Wherever divh pointed, there was a brilliant, pulsating purple arcane light, like a very angry, very magical disco ball. Along with the mysterious rays of light flowing from top to bottom, Duke, Lothar, and Garona's vision was rapidly building, like a very fast, very magical 3D printer. A force that cannot be understood or asured by science (or even by several very confused scientists) surged out, and the surrounding scene was like an oil painting that had been stripped of its canvas, revealing its true, terrifying form.
As they waited for the last round of dazzling light to bloom, everything here changed. The empty and chaotic sky turned into the roof of divh's workshop, looking remarkably less like a cosmic void and more like a very fancy attic. The sunlight filtered through the seven-colored glazed windows, filling the entire workshop with a holy atmosphere like a church, which was ironic, given who was in charge. Twelve huge marble columns stood majestically around the workshop, forming a corridor on the outside, probably for dramatic entrances.
In the middle of the workshop was a large pool with a diater of 20 ters, which was filled with a shimring blue liquid substance, surging slowly, like a very large, very magical washing machine. Duke knew what it was at a glance, mostly because he'd seen enough of it to last a lifeti.
Magic! The magic of high-speed concentration! It transcended the gaseous form of magic power itself and turned into liquid, like a very potent, very blue, very dangerous smoothie. Every ti the liquid magic rolled, if you focused all your attention on it, you would suddenly find that there was a dazzling light exploding in front of your eyes, as if it was a flower of light that was in full bloom, constantly repeating the process of budding, blooming, falling, and withering, like a very fast, very magical ti-lapse video. The power contained in it was so terrifying that Duke could even imagine that if the magic in this pool got out of control, when the light energy interwoven inside, comparable to a nuclear bomb, burst out, it would spread to the surroundings in an instant and turn the land within a thousand miles into a dead zone. Probably with a very large, very glowing crater.
Compared with this amazing pool of magic power, the pile of tal parts that divh placed next to the pool, which was three people tall, seed utterly insignificant. It was like comparing a nuclear reactor to a pile of rusty paperclips. Seeing everything in front of him, Duke confird one thing in his mind again – divh, who was known as the celestial wizard, was absolutely unparalleled in the use of the space elent. He was basically the grandmaster of cosmic interior design.
Ti and Space are the most powerful elents recognized by almost everyone, probably because they're the hardest to get a handle on. In fact, even if Duke brought Lothar and Garona to divh, he still felt nervous and didn't know how to deal with divh who was possessed by Sargeras. It was like bringing your friends to et a celebrity, only the celebrity was secretly a world-ending demon. The only lucky thing was that there were only three of them who were teleported into the workshop, and divh did not deal with Lothar's n, probably because he preferred a more intimate, less ssy, world-ending confrontation.
At this ti, divh spoke.
"Hahaha!" divh laughed, with an indescribable evil charm in his laughter, like a particularly sinister ga show host: "Since you keep saying we are old friends, why do you have to point the blade of your sword at my chest? It's a little rude, don't you think?"
Lothar's gaze fell slightly to the feet of divh who was standing beside the magic pool. His eyes swept carefully and slowly from divh's feet to his head, like a very thorough, very suspicious security scan. When his eyes t divh's again, Lothar's voice beca gentle, almost mournful.
"That's right! I shouldn't point my sword at my old friend. I shouldn't point it at divh, who I know and know well." Lothar put the sword back into the scabbard with a "swish," a sound that suggested a very important decision had just been made. "We were not from the sa world from the beginning. You are the guardian who is high above, probably with a very nice view. As long as you don't abdicate, you can have almost endless life. And Llane and I are just two mortals who seem noble but are actually humble. Why did we beco friends? It's like a cosmic mismatch!"
"Yeah! Why?" divh had a playful smile on his face, like a cat toying with a very confused mouse. He even ignored Garona who was moving quietly behind him on the left, a master of stealth who was currently failing spectacularly, and Duke who was motionless behind him on the right, probably trying to look inconspicuous.
