Those Who Sacrifice Walk on the Other Side of Great Deeds

Name: Kazzak's Grudge

Type: Combat Staff / Magic Spear

Quality: Epic

Traits: Extreme Magic Affinity · Extreme Mana Amplification · Extreme Mental Enhancement · Extreme Shadow / Fire Resistance · Durability Wear

Effects:

I. While wielding this weapon in battle, upon completing a kill, invoke the Doom Lord's hatred to cast [Area · Elemental Curse] upon enemies.

II. While wielding this weapon in battle, if the kill count exceeds 10 before the battle ends, invoke the Doom Lord's roar to cast the high-level warlock spell [Doomfire Rain] in a designated area.

This effect could be cast multiple times.

Creator: Seat of the Triumvirate Technology Court artisan

Item Description:

[This thing can be enhanced further, provided you kill Kazzak one more time! Just finish him off, obtain a wisp of his soul, seal it within, and use it to improve this thing's quality while awakening the Doom Lord's true power.

Seriously, you got legendary material like Kazzak's Horn, so why did you only make an epic staff?

Go check whether someone took kickbacks at a dangerous time like this!

We can endure any hardship, but we cannot afford to take a loss!]

Isn't that obvious?

Riding his combat Talbuk toward the battlefield, Dick glanced over the weapon's stat description in his hand and sighed inwardly, Having legendary materials doesn't mean anything if the artisans aren't given enough time to make it. Where would they find the time for meticulous craftsmanship now? It was already impressive that they found an excellent staff framework and assembled it together. They really did their best.

They made this thing incredibly sturdy and durable at my request. It can even be used in melee, and they somehow gave it "Durability Wear," a trait usually found on melee weapons.

What more could I possibly ask for?

Dick's praise was not merely because he was a Good Person of the Holy Light who understood the craftsmen's difficulties. The staff truly looked quite impressive.

Its shaft, forged from Eredar Celestial Alloy, was heavy and sturdy. The finest Arcanite Crystal had been polished into a spike at the butt end, forming a spear point behind the weapon so Dick could wield it on the battlefield like an unstoppable warrior. Kazzak's Horn, used for the head of the staff, had likewise been carefully polished into a sharp, slender spearhead.

The hardest gemstones had also been used as embellishments and wrapping.

The result was that a perfectly good staff had been forcibly turned into an Eredar-style Vindicator war spear. Because Dick had demanded sturdiness, the finished weapon was extremely heavy. Twins had tried it several times, but their small frames struggled even to lift it, let alone use it to cast spells in battle.

Only a "muscle caster" like Dick—a "Vindicator + Priest"—could carry it onto the battlefield. Diakum's assessment was that it was "too light," making it difficult for him to fully display the strength attribute currently rated as "perfect."

Of course, appearances did not matter. As long as it was useful!

To be honest, this thing's attributes and effects did not suit priests at all. It offered no healing enhancement whatsoever, while all its attributes leaned toward offense. Its two effects also weakened enemies and amplified destructive power. A proper priest like Priestess Ishana would never use such an evil thing.

Not only could it not improve a priest's healing abilities, it would even hinder their healer's mindset.

But Dick was different.

He saw himself as a "battle priest"...

A priest who wore heavy armor, sang hymns, and could lead paladins on a Waaaagh-worthy crusade of faith.

The basic requirement was that, while healing comrades, he could also grab every weapon at hand—including stretchers, bandages, and folding stools—and crack open the heads of charging enemies. In fact, killing enemies took priority over healing his own people.

After all, there was an old saying in the healing profession: the best treatment was to strangle the enemy before it could hurt your teammates.

Under that definition, this combat staff suited Dick as perfectly as thunder and lightning.

"Demon spawn ahead!"

Vindicator Malderan, riding beside Dick toward the battlefield, pointed ahead and shouted, "Look! Felbats and Felguards have already charged into the outermost trenches of our position. The brothers of the Mac'Aree Garrison Legion need our support! They have fought continuously for seven days and have no strength left to counterattack.

"Quick!

"Pick up the pace!"

"I have a better idea, Malderan."

Dick looked toward the trenches ahead, which had already descended into a chaotic mess.

Felguards and Felhounds were continuously breaking into the Mac'Aree Legion's defensive line. Both sides had become tangled together in complete disorder. Under such circumstances, even reinforcements would find it difficult to provide support.

