Lothar had too many doubts in his mind. His brain was basically a tangled ss of question marks, exclamation points, and a few very confused emojis. Why did Duke, who was supposed to be beheaded and killed, co back to life, looking remarkably intact and annoyingly smug? Why does it seem like Duke planned all this, like a very elaborate, very deadly, very well-rehearsed play that only he knew the script to? Why was Duke able to hide from Sargeras' perception and seize this once-in-a-lifeti opportunity just right and perfectly to kill Sargeras in one fell swoop? A series of doubts almost burst Lothar's head, threatening to turn his brain into a very confused, very exploded mush.
On the other hand, Lothar was also filled with emotion. Victory! They actually won! He thought this was a hopeless backlash, a last stand against overwhelming odds, a suicide mission with very little chance of success. Although Lothar had been cheering up the soldiers, telling them inspirational stories that probably involved a lot of gratuitous violence and very little historical accuracy, in his heart he had always been prepared to show the backbone of mankind to these damn demons even if he failed. He never thought that it would beco another important milestone in the history of the war between humans and demons. It was basically a very unexpected, very glorious, very bloody victory that would be written about in very long, very boring history books.
No matter how powerful Sargeras who possesses divh is. No matter how many powerful beings helped to contain Sargeras' power. A kill is a kill. The one who killed the Lord of the Burning Legion, the Demon King, and the fallen Titan Sargeras on behalf of the billions of creatures in Azeroth was Edmund Duke! This is the most significant stroke worthy of being recorded in history books, probably in very large, very golden letters, with a special footnote about the whole "headless" thing.
Lothar leaned forward, looking at the sword that was so familiar to him and glowing with a sacred golden light. He suddenly recalled those words: "Those who fight for humanity will be blessed by !" The whispers of our ancestor Thoradin still echo in my ears, probably with a faint sound of trumpets and a ghostly cheer. Lothar suddenly had an epiphany. Why was Duke able to pick up the sword of the king that possessed will? It was very simple. From the beginning, it was not the sword of the king. Thoradin himself was not the chosen king. It was only because an emperor could better unify the scattered human clans that Thoradin was born and the sword of the king was born.
This sword, which should have no na, will only shed the blood of the enemies of humanity. It fights only for humanity, so whoever holds it is dood to shed blood only for humanity. If one day, the sword bearer abandons the ideals inherited from the ancient kings, then the sword bearer's life will wither and die. But the stars of the ancient kings will still rise slowly, continue to shine on Azeroth, and bless the human race for eternity. It was basically a very powerful, very ancient, very strict moral compass in sword form. Lothar may have many questions, but he suddenly realized that these questions were no longer important. Everyone has his or her own trump card and secrets. Duke picked up the sword of kings, which proved that Duke was a hero recognized by all ancient kings. He was basically the chosen one, with extra sparkles and a very impressive resu.
Staring at the golden light on the sword, Lothar's eyes were blurred. He seed to hear an ancient war song from more than a thousand years ago, majestic and passionate, probably with a very loud drum solo and a few very off-key trumpets. This is the belief passed down by the late Emperor Thoradin to all descendants of mankind. This is a hope that has lasted for thousands of years. This is the inheritance of mankind's unremitting will to strive for self-improvent in this land full of cruel competition. It was basically a very long, very inspiring, very bloody motivational speech, delivered by a very old, very dead king.
Looking at Duke's overly young face, Lothar, who was in his forties, suddenly felt a little old. "Ah! It's great to be young!" he thought, a wave of nostalgia washing over him, followed by a sudden, horrifying realization. "Wait! Young!?"
It was supposed to be a happy ending with the defeat of the evil super boss, a triumphant victory lap, but Lothar was horrified to see that Duke's face was growing rapidly, no, it was aging rapidly! Almost in the blink of an eye, Duke's face grew from a childish 14-year-old to 16! 17! 18! And then kept going! No! This is not growth! This should be so kind of extrely vicious curse from Sargeras before his death. He is using his last strength to attack Duke! It was basically a very petty, very powerful, very final act of spite, delivered with a dying, demonic flourish.