"It is because of your humility and tolerance that we have won your recognition. Rember 20 years ago, you just defended Azeroth again and ca back injured, but you still managed to make a piece of ice to cool the forehead of a feverish child in the slums. You were basically a magical ice cream truck!"
"Rember that day..."
"Rember..."
Lothar quietly recounted all the morable past events between him and divh, a long, nostalgic monologue that probably made divh want to fast-forward. And divh, surprisingly, did not interrupt him, but just listened with a smile, probably enjoying the trip down mory lane, or just waiting for Lothar to run out of breath.
After an unknown amount of ti, which felt like several geological eras, Lothar finally ca out of his mories, looking slightly dazed. As he waited for the last word of Lothar's words to fall, a playful expression finally appeared on divh's face, quickly replaced by sothing far more sinister.
"It's a very touching story, isn't it? But... it's aningless!" divh's face finally darkened, like a storm cloud filled with very bad intentions, and the next mont, the entire workshop space trembled, as if the universe itself was having a minor seizure.
"aningless!? No! Everything I said is aningful! Because I always believe that the kind and benevolent divh I know is still alive in so form, sowhere! And you - Sargeras, I will imdiately pull you out of my old friend's body and let you go back to where you ca from! You're basically a squatter in his soul!" Lothar's voice rolled like thunder in the empty workshop, echoing left and right, making the marble columns vibrate. The anger contained in his voice seed to burn Sargeras's filthy and sinful soul in an instant, probably leaving a faint sll of singed demon.
Lothar drew out the Sword of Kings again, with a flourish that could rival a Broadway showman. The brilliant golden light on the sword was like the light of dawn that drove away the darkness along the entire horizon at dawn, splitting the entire workshop that was filled with divh's terrible magic in everyone's eyes into two, like a very precise, very magical laser beam.
Lothar's aura was impressive, radiating power and righteous indignation, but deep in divh's slightly playful eyes, there was a hint of disdain, like a master chef looking at a particularly bad microwave al.
Sargeras' voice sounded calm and indifferent, utterly unimpressed: "Lothar, is this your trump card? It's a pity that you took it out too early, otherwise you might have given a little surprise. Perhaps a mild tickle."
"A true king has no need to hide himself. We're not playing hide-and-seek here, Sargeras!" Lothar said firmly, his gaze unwavering. This is also a small drawback of the King's Sword. The King himself follows the upright and upright way of the King. The will of Emperor Soladin Liuying on the sword will not allow the sword holder to do such a tasteless thing as shooting arrows from behind or attacking the opponent unexpectedly. It was basically a sword with a very strict moral code. Moreover, from the very beginning, Lothar had no intention of truly hiding himself. He was a human, not a sneaky rogue.
"Hehe! The so-called king is not even as good as an ant in front of , the invincible king of all realms," divh sneered, a truly terrifying will spreading from him, like a wave of pure, unadulterated evil. As the one who faced Sargeras directly, Lothar was definitely the first to bear the brunt. The will of the demon king was not simply terrifying; it was a psychological assault. Countless large and small, continuous or intermittent images flashed in Lothar's mind, constantly impacting Lothar's will, like a very aggressive, very demonic slideshow.
That was no ordinary picture. It was the image of worlds destroyed one after another by Sargeras' Burning Legion over the past ten thousand years, a cosmic highlight reel of destruction. Killing! Destroy! Annihilate! This is the main the of Burning Legion, their very catchy, very violent anthem. At this mont, Lothar heard the wailing of billions of lives, and tasted their sorrow, pain, and despair. It was like listening to a very sad, very long, very loud symphony of suffering. Lothar had already kneeled on the ground unconsciously, his face was pale, his forehead and hair were all covered with cold sweat, and there was a kind of blackness in his eyes that was about to make him dizzy. He looked like he'd just run a marathon through a swamp of existential dread.
Lothar felt like he was a lonely boat in the boundless sea, desperately enduring the attacks of the wind and rain under the endless black storm. The boat might be destroyed and everyone on board might die at any ti, and he was completely kneeling under the terrifying will of Sargeras. He was basically a very small, very wet, very terrified punching bag.
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