Before Returning Home, Dick Reclaimed "Legacy" First

(Extra chapter for the Frostfang's Claw brothers [8/10])

The merchant planning to provide Dick with weapons was named Dena. She was a local of Ambori Village and had a sturdy young assistant named Sailio.

Both of them dressed rather "fashionably." At a glance, they looked like worldly people with businesses spread far and wide. In truth, after chatting with Dena for a few moments, Dick discovered that the girl was quite capable.

Using Ambori Village as her base, she ran her own trade business along the entire "Pilgrim's Road," from Karabor Temple to Shattrath City and finally to the Holy Land of Auchindoun. She had several Trading Posts of her own and even a shop in Karabor Temple that sold all kinds of artworks.

Though she could not join the ranks of Draenor's Trade Tycoons, that was already truly impressive for someone barely over two hundred years old.

According to Dena, her mother had also received the dawn blessing of the Holy Sarcophagus when giving birth to her.

But Dick suspected that was merely the shrewd merchant's way of getting closer to him. After all, Ambori Village had worshipped the Holy Sarcophagus for over two hundred years. Practically every child born here had received Dick's "radiance."

That had been an external effect produced by the Holy Light transformation of the Harbinger of the Sun while he had been trapped between life and death, practicing his martial skills. It did have some healing effects, but it definitely was not as exaggerated as a "blessing."

Although Ambori Village had just suffered a raid, with many homes damaged and the corpses of burned orcs and the remains of innocents still needing to be collected, the villagers still enthusiastically prepared a feast worthy of their Saint.

A fruit platter of sweet melons from Tanaan Jungle, blood apples from the Spires of Arak, and large grapes from Gorgrond was paired with an appetizer platter of tangy yogurt brewed from Talbuk milk from Nagrand. This was followed by a large plate of steaming snowflake Clefthoof steaks with delicious slices of Zangar Mushroom, garnished with the finest Aruuna hard cheese produced in Telmor.

This was a truly substantial meal, and Dick enjoyed it immensely.

He was deeply gratified that, after their long exile, his Clan members had arrived by fate in this unsafe world and still managed to live such peaceful, prosperous lives. Even a small village like Ambori Village could put together such a lavish meal. It was clear that while the Draenei's quality of life over the past two hundred years could not compare to their homeworld, it was certainly not poor.

His Clan members were few in number, after all. With a population of just over two hundred thousand, they needed only very limited resources to live well, Even If it was on a small world like Draenor.

The feast concluded with a type of cream bread called "Two-Headed Wyvern Claw." It had a unique texture and was said to be a traditional orcish food improved by Draenei chefs.

Dick liked it very much. He ate two plates in one go, leaving the village children he had invited to dine with him completely dumbfounded.

They all exclaimed that the Vigilant Saint not only had the courage of a Clefthoof, but also the stomach of a thunder elephant!

Worthy of a Saint indeed!

Such a terrifying appetite was certainly abnormal, but considering Dick was the universally acknowledged "Saint," anything abnormal about him could be easily rationalized.

"Saint, Dena has selected weapons and armor for you."

Shantok, the elite female hunter from the Holy Sarcophagus Guard whom Dick considered trustworthy, came over while pinching several pieces of cream bread between her fingers and eating them. She reported:

"I checked them for you. They really are excellent weapons, but I think that merchant is very shrewd. She might be trying to ride the wave of your resurrection, using this hot news to bolster her business.

"These civilians really have no sense of crisis.

"Isn't she a merchant? Does she not know that the orcs have begun harassing us across all of Draenor? Every raid has been met with merciless retaliation from our warriors, but if they do not become vigilant themselves, they will eventually be caught up in an accident."

"Don't blame her. I don't know much about that myself."

Dick stood, handed the last few sweet and delicious blood apples to the children, then followed Shantok toward the guards' camp outside the village. He said:

"Arrange for the people of Ambori Village to take refuge in Karabor Temple as soon as possible. The wilderness is no longer safe. Also, bring enough arrows and Arcanite Crystal bombs."

Dick lowered his voice.

"We strike tomorrow morning. I no longer intend to leave the Shadowmoon Clan as a hidden danger!"

"Hm?"

The female hunter was startled. She said quietly:

"But there are several thousand Shadowmoon orcs in that fortress, Saint. Under Archbishop Neri's orders, we previously scouted the place. Among the orc clans, the Shadowmoon Clan is the best at wielding magic.

