Gamble for Azeroth 28 (Patreon)

He knew that the death of the patrol group gave him some time, but it was nowhere near as much as he would have liked. Maybe a full day.

He decided to leverage that gap efficiently. First, he swept around Hearthglen, searching for a man who would know more.

He found one soon. A sergeant, whose armor paintings had been scratched, suggesting he had been wearing the emblem for a long while. Arvis first silenced him with hand and dragged him away from the patrol routes, using his sensing to see if there was any mind-control spell on them.

There was none. It was pure fanatical zeal.

“Who are you?” the scout gasped.

“I’m a lone paladin, trying to save the world from the unclean,” Arvis said, acting even more fanatical. “I want you to tell me the layout of Hearthglen, so when I kill you, you will not be cursed.”

“I’m not undead!” the scout promised. “You have to believe me. I’m a part of the cleansers as well.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Arvis said as he let his blade glow with intense retribution light, which came even easier after his Exorcism trait. It helped him to sell the lie, as no one expected a crazed paladin to be fake.

“I promise. We believe the same thing. We want to cleanse the unworthy, just as it has been foretold!”

“Foretold?” he asked. “Is there anyone else that has those … visions?” Arvis lied, quick to adapt his wording choice.

“You have been chosen by the light! Just like Lord Saidan! He has warned everyone about the coming disaster, telling us that not cleansing the unworthy would cause a disaster. It has arrived just as he has foretold.”

“What else did he foretell?”

“The light started to abandon our ranks just as he warned. The light is testing us; we have to fix it.”

Arvis had to admit it was a good call. The ability to access the light while casually delivering massacres required a unique mindset. For most priests and paladins, losing the ability to wield the light was inevitable.

By framing it as a punishment preemptively, it meant that rather than turning introspective, the paladins losing their powers would blame others. “Is this why you’re focusing on … cleansing the unworthy before the undead?”

“Yes, half-bloods and the unclean ones cursed us just as it has been foretold. Once we cleanse them, every single one of us will be blessed by the light, and we will destroy the light.”

“When did he see those visions?”

“Months ago, but we have spread the message secretly, not wanting to alert the traitors who consort with the unclean, even though they were blessed. Naturally, the light had forsaken him, and he fell to the undead!”

“I see,” Arvis said, and decapitated him.

He had already learned all he needed. Most importantly, whatever Saidan Dathrohan had been planning, it was not recent. It was also very unlike a paladin.

“Almost like the cult of the damned,” he said to himself as he continued to deal with the scouts. He had to admit, both the timeline and the principles of operation matched suspiciously well.

Meaning, they had converted Dathrohan long ago, but rather than turning him into another death knight, they had used him to corrupt other paladins by tapping already existing human-supremacy movement, something that had been growing since the Second War.

But, even that was determined, he made sure to sneak to the patrol groups and listen to their talk, which revealed that the situation in Hearthglen wasn’t as bad as he feared; and they were using the fanatics as the patrols, which was a good way to make sure the others didn’t come in contact with information that wasn’t spread by Dathrohan’s trusted men.

He executed all of them.

He also took most of the bodies away, making sure to burn them in an out of the way cave. The rest, he used ice magic and shattered into pieces, making it look like they had been killed by the undead.

He didn’t know if it would be believable considering they seemed to be in some kind of partnership with the undead, but either way, it wouldn’t hurt.

What followed was a fruitless search. The towns were already emptied, though some of them were burned. He suspected that he wasn’t the only one who realized the sudden appearance of the murderous paladins.

He could have searched for them in the forests they disappeared, Bloom helping to find them, but he decided against it. Dathrohan’s faction made it impossible for him to earn their trust easily by flashing his glowing blade.

“Inconvenient,” he muttered in annoyance, and instead spent his next day scouring Central Lordaeron, destroying all the undead bases he was able to find. Which, after his latest upgrades, had gone even smoother. The combination of Exorcist, Sword of Judgment, and Mysticism improved the devastation he could bring against the undead to an absurd degree.

Though, he suspected that even now he wouldn’t have been a match to a truly legendary paladin like Uther; whose strategic mistakes didn’t change his power on the battlefield.

What truly changed the equation was Suppression, Bloom, and Momentum, which allowed him to detect undead presence from a long distance, hide effectively, and run away in a speed that they couldn’t match.

To top it all, his Natural Restoration trait and Total Concentration Breathing allowed him to recover from the aftereffects perfectly, making him the perfect candidate to sweep the land … too bad this time, the undead was even faster to abandon their auxillary bases and gather into larger organizations.

A full day was all it took to do that.

“Time to return,” he decided, this time choosing to get even closer to the Southern border, but this time, there was no convenient battle for him to intervene. Once he returned to the Eastern side, he could have cut directly to Stratholme, but he first approached the elven border from south east.

He expected the undead to be sieging the outer elven gate, which meant they were ready to be harassed. He chose to approach them from the eastern side, because retreating would bring him to troll lands.

The possibility of triggering another troll-undead war was too tempting.

&&&

His plans changed when he arrived at the elven border, only to find it suspiciously bereft of the undead. Worse, he could see thick smoke in the distance, right where the outer gate existed.

