Azeroth Shadow Trail

Chapter 1328 78. As long as you accept your weakness, you are invincible

"plop"

Prophet Velen knelt down on the ground covered with the holy light of purification. Behind him, the broken Naruadal who had just recovered some vitality was crying.

It was not mourning for its pain, it was mourning for Velen's torment.

This may be a more helpless farewell.

As a creature of holy light, A'dal could clearly feel that the prophet's mind was collapsing. This old man had endured too much torture in the past ten thousand years.

In particular, the horrific massacres that the Draenei suffered in the Dellano world in the past ten years have overwhelmed his seemingly tough mind.

Bu Laike is actually right.

The draenei have developed a character that is very good at "reflection" because of their past sufferings, and Velen is especially good at it.

He is a leader who is used to taking all the pressure and guilt on himself. He has strong sympathy and empathy. He can feel the suffering of the people of his tribe and empathize with those disasters.

Because of this, all the sufferings of the draenei in this world were considered by Velen to be the result of his own cowardice.

But to be fair and objective, Velen's character and decision did have an important influence in this matter, but it would be a bit too extreme to blame him for all the crimes.

And the prophet, who was already living in pain, now "personally" killed his son who had been away for 25,000 years, which became the last straw that crushed Velen.

All the previous failures of the dreadlords were paving the way for today's events. These cunning demons have insight into people's hearts, so they chose the most vicious way to brutally destroy Velen's heart, so that the most powerful of the stars The priest willingly became the last pawn in Denathrius' plans for endless conquest.

Have to say, they did a pretty good job.

Everything is developing in accordance with the plans of the fearful demon kings.

"Nuri?"

Velen looked at the eredar demon in his arms, it was only breathing its last breath, and there were so many wounds on its body that the prophet himself didn't know how to heal it.

He could only call his son's name with the saddest voice, calling again and again, crying again and again.

"Don't call me that"

The eredar demon lord cursed with the last of his strength:

"That name. belongs only to mother. You, you are not worthy! Believe in your holy light and go I will never... never forgive you! Kil'jaeden is coming soon

run.

Like what you've been doing best for countless years

Run like a coward."

"I won't run away, I'm not going anywhere, I'll be here with you, my son."

The collapsed prophet tightly hugged the child in his arms.

Even if he has changed beyond recognition, even if he has become a true demon, dedicating his brutality to the Legion in the past countless years, and earning himself the title of "The Butcher".

But Nuri Velen is not like other demons.

He didn't become a demon because he worshiped the Dark Titan, nor did he join the Legion because he wanted to sway the cruelty and destruction in his heart, and he didn't want to conquer a lunatic who sacrificed everything.

His goal has always been pure, to meet his "father" today.

"I always knew Kil'jaeden was going to use me against you."

The eredar demons sensed death.

He used the last bit of time to bid farewell to his collapsed father, his voice was full of vengeance and the pleasure of venting, he roared:

"I do not care!

I don't care about those lives destroyed by my own hands, those ruined worlds, those miserable howls! Velen! I am willing to be a demon sword that pierces your soul!

I know doing this will make you experience all the pain my mom and I went through! You bastard! Look, you cry, how cowardly, did you cry when you abandoned us?

Hehe, father, my dear father, this is my last gift to you. "

"No, I entrusted someone I trust to pick you up, but he has already defected to the devil, and I have not abandoned you, I really have not"

Velen explained incoherently.

But the demon named Rakish could no longer hear it.

Its body is dying, but its soul has not returned to the Twisting Nether.

Kil'jaeden clearly knew how to inflict the greatest pain on Velen, and the ruthless Trickster had already severed Rakish's connection to the Twisting Nether before this operation.

Velen killed his own child himself, and his child has no chance of resurrection.

He will lose him forever.

He will feel the pain of the day the Deceiver lost his brother twenty-five thousand years ago, and he will experience what the Deceiver has been through.

Lakish could no longer hear Velen's explanation.

