will be responded to.

But if you're a coward
Well, cowards don't come to Maldraxxus, so don't worry, there isn't a single coward on this land!
Diakum watched as the skeletal dragon in the Theater of Mourning buried all the challengers with its ferocious winter breath, but was then berated by several necromancers who couldn't stand it any longer. Diakum jumped from the audience into the battlefield, personally wielding a battle axe and cutting down his opponent. He then shouted for the administrator to quickly send down new enemies, or he would rush up and kill the administrator.

And then, guess what?

The provoked administrator wasn't going to tolerate this idiot. He immediately rode a Death Roc from the commentary booth into the arena, destroyed the provocative necromancer, and threw its still-voicing head into the audience.

This scene immediately sparked a deafening roar of cheers from the audience, and also made Diakum realize the local rules.

Only the most skilled gladiators are qualified to be commentators!

In this way, when they are provoked, they can use their invincible heavy fists instead of their nimble tongues and weak words to physically retaliate against all ridiculous provocations.

Therefore, the key to making a living in Maldraxxus is to avoid messing with people who are good at talking.

In this turbulent land, only those with real skills can develop such eloquence.

"This godforsaken place will be destroyed by its own people sooner or later. It's full of lunatics; there's not a single normal person here!"

Diakum grumbled bitterly.

He felt he was being influenced by the berserker culture of Maldraxxus and needed to find a place to calm his mind, but as he got up, he grinned and said:

"Kargas will absolutely love this most insane, terrifying, and ruthless arena in the six realms, and he will do everything in his power to become king here."

The best part is that as long as civilization in the Material Star Sea continues to develop, and as long as there are conflicts in the Material Star Sea, there will be a constant stream of conquerors coming to Maldraxxus, and Kargath will have an arena that he will never tire of.

Gee.
I'm so happy for that green-skinned guy.

The Watcher laughed and walked into the corridor leading out of the Theater of Mourning. Several liches from the Ritual Chamber were already waiting outside the door. Medivh was inviting Diakum over to "discuss important matters."

He ascended the floating city of the Ritual Academy. On his way to the Frozen Valley where the Ritual Academy was located, Dick was about to take a moment to meditate when, just as he closed his eyes, a violent tremor came from the floating city, followed by the screams of liches.

This made him blink.

The floating city was ambushed?
That’s not right!

The only other secret schools in Maldraxxus capable of ambushing the floating city are the other secret schools, but now the Creation School has just been defeated, and the five major secret schools have just reunited to prepare to go to the Maw to rescue their leader. How could such internal strife occur?
Something is wrong!
Even nine out of ten things are wrong!
Dick stood up, strode out of his room, and saw a group of creatures with black wings that looked like the Forsworn Kyrians harassing the area around the floating city.

Although these creatures resemble Kyrians, they are far more ferocious. Each of them lashes out with their familiar black chains, which, once they bind a lich or gladiator, can ignore spatial blockades and drag them out of the floating city. No matter how powerful a lich is, once bound by the chains, it will instantly lose its ability to resist.

The runes adorning the black chains made Diakum squint.

Command Runes!

These are the Valkyries under the Warden's command, the elite messengers and "slave catchers" of Zovar.

Their own strength is not bad, but the real danger lies in the chains of domination they hold. These things are directly bestowed by the warden and can be used to instantly lock down the target's physical and mental strength with the power of domination.

As soon as Diakum appeared, seven chains shot at him from all directions.

Goodness, they came prepared.

But your master himself couldn't take me down even with the chains of dominion. Aren't you getting a little too cocky to come and launch a sneak attack like this?

"boom"

At this moment, blazing holy light erupted, and the dazzling light spread out from the floating city, encompassing a large part of the sky.

A few seconds later, the light faded.

The charred Blackwing Messengers plummeted from the sky in a sorry state, struggling helplessly while emitting white smoke. The worst of them began to disintegrate into black Netherworlds in mid-air, causing a storm of dark ash to sweep along the floating city. The chains of domination used to capture Diakum were also shattered by the impact of the holy light.

It wasn't a legitimate chain of control; it was merely a counterfeit imbued with the warden's concept of power. It was fine for bullying the weak, but how dare it try to show off in front of a powerful figure?

However, when the rescued Lich Kings returned to the floating city and continued their journey towards the Everfrost Mountains, Diakum, back in his meditation room, stared strangely at a black crystal placed on the table in the room.

He was certain that this thing wasn't here before.

Therefore, the Blackwing Messengers' attack on the floating city was a feint to give the Warden's assassins an opportunity to place the crystals.

"Pretend to be a ghost!"

Diakum frowned and gave a reprimand.

He let the holy light envelop his fingers and touched the crystal. The moment they touched, a projection unfolded before his eyes, revealing a... bald head!
It was such a round and big bald head that it would reflect light when illuminated.

Moreover, his skin was adorned with many mysterious and impressive runes, not only on his scalp, cheeks, arms, but even his torso.

He looks like a "bad boy" covered in tattoos.