“Surely not. How long has it been? Two days since the siege started?” he muttered as he approached the gate, only to find its blackened, demolished remains.

The outer gate of Quel'Thalas was gone. Not breached, not damaged, shattered, the trees that surrounded it were killed as well, the whole land reeking of death. The wards that were supposed to support its energies were gone.

Worse, he couldn’t feel much of an undead presence. Just a huge, dead scar a mile thick, with no hint of life in between.

What he was seeing told a simple story. The Scourge had not just broken through the outer gate. They had advanced deep enough that he couldn’t even see a hint of the undead. Worse, they hadn’t spread as he expected, destroying the villages and the land.

It was supposed to be a good thing that most of the elves were alive. Instead, it scared him. If they weren’t spreading to kill the elves, it meant that they wanted to breach the inner gates as well, and attack Silvermoon directly.

They wanted to take Quel’Thalas in one strike, the same as Lordaeron. The worst part, they were succeeding far more devastatingly than he expected.

“I knew they were stronger than the ones I had engaged until now … but this,” he muttered in a daze even as he continued to move forward. He wanted to return to Stratholme to alert them, but before that , he needed to see the extent of the situation.

He moved forward, following the path the undead had created.

As he went deeper into the elven land, he noticed one good thing. There weren’t many signs of civilian massacre, meaning at least Sylvanas’ evacuation plans had worked as intended. The path of the dead cut through several large towns, but none of them showed signs of a massacre.

The implication of that positive realization didn’t last long. Soon, he was looking at Ban'dinoriel. The legendary barrier of elven lands, the supposedly impenetrable barrier that would keep Silvermoon safe forever.

It was gone, shattered as well. Worse, at the outer gate, he could feel the remnants of the shattered enchantments. There were none here.

Like someone had broken the enchantments from the inside. Traitors.

He couldn’t help it. He paused, taking in the sight in front of him. The strongest magical defense in the world, demolished in less than a day. He tightened his hand on his blade, trying to ignore the sense of hopelessness rising inside.

It was difficult to believe that they could win against the Scourge, not when they took down Lordaeron, and were about to take down Quel’Thalas, not even a month between two events.

Without Ban'dinoriel, it was hard to imagine Silvermoon surviving, especially with the presence of the traitors sabotaging the defenses. Once Silvermoon fell, it was just as easy to imagine the same army rolling down, destroying the southern part of the continent as well.

Stromgarde was a shadow of itself, Alterac’s defenses were gutted after they had betrayed humans to side with orcs, and Stormwind was still being reconstructed.

His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, its burning presence reminding him that it was not hopeless.

“The Scourge has its advantages, and I have mine,” he muttered, remembering that he wasn’t hopeless. If Sylvanas had followed his suggestion, the evacuated elves should have been taking the ships to Stratholme, which would grant him more power.

Maybe long enough to defend them until they could gather a fleet to the mysterious land that Jaina Proudmoore had left for.

“Apparently, her decision was more practical than I expected … live and learn,” he muttered mockingly, still trying to decide what to do. The smart thing was to retreat and see if he could convince the elves that Stratholme was the best place for them to retreat.

His feet disobeyed. He moved forward, passing through the broken remains of the gate. He didn’t want to see the situation in Silvermoon. He wanted to confirm Sylvanas’ fate.

“I owe her,” he said, but for some reason, it didn’t feel convincing. The truth was that, he wanted to save her. Nothing more, nothing less. Unfortunately, soon he realized his approach was untaneable. The undead army had created a huge blockage between him and the city, their mere presence suffocating him.

Just as he was assessing the merits of using Suppression to sneak through the undead army … when something happened. Well, three things occurred simultaneously. One, he felt a flicker in his inventory, and realized that the cooldown clock had been triggered for Safeguard Ring. One that he had passed to Sylvanas.

Two, with a flash of light, Sylvanas appeared in front of him. She was bleeding, barely conscious, battling for her life. She was alive.

Three, at the same time, a shout rang. “Windrunner! Find her!” the shout rang. It was not a normal shout, but a blast laced with necrotic energy, and the fact that the undead army fell into momentary chaos gave him a good idea about the source.

“Arthas,” Sylvanas gasped, dazed and delirious. Then, she looked up, and their eyes met. “It’s a good dream to have while dying,” Sylvanas whispered, looking his eyes. He suddenly felt his body burning in a way that had nothing to do with the battle.

He wished he could tease her, but that was not possible, as her eyes closed the moment she said that. He didn’t waste any time before he lifted her in a bridal hold and started running.

There was no chance that the undead could miss his presence, especially since merely lowering his presence and hiding was not an option. His dear ‘prince’ sounded furious, and even before turning into an undead, Arthas had a reputation for being petty when he believed himself to be wronged.

Which was easy to believe when one was about to inherit the strongest human kingdom.

Worse, he could feel that Sylvanas was still struggling to stay alive, and her wounds were no joke. Whatever damaged her was left something lingering. Left untreated, it would be a miracle if she could survive a minute.

