"Let me go if you dare! That was a shameless sneak attack!"
Pinned face-down on the ground, Turalyon struggled with all his might, but he could not budge the huge metal hand on his back.
Seeing Turalyon held down and ground into the dirt, Uther, his closest friend, tried to intercede.
The Arcane Scavenger, however, possessed extremely high intelligence.
Its judgment was too sound for a few kind words from Uther to make it release such a generous energy package.
"Please refrain from unreasonable interference, or your actions will be regarded as a provocation."
The Arcane Scavenger's rigid, mechanical warning put an end to Uther's attempts to plead for him.
Let this hotheaded fool cool down properly first.
Abandoned by his friend, Turalyon could only roar helplessly.
"Let me go! I challenge you to a duel!"
As the holy energy in his body dwindled, his struggles weakened and his roars grew quieter.
Once it had drained the last bit of holy energy, the Arcane Scavenger helpfully picked him up and tossed him out of the camp.
Seeing that Turalyon could not even stand, Uther quickly cast Blessing of Might on him.
Replenished by the holy energy of Blessing of Might, Turalyon finally stopped feeling weak in the knees.
He glanced back at the hulking purple figure inside the camp and silently added it to his list of grudges.
"I only let it ambush me because I was careless. Next time, I'll make it pay!"
Uther shook his head helplessly at Turalyon's refusal to face reality.
"Stay away from that big fellow from now on. It's beyond anything you can handle."
Turalyon bristled at Uther's words.
"No way! It's just an arcane golem."
Uther cut him off without ceremony.
"No, this arcane golem is different! I've never seen one so clever and agile!"
Turalyon calmed down and carefully recalled what had happened, realizing that Uther was right.
That hulking thing moved with remarkable agility.
Its attacks also followed well-planned sequences, each with a clear purpose.
Once he fell into its pattern, the relentless chain of attacks left him gasping for breath!
The thought of that big fellow watching him like a thief made Turalyon restless.
"Then what am I supposed to do? It's always following Lady Alleria around."
He could neither beat it nor get around it. There was simply no way out.
Uther said indifferently, "Lady Alleria doesn't seem interested in you at all. Why insist on trailing after her so eagerly?"
Those blunt words stabbed straight into Turalyon's heart like a knife.
Yet he still refused to give up pursuing the woman he idolized.
Over the next few days, this first-generation Paladin kept triggering the Arcane Scavenger's attack mode, setting off another round of cat and mouse.
The first-generation Paladins were much like the first-generation Death Knights.
Neither had developed any decent skills unique to their class.
Aside from their strong offense and defense, all their skills came from Priests.
Archbishop Faol's original reason for developing the powerful Paladin class was simple.
He wanted to combine Warriors and Priests into one.
Priests could fight like Warriors, or Warriors could heal themselves in battle.
Turalyon had previously been a Priest, and his melee skills were those of a complete novice.
Against the Arcane Scavenger and its endless attack combinations, his only possible fate was to be caught, pinned down, and ground into the dirt.
As for facing the Arcane Scavenger head-on, Turalyon's paltry fighting skills would only get him knocked down faster.
In fact, even Uther, the strongest of the first-generation Paladins, stood little chance against the Arcane Scavenger.
Ordinary weapons could not leave so much as a pale mark on its arcane-infused mithril armor.
Once its huge metal hand caught someone, the fight was over!
Uther was favored by the holy light, and his strength had utterly outclassed that of his peers since childhood.
But even his strength had limits. He could not possibly budge an Arcane Scavenger weighing well over ten tons.
All he could do was silently watch Turalyon receive his punishment, then help the fellow leave with some dignity.
Otherwise, the Arcane Scavenger would not mind acquiring an even more powerful holy light battery.
Only when Herad heard about the Arcane Scavenger's exploits from Alleria did he learn that Mana Drain could absorb even holy energy.
Mana Drain's ability to accept energy of any kind was outrageously powerful!
The Blood Elves in the game had drained holy energy from a Naaru.
They had even used that stolen holy energy to pose as Paladins.
He had not expected reality to work just like the game, with no major barriers between different energy systems.
After marveling at this for a while, Herad went downstairs to the Hawkstrider's shelter and woke Little White from its sleep.
Ever since it had formed a connection with the World Tree, the creature had become increasingly fond of sleeping.
At this rate, it would soon turn into a sleep-loving Druid.
Despite its growing tendency to sleep, Little White's overall condition kept improving.
It was already a size larger than others of its kind.
Its strength, agility, and endurance had increased dramatically, surpassing a Hawkstrider's limits in every respect.
Apart from not having mastered any special magical skills, it was little different from a magical beast.
Its running speed had already reached an astonishing level!
Herad took it to Sunfury Spire, splurged on twice the teleportation fee, and teleported from Silvermoon City to Dalaran.
Then the fastest Hawkstrider in Quel'Thalas showed everyone what it meant to move like the wind.
"What just went past?"
"It looked like a white Hawkstrider."
"Are High Elf mounts really that fast?"
"I don't think so."
"Maybe it's a special breed."
The white Hawkstrider the farmers were discussing was currently running at over two hundred kilometers an hour.
Calling it running, however, was not entirely accurate.
The white Hawkstrider's movement was closer to flying just above the ground.
Or to the lightness techniques in martial arts novels that let people skim across the grass.
If someone fitted the white Hawkstrider with a pair of large wings, it would definitely be able to fly!
Dalaran lay in the northwestern corner of the Hillsbrad Foothills.
Herad therefore only needed to have his mount keep running southeast.
The gently rolling hills were ideal terrain for a Hawkstrider to run across.
Herders tending their livestock below the hills occasionally saw a white Hawkstrider flying low overhead.
And so, the legend of a flying white Hawkstrider was born from the herders' own eyewitness accounts.
Herad, who was traveling on the white Hawkstrider, was in no mood to enjoy the thrill of low-altitude flight.
He was enduring the sickening torment of magic addiction.
Magic addiction was a mental torment that could only be overcome through sheer willpower.
Many weak-willed High Elf Mages could not leave Quel'Thalas at all.
They could not even adjust to Dalaran, where the concentration of magical energy was fairly high.
Magic addiction affected Herad quite severely as well, leaving him looking sickly in the outside world.
In truth, he did have some resistance to magic addiction.
Being able to get by in this condition was already fairly good!
Despite looking sickly, Herad could still cast spells normally.
The white Hawkstrider could glide between the hills mainly because he had cast Slow Fall on it.
Otherwise, no matter how capable it was, it could never glide like a true bird.
Alternating between sprinting and gliding, the white Hawkstrider reached the High Elf camp outside Southshore in just two hours.
The High Elf Rangers on guard were all dumbfounded when they saw the white Hawkstrider flying toward them, flapping its wings.
The High Elf Rangers knew Hawkstriders well, and they simply could not believe what they were seeing.
"Uh, since when could Hawkstriders fly?"
Before you continue