Oh No! The Fel Arena Loses Its Star Attraction

An extra chapter for brother Frostfang's Claw [4/10]

"Quick! Samara, we have to get back to the village as soon as possible. The holy coffin escort may have already set out, and everyone in Ambori Village will be leaving at dusk. They say Karabor Temple will send thunder elephant riders to meet us."

A young Draenei girl, carrying a full set of mining gear and wearing a sturdy miner's helmet, swiftly climbed the mountain path. Her little tail swayed lightly with each step as she called back to her panting companion.

"If we miss the time, Warden Tenum will scold us again. I've always felt that old man has something against the two of us."

"Isn't that obvious, Yrel?"

The miner girl's companion complained helplessly.

"Warden Tenum has always believed you have the potential to become a warden. He started training you when you were little, but not only did you refuse to take the warden trial, you even ran off in a huff to become a miner with us.

Forget him.

Even I have a problem with you. You're clearly wasting your rare talent."

"But I don't like fighting and killing. To become a warden, you have to pass that terrifying Demon Unmatched trial. They say it's an ancient tradition established back when our forebears were still on Argus. Qualified wardens must form teams and survive a demon encirclement.

I went to Karabor Temple with them once when I was little, and it terrified me. Those candidates were bleeding nonstop."

The young girl named Yrel reached out and grabbed her frail companion. Having trained year-round, she possessed a tough physique, and with a burst of strength, she pulled her companion up the slope.

The two stood at the edge of the quarry, looking over the construction site originally meant to serve the temple and the beautiful scenery of Shadowmoon Valley farther away. The valley was called "Shadowmoon Valley" because it remained in a mild eternal night year-round and possessed the most magnificent starry sky in the world. The local Shadowmoon orcs were also famous throughout Draenor for their superb astronomy.

Yrel, still wearing her mining gear, stood with her hands on her hips and enjoyed the wind blowing toward her. She said to the companion she had grown up with:

"Compared to fighting, I'd rather become a craftsman! Or a traveler, an explorer. I want to follow in our ancestors' footsteps and travel through the worlds among the stars, seeing all those extraordinary sights.

Even on Draenor, there are so many wonderful things worth seeing.

Like that book Traveler Lelan recently published, <The Lost Sunpeak Forest: Traveling with the Arakkoa>. You know how much I love romantic, beautiful travel stories."

"That may be true, but you have talent."

Her good friend Samara sighed.

"Warden Tenum said you could definitely become an outstanding warden. You might even pass the selection someday and join the Army of the Light as one of the Lightforged, or become a glorious warrior like those ancient veterans of the Hand of Argus.

You could even represent the Draenei Clan and visit worlds where our other kin among the stars live.

You could become a legend among the stars! You could achieve miraculous feats like Vigilant Saint Diakum, instead of being trapped in this tiny world of Draenor and spending your whole life in obscurity like ordinary people such as us."

"Don't be silly, Samara. We have eternal life."

Yrel laughed and slung an arm around her companion's shoulders, rocking her back and forth.

"We have plenty of time to plan out our lives. Once I get tired of being a craftsman and traveler, I'll sign up for warden training, all right? You don't need to keep nagging me. Can you still walk? Want me to carry you?

We still have quite a way to go before we reach the village."

"I was just born weak. That doesn't mean I can't even walk, Yrel."

Samara sighed helplessly.

"Actually, I know you don't want to leave Ambori Village because you can't stop worrying about me. Sometimes, I really feel like I'm a burden to you."

"Don't listen to that nonsense!"

Yrel took Samara's mining gear onto her own back, then pulled her friend by the hand as they headed toward the distant village.

"You're not a burden! You're my best friend, my family. Our bond is as strong as the legendary friendship between Vigilant Saint Diakum and his battle brother Commodore Malderan!

We're family who can entrust our lives to each other. I'd be the one feeling miserable without you by my side.

Come on.

