The Dark Titan's Fallen Advice

The moment Kil'jaeden returned to the battlefield, morale at the Seat of the Triumvirate—which had been surrounded by an endless sea of demons—was almost instantly reversed.

Especially among the Vindicators fighting alone.

The instant they saw their commander "return" from among the stars, their dimmed courage was rekindled.

Under their respective commanders, they surged toward the front lines to rendezvous with Kil'jaeden. Having called upon World Power the moment he landed, the commander possessed sufficient strategic vision. He knew exactly what needed to be done.

Especially after Kazzak, who had served as the demon side's line-breaker, was instantly killed by a "smooth little combo," slowing the demonic offensive.

Kil'jaeden immediately pounced toward the flank in the demigod form of a World Guardian, aiming directly for another demonic demigod capable of charging through enemy lines: "Supreme Lord Zakuun."

The fledgling Burning Legion had yet to recruit perfect frontline commanders like the Annihilan, those capable of both physical and magical combat. This left the demons severely lacking in their ability to break formations.

Whether Eredun Doomguards or higher demons like Fel Lords, they were true "jacks of all trades." Unfortunately, they lacked decisive frontal power. Being proficient in everything meant being proficient in nothing. If you did not sacrifice your brain for power like the Annihilan, how could you possibly earn merit in the Burning Legion's great work of destruction?

Especially at a time like this!

Facing a battlefield jointly protected by two Guardian Naaru, the demons' advance from the front was agonizingly slow.

They were completely numb.

This was the opportunity!

It could even be called the only opportunity.

"Diakum! I order you to protect Velen."

With sword and shield in hand, Kil'jaeden battered the fel demigod back again and again. He roared at Dick, who was not far away and preparing to lead the Hand of Argus in a supporting countercharge:

"Escort the civilians out. Do not get drawn into battle! He could appear on the battlefield at any moment."

"Understood!"

Riding a heavy thunder elephant, Dick immediately changed direction. Holding the scalding-hot Kazzak's Grudge, he led his Hand of Argus warriors in a wide circle through the sea of demons.

By now, every warrior was calling upon the empowerment of the Argus Star Soul. Though the Dark Titan's intervention had made the transmission of World Power difficult, maintaining enough strength for the warriors to crush ordinary demons remained no problem.

Like dinner knives constantly slicing through butter, they swiftly looped back to the defensive zone of the Seat of the Triumvirate and took over the battle from the Naaru guards stationed there.

"Escort the Prophet to the Ata'mal Crystal Altar!"

Dick leaped off the thunder elephant without even pausing to wipe the blood from his face. He spoke to the six Chosen of the Holy Light who had fought their way to Velen's side to protect the Grand Executor:

"Have the Prophet wield the Crystal and relieve Lord Lura. Let the Guardian Naaru focus on the battlefield! Only then can we ensure that all our warriors withdraw before the dark hour arrives."

"Diakum, you go!"

Velen was in terrible condition. He had been wounded in Tichondrius's earlier ambush, and the Dreadlord's claws carried terrifying fel corruption. Even in his World Guardian state, the Prophet could not recover quickly.

He knew his current condition was unsuitable for an important task. Gasping painfully, he handed the Naaru staff in his hand to Dick.

He said:

"You, who wield the Naaru Beacon, can activate the Ata'mal Crystal's defensive array. Your Holy Light is different, Diakum. You must wield the Crystal. I have to stay here! I have to protect my brother! I have to make sure he is not captured by cruel fate...

"Let me be selfish just once.

"Please!

"Let me be selfish just this once. We cannot lose him!"

Dick nodded.

Moved by the passionate brotherhood between Velen and Kil'jaeden, he accepted the staff, but did not leave immediately. Instead, he examined the wounds on Velen's back and chest.

The Dreadlord's strike had been far too vicious. Its claws had nearly pierced through the Prophet's body. Velen was currently using gathered Holy Light to forcibly suppress the fel corruption before it could erupt inside him.

As he had said, he could no longer undertake duties requiring prolonged casting. But if the fel contamination within Velen could not be immediately purged, it would leave behind a terrifying hidden danger.

Once the Dark Titan appeared on the battlefield, this patch of fel corruption would be instantly detonated. If Kil'jaeden was not saved, while Velen was captured by the Burning Legion first instead, that would be the worst twist of fate Dick could imagine...

Hmm, speaking of choices of fate.

