Gamble for Azeroth 21 (Patreon)

He didn’t return to Stratholme directly. Instead, he first moved toward the elven border, using his new abilities to further decimate the buildup at the border. He no longer feared the ghouls at the border, and his stamina allowed him to cut through them with ease.

His actions were simple. He was trying to bait … whatever that was closer to the border, so that he could ask Sylvanas’ help. He had no doubt that she was much stronger than he was, even with the recent, miraculous improvements he had been experiencing.

But, to his surprise, the presence he had felt stayed near the border, hidden, allowing him to kill the ghouls, skeletons, and other weaker undead with little repercussion for almost half an hour.

Arvis continued to kill, though he mostly relied on the Sword of Judgment and his newly developed light abilities. The focus of the sword combined with the aggressive oppression of weaponized light on the undead meant he wasn’t even exhausting himself.

Not when Polymath allowed him to improve his Total Concentration breathing even more.

However, no matter how many undead he had killed, the figure stayed in place, likely watching him. Arvis should like it. It meant that whatever that being was; it was being cautious, fearing the elves; allowing him to diminish the undead presence more and more.

Yet, he hated it.

He was starting to feel that there was a greater plan, one that he was missing.

It was why, after merely twenty minutes, he started to show visible signs of exhaustion. His light attacks dimmed, his breaths got deeper, his attention flickered. He hoped that the mysterious being would take the opportunity to attack him.

It didn’t, which didn’t make Arvis any more comfortable about the undead’s plan.

Arvis decided that he had already revealed too much of his capabilities. Instead, he pulled back, ready to retreat back to the village. Before he could even catch up, however, his path had been cut off by Sylvanas.

“Arvis,” she said, her expression complicated.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I have received an emergency order,” she said, her expression stiff. “I’m being ordered, in the strictest terms, to kick out all humans from our lands, or else…”

Arvis frowned, a cold realization settling in. “That’s wrong.”

“I don’t want to, but—“

He raised his hand. “Sylvanas, I know that you don’t want to do it, but it’ll be treason if you don’t. That’s not the part I’m worried about,” he said.

“It’s not,” she said.

“No. Tell me. When did you receive that message, and when do you think that it had been signed? More importantly, when was it initiated?”

“I received it less than ten minutes ago, and rushed here immediately,” she said. “As for the order, I don’t know. The council works hard to understand patterns sometimes. Does it really matter that much?”

“It might,” he said. “Let me explain exactly what happened during the last few days.”

With that, he gave her a robust breakdown of everything that had happened. The siege, the battle between trolls and the Scourge, the evacuation of Corin’s Crossing, the ritual sites, even the extremely vile presence that watched him for a long time.

Though the emergency of the situation meant that he could just mention finding a new sword, one that taught him how to use the light; easily bypassing the situation. She just nodded at those details, her focus on a different aspect.

“It must be a demon,” she decided.

Arvis nodded. “Possible, or maybe it’s another kind of vile creature. However, that part doesn’t really matter. What matters is the timing.”

“You suspect that the timeline of the forced evacuation order and the presence of the demon is too close for comfort. That means collaborators on the council.”

“Either that, or actual traitors,” he said.

“Impossible!“ she gasped.

He shrugged. “We thought the same thing, but our brave prince, who was an actual paladin, had fallen, and so did many archmages. I don’t think you can categorically refuse it.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Even when you consider just determined they are to prevent you from responding to the undead threat?” he added.

That made her pause. “Even if they are, what can I do? Should I go and challenge the council?”

Arvis did his best to hide his exasperation, surprised by how politically incompetent she was. “No. I don’t know much about how your council operates, but considering how easily they had ordered our expulsion or execution, I’m guessing the council and the king see humans barely more than vermin.”

“It’s not like that,” she said.

Arvis sighed, but he decided to give her an exit. “You don’t have to soften it. It’s not exactly a great secret,” he said. “I’m not saying that all elves are the same, but the open-minded ones are already in Dalaran, working for rangers, or they are priests. It means that the extremists dominate the council.”

“Maybe,” she said. “How does it help us?”

Arvis sighed. “I have no idea about the objective of the undead, but it’s clear they are looking for something more than just keeping Quel’Thalas neutral. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be trying to cast so many rituals at the border.”