We'll return the mining gear, then escort the Vigilant Saint's holy coffin to Karabor City with everyone else. I'll take you to the Aldor sanctuary to listen to the priests preach. Isn't that what you like?"

"I just want to become a priest."

Samara spoke softly.

"They say the Holy Light's blessing can dispel some weakness. I want to be as healthy as you too. Then you won't have to stay by my side all the time, worrying I might accidentally choke to death while eating.

You were like that when we were little.

Always overprotective.

But High Priest Ishana said that being protective was also a necessary quality for an excellent warden. It's even part of the Holy Light Doctrine. From that perspective, Yrel, you really were born to become an amazing warden!"

"So annoying, annoying, annoying! Stop talking already!"

Yrel was getting angry. She simply grabbed her friend's hand and broke into a run, leaving the frail Samara too out of breath to keep babbling about such troublesome things.

But as the two girls ran, they realized something was wrong.

Amid Samara's labored breathing, Yrel suddenly covered her mouth and dragged her into the nearby nightshade bushes, pressing down her head as they hid among the thick foliage.

"Shh!"

Yrel made a silencing gesture and said to Samara:

"Look ahead. Orcs!"

"Hm?"

Samara raised her head and looked in the direction Yrel pointed. Sure enough, a group of savage orcs covered in colorful war paint were moving through the forest on their Dire Wolf mounts. There were quite a lot of them, and they were clearly preparing for a battle.

Samara saw many orcs laying traps on Pilgrim's Road ahead.

"They have oil and torches."

Samara whispered in terror.

"Are they going to burn down our village? Where did these orcs come from?"

"From what I know of the markings used by different orc clans, these should be Bleeding Hollow Clan hunters. Only they cover themselves in such strange war paint. But I've never seen the insignias on those leaders. They may be orcs from another region."

Yrel was not afraid.

She knew that although Ambori Village had few people and no garrison, wardens and high-ranking priests still guarded the Vigilant Saint's holy coffin. If these were the only orcs involved, they would have a hard time breaking through the defenses of the Auchenai Crystal Towers surrounding the village in a short time.

But she was worried about something else.

"Samara, hurry back to the village by the side path! Find Priest Minara and Warden Tenum, and tell them the orcs are attacking! I don't think these guys are planning to attack the village. They want to ambush the convoy transporting the Vigilant Saint's holy coffin!

At this rate, the convoy will pass through here soon.

These orcs want to seize, maybe even desecrate, our holy coffin.

Holy Light above, if that happens, the rage of those ancient veterans of the Hand of Argus alone would be enough to burn all of Draenor. Those fanatics have always regarded the Vigilant Saint as the symbol of their doctrine.

These orcs are asking to die!"

"Maybe they're doing this on purpose. Maybe they're trying to create a dangerous conflict!"

Samara's heart pounded wildly as she whispered:

"When I was helping at the sanctuary, I heard the Aldor priests discussing it. Some said there was a group of bad people among the orcs who had been scheming to provoke an all-out war between the Draenei and the orcs.

You know, for many years, at least the local Shadowmoon orcs bore us no ill will. They even bought the crystal lenses we polished to observe the stars, and many Draenei priests learned their incredible stargazing techniques from the Shadowmoon Clan.

The orcs weren't always this mad. They were simple, honest people.

I'm even friends with an orc astrologer girl. Raekal is a kind-hearted shaman apprentice. She told me a lot about orc traditions. Someone bad must have misled them!"

"Why are we talking about this now? I don't care how the orcs changed, but our holy coffin must be protected!"

Yrel took two mining picks from her pack and gripped them as weapons. She spoke sternly to Samara:

"You and I were both born beneath the holy coffin's blessing. They say you nearly died of weakness when you were little, but the light radiating from the holy coffin saved you. The Vigilant Saint blessed and healed my dearest sister!

It is the supreme sacred relic of all Draenei!

It sheltered our forebears through their long exile. We cannot allow the orcs to defile it!

Never!

I'll stay here and find a way to warn the convoy. Hurry back to the village and get help."