Dick looked at the Eredar warriors still fighting behind him amid the roars of countless demons, then turned to look at the Naaru ship floating above the Seat of the Triumvirate. The last civilians left behind in Mac'Aree were being transferred aboard. Only several hours remained before the Dark Titan's thirty-day declaration of doom arrived.

This was a true moment of choice.

Dick knew it was time to "turn on the cheat."

His Holy Light Doctrine: Hand of Fate could only unleash its strongest power under these circumstances. Thus, beneath the gazes of Velen and the Chosen of the Holy Light, Dick gripped the dazzling staff forged from Holy Light with both hands and raised it high as he called out:

"Holy Light! Primal Light! The moment to reverse fate has come. Lend me once more the power to shake destiny!"

These were neither the scriptures priests used to call upon the Holy Light nor the battle maxims of Vindicators. Yet the instant Dick called out, that brilliant radiance which had cleaved through darkness at the dawn of the universe responded almost immediately.

Just like the scene on the night he first swore the covenant in the Great Lecture Hall, a fierce beam of light descended from the heavens, where sunlight had been obscured by fel corruption. It tore through the gloomy clouds and shone down upon Diakum.

The Holy Light was so dense and scorching that it even formed a tangible shockwave, rolling outward in all directions from Dick. In Dick's eyes, the dancing golden runes formed the information he most needed to see:

Eredar civilization and the world of Argus stand at a crossroads of fate. Even the slightest interference is enough to divert the torrent of history elsewhere.

[Choice of Fate] has been activated!

Holy Light Doctrine: Hand of Fate has been enhanced!

Additional individual holy power reinforcement complete!

Radiant Energy Pool temporarily expanded to ∞. Holy power recovery rate temporarily increased to the current individual's maximum sustainable limit.

Holy Light affinity temporarily raised to "Perfect."

While holy power is burning, individual strength temporarily rises to "Demigod: Threshold." Due to the empowerment of World Power, after bonuses are stacked, current individual strength is "Lower Demigod: Holy Light Primordial Force."

Notice!

After holy power burning in the Radiant Energy Pool ends, you will enter a "Weakened State." Current holy power consumption rate: Moderate.

Your enhanced "Hand of Fate" state can last for: Thirty minutes.

Wield the blade of Holy Light and turn fate around!

"Thirty minutes..."

Dick raised his left hand and looked at his fingers, now almost entirely Lightforged into crystal. Clusters of Radiant Runes spun in his palm as though they had always been part of him.

At this moment, he resembled a Person in the Light, nearly transformed into a humanoid halo amid the surging holy power. Even Velen could no longer clearly see Dick's face. The Chosen of the Holy Light watched as though witnessing a miracle while that "Person in the Light" reached out and placed a hand upon the Prophet's wound.

"I do not know how long you and Kil'jaeden will need to overcome your dark fate, but I can only buy you thirty minutes. Hurry."

He spoke softly.

In his current enhanced state, Dick no longer needed to chant holy words to summon flowing light and turn it into Holy Healing upon Velen. The foul fel energy was ignited and purified like gasoline.

After finishing all this, Dick rose and headed toward the Ata'mal Crystal Altar. Using a priest's Leap of Faith, he ignored the difference in elevation and sprang upward. With his radiant wings beating behind him, he landed lightly atop the Eredar sacred relic.

Guardian Naaru Lura was currently wielding the Crystal here, shaping a barrier that enveloped the battlefield and blocked the fel attacks constantly fired by millions of demons.

It was bound here and could not tend to healing.

But the instant Dick reached out and touched the surface of the Ata'mal Crystal, Lura was freed.

The Naaru emitted a light, ethereal sound, conveying gratitude and blessings to Dick. Then it rose into the air, hovering above the battlefield. As its crystalline body spun faster, it released its Holy Light in a more aggressive manner.

It not only emitted rings of Holy Light to directly purge demons that had charged into the Seat of the Triumvirate, but also transformed that light into empowering strength bestowed upon every soldier still fighting.

The Five Young Champions, besieged by a squad of Fel Lords, were already in grave danger. Yet after receiving Lura's blessing of Holy Light, radiant runes extended along their battered armor and emerged through their bodies, making the Vindicators seem as though they had entered a "temporary Lightforged state."

Golden flames ignited in Fareeya's eyes at that moment.

The exhaustion in her body was dispelled. The Guardians of Kings that had been shattered earlier were reforged, and a pair of blazing Lightforged wings spread behind her. Power surged through the young Vindicator as she roared and thrust out her Lightforged war spear, joining Tramon's Holy Light slash to kill the powerful foe before them.