“You have a point. An incursion similar to the Second War is not impossible. The inner gate would hold. Ban'dinoriel, is quite literally impenetrable—“

“Even if the traitors help from inside,” Arvis reminded her. “Don’t forget how Lordaeron had fallen.” She looked ready to refuse, but he decided to stop her. “Look, I’m not saying that it’ll happen, but you should factor in,” he said. “The Scourge had already used that tactic successfully too many times for us to dismiss it.”

“What if they do?” she asked.

“If I were you, I would mobilize all my contacts and keep the navy active, and be ready to evacuate the settlements the moment the undead attack starts. Don’t wait until the outer gate falls.”

“What if they refuse to accept them inside Ban’dinoriel?” she asked, her tone sharp.

Arvis wanted to say that such a thing was too unlikely … but then, considering some of the other decisions their king and the council had been taking, he suspected it wasn’t exactly impossible.

“Arrange some ships. The distance between Windrunner Spire and Stratholme is not that much. You can evacuate there if needed,” he offered. He didn’t think that would be needed, but offering her was the least he could do. “But, the more important question, can you join us while we go to Stratholme? I am not confident against a demon, but if you are with us, we can handle it. You don’t even need to show yourself. Just stay hidden in one of the supply carts for half a day, and I’ll owe you a big favor. Maybe also say to your rangers that you’re traveling to visit the council, just in case.”

The last reminder made her frown, but she still nodded. “There’s no need to frame it as a favor. That’s the least I can do.”

“Let’s split, then. It’ll be better if we hide your arrival from the rest.”

He also thought about asking her permission to take a few books now that he could read Thalassian, but after a moment, he decided against it. He could ask that in a month or so. He wanted to access them, but not at the risk of making her suspicious. Sudden light abilities were easier to explain than fluency in a new language.

“By the way,” he called just as she was about to retreat. “Did you find my gift?”

“The strawberry bushes?” she asked, suddenly blushing. It was not a thick blush, but he didn’t miss it. “I … they were delicious,” she said, and disappeared.

He chuckled at her sudden, shy reaction. A moment of levity squeezed between everything else, a big smile on his lips. He also rushed forward.

“Lord Godwyn,” they greeted as he arrived. Any other time, he would have spent an hour walking around to calm them down. Instead, he immediately summoned Osric, Marta, and Father Aldric. “What’s the situation with the evacuation preparations?”

“We can leave anytime,” Osric promised. “We just need half an hour for final mobilization.”

“Then we start moving,” he said. They left, while Father Aldric stayed, which didn’t surprise him. “You have a question, I suppose,” he asked.

“I have to,” he said. “I am feeling something, but…”

Arvis didn’t waste any time. He raised his finger and cast a smite. “I have been … let’s say blessed.”

“You don’t seem to be too happy, my lord,” he said.

Arvis sighed, deciding to give a believable excuse instead of discussing the true nature of the light. He didn’t know how a priest, even an openminded one like Father Aldric, would react to his interpretation of Holy Light; or what would happen to their power if they accepted his explanation.

His own experiences had shown just how mindset-dependent the Holy Light could be.

“Let’s just say I feel like I have been deputized not to heal and lead, but to destroy the undead. Something very necessary under the circumstances, but hardly something that puts a smile on. It’s a heavy responsibility.”

“I understand, my lord,” he responded.

Arvis decided to take a quick nap, knowing that even with his recovery abilities, he needed to sleep occasionally, and it looked like a smart way to spend some time.

When he was woken up by Osric knocking on the door, however, a surprise was waiting for him. He must have been truly exhausted to miss a notification.

[Feat Achieved! Recruit fifty thousand followers

+1x Platinum Advantage Random Gacha ticket]

“We’re ready, my Lord,” he said.

“Let’s move,” Arvis responded, and moved to the front of the line, choosing to move some distance away from the convoy. At the same time, he activated his reward.

[Select one!]

[Provocative]

{Uncommon Trait: You are very good at getting under people's skin, whether it is angering them or breaking their mask of stoicism with a joke or a flirty remark. It is harder for people to keep their composure around you.}

[Expert Blade Weapon Mastery]

{Elite Skill: You are an expert with bladed weapons such as daggers and swords, not quite in the realm of legends, but in the old ages, people would sing songs about how you could slay 100 men with a single blade. Your expertise and finesse with blades are the stuff of rumours.}

He didn’t need to think much before selecting Expert Blade Weapon Mastery. While Provocative could have proved very useful in a variety of political circumstances, its usefulness was nowhere near even halfway useful skill, let alone Blade Weapons, which was the core of his style.