Just as Duke held the sword in both hands and stirred and tore divh's heart hard, like a very determined, very angry, very magical blender, Sargeras raised his left hand and hit Duke with a black mysterious energy pattern. Sargeras's roar before his death also proved this point: "Edmund Duke, you ant, do you think this is the end? No! I am immortal! I am eternal! But you, you have to pay the price for hurting ——and it's going to involve wrinkles, grey hair, and possibly a sudden craving for prune juice!"
Sargeras' extrely angry voice echoed throughout Karazhan and even the entire Deadwind Pass area, making the very few birds in the area flee in terror, and probably causing a few murlocs to spontaneously combust. At this mont, every person, elf, and dragon involved in the attack on Karazhan heard the na of the hero who killed Sargeras. Happy for Duke! Worried about Duke too! That is the backlash of the Demon King! Who dares to say that they can bear it? The horror of demons is not only their extrely powerful fighting power, but also the strange and terrible curses that are hard to guard against! If you are not careful, even the extrely powerful dragons will die miserably, and the other dragons can only watch helplessly as their companions die in pain and despair. Not to ntion humans with weak bodies, who would probably just explode into a fine, aged mist.
In fact, let alone other people's feelings, Duke himself regretted it. "Damn it, why did I have to deliver the final blow? Why couldn't Lothar have done it? He's already old! Damn it, is Khadgar's tragedy going to happen to ? Am I going to beco a grumpy old man before I even hit puberty?! This is not fair! I had plans for my youth!" At this mont, Duke's heart was filled with tears! And probably a lot of existential dread, mixed with a sudden craving for a comfortable armchair.
Before he killed divh, who was possessed by Sargeras, Duke was only thinking about how to kill him. Now that he was dead, Duke suddenly realized another very important thing - in history, Khadgar sneaked up on divh and killed him, and he was also cursed by Sargeras before his death. A considerable amount of Khadgar's life force was sucked away. This is why we have Khadgar, who is young but has an old face and white hair! He was basically a very powerful, very wise, very prematurely aged wizard who probably spent a lot of ti complaining about his back.
At this mont when ti seed to have stopped, millions of horses were running wildly in Duke's heart, probably trampling all his hopes for a youthful future and a good complexion: "I didn't expect that Khadgar died inexplicably. I, who replaced Khadgar as the hero who killed Sargeras, would also be cursed with this disgusting curse!?" He was basically inheriting a very bad, very powerful, very unwanted family curse, complete with all the side effects.
I rembered that I was a young man before and after the ti travel, but now I am going to beco a little old man. Soone once said, "A real man will always be loved no matter what he becos," but... but... but... Whoever wants to beco an old man can do it himself! Don't look for ! I want my youthful glow back! And my smooth, unwrinkled skin!
Well, even though Duke had already turned the table over in anger for no less than a million tis in his heart, probably sending magical furniture flying. In reality, it only took a blink of an eye. Duke didn't dare to let go, and continued to pour his spiritual power into the Sword of the King. As long as Sargeras was not dead, Duke couldn't relax. Otherwise, if the demon king had ti to catch his breath, all of humanity would die, and he'd never get his face back, which was a very strong motivator. He could only watch the black rays representing aging shining on his face, and could only helplessly allow Sargeras' curse to drain his vitality. This feeling of having your body hollowed out is terrible! It was basically a very aggressive, very magical, very unwanted facelift that left him looking like a very old, very tired teenager.
Suddenly, an absolutely unexpected figure used his hand to block the trajectory of the black ray that was shooting towards Duke. Nielas Aran - the soul of divh's father, used his soul body to block the bullet for Duke! He was basically a very noble, very dead, very effective human shield, powered by pure paternal love and ghostly resolve.
