Light's Dawn of Azeroth

Chapter 785, Section 63: When We Look Back

"Lady Ional's hidden world is all creation of the Titans, and she hides herself very, very deep to avoid the pursuit of demons."

Following the coordinates given by Rafaam, we successfully found the location, and then, surrounded by those Titan creations, we made our way to the hidden temple of the Titan Soul. However, to awaken Lady Ionar from her slumber, we needed to enter her dream.

The naaru A'dal, who embarked on the journey to find the Titan Soul with Old Man Hatton, is recounting their story. This powerful and peaceful naaru is currently suspended in the hall of the Aldor Highlands in Shattrath City, where the avatar of Diakum's faith is also located.

He listened quietly, while looking with compassion at the Grand Consul, Hatton, who sat in a wheelchair before him.

The latter is in very poor condition.

Not only did his body show obvious signs of aging, but his spirit also seemed to have suffered some indescribable blow. From Diakum's perspective, it was clear that Old Man Hatton's will seemed to be trapped in some kind of "cocoon".

He couldn't break free, and seemed unwilling to break free either.

"Eonar is a Titan of Life. Her strong affinity for the Force of Life gives her the power to weave dreams like the Moon Goddess. That is her hiding place. In order to ensure that she is not discovered by Sargeras, she will definitely weave her hiding dream as well as possible in a hidden and complicated way."

She even created a world in her dreams.
A world composed of complex labyrinths with multiple layers, designed to protect her fragile divine consciousness; I truly cannot imagine how a mortal could find the right path within it.

Diakum knelt down, grasped Old Man Hatton's age-spotted fingers, and whispered:
"It was my father, Grand Archon Hatton, who took the initiative to awaken the Titan's soul, wasn't he?"

"It's not just him."

The hymns emanating from Adal's spinning body turned sorrowful, saying:
"Seven ancient Eredar archbishops, including the Grand Archon Hatton, entered Ionar's dream, but he was the only one who eventually awoke."

We have absolutely no idea what happened in that Titan's Dream; all we know is that the souls of the other six fell into a peaceful 'eternal slumber'.

They are still alive, but they are already dead.

The remains of those who sacrificed themselves were sent back to the Holy Light Universe, where the priests would do their best to awaken them, but to be honest, it is very difficult to awaken the souls in that delicate state of slumber by human intervention.

We still cannot deduce the principle behind that 'dream'.

That is death.

Diakum said sadly:

"In the realm of the life force, there is a saying about dreams. Sleep is the state closest to death. Falling asleep in Ional's dream is equivalent to embarking on the road to death."

The vitality of the body is merely an illusion; it is the most subtle resonance that arises from the opposition between life and death.

Their souls are lost between life and death; they are not yet dead because they cannot find the way to the Shadowlands.

The Eredar do not have their own Grim Reaper.

Without the guidance of death, souls will forever remain lost. This applies not only to them, but also to all their compatriots who have died over the countless years; they too are still caught between life and death.

Don't worry!

Those respectable victims will soon be properly taken care of.

After their last breath, throw their bodies into the fire, and collect their ashes until the day we reclaim Argus, when all the wanderers will return home.

Adal let out a soft sigh, and after reciting scriptures for the victims, it asked:

"High Archon Hatton was the only pioneer to awaken, and he successfully roused the sleeping Lady Eonar, allowing our fleet to carry the Titan souls to Azeroth."

You already know what happened next.

But as we set off again, His Excellency Hatton's condition deteriorated rapidly day by day, as if he were under some kind of curse. Although Ms. Ional was very weak, we still sought her help.

The Titan Soul cast a 'youthful' spell on Lord Hatton, but it could only slow down the aging of his body; it could not rejuvenate his soul and consciousness.

Ms. Ional said that in her dream, Lord Hatton encountered things that mortals should not have access to. She said he inadvertently glimpsed fate, and his consciousness was dragged into the endless tributaries of the river of destiny.

She said that only His Excellency Hatton himself could find his way back, and anyone else who rashly ventured into the river of fate would encounter the same troubles as His Excellency Hatton.

I attempted to connect with His Excellency Hatton's mind, but even a brief stay revealed to me a desolate galaxy.

Adal sighed:

"The fate of the Eredar people along that tributary was nothing short of a nightmare."

"Hmm, then I have a rough idea of ​​where your and my father's consciousnesses are trapped. It's alright, I'll take over."

Diakum said something in a subtle tone, then gripped Old Man Hatton's fingers tightly.

Amidst the swaying chords of the spiritual rhythm, he allowed his spirit to resonate with Old Man Hatton's lost sanity, as if hearing an echo from a distant place. So, he reached out his hand to that place.

He wasn't worried about getting lost in the "river of fate" because he had come from the place where Hatton had gotten lost.