"They also possess mysterious necromancy that can awaken the dead to fight. That is why the Shadowmoon Clan, despite its small numbers, still occupies a leading position within the orc Horde.

"The orcs are very superstitious. They revere the spirits of their ancestors, and the Shadowmoon Clan, which produces many shamans, holds a position in their culture as noble as the position priests hold in Draenei society.

"I am not questioning your holy power, but the truth is that once the Shadowmoon Clan awakens the undead in that great cemetery, their number of warriors will swell to a terrifying level in a very short time.

"They might even—

"They might even sweep across the entirety of Shadowmoon Valley with a tide of the dead. I have heard that some of the great warriors from every generation of orc history are buried in the Shadowmoon Clan's great burial grounds."

She paused, then said:

"Though orc civilization is still in the clan age, they are natural-born warriors whose strength cannot be underestimated. Their number of legendary figures is also quite astonishing. You have only just awakened, and your understanding of orcs is limited to two battles.

"But I must stress that the abilities of those thugs cannot represent the prowess of elite orc warriors.

"This is why Great Prophet Velen does not want to let the war develop unchecked. Orcs are a strange race with astonishingly low lows and high highs. Though we hold the advantages of technology and civilization, our embarrassingly small population means that if a real war breaks out, the orcs will not be without the ability to fight back."

"Ah?"

Dick looked at the female hunter, whose thoughts tended to scatter in every direction and who always looked at him strangely. Confused, he said:

"When did I say I wanted to exterminate the Shadowmoon Clan? I merely said we cannot allow this hidden danger to continue existing. In your eyes, are your ancestors all butchers devoid of humanity?"

"???"

Shantok froze.

She had not expected this damn Saint to turn the tables on her.

Oh, so you were not a butcher? Then all those orcs burned to death in Ambori Village had nothing to do with you, right?

But she could not show that emotion. She could only ask apologetically:

"My apologies. I misunderstood your meaning. So, what is your plan?"

"The Shadowmoon Clan has clearly already split, child."

Dick narrowed his eyes.

"Do you remember the shadowy flames we saw in Ambori Village? That was not normal power. It was Void shadow capable of corrupting the elements. If the Shadowmoon Clan has always worshipped the elements and ancestral spirits as you say, then they would never employ such dangerous, sinister power on a large scale.

"Yet you saw the methods of those Shadowmoon warlocks with your own eyes. They have not only recently come into contact with these things. They have cultivated this power for a long time.

"You must understand that in a group united by faith, disputes between new and old factions are often exceptionally fierce. The Shadowmoon Clan could not possibly persuade every shaman to accept the power of the Void. This means there will always be some who uphold tradition and refuse to submit to the new tide.

"They have already split in practice!"

The Vigilant Saint turned to look in the direction of Shadowmoon Fortress in the distance. He said:

"We must find those orthodox shamans unwilling to submit to corruption. Old Velen wishes to end the conflict through negotiation. I understand his concerns and the correctness of that choice, but he has not found truly suitable negotiators.

"If the Shadowmoon Clan's shamans truly hold such high status in orc society, then that is where we should begin!

"The orcs have clearly been tempted by demons!

"Since that is the case, we must assist the orcs in setting things right, helping those simple and kind people resist the evil infestation within, just as we did when we purged the Awakeners' Cult. We must separate the corrupted from the pure Arcane Mages.

"We absolutely cannot carry out indiscriminate, collective punishment. This concerns the future of two races. Blind, total hostility will only push the neutral parties to stand against us."

The female hunter's eyes widened. A few seconds later, she whispered in shock:

"You want to create a schism within orc civilization? Make the peaceful orcs and the insane orcs fight each other?"

"Uh, why does 'pursuing peace' sound so vicious when it comes from your mouth?"

Dick shook his head.

"You truly ought to read the Holy Light scriptures a few more times and cleanse your mind, child. I merely proposed a viable tactic from a diplomatic perspective to complement the peace pact Velen wishes to achieve.

"That was how we did things during the Second Co-Governance."

"That was twenty-five thousand years ago, Saint. I understand that those days may feel as though they happened yesterday to you, but to us, they are as distant as myths and legends."

Shantok muttered helplessly:

"I was born on the road of exile. I have never even seen the scenery of Argus, much less studied the 'ancient wisdom' you speak of.

"But honestly, Archbishop Neri has always praised you as an outstanding 'strategist.' Everyone thought that was merely her idealized memory of her late husband, but it turns out the Archbishop was simply telling the truth."