Already, he could make hundreds of small corrections to his Water Breathing Style, and even more adjustments to his Light of Retribution style. Polymath and Talented made it even more feasible.

Curious, he pulled his blade, making a few test swings, even using a couple of Water Breathing and Light of Retribution attacks.

It was a fascinating addition. A few tests, and soon, he started to feel that the attack forms slowly become … useless. Well, useless was the wrong word. It was like trying to learn how to read. One needed to read every single letter loud, trying to piece a word together … until one didn’t. Like they were a clutch, ready to be abandoned.

It meant he could use his attacks freely, making him even deadlier.

Too bad the enemies he was about to face were even stronger. Still, considering he was about to face a significant enemy, likely a demon, in battle, he wasn’t complaining.

“We’re about to face the undead. What I want you to trust me, and don’t break formation,” he said. Ordinarily, he would have tried to prepare them before he revealed even more powers, but once again, wielding Holy Light, even in the form of Retribution, it was not necessary.

Light meant Paladins. And Paladins, especially against embodiment evil, meant trust.

Just as he was about to pass the border, Sylvanas arrived, giving him a signal from behind trees, and somehow, managed to slip into the caravan and hide in a supply cart without alerting anyone.

Even watching her, he barely followed her movements.

He shivered at her display. Thankfully, she was too proud to even take contracts as an assassin.

Abandoning idle thoughts, he attacked the undead at the border, still using the forms from the earlier display. He was currently equipped with Bloom and Rally. Momentum, he didn’t activate, as due to its unique nature, it wasn’t very helpful during fights.

While fighting, he used the old forms rather than experimenting with the new, formless styles.

He knew that the Lich King could watch from the eyes of the death knights, and while he had no idea whether that applied to the weaker undead, there was no point risking revealing his hand. Instead, he continued to destroy any undead within a mile.

Soon, he once again felt the same disgusting, alien presence at a distance. This time, he spent more time examining it, trying to understand why he was so disgusted. He soon realized. The undead merely killed the plants, while the presence, corrupted and twisted them until the plants themselves turned into a vector of the same disgusting energies.

It was difficult to decide which one was worse.

The likely demonic presence maintained its distance, watching him once more, unaware that Arvis could track it even from such a great distance while it was trying to hide. Arvis acted unaware of its presence.

He didn’t want to destroy his only unique presence.

Instead, he used his Polymath trait to examine the energies. Amusingly, the demon standing still corrupted the plants … which in turn allowed him a much greater understanding of the energy.

It reminded him of the limited glimpse of the Twisting Nether, but also not entirely. Twisting Nether, at its core, was a wild, chaotic energy source. It was dangerous and hard to control, but it was not evil. It was just incomprehensible.

The additional quality the plants took was equally chaotic and corrosive, but it carried an additional twist, a malevolent touch that felt intentional. It fit pretty well with the definition of a different energy he read from the notes in Sylvanas’ library.

Fel.

He suspected that it meant the demonic nature of the observer was pretty much confirmed. He didn’t delve further, because he could feel that even an indirect touch leaving a subtle mark he only caught thanks to Adept Conceptualization.

He didn’t react, the presence of the Sword of Judgment gave him the confidence he needed to delay the demon until Sylvanas could intervene.

Especially since Sylvanas was an archer, perfectly capable of interfering as long as he didn’t die immediately, which was not something he feared.

They were almost halfway to Stratholme when the demon finally lost its patience and started moving toward them, still hidden in the shadows. Arvis made sure to drift away from the group while hunting ghouls.

Ordinarily, he would have been afraid of leaving the camp vulnerable, but with Sylvanas inside, it was not something he was particularly worried about.

Still, he preferred when the demon chose to attack him first. He let it approach from behind, ready to erect a barrier of light to protect himself.

That proved unnecessary because, for some reason, the demon chose to brag rather than attack. “Foolish mortal,” it called. “You dare ruin the mission of great Nal'ragas!”

