Shadow Trails in Azeroth

"Plop"

Prophet Velen knelt on the ground covered with purifying holy light. Behind him, the broken Naru'adal, who had just regained some vitality, was mourning.

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

This may be a more helpless farewell.

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

Especially the horrific massacres that the Draenei suffered in the world of Draenor in the past decade or so have overwhelmed his seemingly tough mind.

Blake is actually quite right.

The Draenei people have developed a "reflective" character due to their past sufferings, and Velen is the leader among them.

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

Because of this, all the suffering the draenei suffered in this world was considered by Velen to be the result of his own cowardice.

But to be fair and objective, Viren's character and decisions did have an important impact in this matter, but it would be a bit too extreme to blame all the blame on him.

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

All the previous failures of the Dread Lords were preparations for what happened today. These cunning demons have insight into people's hearts, so they chose the most vicious way to brutally destroy Velen's heart in order to make the most powerful among the stars. The priest willingly became the last pawn in Emperor Denathrius' plan of endless conquest.

I have to say, they did a pretty good job.

Everything is developing according to the plans of the Dread Lords.

"Nuri?"

Velen looked at the eredar demon held in his arms. It was only breathing its last breath. 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 in the saddest voice, calling him again and again, crying again and again.

"Don't call me that"

The eredar demon lord used his last strength to insult:

"That name only belongs to mother. You, you don't deserve it! Believe in your holy light and I will never. Never forgive you! Kil'jaeden is coming soon.

Run.

Like what you've been doing best for countless years

Run away like a coward."

"I won't run away, I won't go anywhere, I will be here with you, my son."

The collapsed prophet hugged the child tightly in his arms.

Even if he has changed beyond recognition, even if he has become a real demon, he has dedicated his cruelty to the Legion for countless years and earned himself the title of "The Butcher".

But Nuri Velen is not like other demons.

He did not become a demon by worshiping the Dark Titan, nor did he join the Legion to unleash the cruelty and destruction in his heart, nor was he a madman who dedicated everything to conquering.

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

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

The eredar demon sensed death coming.

He spent the last moment saying goodbye to his collapsed father. His voice was full of the joy of revenge and venting, and he roared:

"I do not care!

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

I know that doing this will make you experience all the pain that my mother and I felt back then! You bastard! Look, you are crying, how cowardly you are. Did you also shed tears when you abandoned us?

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

"No, I asked someone I trust to pick you up, but he has already rebelled to the devil. I didn't abandon you, I really didn't."

Velen explained incoherently.

But the demon named Rakesh could no longer hear.

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

Kil'jaeden obviously knew how to inflict maximum pain on Velen, and the cruel trickster had cut off Rakish's connection to the Twisting Nether before this operation.

Viren killed his own child with his own hands, and there was no possibility of his child being resurrected.

He will lose him forever.

He will experience the pain of the day when the Deceiver lost his brother twenty-five thousand years ago. He will experience everything that the Deceiver went through.

Rakesh could no longer hear Viren's explanation.

The cold touch of death made his body filled with evil energy tremble. When the last light in his eyes dimmed, he said in a voice that only he and Velen could hear:

"But I'm not happy. I only feel sad when I see you crying. You abandoned us, and I turned myself into a joke.

Run.

Father, run quickly

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 wait for you there.

farewell. "

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

If he had the same "spiritual vision" as Blake, he would have found that the little blue man angel of Gryen had appeared beside him. The little blue man angel with white wings and wearing golden mighty armor was about to Guide this complex and dark soul to the world of death.

But what used to be an easy job is now particularly difficult.

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 of Nagrian feel very uncomfortable. She tried her best to capture Nuri Velen's soul, but due to the interference of the evil power, she could not do this at all.

"You are not allowed to take him away!"

Viren couldn't see those little blue angels.

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

Once the soul is taken away, the child has no hope.

But no matter how powerful the power of the material world is, it cannot affect the creatures in the Shadow Realm. No matter how the prophet waves the holy light, he cannot prevent the soul from leaving.

Until he saw the remains 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 and staggered towards the ruins of the Karabor Temple behind him. As long as he got the sword that could resurrect the dead, he could.

As long as you hold Frostmourne in your hand!

Not only can he bring his son back to him, but he can also help the resurrected tribesmen in front of him regain their sanity.

Most importantly, Kil'jaeden is coming!

The Deceiver is coming to destroy the world!

He must get that sword to be able to command all the undead here to follow him to deal with Kil'jaeden's demons. This is the last contribution he can make to this world.

This is what Ishana’s dream meant.