"You..." Duke's facial muscles froze, a look of utter shock and profound gratitude on his rapidly aging face.
Just as he had been unable to do anything before, Duke was equally helpless at this mont. He was basically a very powerful, very frustrated, very useless bystander to his own impending doom, watching it unfold in slow motion. Duke didn't know what the curse was all about. He only knew that Elan's soul, which was originally extrely concentrated and even full of magic power that could release magic, began to dissipate from that mont on. Like sand blown away by the wind, the pale-haired Elan spirit was dissociated into soul molecules in Duke's sight, fading away like a very sad, very noble, very magical dust bunny, leaving only a faint shimr.
Such a great wizard who was loyal to Stormwind Kingdom, such a great father, disappeared so easily in the wind. All that was left was a whisper of his soul, carried on the spectral breeze: "I think this is my atonent for my child... and for all the bad fashion choices he made. And for that ti I accidentally turned the cat into a teacup. Farewell, young hero!"
Duke's eyes suddenly beca moist. Yes! He used the reason that divh was possessed to persuade Elan's soul. He did not expect that Elan, a father, would choose to completely disappear in this world for the sake of atonent for his child. It was Elan's sacrifice that temporarily alleviated Duke's curse, like a very temporary, very spiritual, very effective band-aid that also ca with a side of profound guilt.
At this mont, another person Duke could never have imagined ca to the rescue. That was Lothar's hand. Lothar, looking like a very tired, very determined, very heroic zombie, rushed up at so point and held divh's hand tightly. A considerable part of the evil power that should have been poured on Duke was diverted by Lothar, who was basically acting as a very large, very armored, very willing lightning rod, powered by pure, unadulterated rage.
Lothar's temples were turning white at a speed visible to the naked eye, like soone had just dumped a bucket of flour on his head, or he'd just seen his tax bill. "You bastards! You will all wither away together! And I'm taking you with ! This is my personal vendetta against bad hair days!" Sargeras was furious. He struggled violently to free himself from the sword's piercing body, while trying his best to increase the intensity of the curse, probably screaming obscenities in ancient demonic tongues the whole ti.
Suddenly, Sargeras discovered that divh's right arm had returned to the shape of a human hand. This was a very strange sight. divh's left hand was still as thin as a bone, and the whole arm exuded a terrifying aura of evil and filth. divh's right hand was a perfect human arm, although it was pale due to lack of sunlight, it was still a standard human arm. It was basically a very unsettling, very mismatched, very powerful puppet show, with one hand doing sothing completely different from the other.
The most important thing is that this hand is holding divh's staff, the legendary artifact Legendary Staff of the Guardian of Atiesh. Since the Council of Tirisfal began to use the power gathering thod, every year the magic power of each council mber is injected into the Guardian, and the Guardian and this artifact staff with a chicken leg head have been created. Whenever the Guardian cannot bear more power infusion, the council mbers will inject the excess power into this staff. With the efforts of countless generations of powerful wizards and the condensed magic power of countless years, Atiesh was promoted from an ordinary staff to the level of a divine artifact. It was basically a very powerful, very ancient, very magical battery with a very fancy chicken head.
Sargeras never underestimated it from the beginning. In order to avoid the backlash of Atiesh, Sargeras even cast no less than ten demonic seals on divh's body after completely controlling it, attempting to defile and corrupt the power of Atiesh and use it for his own benefit. At this mont, as divh's soul will revived and began to compete with Sargeras for control of his body, and Duke's backstab gave Sargeras a deeper sense of crisis, Sargeras accidentally let divh take partial control of his body. This is the real fatal blow! The ultimate cosmic "oops," delivered with a very sharp, very golden sword.
"Accept the punishnt - Sargeras -" Unlike the voice of Sargeras which ca from his evil soul, this voice was undoubtedly the voice of divh, Lothar's old friend, who was kind, rciful and generous by nature, now sounding very, very angry. As this roar was uttered, every living being within a radius of dozens of miles felt an inexplicable throbbing in their hearts at the sa ti, like a very large, very synchronized heartbeat. They raised their heads one by one and looked towards the highest point of Karazhan. There, they saw three figures almost entangled with each other, like a very dramatic, very powerful, very painful, very final group hug.
