"Viren is dead"

Tyrion stood on the platform of the Dark Temple, calmly looking at Nuri the Draenei. Viren knelt there, sobbing silently, and there was no mockery or expectation in his ice-blue eyes, and he said in an indifferent voice as if he were on business:

"The fate of the prophet is over, an era is gone, and you and I are his last witnesses, and your father has won you a free future, and you should take advantage of it."

"Get out of here, child, you have a night to pack your bags, and tomorrow at dawn you will return to the world of the living, and your father will be reborn as an avenger."

"Get out of here!"

The angry young man opened the hand that the High Lord had reached out to the Prophet, and he clenched his fists in front of the Prophet's remains, like a fearless fighter, protecting his most important treasure.

"I won't allow you to touch my father!"

Nuri's eyes shone with flames, the evil energy in this young man's body was purified, but as the price of crossing death, he should no longer be able to accept any power, but under the traction of the leader's seal floating on his forehead, a faint golden flame ignited in his chest, and under the slightly surprised gaze of the Great Lord, the golden spark was like a spreading wildfire, and in just a few seconds, the power of the holy light was channeled back into Nuri's body.

The scorching golden wings flapped behind the Draenei, and on his body, the golden lines were like the strongest armor of faith, the body of the protector Nouri, the terrible blood of the Prophet, so that the reborn young man was blessed with the Light, and gave him the power to protect himself in this cold place of death.

But this little power is still far from that of the prophet.

"Bang"

At the moment when Nuri wanted to pounce and fight with the Great Lord, Tyrion's hand flicked outward, and the power of darkness was like a whistling whip, easily shattering the holy light wrapped in Nuri's body, and the fluttering light flame was like a spark feather flying in the air, illuminating the cold platform very brilliantly.

Unfortunately, the young man was whipped and rolled out in embarrassment, and finally crashed into the cold pillar of the platform, and a whip mark appeared on his face, and just as he looked up, he saw the remains of his father, frozen in ice by the evil lord, and then placed in the sarcophagus where he had laid.

He lost him a second time

"Nope! No!! ”

Nuri moved her shoulders and got up again, but just as he rushed towards the Great Lord, the Death Lord Iriel, who suddenly appeared in the darkness, punched Nuri on the back of the head, and she reined in her strength, but the blow still knocked the young man who was overwhelmed by pain.

"Bang"

The Draenei smashed in front of Iriel's boots, and the Death Lord looked up at the Grand Lord who was slowly closing the lid on the sarcophagus, and she asked in a low voice:

"How Long Does It Take to Be a Prophet?"

"For a long time, Iriel!"

The High Lord knew what his subordinates wanted to ask, and as he sent the sarcophagus into the rift of the Dead Realm, he replied:

"A soul like Viren, who is loved to the extreme by the Holy Light, wants to fall into death completely, it takes time, he voluntarily accepts this fate, and the powerful soul will no longer resist, which will reduce this time a lot, but we still need patience like an old wine brewed with death, only after the tempering of time, can it be fragrant."

"Well, I'm looking forward to it."

Irel brushed her white hair and smiled, and she handed the things in her hand to the High Lord, and she said:

"The Prophet gave me this before accepting fate, and I thought, maybe you'll need it."

Tyrion looked back at the song of souls in Iriel's hand, he looked at the crystal, and after a moment, he shook his head:

"The legacy that Viren gave you, then it's yours, little Iriel, you can decide how you want to use it, maybe you can go to Magni and ask him to make a weapon for you with this crystal, or you can give it to others who need it, I, I don't need it anymore."

The Great Lord smiled:

"I'm not in the habit of snatching loot from my subordinates, right?"

He turned and walked into the rift of the Dead Realm, and at the moment when the Great Lord disappeared, Irel kicked Nuri at his feet, and she shouted:

"So, boss, what about this guy?"

"Leave him for one night, and then throw him out early tomorrow morning! Let him fend for himself. ”

Iriel didn't end up throwing Nuri out of the Dark Temple, she commanded a Death Knight to send Nuri to a room on the lower floors, and then went to the database of the Darkblade Intelligence Bureau, and the moment Nuri woke up from the heavy blow, she happened to see a tall, black-armored Draenei Death Knight, holding a file box, pushing open the door and walking into his room.

Feeling the cold aura coming from Iriel's body, which is in the same vein as the Great Lord, Nuri grabbed the copper wine glass on the table as a weapon with vigorous movements, and looked at her vigilantly, although the influence of evil energy on him has dissipated, but as a general of the Burning Legion, the combat skills he learned and the combat experience accumulated in the nearly 10,000-year war made Nuri, the son of Viren, not to be underestimated.

"Bang"

A box full of papers was piled on the table by Iriel, and the hoof girl crossed her arms and looked at Nuri condescendingly, and she said calmly:

"That thing won't protect you in this place! Rest assured, the prophet Viren sacrificed himself to save you, and as long as you don't fool around, you are in no danger here, at least tonight. ”

As a former demon general of the Burning Legion, Nuri would not trust a threatening person so easily, but he did not feel hostility from Iriel, he breathed a sigh of relief, put the copper wine glass in his hand aside, and looked at the box full of documents on the table, he asked:

"What is this?"

"This is what we can find, all the records of the deeds of the prophet Vilen, most of them are from the beginning of the Draenei into the world of Draenor, to the present, some trivial and important deeds in the past 200 years."

