Barthilas grabbed the scaffolding that held Thrall and Eitrigg, Power of the Holy Light transformed into ropes that continuously entangled and bound the two tightly. Barthilas swung the wooden scaffolding like a giant sword.
This is Barthilas's new weapon.
When Barthilas thrust the scaffolding at Uther's initial disdain turned to fear.
The Holy Sword is too powerful. If they were to clash again, Uther would win, but Thrall and Eitrigg would both lose their lives.
Even if Uther had a thousand lives, he wouldn't dare kill Thrall, the Savior.
Uther dared not condense the Holy Sword and could only desperately dodge. Although the Naaru in the Void were pouring Holy Light into Uther, the restrained Uther clearly did not know how to win, and no amount of Holy Light could help him.
Barthilas grew stronger with each battle, and the scaffolding infused with Power of the Holy Light was also an indestructible holy sword.
"Despicable!" Uther roared.
"The people of Hearthglen stand behind me; they are all my family." Barthilas's will was Steadfast: "If depravity can save their lives, I would rather become the most despicable person in Azeroth."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Uther was finally unable to dodge and was struck repeatedly by the holy sword.
The abundant Power of the Holy Light within him dissipated, and he collapsed to the ground.
The Naaru were disappointed in him and stopped showering him with Holy Light.
Barthilas's "Holy Sword" was pointed at Uther's chest.
"Uther, think of your life. You are the Lightbringer, yet you have brought death and despair to your people."
Uther closed his eyes, awaiting death, and whispered, "Barthilas, you are strong, and you are intelligent. But you cannot defeat the Guardian Medivh. Hearthglen will still be doomed, and the destruction of Lordaeron is inevitable."
Above Hearthglen, beneath an ordinary cloud, lies a spherical Void force field.
The Guardian Medivh had been hidden here for a long time. Inside the Void Field, there was a table and a chair, and Jaina, dressed as a maid, was pouring him wine and serving him respectfully.
Medivh arrived just as Thrall's life was in danger. He was then drawn to Barthilas's power and, instead of rushing to save Thrall, carefully observed the battle between Barthilas and Uther.
When the powerful holy sword appeared, Medivh's eyes lit up. He opened Portal to the Karazhan Library, and ancient books flew out one after another. The Guardians' rich collection of books detailed the thousand-year history of the Azeroth Continent, with a particular focus on mysterious and unpredictable powers.
"Oh, I found it."
Medivh shifted, and he unfolded a thick book.
Jaina glanced at it; it was about the history of House Ironforge, the rulers of the Bronzebeard Clan.
"I remember that the Bronzebeard Clan is most skilled in the power of Lightning; their Stormhammer is terrifying."
Jaina cautiously interjected.
Medivh chuckled and said, "The source of the Dwarves ' Lightning power has always been a mystery. It is precisely because of this power that the Dwarves have been able to establish themselves in Khaz Modan. The Holy Sword and Stormhammer are very well hidden."
"What does the Guardian mean?" Jaina didn't quite understand.
Medivh smiled slightly and explained:
"The Humans' greatest ability is Avatar, which is actually quite similar to Barthilas's Deity Descension. Although Holy Light and Lightning are completely different, they are connected in some ways. We humans find it too difficult to control the power of Lightning, so we cannot perform Avatar. Replacing Lightning with Holy Light and Deity Descension with Avatar is a very good idea. Very good, this ability is mine."
Medivh emerged from the Void, his wise eyes Anjing fixed on Barthilas.
Barthilas looked up at the Archmage in the air, dressed in a magnificent robe. His disdain for life and his Pride of control made Barthilas feel very uncomfortable, as if he were being stared at by a venomous snake.
Barthilas's Deity powers and the Hope of Victory clearly told him that this man was invincible, and there was no possibility of winning.
"Arthas and Robbie were right after all. Even with my strength, I still cannot defeat the Guardian Medivh."
Medivh attempted to read Barthilas's mind, but all he saw was Barthilas's gratitude towards the people of Hearthglen and his deep-seated hatred for the Orcs, these two emotions dominating Barthilas's thoughts.
Mind reading is not a panacea; Barthilas's mind has no gaps, and it is difficult to explore his secrets.
Medivh was not discouraged. In his view, gratitude, like hatred, was a weakness that could be exploited.
"Barthilas, I am Guardian Medivh. I can grant you one request: simply tell me where your power comes from."
Barthilas was also observing Medivh, and all he saw was undisguised disdain:
"Someone told me that the Guardian Medivh is the most untrustworthy. He likes to use words to seduce people, then probe into their hearts to exploit their secrets. He almost never keeps his promises and is a treacherous villain."
"Treachery?"
Medivh smiled and shook his head. He didn't care about his reputation. History was written by Medivh himself, and he could write it however he wanted.
"But I've decided to trust you this once, for the sake of the people of Hearthglen."
"A wise choice." Medivh nodded.
Medivh had no intention of keeping his promise. In fact, he himself was unsure whether the people of Hearthglen should be spared or killed. Everything was done according to his heart. The Guardian Medivh was never bound by oaths or morality.
Barthilas, with a nostalgic look and a happy expression, reminisced:
"Leave the Castle and turn left. After two blocks, turn right into an alley. At the end of the alley is a blacksmith shop. The blacksmith's owner, Uncle Andre, loves tobacco from Stratholme. When I was little, I always worked at the blacksmith shop. Although the food was terrible and the pay was meager, I knew there wasn't much work at the blacksmith shop, and Uncle Andre could manage it all by himself. He only hired me to give me food."
"A blacksmith!"
Medivh's eyes lit up; Magni Bronzebeard, the Mountain King, was also a blacksmith.
Could it be that Hearthglen is hiding a master who has inherited the Mountain King?
"I suppose Andre the blacksmith is very skilled?" Medivh asked tentatively.
"His craftsmanship is quite good; he's very skilled at forging hoes and sickles," Barthilas said.
"Hoe and sickle?"
Medivh was somewhat bewildered; was this some kind of divine weapon?
"Alright, when did Master Andre teach you the ability to Deity Descension?"
Barthilas looked at Medivh with a strange expression. "Did I say that Uncle Andre taught me?"
Medivh scratched his head, somewhat puzzled; he didn't quite understand what Barthilas meant.
Barthilas continued his recollection, "Leaving Uncle Andre's blacksmith shop, three blocks away, there was a steamed bun shop. The proprietress, Aunt Jones, had a terrible temper and always liked to scold people. Every time I passed by, she would feign surprise: 'Oh dear, the buns have fallen on the floor, they can't be sold, Barthilas, you'll have to have them for free.' Over the years, I ate a total of 3,624 buns from Aunt Jones, and I remember the taste of every single one."
Medivh was confused. What did the power of Deity Descension have to do with steamed buns?