So Dick said to his comrades, "We charge through! Break into the combat zone ahead of the defensive line!

"Hold back the demon reinforcements for our brothers and sisters, and buy them time to regroup. I believe warriors who have held out on such an apocalyptic battlefield for seven days and nights possess more than enough will to purge their opponents."

"Fine! Then I'll be the spearhead of the charge!"

The old Vindicator did not hesitate. He pulled his reins, gripped his jeweled warhammer, and lowered his body—but Dick was faster.

"Warriors of the Hand of Argus! Follow your general!"

He roared.

It was not because he wanted to steal Malderan's thunder. The two thousand troops he had brought as reinforcements had rested for five days, while Malderan's men had been fighting continuously for far too long. The fatigue and numbness on the warriors' faces could not be concealed.

Against the demons' full-scale assault, it was better for the more energetic reinforcements to lead the charge.

Amid the fierce responses of the Five Little Powerhouses, the veterans who had battled demons in Krokuun for ten days and nights immediately began changing formation while accelerating.

The Talbuk hunter cavalry from Krokuun excelled at making tactical adjustments during a charge. The newer recruits farther behind could not keep up with the change in time, but they could only follow their veteran captains and charge forward with their heads down.

Malderan noticed that the veterans in this unit all tightly gripped their Argus Hearts as they charged.

They were calling for something. As Dick led them ever closer to the demon line, the World Soul's blessing descended upon the veterans in a strengthened form. Their charging momentum rose higher and higher, and they finally unleashed the battle cries they had suppressed for so long.

"Charging straight at the front? Dick! We don't have artillery support! We can't break through!"

Seeing that Dick and his reinforcements had no intention of changing direction and were charging directly at the front where the demon commander was stationed, Malderan shouted anxiously. But Tramon, the "Sword Saint," who was passing him, said quietly, "No, we do."

"Hm?"

The old Vindicator looked ahead in surprise.

When Dick was less than five hundred meters from the demon position, a storm of flames and a blizzard of ice suddenly appeared as if timed to the second. Spreading earthquakes and eye-searing chain lightning struck the flanks directly ahead of the Commodore's charge.

The demons were stunned by the sudden spell barrage.

Howling, they tried to escape the spell range, thereby "voluntarily" opening a gap for the Eredar vengeance cavalry to drive into their formation. During the charge, Malderan took a moment to glance back and discovered that the casters of the Hand of Argus Legion had already seized the high ground along the battlefield's flank.

Under the command of the caster Twins, the shamans and Arcane Mages, their eyes blazing after witnessing Krokuun's fall, were providing their cavalry with "heavy firepower" support to break the enemy formation.

They were already used to such risky tactics? They trusted their casters to execute a strategy that could easily wound their own side with one mistake?

Such doubts rose in Malderan's heart. Watching the veterans fearlessly follow their commander through fire and ice, charging into the demons amid the trembling earth, the old Vindicator gained an even deeper understanding of the intensity of the "Battle of Krokuun."

Their fighting in that frontier land had certainly been no less fierce than the battle here on the Antoran Wastes.

"Stop spacing out! General, catch up!"

Imira, the Holy Light priestess charging on her Talbuk—or rather, her battle sheep—called out, snapping Malderan back to his senses. He placed his warhammer in position and prepared to charge into the enemy ranks, only then roaring in belated realization, "Priests, get to the rear! How can you charge with the cavalry? You're not even wearing heavy armor!"

"But that is how priests of the Hand of Argus do things! What kind of battle priest is a cowardly healer who dares not charge alongside the knights?"

Like a Grand Magus in white robes, Imira raised her holy staff one-handed from the saddle of her charging battle sheep, applying the mana enhancement of "Inner Fire" to herself and those around her.

She shouted, "We have the defenses bestowed by the Holy Light! We have armor forged by faith! The Holy Light shall prevail!!!"

Amid that fanatical howl, Imira swung her Holy Light-adorned staff like a berserker. She whirled it around like a warhammer, and with the momentum built up by her Talbuk, smashed the head of the Felhound lunging at her into pieces in midair.

The martial display made Commodore Malderan's eyes twitch violently as he charged into the enemy ranks himself and sent the Felguard before him flying.

He finally understood why Imira's holy staff was strangely curved, and why the young priest had insisted on wrapping its tip in a layer of Celestial Gold...

Hey!