"Then be careful."

Seeing Yrel's determined expression, Samara knew she could not talk her out of it. She could only turn around, crawl out through the other side of the woods, and take the side path up the mountain back to Ambori Village.

That mountain path was difficult to traverse.

But the two had grown up in Ambori Village. Yrel had dragged her all over the mountains and rivers since childhood, so Samara knew this area extremely well.

After Samara left, Yrel moved cautiously and alertly. She needed to avoid letting the orcs' sharp-nosed Dire Wolves catch her scent, so she followed the old hunters' teachings from the village and rolled through a muddy patch in the woods to conceal her smell.

The girl truly had a talent for becoming a warrior. Her steady nerves in a crisis alone surpassed those of many warriors.

She quickly climbed high into a tree and looked outward with the Draenei's excellent vision. A few minutes later, she spotted the convoy escorting the Vigilant Saint's holy coffin coming this way along Pilgrim's Road.

Several thunder elephants pulled the carriage, with the ancient stone holy coffin secured upon it. A few Talbuk riders escorted it nearby. They were outstanding hunter-riders of the Krokuun Legion, and it was said every one of them was an excellent shaman.

There were not many of them, but they were all elite.

"I have to find a way to warn them!"

Yrel grew anxious.

The orcs had already set up their ambush in the surrounding jungle. Seeing the convoy about to enter the trap, the girl quickly came up with an idea. She took a bottle of oil from her mining gear, then pulled out a firestarter. After shaking it several times, she smashed the oil against a nearby tree.

The sound of shattering glass immediately caught the attention of the orcs around the forest, but Yrel then tossed the firestarter over.

Whoosh.

Blinding flames instantly climbed along the canopy, like a torch lit beneath Shadowmoon Valley's perpetually dim eternal night.

Anyone who wasn't blind could see that light!

The Talbuk rider leading the convoy noticed the flames rising from the forest ahead and immediately raised her hand to stop the convoy. A ranger in the convoy swiftly cast Eagle Eye to inspect the area, only to see Yrel clinging to a tree branch and frantically signaling to them.

Those were tactical hand signals used by wardens, meaning: Enemies nearby!

"Ambush! Quick! Defend the holy coffin!"

The ranger immediately shouted and, with quick reflexes, fired a flare into the sky.

The red enemy-contact signal exploded overhead. The specially made flare would remain visible high in the sky for a long time, and any Draenei warriors nearby would rush to support them at top speed. This made the orcs roar in frustration.

But since the ambush had failed, they would charge head-on!

It didn't matter. They had the numbers this time!

Amid the howls of Dire Wolves, hundreds of burly orcs rushed out of their Hiding Place with wild cries.

These savage brown-skinned warriors waved torches and carried oil as they closed in on the convoy, trying to set the Draenei ablaze. They also hurled javelins and throwing axes to cover their advance, but a group of Bleeding Hollow hunters alone could not do much to the Holy Light's defenders.

The Draenei's physical strength was no joke. They had no fear of the orcs in a direct confrontation.

But the problem was that orcs were not the only ones fighting in this ambush!

As the first wave of attackers clashed head-on with the convoy, a group of felhounds burst from a swirling vortex of green energy with strange, low growls, charging the convoy from another direction.

"Demons!"

The leading warden roared:

"The orcs have allied with demons! Damn it! They ignored our warnings. They've fallen, and the Man'ari have found us. Quick! Defend the holy coffin! Don't let the demons get close! Don't let these foul things disturb Vigilant Saint Diakum's eternal rest!"

"Demons!?"

Yrel, lying in the tree, also saw those hideous felhounds.

Although every Draenei had to learn about the Burning Legion during childhood, and even their coming-of-age rites included a special examination on demonic knowledge, this was indeed the first time the young Yrel had seen real demons on Draenor.

For more than two hundred years since the Genedar crashed on Draenor, the Burning Legion had been more like a terrifying yet unreal legend to a "new generation" like her.