The cold touch of death made his fel-filled body tremble, and as the last light in his eyes dimmed, he said in a voice only he and Velen could hear:

"But I'm... not happy to see you cry. I just feel sad. You abandoned us and I made myself a joke.

run.

father, run

Mom asked me to protect you before she died. I'm sorry. I can't do it anymore. Mom is waiting for me in that world, and we will be waiting there for you.

farewell. "

Velen felt the tangled and painful life in his arms dissipating. As a priest, he felt Nuri's soul leaving his body.

If he has "spiritual vision" like Braike, he will find that the little blue angel of Grian has appeared beside him. The little blue angel with white wings and golden armor is about to Guide this complex and dark soul to the world of the dead.

But what was easy in the past is especially difficult today.

Because there is a very evil magic blade in this temple that is constantly releasing power that interferes with life and death.

This made the little blue man Nagrian feel very uncomfortable. She tried her best to capture Nuri Velen's soul, but under the interference of that evil force, she couldn't do it at all.

"You are not allowed to take him away!"

Velen couldn't see the little blue angels.

But he could feel a force tearing at Nouri's soul.

Once the soul is pulled away, there is no hope for the child.

But no matter how powerful the power of the material world is, it can't affect the creatures in the shadow world. No matter how the prophet waved the holy light, it couldn't stop the soul from leaving.

Until, when he saw the remnant body of the high priest Ishana who was knocked down and eaten by the undead not far away, the prophet suddenly woke up.

"That sword!"

Velen picked up his dead son, staggered towards the ruins of the Karabor Temple behind him, the sword that could resurrect the dead, as long as he got it.

As long as you hold Frostmourne in your hand!

Not only can the son return to his side, but also the resurrected clansmen in front of them can also regain their sanity.

Most importantly, Kil'jaeden is coming!

The Trickster is coming to destroy the world!

He had to get the sword before he could order all the undead to follow him to deal with Kil'jaeden's demons. This is the last contribution he can make to this world.

That's what Ishana's dream meant.

The Prophet staggered towards the hall where Frostmourne was stored. When he entered there, there were densely packed draenei undead who had just been revived by the magic blade.

Like the female draenei Yrel who roared for revenge just now, they stood in front of the collapsed prophet, and they were obviously full of hatred for the leader who had failed them.

"I want to get that sword!"

Velen hugged his son who was still bleeding. The dirty blood stained his robes, and he shouted with disheveled hair. The draenei leader's seal on his forehead was crumbling and close to being extinguished.

Even the holy light in the body is dissipating with a mournful cry.

But the Prophet doesn't care about that anymore.

He shouted to the undead who blocked the way in front of him:

"I want to get Frostmourne, I want to save my child, I want to use it to lead you to attack the demons. I'm sorry, everyone, my weakness killed you.

But I heard your grievances, heard your dissatisfaction, and heard your roars. I will lead you, and we will fight! We are not running away!

we fight

Step aside!

Please, get out of the way! "

The undead resurrected by the magic blade miraculously possessed the sanity of life.

They looked at each other, but they didn't make way for the prophet. Velen clenched the blood-stained staff tightly. He had already seen the ice-blue magic blade floating in the center of the hall.

The sword seemed to speak to him.

The sword let him see himself as the Lich King, commanding the undead army to fight the demons, and the sword let him see Nuri fighting with him beside him.

That sword also allowed him to see his counterattack on Argus, allowing him to see himself meeting his wife's spirit.

The sword satisfied all the prophet's desire for a moment.

It was like a whisper from the abyss, luring the distraught Velen into his destiny.

"Step aside!"

A yell came from the rear, making the prophet and other undead who were about to open the passage by force look back. The female undead named Yrel came over dragging her body burned by the holy light.

With blood-red soul fire shining in her eyes, she said to her undead compatriots in a hoarse voice:

"Give him a chance, a chance to pay for all his sins and be a good leader, we need a leader to lead us, brothers and sisters.