Even a wisp of divine consciousness is heavy enough, and the river of fate is clearly repelling his approach, but Diakum still perseveres under pressure and arrives at Old Man Hatton's "Lost Land".

It was as if he had precisely found his landing spot in a kaleidoscope that was constantly swirling and playing out countless possibilities. With a subtle feeling of weightlessness, Diakum landed in a place that he was very "familiar" with.

Before me lay a scorched earth of fel energy, the first breath filled with the pure smell of sulfur, and in the distance I could see the fel-contaminated Nathrax Castle and the fel energy beams that pierced the sky.

This is a land ravaged by demons, a fel-powered hell where the cries of the helpless echo everywhere.

This is Argus!

Another Argus in the river of fate, and Diakum was certain that his current location was in Krokun. He was too familiar with this place; no matter which timeline he was in, this was the place that Diakum longed for.

"What are you doing here! Go back now!"

Old Man Hatton's anxious shout rang out behind Diakum, causing the Watcher to turn around and see the hunched figure of High Archon Hatton, who had completely degenerated from an Eredar into a Broken, his claw-like hands supporting a stone staff.
Well, or perhaps he should be called "Chief Hatton".

"I've come to take you back."

Dick said to the anxious old man Hatton:
"Your 'experiencing life' here is making everyone else in Shattrath City very worried."

They find it hard to accept that a great man who contributed to the restoration had ended up with 'dementia,' but no one else could cross the river of fate, not even Velen, so it was up to me.

The journey from the highest heaven to the human world is not easy, but thankfully, I have found you.

"Time to go home, Dad."

But I can't go back!

Old Man Hatton stamped his foot and waved his hand in a very neurotic and stubborn manner, saying:
"You are not here, none of you are here, the Holy Light Legion is not here, the Supreme Star Soul and Lord Argus are not here. There is only me here! Twenty-five thousand years ago, no one came to save us!"

Here, they could only face Sargeras in despair, and with Archimonde and Kil'jaeden's shameless surrender, our civilization was plunged into an abyss from which it could never escape.

But the good thing is.
I'm still here.

Yes, I led them, I led them away from the demons, but I couldn't catch the ship that the cowardly Velen had taken when he fled. I could only lead those children back to their homeland, which was no longer the place they remembered, in despair.

Fortunately, this land still remembers us.
Even though it is broken into pieces, even though it has long lost all its gentleness, it still protects us.

Disaster after disaster.

Twenty-five thousand years! I and those children have held on here for twenty-five thousand years. We sank and broke in despair, turning into this monster.

But it's okay, we're still alive.

We still have hope.

I can't leave! Dick, they don't have you. They only have me left.

I have to stay here.

Old Man Hatton is crazy.

It's obvious that he's lived through a terrifying 25,000 years. No wonder his body is in an unstoppable process of aging and degeneration. The old man's spirit is being subjected to intense calamities every day in this deadly "panoramic experiential Argus haunted house." Even the most determined Eredar can't withstand such reckless destruction.

He was clearly "too immersed in the role".

He played the role of "Chief Hatton" in this tributary of fate, and led the last group of "Eridars" through more than 20,000 years in this lonely hell.

To be honest, it's already quite an achievement that he hasn't gone mad. "But this is just an illusion."

Diakum gently grasped Old Man Hatton's paw and reminded him:

"You are not in the real worldline. This is a reflection of fate, and only a reflection. In reality, you are still living in Shattrath City in Draenor, and the children you care about are also worried about you."

Jaid is on his way back from the borders of Azeroth, and I really don't want to miss dinner with him and you tonight, much less my date with my wife and girlfriends.

Honestly, Dad, it wasn't easy for me to come all this way.

"No, Dick, you don't understand!"

Chief Hatton grasped Dick’s glowing hand very seriously.

Having degenerated into a Broken One, he possessed a very ferocious face, especially his mouth full of sharp teeth and the tentacles on the back of his head that had degenerated into ganglia, making him look more like a morbid monster from the abyss.

This is the most painful and desperate state a person can experience in their lifetime.

He gripped Dick's hand tightly, repeating over and over:

"You are not here, and I tried to become you. I tried to save us using your methods, but I failed. I only had one chance, and I contacted the Naaru and the Legion of Light, but I was unable to awaken Lord Argus."

I don't have your potential.
I don't know how you did it. I've tried, I've tried my best, but I can't be like you.

I let them down.

But they did not abandon me; they continued to follow my incompetence. We even tried to sneak into Antorus, the Burning Throne, but all we saw was the apocalyptic form of the Argus Lord forged in despair.

Here
I already know, this is the real dead end we would fall into without you!
I keep saying thank you, but I've never really realized how important you are to us, child.

