Silver Arena (III)

I remember never going to church or listening to any footsteps after I became an adult. I preferred using training to clear away unpleasant thoughts from my mind rather than the comforting words of priests. And now, having entered death and grown tireless, what can I do to reduce my doubts?

At least I know that the trail is not useful.

The giant sea turtle spewed a mouthful of seawater into the sky, the scattered droplets startling the walrus captain, who was dozing on the hull behind it. He rubbed his eyes, rang the bells and drums, and alerted those on board and in the harbor that they had arrived!

The Forsaken disembarked and were inspected by the Argent Crusade on the shore. Following the Forsaken were two walrus food merchants whose two-wheeled wagons swayed violently; had it not been for the Forsaken's help, their goods would likely have scattered all over the place.

As is customary, they also need to undergo inspection.

"Please wait a moment." An Argent Crusade soldier stopped them and then carefully overturned the truck. The soldiers were dazzled by the wide variety of fresh food and drinks.

"Passage is permitted."

The two Tuskarr nodded to him and swiftly pushed the cart away. They set up a tent near the arena on the far west side of the arena, preparing to open a shop there, but there was one more thing to do before inventorying the goods. They struggled to lift a large crate from the bottom of the pile of goods, then one Tuskarr kept watch while the other unlocked it with a key.

The Tuskarr who was unlocking the box didn't open it immediately, but instead knocked three times. Suddenly, there was movement inside. The box opened from the inside out, and with a pair of hands gripping the sides, Nathanos stood up.

Thank you.

"I just don't understand why you're not with your people, but instead doing it this way," the Tuskarr asked as he opened the box.

Nathanos said half-jokingly, "I like to keep a low profile." On the ship, he remained hidden inside a box, maintaining the same posture.

Several days passed like this.

The loneliness of the journey filled Nathanos's mind with images of the Silver Arena, and the Witherer believed he was mentally prepared for what he would see. But he was wrong. No words in the world could adequately describe what he witnessed.

Buildings stood neatly arranged before him, and numerous tents were pitched on the snow. Around the arena were many smaller arenas, equipped with standardized weapon racks and mounts from various races. Nathanos now realized that all participants had to undergo various tests outside, and only those who emerged victorious could enter the Silver Arena. Numerous Argent Crusade knights patrolled in shifts of three to prevent conflict between the Alliance and the Horde. A group of Taunka, hired by the Argent Crusade, guarded the captured monsters. Banners of different factions—humans, Orcs, Dwarf, Blood Elf —fluttered in the wind.

"This is quite a frightening sight."

"Here's what you wanted." The Tuskarr presented a finely crafted insignia with both hands. With it, there was no need to worry about being identified as a Scourge spy by the Argent Crusade Scourge.

"Thank you, and I wish you booming business." Nathanos accepted the gift, exchanged a smile with the Tuskarr, and Horde to leave. He now needed to decide where to go first. First, he wasn't familiar with the area, so he couldn't go to crowded places. Second, he had heard that Fordring had invited faction leaders here. The Horde didn't matter, but for the Alliance, Varian and Jaina might not be a significant threat, but Sylvanas... The Witherer was certain she was here, and if he appeared nearby, she would easily recognize him.

"These eyes are a bit troublesome," Nathanos said, rubbing his forehead. Among the Forsaken, and even the Scourge, there wasn't another Undead with such crimson eyes as him; the more unique one is, the more memorable they become.

"Hopefully no one will care about this."

"Above!"

The whispers are back!

Nathanos looked back and saw that the two Tuskarr were moving containers and weren't paying any attention to him, meaning no one was talking to him.

The voice was definitely his own, but how could this be? Had someone used mental magic on him again? However, this "magic" had no force whatsoever. It was simply like... a warning.

Above?

The Witherer looked up; the sky was terribly gloomy, and it would surely snow heavily soon.

"Up there, up there? Up there!" Nathanos repeated three times. What was up there? Nothing. He felt like a clown, being led by the nose by some mysterious and unpredictable thing. But being able to communicate directly in his mind made him very uneasy.

"Whoever you are, don't even think about controlling me!" he said. Perhaps he hadn't experienced a real battle in too long, hadn't encountered a worthy enemy, so some being was completely unaware of his power, daring to invade his mind. In fact, Nathanos himself was somewhat surprised. Since his resurrection, he had experienced periods of weakness many times. At first, he recovered very slowly, but day after day, the dark power within his body was constantly evolving. He was simply used to solving problems with bows and swordsmanship.

"Gentlemen?"

The childish, immature voice startled him, and he saw a blond boy standing in front of him.

That soul?

Nathanos blinked. No, the child was real, and he was wearing the white robes of the Argent Crusade, looking quite spirited.

"Are you calling me?" The Witherer asked.

"There's no one else here, so I can only call you." He sniffed hard, his ears and cheeks covered in frostbite.

More than wondering why there was a child here, Nathanos was curious: Wasn't this brat afraid of him? Didn't he know what the Undead were?

"Then why did you stop me?"

"Nobody listens to High Priestess Parsis's walk, so I've come out to gather people." The boy pointed to a triangular tent in the distance that resembled Tauren's tent, much larger than the main tents of the Alliance and the Horde combined. He had initially assumed it was a place for storing weapons or holding meetings, but it turned out to be a church.

"Those who listen to the walk must have a devout heart, child, but unfortunately I do not." Nathanos intended to walk around the boy and leave. Now he knew that this brat was a servant. Those who presided over the walk would all have such a servant, who was responsible for taking care of the church tables and chairs, and then fetching some things for the priest.

This is the first time I've seen someone come out to solicit people.

"The Holy Light will guide you, sir. You will surely find solace in Lady Paltress's words." The boy followed Nathanos, talking incessantly, but not a single word could stop the Undead.

"It's going to snow soon!" he said finally.

Although the Witherer didn't know why a child would know how to observe the weather, he was right: it was going to snow heavily soon, which meant that those still wandering outside would need to return to their tents.

"There was a warm fire and hot water inside the church."

The boy's conditions weren't appealing; no matter how warm it was, the Undead couldn't feel it. Furthermore, he couldn't touch anything too hot; his skin already had little moisture, and high temperatures would cause his epidermis to dry out and peel, damaging even the intact tendons inside his body. Nathanos knew that no matter how strong he became, his body was inevitably decaying; one day, he might not be able to draw a bow, lift a sword, or even walk properly.

That day will come sooner or later, but not now...

The Witherer suddenly became interested in the priest and the path the boy had mentioned. Perhaps he should give it a try and see if the messenger of the Holy Light could soothe his heart with words.