She turned around and saw that the Vindicators and priests across the battlefield had all been enhanced by the radiant runes.

Even Commander Kil'jaeden had received the Holy Light's favor, allowing him to completely gain the upper hand in his one-on-one battle with Zakuun. In less than ten seconds, he killed the Supreme Lord once again.

The demons' morale visibly plummeted amid Zakuun's wails. Then the Vindicators led by Kil'jaeden slaughtered and drove them from the battlefield of the Seat of the Triumvirate like a flock of sheep.

The situation seemed to have tipped toward the Eredar at that moment. The most dangerous moment seemed to have passed.

But with a slightly panicked cry from Guardian Naaru K'ure, who was holding the central courtyard, violent fel reactions erupted across the battlefield once more.

Like a gathering fel storm, as dark green sulfurous winds began to howl, brutal cheers rose from among the retreating demons.

Under Kil'jaeden's wide-eyed gaze, several utterly inconspicuous demons were illuminated by Fel Beams as if undergoing Divine Descent. Their bodies rapidly swelled as though inflated, while their life ranks and physical forms grew more vicious and mad beneath the power spilling forth from demonforging.

That was Demon Ascension!

It was the pinnacle of growth pursued by every demon in the Twisting Nether. A blessing that should have been costly was now being bestowed like a free handout.

An inappropriate comparison—it was like a grand opening sale.

More demonforging beams lit up amidst the increasingly turbulent fel storm. Then, accompanied by an eerie yet desolate roar, an enormous Fel Rift at the foremost battlefield of the Seat of the Triumvirate was torn open by crimson crystalline claws.

A twisted beast with kingly, warped demon horns, wings upon its back, and a burning tail burst from within.

It was hungry. Its drooling, corrosive maw opened wide. Spitting fel fire, it seized demons nearby and tossed them into its jaws, biting them apart limb from limb. Its flame-storm eyes stared fixedly at the crystal atop the highest tower of the Seat of the Triumvirate, where it radiated the protection of Holy Light.

And at that "crystal puzzle box" hovering in the air and continuously singing a song it despised.

"Ha! Red Maw is here!"

The cunning Tichondrius beat his wings and hovered in the air. The Dreadlord laughed loudly and said:

"Sargeras's favorite fel hound has arrived on the battlefield. It is the Dark Titan's eyes and claws. Our supreme master has drawn near to this world.

"The Eredar are finished!

"Demons! Warriors of the Burning Legion, the supreme lord of the Twisting Nether is watching you. Please Him with war and destruction.

"The ascension you crave is right before your eyes!

"Charge!"

The Dreadlord swept a claw forward, sending more than a dozen Hellfire meteors wrapped in fel flames crashing violently toward the Holy Light-protected Seat of the Triumvirate.

It roared:

"For the Dark Titan's great cause! Break through and kill them all!"

"Roar!"

The destruction hound raised by the Dark Titan beat its wings, which blotted out the sky, and soared upward. Wrapped in fel fire like a burning mountain, it had a clear target: Lura, who was in the air empowering the entire battlefield with blessings.

Meanwhile, the cunning Tichondrius hid within the stretched shadow cast by the fel hound. The moment the frenzied beast collided with the Guardian Naaru, it attempted to ambush Dick, who was guarding the Ata'mal Crystal.

But as always, Dick had cheats!

He knew the information on every Burning Legion commander like the back of his hand. Naturally, he also knew their favorite attack methods and behavioral patterns. The instant the Dreadlord swung its hypnotic claws at him, the Guardians of Kings Dick had gained on the Antoran Wastes suddenly leaped out from Dick's radiance.

The heroic spirit wielding a warhammer smashed it squarely into the Dreadlord's forehead. This fellow's power directly inherited Dick's own strength, and under the Hand of Fate state, Dick was temporarily a demigod. The Guardians of Kings' destructive power naturally rose accordingly.

The Dreadlord who had been struck in the forehead by that hammer was completely stunned.

Before it could retreat, Diakum turned in the form of a Person in the Light and swung the Naaru Beacon artifact in his hand in a full arc, smashing it into the demon like a warhammer.

No technique. No tactics. Just raw force!

The "demigod strike" delivered while holy power burned was like the direct impact of a meteor of Holy Light. It submerged Tichondrius in a "sea of light" while shattering one-third of the structure atop the tower. Worst of all, the Guardians of Kings perfectly replicated that strike the very next second.

Thus, as the Dreadlord screamed and fled in confusion beneath the Holy Light, the Guardians of Kings blinked after it and struck another hammer blow squarely into its back.

