"I often ask myself, what's the point of death?"

"You see, I've been dead for too long, but I still don't have an answer to this very simple question that satisfies everyone."

"In the beginning, I thought that death was the end, and the end of all things represented despair, pain, coldness, and death."

"However, I soon discovered that my understanding of death was too bland and no different from that of mortals, which prevented me from continuing to explore the deeper power of death, so I began to dive into it."

Tyrion sat on the ground of Naaru's Seat in Sha'tar, and in the darkness of this darkness he was like a teacher of the preaching and solving doubts, imparting his precious knowledge to a newcomer who was new to death, while before his eyes, the Prophet Viren was holding the body of his son, and he was on his knees, letting his blood-stained robes stain with ashes and stains.

The Prophet's forehead was filled with the light-filled seal of the Draenei leader, and now he was like a dying old man, a dying man at the end of his life, as if he had been crushed by some painful event, and he was witnessing the blood of his origin being strangled by his own hands, and witnessing the most important man in his life die under his own sword, which was a real human tragedy.

His eyes no longer sparkled, no longer as bright as the stars had been, no longer like the wise man who had mastered all the mysteries of the stars, his eyes cloudy, filled with sluggishness and pain, making him look like a statue of a crucifixion.

This is perhaps the most substantial interpretation of suffering

A tale of affection, hatred and killing, and the only witness to this story is the death agent who sits next to him and chatters, who loves to appreciate all tragedies and comedies, Tyrion. Dawnblade.

"Hey, buddy!"

Tyrion stretched out his finger and snapped his fingers in front of the sluggish Viren, and in this way he tried to attract the Prophet's attention, he asked softly:

"Do you know what I learned after I went deeper into death?"

The Prophet didn't answer, he didn't want to answer, he didn't want to pay attention to anything, he just wanted to just hold his son and stay here quietly and die quietly.

In fact, he now wished that Tyrion would swing his sword and give him a hard sword so that he could meet his son in Hell.

At this moment, Viren felt like a monster without a heart, maybe all the accusations his son made against him before he died were true, he was a monster, a monster molded by the Holy Light!

It was a choice, what Rakish did was torture, and if Viren calmed down, he would find that behind Rakish's questioning, there was a deep disappointment attached to it.

Unfortunately, Viren finally chose faith between his relatives and faith, and he didn't even spend a little more time to find out the identity of Rakish, just because this demon was about to destroy a Naru, an old friend.

Faith, at that moment, blinded him.

He did something he could never forgive himself.

"Oops."

The High Lord looked at him without saying a word, as if he had completely closed himself up as a prophet, he shrugged his shoulders, and in the darkness he took two of the best cigars from the cigar box he had brought with him, and after the black fire had risen and lit it, he shoved one into the prophet's hand, and the other was enjoyed by himself, and in the midst of the clouds and mist, he said to the prophet:

"Throw aside all those health advices, you see, compared to the harm caused by these enjoyments, doing bad things is obviously more detrimental to health, this thing can relax your tense mind for a while, my discussion with you, is not over yet."

"Do you know what I saw and what I learned after you stepped into death?"

Tyrion's voice fluttered and flowed in the darkness like a viper winding through a deep curtain of light, spitting out a vicious letter, little by little wrapped around the Prophet's body, and with that haunting voice, he whispered in the Prophet's ear:

"I was wrong, death is not cold, it is not ruthless, it is not ugly, it is beautiful, it is passionate, it is just, it is a blessing! An extreme interpretation of freedom and order, you see, in this world, not everyone can live the way they imagined, but anyone can arrange their own way of death"

"That is the last struggle of the incompetent against the indifference to the world! But alas, death doesn't open anyone's eyes, whether you're a powerful man or a groveling farmer, whether you're an evil one thrown into the darkness, or"

Tyrion's voice paused, and he let out a short laugh:

"Or a prophet who claims to be able to predict the future!"

"It's punishing you! Do you see the deaths that Viren carried on your back, the innocent souls of Draeno who died because of you, the pained screams that echoed in the Dark Temple, the desperate cries in the city of Shattrath, the restless ones in the ruins of Tymor? ”

The High Lord patted the Prophet on the shoulder, and he lowered his voice:

"Look, they're right behind you, and they're praying for death to punish you, that's their last expectation, and death never lets them down! Your son tells you that he is atoning for your sins, and what he says is true that he died in your place, and you, you are still alive in the world, are nothing but a meaningless shell, and your heart is already dead, and the moment you indulge in faith so much that you ignore reality, your heart is dead. ”

"Of course, you can continue to pray for the Light, the all-powerful Light, maybe, it will bring back to your son?"