The prophet staggered towards the hall where Frostmourne was stored. When he walked in there, his eyes were densely packed with Draenei undead who had just been resurrected by the magic blade.

Just like the female Draenei Yrel who roared for revenge, they stood in front of the collapsed prophet. They were obviously filled with hatred for the leader who had failed them.

"I want to get that sword!"

Velen held his son who was still bleeding, and the dirty demon blood infected his robes. He shouted with disheveled hair, and the Seal of the Draenei Leader on his forehead was teetering on the verge of being extinguished.

Even the holy light in the body was mourning and dissipating.

But the prophet no longer cared about this.

He shouted to the undead blocking the road in front of him:

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

But I heard your resentment, heard your dissatisfaction, heard your roar, I will lead you, let's fight! We won't run away!

we fight

Step aside!

Please, get out of the way! "

The undead resurrected by the magic blade miraculously possess the sanity before death.

They looked at each other, but they did not make way for the prophet. Velen clenched the blood-stained staff in his hand. He had already seen the ice blue magic blade suspended in the center of the hall.

The sword seemed to speak to him.

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

The sword also allowed him to see his counterattack on Argus, allowing him to see his encounter with his wife's soul.

That sword satisfied all the prophet's desires at that moment.

It was like a whisper from the abyss, tempting the shattered Velen into his destiny.

"Step aside!"

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

Her eyes were shining with blood-red soul fire, and she said to her fellow undead in a hoarse voice:

“Give him a chance, a chance to pay off all his sins and become a good leader, we need a leader to lead us, brothers and sisters.

The Frostmourne that awakens us needs a master. "

In the dead silence, the Draenei undead in front of them all made way for the prophet to lead to the magic sword altar, and Yrel walked up to the prophet.

This girl, who was just a disciple of the Holy Light during her lifetime, still had traces of torture before her death. Those traces were shocking. She must have died in extremely painful circumstances.

The scars all over her body are the "last memories" left by the orc destroyers for her.

"Go! Pick up that sword!"

Yrel said coldly to the prophet whom he had great respect and obedience:

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

But this time, we will leave behind all our weaknesses.

We will show no mercy to those who have hurt us, those who seek to hurt us.

Lead us, Velen.

Become the draenei's vengeful god. "

The prophet nodded silently.

He held his dead son in his arms, and under the indifferent and silent gazes of all the undead, he walked step by step towards the magic sword altar in front of him. As he approached, the unheld magic sword began to neigh and spin.

The control runes engraved on the ice blue sword were shining, and the final secret from the Shadow Realm and the Creation of All Things was cheering. Those runes even broke away from the sword body, surrounding the demon 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 conquests and killings among the stars.

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

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

Demons, mortals, Lords of the Void, Burning Legion, all seemingly powerful existences are just pawns in a conspiracy that started from the birth of the universe.

And now, this conspiracy is finally reaching its final step.

The Demon Blade Frostmourne is honored to be the key to tearing apart the old era and opening the new era. For a weapon, this is simply the highest honor.

It just hovered above the altar.

He unabashedly presents his evil and darkness in front of the sword holder. The goat-headed demon skull is dotted on the sword grid, and the interlaced devil horns surround it to form a beautiful and depraved decoration.

And on both sides of the gauntlet, skeleton teeth are shaped with amazing techniques. The double-sided sharp blade with jagged and curved shapes exudes cold light.

It is not forged from metal.

The ice that forged it does not even exist in the material world. It comes from the Shadow Realm, from the coldest material in the world of death. It 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 Redeemer Staff in his hand slipped at this moment.

He held out his hand towards it.

Adal's screams echoed in the prophet's ears, as if he was trying his best to persuade Velen not to do this.

Faced with this dissuasion from the Holy Light, the prophet asked dumbly:

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

This soul-piercing question silenced Adal.

After all, there are things that the Holy Light cannot do.

The light in Viren's eyes dimmed even further.

He sighed and reached out to clasp the hilt of the rotating magic sword in front of him. Just when he was about to touch the sword, a scorching flame exploded behind him.

The undead were nearly blown away, but their bodies and awakened souls were not harmed.

Panting, Hisari Black Crow appeared in the firelight and shouted:

"No! Velen! There is another way!"

"Um?"

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

"Believe 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!

Stay away from it!

What you will hold on to is not courage and salvation at all, it is just you and all the Draenei giving up hope and bowing their heads to evil and darkness!

That's what Kil'jaeden wants to see

Damn it!

Fraudsters are playing with you like Blake plays with other bastards!

Don’t you even understand this about near immortality?

asshole!

You are a prophet!

Stay away from your weakness! "