"Champions of the Holy Light, purify this fallen land!"
Alexandros Mograine rode a lean, powerful warhorse clad in armor, gripping a longsword surging with the power of the Holy Light. As he charged, the Plague Troll blocking his path was ruthlessly knocked flying. Before it could land, Mograine flicked his left hand, and a blazing ray of Holy Light struck the undead creature's head.
It wailed as it turned into ashes scattered across the ground.
The knights were charging. Although all the trolls in Zul'Mashar had been transformed into Plague Trolls, these mindless creatures could not make so much as a ripple against the collective charge of hundreds of paladins.
Dick led a squad deep into Zul'Mashar. They were not mounted; warhorses had no room to maneuver in this stronghold of the Mossflayer Trolls. Fortunately, most of the Plague Trolls had already gone out to stop the paladins, so Dick strode openly through the place with Erigor, Darion, and several knights without encountering any enemies they could not handle.
"Look over there!"
Dick pointed at the Plague Cauldrons set up in the distance and said to Erigor,
"Those are the evil devices the Cursed Cultists use to manufacture the plague. They vaporize it, shrouding this land in plague-laden mist. We have to destroy them!"
"No problem. Leave them to us!"
Erigor headed toward the cauldrons with several paladins. All the Cursed Mages had already withdrawn, presumably after sensing the paladins' approach, so there was no need to worry about Erigor's safety.
Dick did not follow them. Instead, he led the remaining knights deeper into Zul'Mashar. Their orders were to destroy this dark stronghold completely, and Dick intended to do just that. Before then, however, he had to collect the most useful thing here.
"Darion, take three knights to the left. I'll go right. Remember, even without the plague, the Mossflayer Trolls worship darkness, so don't show any mercy. Collect everything that carries dark magic and hand it over to Grand Knight Uther!"
Dick spoke to Darion, who was walking behind him. The boy was only nineteen this year. Under Mograine's strict upbringing, he was courteous, and his precise, disciplined movements made him look sharp. Still, he remained somewhat inexperienced and shy. After hearing that Dick had single-handedly killed a squad of undead and an Abomination, he had followed Dick around as though idolizing him.
This was not to say that Darion had never seen the world. In truth, Dick still underestimated the formidable bonuses of his Class Template. His achievements were already remarkable, matching those of Grand Knight Saidan Dathrohan. But who was Dathrohan?
He was one of the First Paladins, the second-in-command of the Order of the Silver Hand. In fact, an ordinary paladin struggled against even a single Abomination, and the age when paladins would truly flourish had yet to arrive. Dick's achievements were therefore more than enough to impress Darion. Even his stern, unsmiling father had personally praised Dick as a true champion.
"All right, Brother Dick."
Darion nodded, drew the longsword from his back, and left with the knights. Dick had the knights accompanying him spread out to search while he headed straight for the Mossflayer Trolls' sacrificial altar.
At its height, the Troll Empire had worshipped an Old God named Hakkar. Although this being seemed weak when facing the truly powerful, anything called an Old God and bearing the title of Soulflayer could hardly be weak. When the Troll Empire fell, Hakkar had been banished to another dimension by the Green Dragonflight. Summoning it again required three ancient troll tablets.
Dick happened to know that one of those tablets was hidden here.
Although it would be a long time before the Hakkari, the cult that worshipped Hakkar, began collecting the troll tablets,
Dick felt that something this dangerous was better kept in his own hands. A dozen or so minutes later, he returned with the unscathed paladins to the camp shrouded in blood and death. Carrying their spoils, Erigor and Darion said goodbye to Dick and left in high spirits.
Although the trolls had fallen on hard times, their ancestors had once been wealthy. The Mossflayer Trolls were a branch of the once-glorious Amani Trolls, after all, and many valuable ancient magical weapons had been found in their lair. Dick wanted none of them and divided them equally among the knights.
Dick looked down on those weapons, which were blue-quality at best, because he already had artifacts like the Fire of Justice and Strom'kar the Warbreaker. But he had overlooked the fact that, in the real world, even a weapon with a weak enchantment was quite precious. Soon, the name "Dick the Generous" spread through the camp.
That, however, was an unexpected bonus.
But just as Dick entered the command tent, he heard Arthas's voice, weak yet tinged with obsession.
"Stop trying to persuade me. I have to go to Stratholme!"
The already weakened prince sat in a chair. His armor still bore traces of battle, and he looked somewhat disheveled, but his eyes were filled with determination that verged on stubbornness and madness.
"You all saw the tragedy in Andorhal! I was powerless then, but now I'm going to Stratholme. I'll drive the evil out before it descends on my people!"
Uther and Alexandros, the two true heavyweights, sat silently in their chairs. The younger Jaina, by contrast, seemed much angrier. She did not notice Dick enter the tent. Instead, she stood and shouted at Arthas,
"But that doesn't mean you have to sacrifice yourself! Listen to me, Arthas. The evil forces in Stratholme have laid a trap for you. They're exploiting your sense of justice and your compassion. You cannot go to Stratholme!"
