Hmm, Child, You Too?

Sarkir the Enlightener was hailed as the most influential leader of spellcasters in the history of Eredar civilization after Primordial Sorcerer Augure.

Of course, there was a whiff of flattery and bootlicking in that claim. After all, the Primordial Sorcerer had been a figure of the "mythic age" tens of thousands of years ago. To put it bluntly, many people even doubted whether such a person had ever existed in Eredar history.

Nor was Sarkir some genius who had sprung from a crack in a rock.

No matter how gifted he was, he still had to study ancient legacies, receive his mentors' training, and undergo arduous cultivation of his own before attaining a status whose prestige rivaled that of the Dual Ruling Council. To ignore all that effort and accumulation and reduce him to a single word—"talent"—was simply an insult to his entire life.

Yet no one could deny that the Enlightener's reputation among the Eredar was terrifyingly high.

Rumor had it that thousands of years ago, the two Grand Executors had considered inviting the Enlightener into the Dual Ruling Council to share the Eredar's supreme authority with him. But immersed in his study of the path to arcane truth, the Enlightener had unhesitatingly rejected the temptation of power.

He believed that the pursuit of worldly authority would interfere with his passion for arcane truth.

Regardless of whether that rumor was true, it proved that, in the Enlightener's eyes back then, worship of material things was undoubtedly a betrayal of the spirit.

Yet even the wisest people could not escape spiritual turmoil. Once trapped within it, it could easily have an appalling effect on one's steadfast will and noble character.

More than a decade ago, Sarkir began studying the secrets of fel energy. He had declared to the two Grand Executors that the power of fel energy was the only hope of breaking through the bottleneck the Eredar had encountered in the arcane field. He had personally demonstrated a series of fel arts to Commander Kil'jaeden and Grand Executor Velen, including demon summoning.

He hoped the path of fel energy could be formally incorporated into the Eredar civilization's system of inheritance.

That attempt failed.

Grand Executor Velen believed that the path of fel energy was in grave conflict with both the ancient Arcane Path and the rapidly developing Holy Light Doctrine. Commander Kil'jaeden, though praising demons' combat prowess, expressed concern over whether spellcasters could perfectly control those savage creatures of the stars.

Together, they vetoed Sarkir's proposal. The blow to the Enlightener was severe, and several days later, he announced his retirement.

Most of his power and status were inherited by Archimonde, but Sarkir had not truly lost his resolve and "stubbornness" as a spellcaster.

The Awakeners' Cult was the product of that failure.

Originally founded under the name of a "spellcaster exchange group," this organization had, boosted by Sarkir's terrifying prestige among spellcasters, become an ouroboros lurking in the shadows of Eredar civilization after more than a decade of development.

Oronaar City was their main stronghold, but they were not confined to this place.

Basically, wherever spellcasters gathered, one could see or hear the Awakeners' Cult.

Though elite institutions like the Arcane Academy still had pure spellcasters devoted to the right path of the arcane, it was undeniable that under Sarkir's leadership and manipulation, the Eredar spellcaster community had effectively rebelled and stood opposed to its own civilization.

Dick dared say that if every Eredar Arcane Mage were dragged out and shot, there would definitely be wrongful convictions—but if they shot every other one, there would certainly be some who slipped through.

The only reason things had grown so large without causing social unrest before the coup began was that, even in Eredar society, where people were born with an affinity for energy, highly skilled spellcasters were still a tiny minority among minorities.

They were few in number, but that did not mean their influence was weak.

The truth on the eve of the coup was this troublesome and outrageous. Otherwise, Archimonde would not have been so confident that once he put down this rebellion crisis, he could use it to leap straight into the political core of Eredar civilization.

But in Dick's eyes at this moment, the Enlightener himself, who commanded such terrifying power, was in exceptionally poor condition.

The once high-spirited genius leader of spellcasters now looked utterly decrepit.

His neck leaned forward, and his spine had visibly twisted and mutated. His formerly elegant face was covered in wrinkles, while strange, visible gray patches had appeared on his distinctly blue Eredar face.

Those clear eyes once praised as capable of interpreting arcane truth had turned cloudy. His hands had become clawed from years of contact with fel energy, and the skin on his arms and neck was rough and wretched, like some kind of scale armor.

It was not an illusion.

It was the technique of Demon Armor brought about by symbiosis with demons.

Like a walking corpse that had lost its spiritual pillar, he sat upon the jeweled throne belonging to the leader of Arcane Mages. His once-beloved ruby staff rested at his side, while in his other hand he toyed with a rather ferocious skull artifact.

That thing had horns too, but its savage features meant it could not possibly have belonged to some unlucky Eredar spellcaster.

The most outstanding spellcasters on all Argus stood beside him, but the radiance of arcane power no longer shone around them. In its place were a heavy smell of sulfur and an undisguised aura of savagery.