Now that she saw these hideous creatures racing across the land with corruption in their wake, even bold Yrel was frightened. But she quickly realized that the holy coffin's guards were in trouble.

They were elite, but there were too few of them.

The orcs had unleashed the demons to tie them down. Many Bleeding Hollow hunters had already charged toward the holy coffin amid the chaos, and the guards could not stop them all in time.

When she saw several Bleeding Hollow hunters begin smashing the holy coffin with hunting clubs, trying to force it open, Yrel could not endure it any longer.

As a child who had grown up listening to legends of the Vigilant Saint, she could not allow the holy coffin to be desecrated by orcs. Yet rage did not cloud her mind. She knew she had not even passed the warden trial and was no match for these savages in a direct fight.

She could only outsmart them.

Yrel slid down from the tree. Relying on the Draenei's superior strength and the warden training she had received, she swung her mining pick to drive back an injured Dire Wolf, then rolled beneath flying arrows and rushed to the edge of the battlefield.

Panting, she threw a miner's explosive to scare off the Dire Wolves, then pulled a bone whistle from her waist and blew it with all her strength.

As a young Draenei who dreamed of becoming a craftsman and explorer, Yrel had learned all sorts of miscellaneous skills, including how to tame thunder elephants. She loved helping the village herders feed those enormous, loyal, brave beasts. It was said that Talbuk, rays, and thunder elephants had traveled with the Draenei across the sea of stars from Argus to Draenor. They had become part of Draenei culture.

The thunder elephants pulling the holy coffin were not war elephants. They were in a panic during the attack and had even trampled several felhounds to death. At that moment, Bleeding Hollow hunters were trying to untie their reins, while other cruel orcs attempted to kill them with war spears, driving the thunder elephants into a fury.

Upon suddenly hearing the familiar call of the bone whistle, the massive beasts immediately charged mindlessly in the direction of the sound, pulling the carriage behind them.

Several unprepared orcs were sent flying, while others were crushed flat under the elephants' heavy feet. As the thunder elephants drove the holy coffin straight through the battlefield, Yrel ran several steps in preparation. With arrows grazing past her, she swiftly climbed onto a thunder elephant's saddle.

She clung tightly to the saddle, grabbed the reins, and guided the thunder elephants forward to break through the encirclement. At the same time, she casually cast the Naaru's blessing on herself, healing the wounds she had suffered in the fight.

She did not know where to go, but she had to get the holy coffin out of this chaotic area.

The brave young woman's adventure was proceeding remarkably well. The orcs shouted and roared, but they could not stop the enraged thunder elephants. For a moment, Yrel, sprawled atop the elephant, truly felt she might be able to break out.

Maybe she could even become a hero who had protected the holy coffin!

Though she claimed to have no interest in fighting and killing, deep down, the young woman longed to earn her first merit for her people.

However, as they burst out of the forest, a massive creature swooped down from the sky with a howl, beating its wings. The gale it created nearly threw Yrel from the thunder elephant's back. When she saw its pale fur and two hideous heads, Yrel cried out.

A two-headed wyvern!

And that iconic pale fur—it was clearly the leader of all the two-headed wyverns in Shadowmoon Valley, the beast the orcs reverently called Breath of the Moon: Amokawa.

For many years, unlucky orc and Draenei herders had died in this creature's ambushes. It loved feasting on Draenei Talbuk and thunder elephants, occasionally snacking on orc Dire Wolves.

Worst of all, a fierce orc rode on the untamable beast's back.

The orc chieftain laughed wildly as he drove the freshly tamed beast downward. He made Amokawa spew Arcane energy that engulfed the fleeing thunder elephants, then hurled the hunting halberd in his hand.

It pierced through Yrel's waist and abdomen, and the tremendous impact sent the poor young woman crashing to the roadside along with the overturned carriage.

Yrel felt as though she was about to die.

The agony of her pierced body made her groan, but when she raised her head, she saw the noble holy coffin lying in the dirt. Even the heavy lid of the ancient stone coffin had been thrown aside.