“I owe a big gift to Lady Blaumeux,” he muttered, even as he split his attention between desperately running and using healing spells to help Sylvanas to recover. Without improved mana reserves, he couldn’t heal such grave wounds. Exorcism helped further by allowing him to counter the blighted energy trying to worm into her being.

The only problem. A human carrying an elf while running in a straight line was hardly hidden even when they weren’t glowing like a house fire.

Holy light was many things. Subtle was not one of them.

He looked back, hoping that the following force was small enough that he could handle them. With his most recent power-up, he was confident to fight against a sizable army, even if they reinforced it with a few weaker Nathrezim, maybe a lich and a couple of bone dragons.

That way, once he passed the ruins of the inner gate once more, so he could focus on healing Sylvanas properly. When she recovered, they could decide on the next step together.

Unfortunately, what he saw was not a small army of elites chasing them. It was an army. Maybe a quarter of the force, split from the main army, with dragons and gargoyles covering the sky while multiple death knights and Nathrezim lead a tsunami of ghouls.

Ahead of them, Arthas.

“Well, at least my original plan is usable once again,” he muttered as he took a sharp turn to the east. After all, Ban'dinoriel’s real function was to separate elven lands from Amani Trolls. Without the magical barrier, access was there.

Since Arthas was determined to kill Sylvanas, why not use him to replicate the same trick? For that reason, he didn’t push himself to move as fast as he could with Momentum, allowing Arthas to close the distance somewhat. It was riskier, but potentially triggering a battle between the undead and the trolls was worth the risk.

At the same time, he carefully held Sylvanas with one hand, while the other holding the Sword of Judgment. He had to, because some of the undead fliers were close enough that they started diving, forcing him to use his ranged blade attacks to kill them, glad that he had spent time figuring that out.

Anywhere else, his reserves would have been depleted quickly due to constant casting, forcing him to stop. Luckily, he was at the heart of Quel’Thalas, with mana filling the air to a degree that shocked him. With that incredible density, Total Concentration Breathing kept his reserves full while he split his attention, making the desperate scramble beneficial.

Soon, he was at the troll border, and on the other side, some trolls were already there. Luckily, they seemed to be equally unprepared for the fall of the defensive barriers, which allowed him to pass to the troll side.

As he got closer to the border, he slowed down even more, using Suppression to reduce his own presence, making it look like he was burning his life to handle the exertion. Yet, as he passed the border.

Arthas and his army stopped.

He could have let it go, but that would mean the undead army returning to attack elves. Worse, he suspected trolls would join soon, their enmity with elves was too great for them to focus on the greater undead threat.

“Little, pathetic Prince! Don’t tell me you’re afraid of ignoring the Lich King’s orders,” he shouted loudly. “First your father’s obedient little errant prince, then Uther’s little royal apprentice for him to show off, and now, Lich King’s little bitch! It’s good that some things never change.”

He knew that it would work because it was Arthas. For all his princely manners, he was a vindictive man while alive, and he suspected death had not made him a more balanced man.

If it had, he wouldn’t have split a substantial part of his army to chase Sylvanas when his siege was about to succeed.

Arthas’ undead army marched into the troll lands. He continued to run away.

[Feat Achieved! Escalate the between two hostile factions

+1x Gold Advantage Random Gacha ticket]

He shook his head, remembering that technically, trolls and the Scourge were already at war thanks to the same trick. Apparently the System counted those two troll factions as one faction despite not having direct borders.

He ran deeper into troll land, with the undead army behind him, but once the troll presence started to get stronger, he changed his path, once again going southwest toward the elven borders.

He had already pushed his luck, and Sylvanas required a real treatment. Running while casting healing spells was merely keeping her alive.

As he left the undead army behind, he activated his reward.

[Select one!]

[Angel]

{Rare Trait: Race Change - You are an Angel, a being created with holy power, as an angel you have slightly increased physical stats and the ability to fly using your wings naturally. In addition, your Holy and Light-based abilities are more potent along with the ability to use Holy Light(Rare Rank Ability), in exchange all Darkness and Unholy abilities are weakened. You are also vulnerable to unholy attributes.}

[Ichor]

{Epic Trait: It is Ichor that flows through your veins, granting you extreme vitality and a natural healing factor as well as incredible poison and disease resistance. Even as a regular human, you will live to see your late thousands. Your blood also has healing properties and is an excellent potion ingredient.}

“Really,” he muttered to himself, even as he read his latest race change trait, this time trying to make him an angel. A being of light … right after he realized just how light could warp one’s mind.

It was poetic irony.

He might have picked it regardless of the circumstances if the benefit were worth it … but he was already proficient in using the Holy Light. While even stronger light spells and wings were tactically promising, it wasn’t enough to compensate for having a weakness for darkness and unholy abilities.

It was too big a weakness.

Especially since Ichor was far better. Stronger vitality, natural healing factor, poison and disease resistance. Technically, extending his life by thousands of years was tempting as well, but at this moment, he was more interested in surviving for a year.

The biggest benefit was his blood gaining healing capabilities, right when he was supposed to cure Sylvanas.

He picked it, feeling his body transform, throbbing with intense life energy, searching for a place to heal Sylvanas.