"Ah!!!"

The Dreadlord was not dead yet.

It had a tough life. It had not received the ridiculous second death that other demigod demons had gotten today.

But the sight of it spinning through the air and plummeting into the ruins like a comic-book supervillain was enough to make it lose all face before its demonic servants.

In the end, Nathrezim were "specialists" who put all their points into scouting, disguise, conspiracy, and assassination. Bullying ordinary warriors was one thing, but why did it have to provoke Dick, a cheat-user?

If he had not needed to maintain the Ata'mal Crystal's continuous output to create a barrier protecting the battlefield, Dick had at least nine damn ways to kill it right now!

Nine!

"Ah..."

At the same time Tichondrius was beaten into ruin, Lura's mournful cry came from above Dick's head.

Clearly, as a Guardian Naaru, it was somewhat helpless after being targeted by the Dark Titan's savage hound. Faced with Red Maw's frenzied biting and tearing, the Naaru, which was not skilled in close combat, could only use its crystalline body to withstand poisonous fangs and demonic claws.

Under its enemy's savage assault, pieces of Lura's body shattered away.

The falling crystal fragments scattered like a rain of light.

That was perfectly normal. Naaru did not even have hands... expecting one to throw fists of Holy Light in melee combat was asking too much.

"Retreat!"

Kil'jaeden had already issued the order to withdraw from the front lines.

The newly ascended Greater Demons selected on the battlefield by the Dark Titan's mighty power had gone mad.

In order to earn the supreme master's favor, they were almost hurling themselves against the Eredar lines in suicidal assaults. In only a few minutes, the casualties among Kil'jaeden's followers had forced the positions they had just reclaimed to change hands once again.

Besieged by three rampaging Greater Demons at once, he too was beginning to struggle.

Perhaps because the Dark Titan had drawn near to Argus, the connection between the Star Soul and the Eredar was being completely severed. Kil'jaeden could clearly feel his strength declining, and the other warriors were the same.

They could not keep wasting strength in a stalemate!

He led the Hand of Argus's most capable officers and soldiers at the very front, buying time for the other troops to retreat. Behind them, the Naaru ship was drawing closer to the center of the battlefield.

Since K'ure and Lura had resolved to guard the battlefield and their Eredar friends, the Genedar, piloted by the two Naaru reinforcements Kara and D'ore, who had been temporarily entrusted to them, attempted a "battlefield emergency rescue." They intended to bring the soldiers trapped in the sea of demons aboard the ship.

With the Naaru ship's "teleportation landing," such a rescue was theoretically possible. The wounded warriors were already being wrapped in arcs of teleportation light and pulled into the ship.

But Kil'jaeden was too far away!

The ship could not risk approaching the warfront, which was like a meat grinder. The demons also had fel cannons firing at it. If it was struck too many times, even a Naaru ship would crash.

That meant the commander and his warriors had to break through and reach it!

"Kil'jaeden! Come this way!"

Just as the commander hesitated over whether to abandon his Way of survival and fight to the death here, he heard Velen calling to him.

He turned around and saw his brother waving Diakum's demon-horn war spear staff, leading the Chosen of the Holy Light as they tried to meet him. Seeing Velen's anxious expression and hearing his call, Kil'jaeden's courage erupted once more.

His icy heart seemed to melt in an instant beneath a warm flame, leaving him without fear or regret.

He grabbed the severely wounded rookie Akama and old Hutton, who were beside him, and dragged them along as he led the remaining warriors through the siege of mad demons, struggling toward Velen.

At that moment, both brothers wanted to save the other.

Though the empowerment of World Power was weakening, Velen nearly risked his life pouring out Holy Light, turning it into torrents of offensive radiance and sweeping Divine Storms. In the end, the two groups successfully reunited.

"Go!"

Velen supported Kil'jaeden.

The Chosen of the Holy Light carried the weakened warriors on their backs. Across a battlefield collapsing on every side, they charged toward the last place of hope.

The demons roared!

They excitedly surged into the Seat of the Triumvirate from every direction like rolling muddy currents, impatient to plant demonic Battle Standards in the Eredar's seat of power and declare this world theirs. Bearing humiliation and pain, the Eredar warriors supported their companions as they ran toward the ship at the center of the battlefield.

More warriors had already been cut off on the battlefield.

Unable to break through the sea of demons, they could only use their final strength to bless their Clan members with a safe journey, then seize their weapons and join the demon spawn closing in from every direction for one final slaughter.

"Watch out!"