Iriel picked up a document with the Darkblade Intelligence Bureau logo on the surface, and she tossed it to Nuri, saying:

"Between you and the Prophet, I think you need this, you haven't actually learned much about your father, you probably don't know as much about him as I do, before I leave here, I hope that in your mind, Viren's father figure will be clearer, and this is probably the last thing I can do for him."

Nuri didn't say anything, he sat on the edge of the bed, opened the file, looked at the formulaic, cold text descriptions, and after a few minutes, he looked up, his eyes shining with doubt:

"Then I'm more curious, who are you? Why do you do so much for my father, are you my sister? ”

"Don't think about it!"

Irel flicked his tail:

"As far as I know, the Prophet has been clean since he left Argus, and has never had any affair with any woman, apparently because you and your mother are too important in his heart, but we have never heard the Prophet mention you and your mother, probably because he felt that you had already fallen in the calamity of Argus, so he regarded it as the most painful torture of his life."

"You know what? Your presence, however you may have appeared, is a good thing for the Prophet, at least he was not alone before he died, as he had been in the past. ”

A flash of sadness flashed in the eyes of the Death Lord:

"Perhaps, he walked happily, and was content to meet the moment when he came, and he was happier than when he was alive."

"Really?"

Nouri savored the slightly sad words, and he lowered his head and flipped through the papers in his hand, in which the vague image of a prophet slowly appeared in his mind, as if to fill his childhood fantasy of his father.

"You can go."

Nuri whispered:

"I hope to be alone for a while, thank you."

"Well, hurry up."

As Irel walked to the door, she looked back at Nuri, at the face that resembled the Prophet with a 7-point resemblance, and at the dim and broken seal of the leader hanging on her forehead, and she whispered:

"Tomorrow when the sun rises, you will leave here, and this is what the Prophet meant, he does not want you to be too deeply involved with us dead We are a group of hateful heretics in the world of the living."

"Oh, yes, and this!"

Irel took the purple Soul Song crystal from his pocket, shook it in the palm of his hand, and threw it to Nuri:

"This is a beloved object that the Prophet has carried with him for tens of thousands of years, and I think you are more qualified than me to hold it, although you are not a Prophet, in your hands, it can only be used as an ornament and a souvenir, but it is better to keep it."

"Bang"

With Iriel's departure, with the closing of the door, the tears in Nouri's eyes fell silently at this moment, although as an adult, such a weeping gesture is too much of a sissy, but considering the heavy past that this child has experienced and the life and death parting just now, don't be so harsh on him.

In the room of the Dark Temple, illuminated by the dimly lit hedron lamp, Nouri flipped through the pages of records of his father over the past 200 years, the images of the prophets sketched from the dictation of the Draenei Death Knight.

The image of a wise, benevolent, sometimes slightly indecisive, and somewhat blind obedience to faith was enriched in him, and the things that the Draenei did during the time of Azeroth, compared to the Draenor world, the prophet in the new world seemed to have become much more resolute, and even the way of doing things seemed much clearer.

He was progressing, he was learning from the past, and he was trying to lead his people in a more positive way.

That was his father, a prophet, a fugitive, a leader, and a qualified father, a son of heroes.

The next morning, the moment the sun jumped out of the horizon, Nuri, carrying a small burden, stood in front of the portal table of the Dark Temple, and Irel was the only one who came to see him off.

The young man was silent, he didn't say much, the moment the portal opened, Nuri turned around and put the Soul Song Crystal back into Ariel's hand, he looked at the Death Lord in front of him, and said:

"This is what your father left you, Iriel, and I am not qualified to hold it."

After saying that, the young man stretched his body, he looked at the dark temple in front of him, which was slightly cold and dim, and he whispered:

"Thank you for the documents you brought, they made me no longer at a loss, they made me understand the firm goal hidden in my father's heart, that will also be my goal I am not nothing, he left the best life to me, when I look back, I can see him, he is standing behind me, just so kind to smile at me, encourage me, all the way forward"

"That's hope, that's the emotion I haven't had in the past 10,000 years of darkness, and holding hope is enough to make me no longer at a loss, that's enough! Thank you, Iriel, for being a kind uh, necromancer. ”

Irel didn't say anything, she played with the purple soul song crystal in her hand, she looked at Nuri who walked into the portal, she asked in a low voice:

"So, what are you going to do?"

The young son of the prophet stood in the light curtain of the portal, and he smiled at Iriel, a hearty smile on his face, which was quite similar to that of Viren:

"It's easy"

"I will carry on my father's legacy, take my father's people, take my people"

"Go home!"

"Buzz"

The teleportation light shone at this moment, and under Iriel's slightly surprised gaze, Nuri's figure disappeared from the portal table of the Dark Temple, and he would be sent to the teleportation hall of New Stormwind, and then he would walk into his own life.

"Bringing the Draenei home?"

Irel tossed the purple Soul Song Crystal up and down, and she shook her head, what a lofty ideal.

But then, the Death Lord frowned again, looking at the purple crystal in her hand, she had a headache, how could this thing not be sent, it seemed that she really had to hold it.

And according to the opinion of the Great Lord, perhaps, she should use this magical crystal to make herself a weapon?

"So, what's the name?"

Irel scratched at her horns, and on the way to the Molten Heart Furnace, she had been thinking about the name of her weapon, the crystal had been given to her by the Prophet, who wanted her to use it properly to help Azeroth survive the calamities caused by the demons, and to unleash her wrath on the heads of the damned demons.

Well, I heard that the Prophet's favorite thing during his lifetime was the holy rosary carved from turquoise crystal

All right!

"Then call it"

"Blue rage!" 2k reading web