However, those in the know can immediately see that these are all variant of the Firstborn runes, including some combinations of Domination runes. This guy carved these runes on himself as an "enchanted item" to free himself from his weak imprisonment and to transform the power that bound him into his own strength.

He was bare-chested, wearing tattered trousers, and barefoot.

There were still remnants of shackles on his wrists, while he wore a menacing iron belt around his waist. His neck and shoulders were protected by black spikes, and the menacing decorations on both sides resembled recurved blades.

The bald man and the big guy in the projection looked at Diakum with a calm gaze, and the Vigilant looked at Him as well, noticing in particular the "chains" that adorned many places on the other's body.

It seemed to be a unique kind of memorial, so much so that Diakum had to comment that the "warden's" decorating style was truly "prison style".

In addition, the large hole in the center of his chest is particularly eye-catching, as if his heart has been ripped out.

The two stared at each other in silence for several minutes, as if they were having a contest where "whoever speaks first loses." In the end, the warden spoke first.

Perhaps it was because He didn't want to waste any more time.

“You have three eternal marks in your hands.”

The warden spoke, his voice filled with a sense of loneliness and desolation, as if he were far removed from the real world.

He went straight to the point:
“The mark of Denathrius is in my hands, and thanks to you, my former mark has also ‘returned.’ Perhaps I should say ‘thank you’ to you?”

The warden raised his hand, and the Arbitrator's Core, which had been stolen from the Veil Market by the Spirit Relic Craftsmen, floated in his palm.

This is the "heart" that He took away.

It looked like sarcasm, but the warden's expression was quite serious.

Perhaps He really wanted to express gratitude?

But since you weren't wearing a formal dress, it proves that your gratitude wasn't sincere at all!
"So, you're here to negotiate?"

Diakum, with his hands behind his back, said:

"You wish to obtain the three marks in my possession to open the path to Zaremotis?"

"Ah."

The warden nodded and said:

"Indeed, you are a formidable enemy. Perhaps I am no match for you, but fortunately, after a long period of research and analysis, I have realized that there is no need for a fight between us."

At least we don't need to fight at this time.

You collected the marks to stop me from entering Zaremotis, but then your thoughts changed, and you wanted to enter it too, didn't you?
We can cooperate!

After confirming that the ridiculous machine was beyond repair, the servants of Oribos sent their prophets into Zaremotis, where they were activating the guardians of the Firstborn.

I just destroyed one of my guards who came to execute me.
Would you be interested in coming to the Sanctuary to discuss this further?

"Inviting me to hell sounds malicious, but I'll go, Zovar. Give me some time to sort things out."

Diakum nodded and said:
"But I also hope you are prepared in advance. I have three eternal marks, and naturally, I have three conditions awaiting your reply. If you do not wish to resort to force at this time, then..."

"up to you."

The warden looked at the Arbitration Core in his hand and replied with an indifferent attitude:

"You can take everything you want, everything I own. I just want to go back to Zaremotis. I never intended to use war to forge a new world; that's not my style."

Denathius escaped from your sealed execution.”

Zovar said:

"If you haven't noticed, then consider this a reminder; if you have, then consider it me saying something unnecessarily. A soul like His, which thrives on chaos, can never have a happy ending in any era; keeping it around is a hidden danger."

Neither in the future you desire nor in the perfect new world I envision, there is no place for Him!

"Thank you for reminding me, but all the trouble he caused is over."

Diakum nodded, reminding him:
"Before you put that core back into your body, you'd better check it. If the servants of the gods have been secretly monitoring whether you eternal beings are fulfilling your duties, then I suspect they must have some secret way of influencing your operation."

This core had existed in Olivos for countless years, right under the noses of the gods.

Do you think they might have tampered with it?

The reminder made the warden's fingers twitch. He didn't say anything more, just nodded and ended the conversation, which didn't seem like something that would happen between adversaries.

Just as the conversation ended, the door to the floating city opened, and Medivh, in his lich form, floated in. He looked at the black runestone in Diakum's hand and said:
"That's strange. Zovar went to all that trouble to send several messengers over just to have this conversation with you?"

"What's even stranger is that such a guy actually took the initiative to propose cooperation."

Dick tossed the black runestone up and down and said to Medivh:
Do you think we should accept this?

"why not?"

Medivh said in a friendly tone:
"During those years when my will was entangled with Sargeras', I learned to grasp the main contradiction in everything. Now, our goals are aligned with Zovar's. We must enter Zaremotis, and even if we storm the Sanctuary and defeat Him, we will still have to face those unassuming but formidable servants of the gods alone."

It would be better to join forces and leverage Zovar's strengths to help us open the door to the final secret chamber.

That is a treasure trove of truth!
When we read those truths, you, the Holy Light Walker who has never come close to the truth, could very well fight Zovar to the death beneath the temple of the Creator.
Isn't this perfect?

"Hiss, you arcane geniuses, you all have such vicious words!"

Ps:

This concludes the bonus chapter. Currently, there are 30 chapters owed.
Next bonus chapter: August 7.26th
(End of this chapter)