Green motes glimmered in their eyes, and the arcane sigils on their foreheads had all transformed into more violent marks of fel energy.

That was the beginning of bodily mutation after deep contamination by fel energy.

Most of their servants had already completed some evil ritual, turning their skin fully into a more glaring red. Black bone spurs and dark green fel crystals burst through their bodies, covering their faces and flesh with foul-smelling sores and scars.

But to these fel servants who called themselves Man'ari—the Fallen—this was merely a "small price" for power.

They were still spellcasters, but compared to the flexibility, delicacy, ingenuity, elegance, and endless variations of arcane magic, fel magic's more brutal and direct destructive force, along with its compatibility with those regardless of talent, was clearly better suited to people who needed power to accomplish "great things."

Dick was certain that among those standing around him, there were definitely demons disguised as individuals.

On the eve of the coup, the Awakeners' Cult no longer bothered concealing its hypocrisy. It had completely revealed its hidden power.

It was under such circumstances, surrounded by dangerous enemies, that the disarmed Dick laid out every detail of Archimonde's informing and betrayal beneath the Enlightener's cold gaze.

The moment he first spoke those words, he was met with unconcealed snickering and mockery from the Awakeners' Cult's upper ranks.

But as Dick produced more and more evidence, analyzed Archimonde's thoughts and desires, and described what he had done, the mocking voices quickly faded.

When Dick told them that Archimonde's followers had gathered at the Arcane Academy and would come to the cult's core before midnight to carry out a decapitation strike against the Enlightener, even the Enlightener himself became interested, while everyone else fell silent as cicadas in winter.

Smart people always believed blindly in the power of logic.

They believed that a series of facts could be used to deduce the truth that was about to unfold. And the information Dick brought, along with his deductions, made them realize that their strongest individual seemed, perhaps, possibly, maybe truly to have sold them out in pursuit of a more tangible reward than "the blessings of fel energy."

"You should prepare in advance. When Archimonde enters this place with the heart of a beast and attempts to kill the Enlightener, execute the traitor in a colder, more merciless fashion! You should butcher him and regard it as a cruel omen that fel energy is destined to possess this world."

That was what Dick said at the end of his speech.

His proposal was cold and cunning. Several spellcasters exchanged looks, and it was clear they enjoyed the idea of such a dramatic, ironic scene in which the traitor met his end.

But no one spoke.

Every gaze turned toward the Enlightener seated upon the throne of the spellcaster leader.

He was the guide on their path of fel energy, the Burning Legion's representative on Argus, and the one favored before all others by the infinitely mighty Benefactor.

The Enlightener's cloudy eyes, flickering with dark green motes, settled on Dick. Dick could feel the indifferent scrutiny and that piercing gaze, sharp enough to nearly bore through his soul. In his heart, he considered how to deal with the Enlightener's possible harsh interrogation.

After nearly a minute of silence, the Enlightener finally asked the question Dick had prepared for so long:

"Then what about you, Diakum?

You who returned after leaving, you who harbor murderous intent, Betrayer, deceiver, one abandoned by the Holy Light—tell me, Diakum, who nearly died at our hands. What drove you to ignore the inevitable risk of death and come here to expose your former employer, even at the risk of being sacrificed to demons by us?

Was it justice?

Or is your shattered Holy Light doctrine driving you to make some pathetic and helpless attempt at martyrdom?

Do you seek atonement?

Do you believe that atonement will allow the Holy Light to shine upon you again?"

This string of exquisitely worded questions made Dick fall silent. But he did not keep those awaiting his answer waiting long. Soon, he raised his head and met Sarkir's sharp gaze.

In a sincere tone, he said, "I want to see Archimonde die by your hand. That is my most honest thought at this moment! I do not want Archimonde to live, and I want even less to see him climb to the heights of power by stepping on your skulls.

"Forgive my bluntness, everyone, but every last one of you is a piece of trash. If the Eredar have a hell, then you are destined to dwell there forever.

"But the fact that you are a pack of black-hearted bastards does not mean that Archimonde, who wishes to end you, is a better choice for this world...

"In my eyes, the danger he will bring is ten times, a hundred times greater than yours!

"Though the destination both sides may reach could be the same, you would only destroy the Eredar's order of tens of thousands of years. But that man I regard as my enemy will break our spine in a crueler, madder way.

"That is my answer for coming here.

"I want to see two vermin tear into each other. I want to see a venomous snake strangle a toad. But I stand alone. After escaping Archimonde's assassination attempt, the most insane way I could think of to take revenge on him was to throw myself into another deathtrap.

"If this is a game of chess where only great figures like you are qualified to make moves, then I am a pawn that jumped into it willingly. And if this is a desperate hunt, then I have already loaded myself into the chamber."

"Good!"

Sarkir was very satisfied with that answer.