Arvis did his best to look surprised as he turned, his blade in hand, taking the moment to get a stock of the situation. At a distance, he could see Sylvanas pulling from the caravan, which was not panicking yet, which was welcome.

He used a moment to take stock of the view.

The demon was impressively intimidating. Twelve feet tall, wings folded against a body that was simultaneously humanoid and profoundly alien, its skin the dark purple-black, as if it were a bruise on reality itself. Curved horns crowned a face that was almost handsome in a sharp, cruel way, its eyes burning with corrupted fel mana.

It also moved with a surprising grace that belied its massive frame.

Even with his latest reward, he was glad that Sylvanas took the risk of escorting him. He decided to distract the demon. The only problem, how? His knowledge of demons was limited. Very limited. He knew that Arthas had clashed with such a demon many times, their encounter in Stratholme in particular had been told by many bards after Arthas’ supposed victory in Northrend.

They were supposed to be smart, cunning schemers, deadly in both battle and magic. However, Arvis also saw the demon stopping to taunt him rather than attacking directly. Whether it was about ego, or it was some kind of trap, he didn’t know.

But, he was willing to test. “What are you supposed to be? Another slave of so-called Lich King?”

The demon’s expression slipped. “You dare to insult me, mortal! Me! Great Nal’ragas, Lieutenant of Mal’Ganis! You think a trapped, pathetic orcish soul can have dominion over me! A Nathrezim!”

“Well, you’re cleaning up his messes like a pathetic little slave,” Arvis added, even as he let his blade glow with light, charging forward in a direct, reckless attack, one that would leave him very vulnerable if missed.

“Fool,” the demon growled, easily dodging his attack despite his anger, and flew up, proving that just because he was quick to anger didn’t mean he was a moron. From the sky, he started gathering his magic, ready to destroy him.

Arvis jumped up, his strength and Water Breathing combined giving him the mobility he needed. The Sword of Judgment screamed in his hand, its divine fury reaching a pitch that would have overwhelmed his control if he hadn't spent the afternoon learning to manage it.

This time, the demon dodged, but only after receiving a deep slash. From outside, it looked like the jump had left him vulnerable, but he had multiple backups. One, even in the air, he trusted Water Breathing to give him some mobility. Second, he could use spells to defend himself if needed. Third, he still had the ring pulsing on his finger, promising safety against deadly danger.

Of course, they were merely backups. His great advantage proved itself incredible a moment later. Multiple arrows, each radiating a shocking amount of arcane energy flew in the air with a shocking speed, each hitting the nathrezim’s vulnerable back.

Arvis didn’t doubt that, if it was an ordinary ranger, the demon would have shrugged the attack. Because even the salvo didn’t kill him. What it did was to wound it seriously, the momentum of the arrows carrying the demon toward him.

With that, Arvis used his new and improved Retribution blade for the first time … and decapitated the demon. Even before landing, the demon’s body shattered and turned to dust.

“For the Light!” he shouted. He didn’t even need to use Rally, and the convoy started cheering.

He walked Sylvanas, whose expression carried no elation. “A Nathrezim,” she growled, her expression stiff. “It proves what we suspect, at least. Whatever Scourge is planning against Quel’Thalas, it’s not simple.”

“I concur,” he said. “But first, thank you for your assistance. It was invaluable. A demon like that … if it wasn’t for his arrogance …”

Sylvanas smiled. “He probably never expected a Paladin to taunt him. You should be careful the next time you fight him. The demons are vindictive.”

“The next time?” Arvis asked. “Don’t tell me he didn’t die?”

“He died,” Sylvanas admitted. “But, when high-ranking demons die, their souls return to the Twisting Nether and they create a new body. It takes some time.”

“How long?” he asked. “Weeks?”

She shook her head. “Thankfully no. I don’t exactly know, but it ranges from years to decades.”

“Good,” he said with a relieved smile. He was not ready to face a demon like that alone yet, even while being seriously underestimated.

“The last attack was … impressive.”

Even as she said that, Arvis could see the worry in her eyes. “You can return. The undead wouldn’t try to attack again after losing a high-ranking demon,” he said. He would have loved for her to continue escorting him, but he knew that trying to convince her that was not worth the size of the favor.

Also, the sooner the elves were alerted to the true nature of the threat, the faster they could react. Even the elves couldn’t be arrogant enough to dismiss a demonic threat.

Right?