"Wait!"

Dick's voice rose several octaves. He glared at Shantok and snapped:

"What do you mean, 'Neri's late husband'? Explain yourself! Don't run!"

"Ah, Saint, I suddenly remembered that I still have scout duties to fulfill. I must use the cover of night to scout outside Shadowmoon Fortress for tomorrow's operation and locate where our poor compatriots are being held."

The female hunter who had let something slip sprang away like a rabbit. Activating Aspect of the Cheetah and adding two backward leaps, she vanished in a flash.

She knew she had caused a terrible disaster.

After all, calling the Archbishop's "late husband" was a joke the sisters of the Ranger Enclave only occasionally dared make in private.

At the level of Draenei society, the authorities had never publicly addressed the love story between the Archbishop and the Vigilant Saint. Even though, over the past twenty-five thousand years, fanfiction romance novels about "Commodore Diakum X Archbishop Neri" had been reprinted countless times.

There were even some very stimulating erotic books featuring the two of them as protagonists.

Well, such fictional portrayals of heroic figures should logically have been punished severely. But even in the Eredar era, the race had always struggled to increase its population. If those wildly exaggerated erotic books and the fictional yet beautiful love stories between the two could help the Draenei produce a few more children, then Dick and Neri would be doing a good deed.

That was the situation.

Reality was simply that awkward, leaving even Dick, the Saint, helpless.

He flicked his sturdy tail, using the hard and sharp golden tail sheath to "ruthlessly behead" the wildflowers by the roadside to express his anger. But in the end, he could only enter the guards' temporary camp with a stiff face.

Merchant Dena was enthusiastically peddling her goods to the guards.

She truly had good merchandise!

After hearing that the orcs were harassing the Draenei, the shrewd merchant had imported a batch of high-quality crystal-forged weapons from Shattrath City, intending to sell them to pilgrims traveling the Pilgrim's Road for self-defense. Now, she had run into these elite guards who were about to carry out a mission. What an unexpected delight.

Dena had already planned it all out!

Once the Vigilant Saint used the weapons she provided to defeat the Shadowmoon thugs, she would have her assistants hang up signs and use the opportunity to enter the arms trade, selling armor and weapons. She would write on her shop, "Fine weapons so good that even the Vigilant Saint approves of them"!

Wow, this was heaven-sent advertising!

Best of all, she would not even be lying. Even the universe's strictest advertising laws would find nothing to pin on her.

"So, where is the best sword in the village?"

Dick asked. Dena, who had just sold two crystal-forged war spears to the guards as throwing weapons, immediately turned around. With a respectful expression, she personally reached out and lifted the weapon chest behind her with some effort, then gestured for the Vigilant Saint to look.

The Commodore stepped forward and glanced inside. A massive Eredar-style battle axe lay in the ancient weapon chest.

Its axe head had been forged from alloy and crystal through techniques unique to the Eredar, while molten crystal had been shaped into a sharp, beautifully curved blade. This was clearly a magical weapon. Beneath its main body floated two crystalline blades, together giving the battle axe sufficiently brutal destructive power.

It was adorned with purple crystals, and its handle was of just the right length for an Eredar warrior to grasp with both hands and perform brutal beheadings in close combat.

In fact, Dick recognized it at once as a standard elite weapon of an Eredar guard.

"I saw many guards in Mac'Aree using weapons like this."

Dick stroked the weapon with a trace of nostalgia and said softly:

"Does it have a name?"

"Yes, Saint."

For once, the shrewd Dena revealed a trace of sadness as well. She said quietly:

"My father brought only this with him when he fled our home. It is said that he used this battle axe to escort my grandmother and mother aboard the Naaru ship. Though Father died thousands of years ago in a demon attack on the ship, I kept it as my family's Legacy and a remembrance of our homeland.

"Yes.

"Saint, its name is 'Legacy'!"

"A fine name, though perhaps too gentle for a weapon."

Dick reached out and lifted the battle axe, which an ordinary Eredar needed two hands to wield, with one hand. As he infused it with Holy Light, the crystalline axe head and blade burst into a clean, radiant gleam. Such excellent energy conduction was obviously the classic craftsmanship of Mac'Aree's master jewelers—utterly authentic.