The old demon-worshiping madman rose from his throne, leaning on his staff.

When the massive spellcaster fully stood, his gray-white beard and the hair at the back of his head fluttered. Under the green glow lingering throughout the lecture hall, his ferocious shadow stretched longer and longer, eventually forming patterns of darkness that engulfed the others.

He answered in a roar:

"A sincere man! One who seeks to provoke evil into slaughter through truth, a self-destroyer! An avenger who places himself in a hopeless situation in exchange for his enemy's annihilation! A martyr whose resolve and courage blaze like fire... Friends, brothers, servants!

"At this moment when the age of darkness draws near, we have once again discovered an overlooked piece of uncut jade.

"Archimonde's betrayal is indeed painful, but we have another choice to replace him. I have realized that granting Diakum the honor of becoming a sacrifice would not be enough to fully uncover his potential. In the final sacrificial ritual, I will pour the most precious power of destruction into his body.

"We will eventually gain a fel vanguard devoted to revenge and destruction...

"Take him away!"

The Enlightener waved his ruby staff and ordered, "Anoint him with oils, carve patterns upon him, and prepare him to receive his 'ascension.' As for the rest of you... have you not heard?

"The despairing deathbird has brought us news of a traitor, but this is not a bad thing.

"My disciple and heir, Archimonde—his astonishing talent, ambition, and burning desire make him the most perfect sacrifice of this night! The Benefactor will grant us more glorious authority because of this magnificent offering. His flesh and soul will belong to the Legion.

"But his skull will remain with me!

"Hmm, children, you may not know this, but I once measured my disciple's head as well. His skull bears an astonishing resemblance to the Primordial Sorcerer's perfect cranial form. He, too, had the qualifications to become the next Primordial Sorcerer.

"Unfortunately, he will not live to see the glorious day when he stands at the peak of power.

"For Betrayers, drowning in the blood of failure is the only ending they can ever possess.

"Go.

"Children."

Sarkir sat back down upon his throne, returning to his feeble, aged appearance.

Waving a hand, he casually said, "Disperse! Let that ambitious fellow shed his last shred of vigilance. Let him step confidently into the trap prepared for him. Let him see the hope of grasping power in his hands, then cruelly shatter his future and everything he possesses now.

"Hmm...

"This sort of spectacle truly never gets old."

"Hahahaha!"

The fel warlocks surrounding Sarkir laughed loudly.

Their shadows were likewise stretched and twisted by the fel glow. Amid this literal dance of demons, Dick was escorted away by two powerful Man'ari.

He did not struggle or resist.

It was not time yet.

Midnight arrived swiftly.

Personally led by Archimonde, who rode a magnificent jeweled thunder elephant, a force composed of Arcane Academy spellcaster instructors, guard officers, and carefully selected upper-year students was entering Oronaar City.

Naturally, they did not openly march beneath the banner of "purging evil" to take down the Awakeners' Cult on the eve of its coup. Instead, they advanced covertly under the name of an "Awakeners' branch."

Officially, Archimonde had summoned the Awakeners' faction of the Arcane Academy to join his mentor in a "grand undertaking."

Archimonde's plan for tonight was simple.

He had already obtained the Grand Executors' approval and promise of support. He only needed to lead his people into the Great Lecture Hall, disable its arcane defenses, and personally assassinate Sarkir, the leader. After that, everything would naturally fall into place.

At the end of the day, Archimonde feared his mentor as well.

He knew very well how terrifying Sarkir's influence was among spellcasters. He was convinced that the Great Lecture Hall would surely be "filled with brilliant stars" tonight, and that those world-renowned spellcasters would certainly gather in full force. The power he had accumulated stood no chance in a direct fight against them.

Yet he also knew those spellcasters' sly nature well!

Once he executed Sarkir, then offered amnesty, an invitation to restore order, and the external pressure of the Grand Executors' army closing in, there would certainly be people who defected on the spot.

At that point, the Awakeners' Cult would collapse, and not only would he win a sweeping victory, even the fel warlocks under the Enlightener would become his servants in the shadows.

Ah, Mentor, I'll gladly accept your final legacy!

With such thoughts driving him onward, Archimonde felt both anxiety and anticipation over what was about to come. On the road toward the old district, the sharp-eyed Archimonde noticed furtive shadows frequently moving atop the dome-shaped buildings in the darkness around them.

He recognized them as members of Commander Kil'jaeden's Assassin Court.

He knew the "outside help" he needed had arrived. Perhaps an army was even hiding somewhere near Oronaar City at this very moment.

They were all "his people."

"Headmaster, the commander's support and deployment arrived so promptly. It seems they truly noticed the Awakeners' Cult's unusual movements beforehand. The advantage is ours tonight."

Grand Chancellor Galasum fawned from beside him. Archimonde nodded, then accepted a sheathed saber from Galasum.