If you wanted to use it in melee, why not just get yourself a warhammer with good magical conductivity?

Didn't the tutors at the Arcane Academy teach you?

Don't do strange things with your staff!

Yet when it came to doing "strange" things with a staff, Imira was clearly no match for Commodore Diakum, who had already charged alone before the demon commander.

The "staff" in his hand was already stained with demon blood. Clearly, before reaching his true target, it had already drunk deeply of demon blood.

The area-wide Elemental Curse had stacked upon every nearby demon through Dick's unceasing slaughter during the charge. The instant he killed the tenth unlucky victim, the combat staff in his hand unleashed the Doom Lord's savage battle roar.

Scorching power gathered upon the staff. With a swing of Dick's arm, he hurled that energy into the sky, then commanded it to transform into a rain of Doomfire over the battlefield ahead.

Fist-sized fragments of "meteors," wrapped in sacrificial flames, fell from the heavens. Though it was only a single wave of strikes, it was enough to blast the lower demons—stripped of all spell resistance by the Elemental Curse—into scraps.

Thus, by the time Dick reached the demon commander, the elite Wrathguard Punisher wielding two vicious demonsteel cleavers had become a "lonely survivor."

But a demon's stubborn nature would not allow it to retreat. Instead, its frenzied bloodlust boiled at Dick's "challenge."

Roaring, it charged forward. It cunningly swept its blade-wrapped tail across the ground, severing the head of the Commodore's combat Talbuk. It had thought that would throw Dick to the ground and leave him at its mercy, but the facts proved it had overthought things.

Bang!

Its demonsteel cleavers came down in a frenzied slash, only to be blocked by the thick Power Word: Shield around Dick.

Although the mana shield shattered in that instant, the Commodore had already adjusted his stance. He raised a hand and struck back with a powerful Smite. Scorching Holy Light became a swift warhammer descending from above, snapping the Wrathguard's black horn with a bang.

The demon continued its attack. As the Commodore retreated, he shaped radiant energy in his hand into milky-white holy flames and hurled them forward. Holy Fire became as swift and lethal as a flying spear. After two sharp penetrations, the elite demon's arms were crippled, and half its body was set ablaze.

What should have been bright, sacred flames had been wielded by Dick with the sheer aggression of kicking someone while they were down.

It stared in disbelief as Dick approached with his war spear... uh, staff, ready to execute it. It could not understand why this damned priest in robes was so powerful.

During the past seven days of fierce assaults, it had killed Eredar priests before. Those healers, unskilled in close combat, would cry out in terror whenever an enemy got near them.

Like lambs awaiting slaughter.

But this one...

This one was different!

His holy flames burned hotter than those of other priests. His Holy Light carried greater fighting spirit than anyone else's.

Most importantly, this priest was exceptionally skilled in battle. It had fought with all its strength, yet still could not inflict even the slightest injury upon him.

"Ah!"

The frenzied demon dragged its burning body forward, intending to unleash one final fel explosion. But the moment it moved, Dick swung his staff and created a brilliant golden energy chain, wrapping it layer by layer into a cage that bound it in place.

Then the man raised a hand and traced a triangular religious symbol before his chest. Chanting scripture, he lifted his left hand and transformed scorching Holy Light into a piercing holy sword that descended like Louis XVI's guillotine.

Splat!

A demon head flew into the air.

The instant it flew free, holy flames ignited it. By the time it hit the ground, only a handful of scorching ash remained.

"May the Holy Light absolve your soul."

That was what Dick said. Amid the chaotic battlefield, against the backdrop of rampaging Eredar warriors, within that slaughterhouse filled with thunderous cries of battle, he completed a nearly perfect "priest's sermon."

The target was just a little strange...

[Paladin skills [Blade of Justice] / [Final Verdict] learned!]

[Priest skills [Rebuke Evil] / [Dispel] / [Mass Dispel] learned!]

The two successive notifications flashed before Dick's eyes, and he nodded in satisfaction. The reason he had gone through so much trouble to execute a lower elite demon was not to show off. He had merely selected a suitable opponent and used the Holy Light to replicate the class skills from his memories as closely as possible.

Over the past several days of fighting, he had discovered that this was the best way to "learn skills."

After all, the unfathomable "talent trees" and "skill pools" of Grand Lords were beyond what NPCs could imagine. Aside from learning from his teammates, Dick also needed to use his imagination as much as possible in order to master every skill from both classes.