At the same time, the weapon's attributes appeared before Dick's eyes:

Weapon Name: Legacy

Weapon Type: Standard Eredar Classic-Style Guard Double-Bladed Battle Axe

Weapon Quality: Masterwork · Epic

Weapon Traits: Sturdy · Sharp · Special Energy Conduction

Maker: Forging Workshop Under the Seat of the Triumvirate Technology Court

Item Description:

[Its collectible value is maxed out, but its practical value is average. Considering it does not even have a proper weapon effect, my advice is: make do with it. There really are not many mortal weapons these days that can suit all that brute strength of yours.

But you had better not break it. The merchant miss beside you is already prepared to extort a sum of money from the Saint.

Wow, what a shrewd and daring soul.]

"A fine weapon. I will not dishonor your father's valor or your family's Legacy, child."

Dick swung the battle axe twice.

Though it still felt a little light, it was at least far better than ordinary weapons.

But a single weapon was not the end of Dena's surprises. The shrewd merchant opened another chest, revealing a complete eight-piece set of Draenei-style armor.

Well, how should one distinguish Eredar style from Draenei style?

In truth, the two were quite similar. The latter was simply plainer, without the Eredar style's extravagant and lavish use of all kinds of magical gemstones for decoration. That was related to the frugal customs developed by the exiles during their journey.

The suit of armor before him was a typical example. It had no crystal decorations, but its overall aesthetic still followed the Eredar style.

Dick reached out and placed his hand on the dull gray armor. He turned back to Dena and said:

"I presume this armor also has a story worth hearing?"

"Uh, not really. It was left behind by my ex-boyfriend."

Dena flicked her tail and said awkwardly:

"I caught that guy cheating on me with my cousin. After his reputation was ruined in several nearby towns, I heard he ran off to Farahlon to become an archaeologist."

"Wait! You are only two hundred years old, aren't you?"

Dick paused, then sternly said:

"At that age, intimate contact with the opposite sex was strictly forbidden in our era! Your bodies had not yet developed enough to safely bear children! It is irresponsible toward yourselves."

"Oh, heavens! Holy Light!"

Dena covered her face despairingly.

"Why do you sound exactly like my mother? But the problem is that last month, she—who is over twenty thousand years old this year—found herself an 'uncle' who is only a little over three hundred, and she is enthusiastically planning to give me a younger brother or sister.

"She intends to spend five hundred years accomplishing that. She is the same age as you.

"Every time I go home, I still have to listen to her nag about how, back in Mac'Aree, the young and beautiful her stood by the roadside holding a flower basket and scattered petals for you as you returned in triumph. She even says you flirted with her.

"What I mean is, we have been fleeing for so long already, Saint.

"Could you stop using rules from tens of thousands of years ago to restrain young people today?

"You know, Lord Velen and Lord Hutton are so worried about how difficult it is for our people to reproduce that they are nearly going bald. Good girls like me who are still willing to fall in love and have children are prized treasures in their eyes."

Several guards nearby were struggling painfully to hold back their laughter. For a moment, Dick did not know how to respond to such a terrifying "cultural generation gap."

Like an old man unable to keep up with the times, he could only lament that morals had declined, then sigh and turn his attention to the armor. As before, flickering runes appeared before his eyes:

Armor Name: T'haamar Defender's Regalia

Armor Quality: Fine / Epic

Armor Traits: Consecrated Armor · Enhanced Defense

Special Effects:

[3/8]: Slightly increases armor.

[5/8]: Slightly increases Radiance energy recovery speed.

[8/8]: Grants the passive skill [Talahamat's Saint's Blessing], enhancing Holy Light spell effects and greatly increasing armor.

Creator: Talahamat Follower Artisan.

Item Description:

[Talahamat was a Draenei saint. Yep, someone just like you!

But the difference is that after sleeping for twenty thousand years, you can climb out of your coffin and return to the fray, while he had long since sacrificed himself protecting his people in some unknown world, leaving behind only a legend and a saintly name remembered by others.

So if you're wearing armor made to commemorate someone, at least act the part. Don't disgrace the saintly profession, understand?

Hey, see those orcs at Shadowmoon Fortress?

Go!

Slaughter every last one of them!

Hold a grand blood sacrifice to the Holy Light, skulls offered to the sacred throne! Then lead the ten-thousand-year veterans of the Hand of Argus on a punitive crusade through this shitty world! Warlord Hanging Bro, we adore you!]

]

"You really are a fucking complicated piece of work."

Dick no longer had the strength to mock that damned item description internally, but he had to admit that, for an excellent-quality set, this armor's attributes were already quite good.

At the very least, it was a little better than the Lightforged armaments he had obtained twenty-five thousand years ago—the ones those bastards had clearly skimmed materials from.