It was a classic Eredar-style weapon. Spellcasting gems that could amplify magical power adorned its intricate, exquisite hilt. Once drawn, its cicada-wing-thin metal blade could be seen wrapped in a faintly visible gemstone edge, while inscriptions covered the blade itself.

"At your request, I had the magical craftsmen spend several months forging this magic blade," Galasum said softly.

"It possesses astonishing spellbreaking power. Though excessively enhancing its anti-magic force severely compromised its durability, and it will shatter after at most two or three uses, you only need to use it once at the right moment.

"Yes!

"One strike will take that old bastard's head!

"One perfectly timed swing is all it takes for it to help you ascend to the peak of power."

"Excellent. I knew there would be no mistakes if I left this to you."

Archimonde looked at his sharp eyes reflected in the runic blade. In its mirror-like surface, he saw his own ambition.

He knew he was only one step away from all his desires.

"Take the instructors and split up to destroy the arcane defense nodes of the Great Lecture Hall. Have the guard officers and students spread out and await orders," Archimonde instructed.

"The moment my assassination succeeds, you begin the operation! Have the instructors keep an eye on things. The students may be talented, but this is their first time doing something like this. They are all excellent spellcasters and will become the pillars of society in the future. The more of them who survive, the better."

"Ah, how fortunate they are to have a headmaster as benevolent as you."

Galasum looked at the lecture hall before them and gripped the spellcasting longsword at his waist. In an exaggerated yet heartfelt tone, he sighed, "Though this night's tumult will be brief, its glory will endure upon this land. Even ten million years from now, people will recount tonight's great deed. I know you will never keep that glory to yourself.

"Honorable Grand Executor Archimonde! Please continue leading us."

"Hahaha!"

For the first time, Archimonde did not rebuke Galasum's presumptuousness.

He calmly accepted the title he was destined to receive. Then he leaped down from the thunder elephant and entered the heavily guarded lecture hall with his followers as members of the Awakeners' Cult. Galasum remained outside with the instructors and students, while Archimonde went alone to seek an audience with the Enlightener.

He quickly noticed that there were not many high-ranking warlocks guarding the Enlightener's side, and his heart stirred.

Then, with one hand, he took out the Mark of Awakening he had inherited from his mentor. Holding high this arcane holy relic that symbolized wisdom in Eredar society, he walked toward his aged mentor, who seemed as rotten and lifeless as decayed wood.

With every step forward, Archimonde saw more clearly the Enlightener's age and uselessness. The sulfurous stench of fel energy concealed his weak, ugly state and made him nauseous.

With every step forward, Archimonde heard more clearly the roar and cheers of his own ambition. The Eredar of Argus should be led by someone with greater power and foresight, someone like himself.

Closer.

Closer still!

Then he Shouted, "For your glory and that of the Benefactor, I humbly offer this vessel of wisdom to witness your ascension. My honored mentor and beloved father, I will follow you upon the path of ascension and witness your eternal radiance."

"Hehe, you are thoughtful."

The Enlightener chuckled and extended a claw-like hand to accept the Mark of Awakening Archimonde offered.

At that moment, the rebellious disciple seized his muddleheaded mentor's wrist and, amid the shocked rebukes of the other warlocks, drew his blade in a reverse grip like the finest of warriors.

As the Enlightener's body was pulled forward, the runeblade suddenly left its sheath.

"Shhk!"

Blood sprayed in a flawless decapitation.

When Archimonde turned around carrying Sarkir's head, his face was filled with the smile of a victor and ruler.

Yet that smile froze on his face before it could even last a second.

Because he saw Sarkir stepping out of the shadows, holding a ruby staff and flanked by two burly Fel Lord guards. Under Sarkir's regretful, disappointed gaze, Archimonde lowered his head and discovered that, as the magic's glow faded, the head in his hand had become the seductive head of a high-ranking succubus, terror still lingering on its face.

"Were you involved after all, my child?"

Sarkir sighed.

"I sold my soul to demons to seek a sliver of hope for my clan members, yet you sold yours merely for trivial, vulgar power... Sigh. Perhaps my dim old eyes had already gone blind before despair engulfed my heart.

I take back every word of praise I once gave you, Archimonde. My child, without conviction, you are nothing but rotten timber with a fine exterior."

PS:

Thanks to brother Chuck Wesley for the Alliance Leader reward. The bonus chapters will be released after launch. The current accumulated bonus chapters after launch stand at [35]; at this point, counting the mass release I originally planned, it's close to 50 chapters...

Based on past experience, Qidian's backend upload limit absolutely will not allow more than 50 chapters in a single day. So even if there are more rewards, the number of chapters released in one day cannot increase further unless I contact the editor to unlock the permissions. But the editor doesn't have that authority either and would have to apply in advance... and it's the New Year, after all... right? Better not trouble them.