It was a distant goal...

Each class had three talent specializations, and every specialization had its own dedicated skill list.

Two classes meant six specializations. Basic skills, derivative skills, support skills, and advanced skills combined probably numbered over a hundred. Honestly, that was likely as many spells as a proper caster could master in an entire lifetime.

"Dick! Watch out!"

Just as the Commodore turned and chanted scripture, placing a Holy Spring that radiated sacred energy in the center of the battlefield to continuously heal approaching Eredar warriors, Malderan's roar startled him.

At the same moment the old Vindicator hurled his warhammer, something enormous was rapidly descending from overhead.

The high-ranking Doomguard warlord, which had found the perfect chance for a sneak attack, grinned viciously. It took the Holy Light-wreathed warhammer head-on, while the greatsword of destruction in its hand came down with overwhelming force upon Dick, who was casting healing magic.

The creature had done it deliberately.

It had been observing the battlefield from the sky for a long time.

It recognized the aura of Lord Kazzak emanating from the "war spear" in Dick's hand. This was the Eredar general who had driven out the Doom Lord.

Ha, if it killed him, perhaps it would gain the Doom Lord's favor.

The demons were not mindless brutes who knew only slaughter. Information circulated among them as well. It knew perfectly well that Dick had driven off a fel demigod only because of the World Power's blessing. During these days of combat, the intelligent higher demons had already figured out the traits of the Eredars' Argus Heart artifacts.

That kind of high-intensity empowerment could not be used again in a short time.

Ha!

An Eredar hero in a weakened state?

"Lightforged Butcher" Diakum Zastinus! I, Lord Azzinoth, shall gladly accept your head!

Clang!

Amid the furious roars of the Hand of Argus warriors, they saw their beloved Commodore Dick ambushed by that shameless demon. Malderan, even more enraged, casually picked up a demon greatsword and hacked down every obstacle in his path as he charged over to avenge Dick.

Yet within the magma-like explosion of fel energy, the Doomguard warlord, who had believed its ambush was certain to succeed, suddenly changed expression.

It clearly felt its Blade of Destruction strike something as solid as Lord Sargeras's toe. At the point of impact beneath that mountain-cleaving fel blade, a golden "eggshell" gleamed brilliantly.

Protected by Divine Shield and completely unharmed, Dick glared furiously at the shameless demon that had ambushed him from behind.

Why don't you have any martial honor?

If this Commodore hadn't dual-classed as a paladin and priest, wouldn't that ambush have beaten me black and blue?

Trying to sneak attack me, are you?

Watch me send you flying right now!

But the demon whose decapitation ambush had failed had something to say as well.

What kind of priest isn't proper?

Standing around on the battlefield with Divine Shield shining so openly, just fishing for victims?

I must have been blind to mistake you for a soft persimmon I could crush with one hand. As expected of the Eredar general who drove out Lord Kazzak... You've got skill!

Woohoo, I'm going to die now. Family of the Burning Legion, tell my demon comrades that I was personally killed by the Lightforged Butcher! I was absolutely no coward!

Several minutes later, this leader-level Doom Lord, who had launched such a shameless ambush, died miserably under the combined assault of Malderan and Dick.

Dick had originally intended to heal Malderan, but when his eyes swept over the battle record on his Character Card and saw that the elite Doomguard warlord he had killed was called "Azzinoth," his expression immediately changed slightly.

He looked left and right, only relaxing after confirming that this higher demon had not dropped the Warglaives of Azzinoth.

If he snatched Brother Egg's good weapons more than ten thousand years in advance, that would be seriously bad.

But then again, he had killed a higher demon like Azzinoth and still had not received those artifact warblades. It seemed that his luck had indeed been exhausted when he picked up legendary material like Kazzak's Horn.

"Dick, heal our warriors, quickly!"

Malderan panted as he retrieved his warhammer and shouted to Dick.

The commodore nodded, no longer thinking about stealing kills and instead focusing on releasing healing power where he stood.

Heal, Renew, Prayer of Healing, Circle of Healing, Power Word: Shield, and other buffs were continuously cast upon the warriors on the front line. He even took the time to channel a high-level ultimate like Divine Hymn, restoring the warriors' health and mana in one wave and filling them with strength to slaughter the endlessly surging demons.