"No!"

She cried out and threw herself forward, trying to protect the saint's remains from desecration by those damned orcs.

Several vicious orcs emerged around her with cruel grins, striding closer. One even carried the snarling head of a warden. He looked at Yrel, who stood barehanded beside the stone coffin. The hunting halberd had pierced her waist and abdomen, and its barbs had sunk into her flesh.

This brave Draenei woman was doomed.

"What a pity."

The orc licked his lips and spoke in heavily accented Draenei.

"Kargath's arena is short on blue wildcats like you, all claws and teeth. But no matter. Once Chieftain Kilrogg leads us to breach Karabor Temple, we'll capture even more savage gladiators for entertainment!"

"Don't you dare... come near the relic!"

Yrel gritted her teeth and cursed, but the furious orcs only laughed at her.

As the huge two-headed wyvern landed, the orc leader riding it jumped down. He roughly shoved the other orcs aside and strode forward with a massive executioner's axe in hand. He stared at Yrel, then curled his lip in disdain.

She was not a warrior at all, merely a weak civilian. Killing someone like her would only dirty his weapon and tarnish his honor.

But orders were orders. He did not have time to think further. Raising his great axe, he prepared to chop down the Draenei woman who dared stand in the Horde's way.

Yrel closed her eyes. She knew there was nothing she could do to turn things around.

Legend said that the Vigilant Saint had saved the Draenei during a disaster more than twenty thousand years ago. Now, their descendants had encountered danger once again. Would a similar hero step forward to turn the tide this time?

With that question in mind, Yrel heard the vicious whistle of the wind.

It was the sound of a battleaxe descending.

She was going to die.

She wondered whether her body would be sent to the Holy Land of Auchindoun after her death, to be buried beside her parents. Come to think of it, her parents had once been formidable vindicators. Not long after she was born, they had died honorably protecting their people from the savage Spriggans.

Perhaps that was part of why she had never wanted to become a vindicator.

Her life, exceedingly brief by the standards of Draenei Eternal Life, flashed before Yrel's eyes. Most of those scenes were of the peaceful, wonderful days she had spent with Samara in Ambori Village. A smaller portion was made up of memories from traveling elsewhere for fun.

But honestly, a child her age could not possibly have had many unforgettable experiences. She was only a little over a hundred years old—in Draenei tradition, she was still an underage little brat.

Several seconds passed, yet the agonizing pain she had imagined never came.

Confused, Yrel opened her eyes. Her "life flashing before her eyes" had already played through three times. Why had the Grim Reaper still not come to collect her? Did hell have the day off today?

Before her, the grotesque orc's muscles bulged.

His eyes were bloodshot, his teeth clenched, and he even let out a battle roar as he tried to force the battleaxe in his hands downward and split Yrel's skull apart. But a hand wreathed in scorching radiance rose from behind Yrel and simply pinched the sharp edge of the axe blade between its fingers.

Those fingertips carried such blazing heat that even the metal was melting. Under the stunned gazes of every orc around them, that "Hand of the Holy Light" slowly, effortlessly pushed aside the axe that the orc leader had brought down with all his strength, moving it away from the victim's neck.

The sight made Yrel's eyes widen.

She even temporarily forgot the pain in her waist and abdomen as she turned to look. A Draenei shrouded in light was sitting up from the holy coffin. His eyes were equally full of confusion, like someone who had just woken up and was still a little dazed and grumpy from being dragged out of bed.

Yet that did nothing to diminish his dazzling splendor. The peculiar Holy Light Yrel had witnessed since childhood swirled around him in a jubilant, almost animate manner. A faint, ethereal song seemed to echo through the air.

Dawn-like morning light rose, driving away the darkness and bringing illumination.

Everyone was stunned.

Until Yrel let out a weak shriek:

"Holy Light above! The legendary Saint has risen from the dead! The Vigilant Saint has burst out of his coffin! Hahaha, orcs, you're doomed!"