I have never been through real hell, so I cannot understand what your presence means to the Eredar.

you are right!

You are always right.

I cannot be you, but you came.
Save them!

Hatton grabbed Dick's hand and led him into the last sanctuary of the Kroku. Chief Hatton blew his whistle, summoning the last few hundred Kroku Broken from their hideout.

Each one of them is a broken soul like Chief Hatton. The relentless passage of time has robbed them of the last hope and light in their eyes. They are like walking corpses, enduring their suffering in this hellish state in a daze.

They have neither the strength to pursue tomorrow nor the courage to embrace the past.

"Save them!"

Chief Hatton pleaded:

“Just like you saved us, Dick, save us. Whether it’s a reflection or an illusion, I can’t abandon them, I can’t abandon my people.”

"Yes, we cannot abandon our people."

Diakum nodded seriously.

He stepped forward and reached out to a emaciated Broken One, who looked fearfully at Diakum's perfect, godlike Eredar appearance. Complex emotions flickered in his eyes, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he could only humbly curl up, shedding two murky tears, not even daring to touch the glowing fingers.

They had been in hell for too long and dared not hope any longer.

After all, in hell, hope is always the most poisonous thing.

"Hold your heads high!"

Diakum shouted:

"You are the Eredar, the proudest children of Argus. This world awaits your salvation. The World Lord is weeping, and I am His messenger. Embrace the dawn and let the next tomorrow hold true hope."

He raised his hand, scattering his own light of dawn, reshaping the reflections of these tributaries of fate, restoring them from the humble form of the broken ones to the robust and graceful form of the Eredar.

As the Broken Ones exchanged surprised glances, the Vigilant pointed casually, and a large number of lightforged weapons appeared in the light.

"Arm yourselves!"

Diakum commanded:
“I will take you to Antorus, to the holy land of the Burning Legion, to rescue our Lord! You will personally save this dead world and make the tributaries of fate ripple.”

This is actually meaningless.

Diakum knew that he had only staged a beautiful, unreal illusion of light for Old Man Hatton at his urging, and that the course of fate would not be altered by the arrival of a minor god.

I wasn't the one who was born there.

But perhaps this has some meaning.

least.
The Vigilant thought that before attacking the Burning Throne in the real world, he could run the dungeon again to get into shape.

So, at the next dawn, led by Diakum, the last of the Krokur Eredar formed an "army" of several hundred men. They raised the battle banners of Argus and the Eredar and marched toward the Burning Throne to save the dead world from the demons.

Everything was as beautiful as a fairy tale.

------

"Well"

Old Man Hatton opened his eyes.

It was like a long dream. When he looked up, he saw Diakum squatting in front of him with a smile.

"Welcome back, Dad."

The Watcher said this, and handed his father a glass of eggnog with ginger. Hatton felt a little unreal, after all, he had just spent more than 20,000 years of hardship in that hellish branch of fate.

But then he felt a subtle sense of relief, picked up his glass and took a sip of his hot drink, and immediately felt his spirits lifted.

“Jayd is coming back soon, we can go to Starport to welcome him.”

Diakum, pushing Old Man Hatton's wheelchair, said:
"Ms. Sphrax has created a temporary starport in the planet's orbit using a broken flagship. We need to take a shuttle there; it will only take a dozen minutes to get there."

Jaid will be very happy, although I heard that his process of taking over as Grand Consul of the Kroku clan was not smooth, and those old guys thought he was too young and couldn't handle the situation.
What a hell.

A group of 30,000-year-old geezers saying a 20,000-year-old Eredar is too young—that's a joke that could only happen in Eredar society.

“Dick.”

Old Man Hatton, holding his wine glass, paused for a few seconds before suddenly asking:
"I know I shouldn't have asked this question, but..."

"I come from there!"

Dick said softly:
"You guessed right, I come from that hellish branch of fate. The despair you experienced was my life in my previous life. Maybe I was lucky enough to be reborn on the eve of the Eredar people's fate changing."

So, to be precise, I'm actually a mediocre person who just follows the map, not the savior they claim to be.

No! That's not it.

Old Man Hatton shook his head and said softly:
“You are the savior, child. Having you by our side is already a blessing of holy light. Have you forgotten? I have tried, I have tried to become you, but those things are things only you can do.”

Ah, you came from hell and led us away from hell.

If any Eredar doesn't thank you, they have no conscience! If anyone wants to go back to a world without you, they're brainless.

It's so good to have you here.

"Oh, Dad, your praise is too much, I'm blushing. So, how about we think about what to eat tonight? Krokun-style roast meat? Or the secret cake from Nathrax Castle?"

“I’ll eat anything, I’ve even gnawed on stones. My God, what kind of hellish life did I live for those 20,000 years?”

(End of this chapter)