"But what about my people?"
Arthas's tone grew heated as well. He stared unyieldingly at Jaina like an angry lion.
"Am I supposed to abandon them over nothing more than some vague conjecture? Are you joking, Jaina? You're also the heir to a kingdom. Can't you understand the pressure I'm under and how I feel? If Kul Tiras faced a disaster like this, what would you do? Run away, or stand firm?"
Jaina was momentarily speechless. She was about to argue when Dick caught her left hand. She looked at him, and he shook his head at her before taking a few steps forward. Drawing a deep breath, Dick addressed the agitated Arthas.
"Your Highness, please calm down. Things in Stratholme aren't as bad as you imagine. Although Baron Rivendare has betrayed us, he doesn't have enough troops to occupy all of Stratholme. We can send the acolytes from Light's Hope Chapel to purify the city with a large-scale Holy Light ritual. Sir Uther, the acolytes can do that, can't they?"
Dick turned to Uther, who immediately understood his meaning and nodded.
"Yes, Arthas. Within two days, the acolytes can erect a barrier of Holy Light and purify all the evil in the city. There's no need to worry, or to be so stubborn. As heir to the throne, your health is the most important concern right now."
According to the storyline from his previous life, the plague had already begun spreading through Stratholme by this point. However, since no devastating weapon like a Scourge cauldron had been used this time, the plague was spreading only as a disease. Stratholme had several hundred thousand inhabitants and was one of the largest cities in the world today. By Dick's reckoning, if the acolytes moved fast enough, they could save at least half its population.
But if Arthas appeared outside Stratholme now, the Dreadlord, who had long since made his preparations, would probably overwhelm his mind at once and make him give the terrible order to slaughter the city.
It was no exaggeration to say that Stratholme was a turning point in Arthas's life. It was here that he began suffering the torment of his own justice and compassion as he slaughtered the civilians who respected him. This act truly awakened the darkness within him, setting him on a path of no return.
Watching Arthas gradually calm down, Dick breathed a sigh of relief. If he could persuade Arthas here, he was absolutely confident that he could complete the "Historical Node-Stratholme" quest ahead of time, because the event itself revolved around Arthas.
"Dick... you have a point... if the acolytes can give me their assurance, then I can..."
But just as everyone who knew the truth breathed a sigh of relief, a voice outside the tent caught them all off guard.
"Your Highness, an urgent report from Stratholme!"
Damn!
The thought flashed through Dick's mind. A moment later, a helmeted knight rushed into the tent, dropped to one knee, and presented a scroll to Arthas.
At that very moment, however, Dick suddenly drew the Fire of Justice from his back and brought it down at the seemingly ordinary soldier's head, shouting,
"Stop him! There's something wrong with that soldier!"
He was not shouting at random, of course. In his eyes, this flawless disguise meant nothing at all.
"Mal'Ganis" "High Lord" "Nathrezim vampire demon (Dreadlord)" "Strength-260, agility-250, energy-1500, arcane power-1000" "Assessment: a high-ranking demon of the Burning Legion. Compared with its strength in direct combat, its skill at beguiling minds is even more formidable."
Dick's movement immediately drew the attention of everyone in the tent. But the instant he shouted, he felt a danger that pierced straight to his core. Without thinking, he gathered all his Holy Power around his body, placing a thin Holy Light Shield before him.
Clang!
Revealing its true form, Mal'Ganis grinned viciously and raked a claw across Dick's Holy Light Barrier. This lifesaving skill, which he had only just learned from Erigor, saved his life. In the game, the skill was called "invincibility," but in the real world, it could withstand no more than a single blow from Mal'Ganis.
After all, the Holy Light was not invincible in this world.
But when Uther and Alexandros both seized their weapons and blazed with Holy Light, Mal'Ganis no longer had time to strike a second blow. It turned to glance at Arthas, who was within arm's reach, wrapped its grayish-purple bat wings around its body, and transformed into a great swarm of fluttering bats before vanishing from the camp.
Before leaving, however, Mal'Ganis still left behind its "gift."
"Hahaha, this is only the beginning, little prince. I am Mal'Ganis, the 'mastermind' you've been searching for. Open your eyes and look. Your people all belong to me now. I'll turn every one of them into my slaves, and they'll carry my 'gift' throughout your kingdom. I will extinguish the flame of life in Lordaeron... forever! And you can do nothing but watch it happen!"
Clutching the blank scroll, Arthas rose from his chair. What Dick feared most had happened. Arthas roared at the empty sky,
"I won't let you succeed! Mal'Ganis, I would rather end that city's fate with my own hands than let my people become your servants spreading evil! I will not compromise!"