Originally, it would have been impossible for vision to penetrate the solid outer wall, but the light emanating from these three figures was so strong that it penetrated the wall, allowing everyone to easily see their movents. The fierce battlefield suddenly fell into silence, and the sun and the moon in the sky were dim. The wind stopped. The noise of the battlefield also stopped. The whole world seed to calm down, leaving way for only one existence, his na was - divh! And he was very, very angry, and very, very determined.
divh first closed his eyes. When he opened them again, all the demonic aura in his pupils had faded away, leaving only clarity, like a very powerful, very evil fog had just cleared. But at this mont, Sargeras, who had originally focused on Duke and Lothar, finally noticed sothing was wrong. The air was filled with a sacred sll that he was both familiar with and hated, like a very potent, very holy air freshener. It was as if he had traveled through ti and space, returning to the Pantheon's sanctuary twenty-five thousand years ago, and answering the Titans' questions every ti, probably with a lot of uncomfortable squirming.
"No——" Sargeras suddenly found that his soul was being squeezed out of divh's body, like a very reluctant, very angry, very demonic toothpaste being squeezed from its tube. The laws of the surrounding space are deviating, the power of the devil is being squeezed out, and a stronger and sharper force is coming. It dominates this place with supre power, dominating everything and eliminating all forces that are opposed to it - of course, this includes the power of Sargeras! "This is impossible!" Sargeras scread, his voice filled with utter disbelief and cosmic indignation, like a very powerful, very evil child having his favorite toy taken away.
At the sa ti, Duke determined through the system that it was divh who had the upper hand, so he decisively stopped inputting ntal power and reduced the power of the Sword of Kings. His extrely clever move earned him a grateful look from divh, who probably thought, "Thanks for the help, kid, but I got this." Even though his chest was still pierced by the sword, and even though divh's vitality was rapidly draining away along with the blood gushing out of his chest, divh, who had regained control of his body, was still the guardian divh respected by all people. He was basically a very powerful, very noble, very dying hero, with a very impressive final act.
divh's body was recovering its human form at lightning speed, while Sargeras's ugly soul was being forcibly torn away from divh by the power from Atiesh, like a very powerful, very magical exorcism, complete with a lot of screaming and unpleasant squelching sounds. "Fall into the abyss forever—" Following divh's ethereal cry, the strong light blooming from the artifact staff Atiesh in his hand was as dazzling as the sun, a final, glorious burst of power. The next mont, the entire staff exploded.
Not only Atiesh, but also the pool of magic power with vast magic power in the workshop and the entire Karazhan's protective shield all exploded together, because apparently, when in doubt, explode everything. The extrely huge magic explosion caused a terrifying shock wave that destroyed most of the Deadwind Pass in an instant, turning it into a very large, very dusty, very magical crater.
Giant dragons weighing tens of tons were blown away directly, sent tumbling through the air like very large, very scaly, very surprised kites, and half-dragons and demons weighing more than one ton were not even as strong as ants, and no one knew where they were blown to. They were basically very large, very angry, very airborne confetti. The residential houses that were originally built for several blocks next to Karazhan were reduced to dust in the blink of an eye, and turbulence filled with high-concentration arcane energy spread to farther places along the strong wind caused by the shock wave. The few trees in Deadwind Pass were all charred in an instant, turning into very sad, very black sticks. The land closest to Karazhan was like a thousand-layer cake, squeezed into layers by the shock wave, and squeezed out in all directions with Karazhan as the center. The earthquake caused by this terrible explosion could be felt not only in Duskwood, but also in half of Elwynn Forest, which had fallen under the control of the orcs, probably making them spill their grog and wonder what fresh hell had just arrived.
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