Fareeya's scream made the retreating Velen turn around. He saw three Mulgore brutes who had undergone Demon Ascension on the battlefield charging at them with blood-red eyes.

The Prophet's eyes widened.

In that instant, he had no time to think. He swung around and shielded Kil'jaeden and the others behind him, pushing the Holy Light to its absolute limit and forming a defensive barrier of Holy Word: Barrier.

Boom

Three explosions erupted at the same moment. The crazed Mo'arg Forgedemons, temporarily raised through Demon Ascension to the brink of demigodhood, detonated themselves in an attempt to kill the Eredar's two Grand Executors.

They knew such a glorious achievement would earn them supreme honor, but they had underestimated Velen's resolve and the Holy Light's favor toward him.

The terrifying self-destruction blasted a fel-filled rift into the ground, yet Velen miraculously protected everyone. The price was that, having borne all the damage himself, he entered a true near-death state in that instant.

He collapsed into Kil'jaeden's arms. Blood streamed from both his eyes, and the broken staff in his hand fell to the ground.

"No... no! No, no, no!"

Kil'jaeden panicked.

Even when facing the siege of countless demons, he had never changed expression. Yet now, holding his dying brother, it was as though one foot had already stepped into hell.

He had defied the pressure of fate to return here precisely to prevent such a terrible outcome, yet his return had instead driven his brother into this present despair.

"Velen... don't leave me..."

The Grand Executor clutched his brother and let out a desperate, beast-like roar.

Talgas, who had always remained at his side, fired an arrow with his single arm and knocked down the charging demon guard. Then he shouted hoarsely at Kil'jaeden:

"Commander, send Lord Velen to the Naaru. He may yet survive! The Holy Light favors him so deeply; it will not allow him to leave at a time like this."

"Yes, that's right... the Holy Light! The Holy Light will heal my brother. He is destined to shine through the ages—the Holy Light showed me that future! I will not allow that future to change before my eyes! I will not allow it!!!"

Kil'jaeden gritted his teeth and rose.

He had wanted to personally escort Velen to the distant ship, but the demons had already completely sealed off every path around them. With one glance, Kil'jaeden knew that he had to make a decision.

"Talgas, I give you my final order!"

The commander turned around and handed Velen from his arms to the chosen of the Holy Light. He said to his most trusted adjutant:

"Escort Velen to the ship. Protect him for me..."

"Forgive me, my lord, but I refuse."

Talgas, the Assassin Court's Boss who walked through darkness and shadow, had also accepted it in this moment. With one hand, he coolly loaded his jeweled pistol and said:

"I have served you for thousands of years. Your will has always guided me forward. Now that you intend to do something foolish, I cannot choose to leave you behind alone. Lord Velen has the Holy Light's protection, but at your side, there is only us...

Therefore, please allow the Assassin Court to accompany you on your final journey."

"Hmph. You chose this yourselves. Once you Set Foot On hell with me, don't regret it."

He patted Talgas on the shoulder, then reached up and tore the Argus Heart from around his chest. He gently kissed it and placed it in Velen's hand.

In this way, he bid farewell to his brother. Then he picked up two bloodstained jeweled greatswords from the ground. With his back to the evacuating crowd, he said to Talgas and the vindicators at his side:

"Raise my Battle Standard! Let those demons see where the Eredar's Grand Executor stands. Let them charge at me... They want my head? Then come and take it themselves!"

Streams of Holy Light descended upon Kil'jaeden and his warriors like a final blessing.

The commander turned and looked toward the tower at the highest point of the Seat of the Triumvirate.

Diakum Zastinus, that Person in the Light, was holding a holy relic and doing everything he could to protect the entire battlefield.

He had truly tried his best, but he could not save everyone. Just as Kil'jaeden had already given everything he had, yet could only continue toward that dark fate.

So be it.

Let it be this way.

Clad in a battle robe forged from Holy Light and a radiant cloak, Kil'jaeden dragged two burning greatswords toward the battlefield where the demons were thickest, his face expressionless. Any who approached and did not belong to the Eredar were mercilessly cut down.

He saw his subordinates fighting in despair.

He could not abandon them!

Just as, in the end, he could not allow himself to abandon this world.

Even if every time he raised his head, he could clearly see that figure standing beyond the heavens...

The Dark Titan, Sargeras...

His footsteps were already drawing near, but so what?

He had indeed seen the same fate in different prophecies. Perhaps he truly would become that "red-skinned, one-eyed Ogrin," but so what?

If you want our allegiance...

Come and take it yourself!