The Frostmourne that awakened us needs a master. "

In the dead silence, the draenei undead in front of them all made way for the prophet to make a way to the altar of the magic sword, and Yrel walked in front of the prophet.

This girl who was only a disciple of the Holy Light still had traces of torture before her death, and those traces were shocking. She must have died in extreme pain.

Those scars all over her body are the "last memorial" left by the orc destroyers for her.

"Go! Take that sword!"

Yrel said indifferently to the prophet who had respected and obeyed him indifferently:

"You have let your people down once, and this is your last chance to prove yourself, Prophet, and we will follow you to the death as before.

But this time, we will throw away all our weaknesses.

Those who have hurt us, those who try to hurt us, we will show no mercy.

Lead us, Velen.

Become the vengeful god of the draenei. "

The Prophet nodded silently.

Holding his dead son in his arms, he walked step by step towards the magic sword altar in front of him under the indifferent gaze of all the undead. As he approached, the magic sword that was not held began to neigh and spin.

The dominance runes engraved on the ice-blue sword are shining, and the final mystery from the shadow world and the first born is cheering. Those runes even escaped from the sword, circling the magic like a fantasy light curtain. The sword spins.

It longs to be held by a powerful soul.

It is longing for the world, setting off endless battles and killings among the stars.

It is eager to destroy the fragile balance of life and death in these stars with its own hands, and completely unbalance the six major forces to usher in a new era of death.

That's the only reason it was made, and that's the only reason it exists here.

What demons, what mortals, what Void Lords, what Burning Legion, all seemingly powerful existences are just pawns of a conspiracy that has been started since the birth of the universe.

And now, this conspiracy is finally going to the final step.

The magic blade Frostmourne is honored to be the key to tear apart the old age and open a new one. For a weapon, this is simply the highest honor.

It just hovered over the altar.

With an undisguised attitude, he presents his own evil and darkness in front of the sword bearer. The sheep-headed demon skull is dotted on the sword grid, and the interlaced demon horns surround it to form a beautiful and depraved decoration.

And on both sides of the gauntlet, sharp skull teeth are created with amazing techniques, and the double-sided sharp blade with sawtooth and curved shape exudes a cold light.

It is not forged from metal.

The ice forging it doesn't even exist in the material world, it comes from the shadow world, from the coldest substance in that dead world, which is the extreme embodiment of the concept of "death".

The Prophet held Nuri's body and stood in front of the magic blade. His cloudy eyes saw the sword in front of him, and the staff of the Redeemer slipped from his hand at this moment.

He held out his hand towards it.

A'dal's mournful cries echoed in the prophet's ears, as if he was trying his best to persuade Velen not to do so.

Facing this dissuasion from the Holy Light, the prophet asked in a dumb voice:

"Can you save him? Can you save the world?"

This soul-striking question made A'dal silent.

After all, there are things that Shengguang can't do.

The light in Velen's eyes dimmed even more.

He sighed, and reached out to buckle the hilt of the spinning magic sword in front of him. Just when he was about to touch the sword, a group of scorching flames exploded behind him.

The undead were almost blown out, but their bodies and awakened souls were not harmed.

Panting, Thesaly Crow emerged from the flames, and she cried out:

"No! Velen! There is another way!"

"Ok?"

The prophet looked back at the archdruid from Azeroth, who shouted:

"Trust me, I can save your son! I can resurrect him! I'm not kidding, and this world...it will survive! That man has arranged everything.

You believe me.

Don't touch that damn sword!

Get away from it!

What you will hold is not courage and salvation at all, it is just you and all the draenei giving up hope and bowing your head to the evil and darkness!

That's what Kil'jaeden wants to see

hell!

The fraudsters are playing with you like Boo Laike has played with other bastards!

Nearly eternal life, don’t you even understand this?

asshole!

You are a prophet!

Stay away from your weakness! "

(end of this chapter)