It seemed that Draenei craftsmanship had improved somewhat during their exile.

"I'll take this set as well."

Dick turned back and said to Dena:

"When we run into your ex-boyfriend someday, I'll give him a proper scolding on your behalf."

"You'd better kick his third leg hard for me."

Dena said irritably:

"That bastard actually said my cousin was more—cough, cough. I won't repeat such filthy words in front of you. This armor needs to be resized, so I'll take it to the blacksmith first. But it's magical armor, so the alterations will be simple. You'll be able to wear it into battle tomorrow morning."

With that, Dena gave a courteous bow, then left with her assistant, both of them wearing barely concealed delight.

Ah, the plan had worked!

The Saint had accepted the weapon she offered. Now she could get the "Even the Vigilant Saint says it's good" sign made ahead of schedule!

She was about to make a fortune!

One day, she would definitely be as rich as the Ethereal Prince of the Nodes! She would become a universe-class tycoon! Keep it up, Dena!

Dick paid no attention to the merchant girl's little schemes. After chatting with the vindicators for a while and telling them to get some rest, he prepared to return to the village to fulfill his duties as a priest and deliver a sermon to soothe the villagers' wounded hearts.

But the moment he stepped out of the camp, he saw Yrel rushing over in a panic. When she spotted Saint Dick, the young girl ran up to him and said in a tearful voice:

"Saint, my sister Samara has been captured! I thought she was hiding in her room, but I couldn't find her no matter where I looked. It was Lady Dena who told me that, amid the chaos, she saw Samara return to report in before being seized by several orcs outside the village.

"She must have been taken back to Shadowmoon Fortress.

"It's all my fault!

"I was the one who told her to come back alone and report. If she had stayed by my side back then—

"God!

"Samara was born frail. She can't endure that kind of torture. I have to save her immediately!"

"If that child had stayed by your side, I wouldn't have been able to save her in time either."

Dick shook his head and said:

"This isn't your fault. It's merely that hateful fate cannot bear to see beautiful things in this world endure for long. Don't worry, child. We will bring Samara back. At dawn tomorrow, we'll set out for Shadowmoon Fortress to rescue her!"

"Just us?"

Yrel sighed:

"There are too few of us. There are too many orcs there. Sigh, Samara always liked making friends with the Shadowmoon orcs. She even has an orc girl friend in the Shadowmoon Clan who serves as an apprentice priestess. They often stargaze together at night."

"It won't be just us, because the Holy Light will not let Its warriors walk alone."

Dick looked in the direction from Ambori Village toward Karabor Temple and said:

"Such an outrageous thing as the Holy Sarcophagus being plundered has already happened. If those people sitting high in Karabor Temple don't react at all, then they don't deserve to lead our people. Be patient. By the time dawn arrives, at the very least, a force of reinforcements will reach us.

"Prepare yourself, Recruit Yrel.

"This will be the first true war you take part in. Bring honor to your sister, and honor to your Holy Light."

"Faster! Move faster!"

On the road beneath the night sky, a commander riding a war Talbuk shouted at the hundreds of cavalry following behind him:

"Archbishop Akama has ordered us to reach Ambori Village before dawn. We must confirm the safety of the Vigilant Saint's Holy Sarcophagus. Those damned orcs are courting death! Ah, Holy Light, may You send down purging sacred fire to burn these troublesome bastards to death.

"I don't even dare imagine how bad things will get once this news reaches Telmor, once those fanatical ten-thousand-year veterans are alarmed."

"We don't even need to alarm the ten-thousand-year veterans, sir."

The commander's adjutant sighed:

"You saw Captain Maraad earlier as well—that terrifying expression of rage, as though he wanted to devour someone alive. I've followed him for so long, but that was the first time I'd ever seen his anger boil over like that."

"Isn't that obvious?"

The commander curled his lip and said:

"That Vigilant Saint was like a father to Captain Maraad and his sister, especially after their great mother fell ill and passed away. He was their only family.

"Fuck!

"Those stupid orcs have ruined everything with their own hands."

"Sir, as a vindicator, you shouldn't swear. Though everyone is thinking the same thing. Fuck, the negotiations the Great Prophet has been trying so hard to facilitate will probably be completely destroyed by this sudden incident. Perhaps war on Draenor is now unavoidable."

"Sigh, let the Holy Light punish my foul mouth however It wants. I'm tired. Let it all be destroyed."