Diakum's skill proficiency shot up rapidly, and with such powerful healing, the warriors naturally had no more worries. With the Argus Star Soul constantly bestowing buffs as well, Dick and Malderan's warriors forcibly established a new front line in the open ground before the flank position.

Once the warriors of the Mac'Aree Garrison Legion behind them had cleared away the demonic trash, the two sides joined forces and even began pushing the line back.

But a battlefield could never have only one front line, especially when the camp in the Antoran Wastes had been built outside Antorus, the largest city here. The vast number of civilians inside awaiting evacuation meant the warriors on the battlefield could not retreat at all. They could only fight with their backs to the wall, endlessly holding back the seemingly inexhaustible demon army.

The situation here was far worse than what Krokuun had suffered!

Over there, Dick could deploy the swift Talbuk hunter cavalry to launch raids and harass the portals, but in the broader terrain of the Antoran Wastes, the demons had already erected enough fel-forging camps for their advantages in both numbers and quality to be fully unleashed.

How many demons were there in the Twisting Nether? No, how many demons could be born in the Twisting Nether every day? That was an unknown number as countless as the sands of the Ganges. The only certainty was that even if the Eredar traded one for ten thousand, the demons would still have ample forces left when their last warrior fell.

If the "Burning Crusade" was a cosmic disaster spanning the stars, how could a single world possibly withstand it?

"For Argus!!!"

Just as Dick and Malderan joined forces to push the line, a clear, resounding roar rose from the front of the battlefield, making Dick and the old garrison officer turn around at the same time.

They saw World Power in dazzling rainbow hues erupt into a pillar of light. It was a scene that had appeared in Krokuun before. Dick knew that another high-ranking commander had burned himself in exchange for a temporary infusion of World Power to kill the enemy.

But they were not people like him, with a "system" on their side. For mortals, there was only one outcome to praying for such immense World Power in such a short time...

"What's wrong?"

Dick silently mourned the warrior in the manner of a priest, then noticed the despondent expression on Malderan's face. At his question, the old garrison officer turned around and picked up his bloodstained warhammer. He said hoarsely:

"That voice... was my uncle."

"General Elodus?"

Dick's eyes widened as he cried out:

"Isn't he the commander of the Antoran Wastes battlefield? How could he..."

"Eredar! Keep fighting! Advance!"

Before Dick could finish, a second roar infused with World Power rang out. This time, everyone's expressions changed. They all recognized that voice.

Kil'jaeden!

Even Kil'jaeden, the Grand Executor, had called upon World Power?

How dire must the situation on the main battlefield be?!

"Not good! The main battlefield is about to collapse! Hurry! Go support them!"

Dick grabbed Malderan and broke through toward the center of the battlefield, and his and Malderan's banners moved with them.

They were not the only ones. Every legion on the flanks changed direction at that moment to reinforce the front, but the frenzied and cunning demons would not allow the Eredar to come and go before their eyes so freely.

"Hehehe, I'll split open the souls of you and this weak world!!!"

Amid the deep roar, an astonishingly huge Fel Well tore open right on the battlefield ahead of the Hand of Argus Legion.

Accompanied by the familiar "entrance sound effect," a demon demigod more than five times larger than the other fel lords strode onto the battlefield with heavy steps.

It wielded a demonsteel battle axe the size of a city gate, standing like a mountain before the warriors who had broken through the blockade. With a sweep of its great hand, Hellfire meteors mixed with fel flames bombarded the battlefield without regard for friend or foe.

This fellow had come prepared.

It roared:

"Diakum Zastinus, the 'Light Butcher'! I heard you wanted to see me? Hehehe, Zakuun is here! The Legion's undefeated one is here!"

"Ah, an unwelcome guest at the door. What terrible timing."

Dick flexed his fingers and twisted the signet ring on his left hand. The other side had come for him. To be so remembered by a demon demigod, Dick was really making something of himself.

"You're still weak..."

Malderan reached out to stop Dick from calling upon World Power. He shook his head and said:

"You'll die!"

"The others' Argus Hearts haven't been inspired enough, and the World Soul cannot channel its power through Argus Hearts that aren't burning hot enough. If I don't go, no one here can stop this thing. Don't worry, my life won't end here!

Zakuun alone cannot take my soul."

"Then let me do it! If I unfortunately die in battle, Dick, please take care of my family..."

"Mm, in the name of the Holy Light! I swear that your children will be my children!"