Tyrion's sarcasm was like a hammer hammer that struck between the shattered mind of the Prophet Vilen, causing his already bad state to slide into a worse scene, and under the impact of despair and pain that echoed in that body, a smear of oozing blood smeared on the prophet's chapped lips, and his blue face shone with an abnormal flush.

"What the hell do you want to say?"

The Prophet raised his sleeve and wiped the blood from the corners of his mouth, and he glanced at the burning cigar smoke at his hand, and the broken old man held the body of his son in one hand, and with the other hand, put to his lips the untainted indulgence of indulgence, and he took a deep breath of smoke, and between a low cough, the Prophet said in an inaudible voice:

"If you can help me, then speak"

"If you laugh at me, get out of here! I need to be quiet, my Nuri needs to be quiet, I want to be with him, I haven't been with him for too long, I don't have the mood or time to listen to you! ”

There was an undisguised disgust in that hoarse voice, and it was clear that old Viren had no intention of making a false deal with Tyrion anymore.

The Great Lord was not angry with the Prophet's bad attitude, and he was not a villain! Come on! The poor old man in front of him had just died of his son, couldn't he let him vent his frustration?

"I am Lord of the Dead, Viren, my friend."

The High Lord put his hands on his knees, who sat cross-legged, and he spoke eloquently in the darkness:

"Maybe in life, you people either believed in the Holy Light, or bowed down to evil powers, or believed in the strange things of nature, but after death you are all under my control!"

"I have come here to generously offer you a useful means, a substitute for the pain and pointlessness of self-reproach that you can do nothing! A means of reclaiming dignity in the face of death! ”

As he spoke, he took out a delicate small bottle from the pocket lining the swordsman's robe, it was made of crystal, it looked like a potion made by alchemists, and between the shaking of the big lord's fingers, the liquid in the small bottle rippled in the darkness, emitting a colorful and gentle halo, as if it was shrouded in a moon veil.

"That's what I'll offer you, my friend."

"Let me introduce you to it, this is a treasure that my lovely daughters accidentally found during an expedition, oh, it may not be called a treasure, in short, on the continent of Pandaria, that legend about the Fountain of Youth, which has been passed down for thousands of years, is said to be true immortality as long as you drink a sip of spring water, without any side effects, it is a treasure given by the gods to those who are the luckiest Hearing this, you may ask, does this thing really exist?"

A strange smile hung on Tyrion's face:

"Of course it exists! It's here! ”

"However, there is no such thing as perfection in this world, and this spring water cannot make you immortal, and mortals like to add their imaginations to such legends, and then between word of mouth, it will become more and more outrageous, but in reality, it only has one effect A very simple, but for you now, it is a very, very important effect."

"Life Switch!"

The High Lord handed Viren the crystal bottle filled with the water of the Fountain of Youth, and he said:

"Give your dead son a sip, and then you take another sip yourself, and your immortal life will flow like a spring of water into your son's dead body, and he will be resurrected and even healthier than before! He will become an immortal like you, he will be your heir, and you"

Tyrion's voice became extremely cold at this moment:

"You're going to die!"

"Bang"

The crystal bottle was snatched in Viren's hand in a rude way, and without the slightest hesitation, he was about to twist the mouth of the bottle open and pour the spring water into his son's mouth, but at this moment, Tyrion's faint voice came:

"Is it really that urgent? Is it really wise to resurrect little Nuri like the poison of tarsal bones that infects little Nuri's body and soul without treatment? Or, Viren, do you want your resurrected son to continue as a lackey of Kilgardan or Sargeras? Is it really okay for him to continue to be a destroyer of all things and do so? ”

Viren's movements froze in mid-air, and the next moment, the Great Lord's cold hand rested on Viren's shoulder, and he said:

"You and I, as fathers, always want to create a perfect and bright future for our children, I know your inner thoughts, Viren, you want your son to be the savior of the Draenei, to be the liberator of Argus, you want him to be a legend, I know, I also want my daughter to do something great"

"Remember Vihari?"

Tyrion uttered a name that made Viren clench his fists:

"Vihari didn't escape from the Legion, she experienced the "redemption" of death, of course, she is my person, I'm sure you already know this, don't be angry I want to tell you that my subordinates have perfectly handled the evil energy in Vihari's body, making her a healthy, beautiful draenei girl again, I can save her, I can also save Nuri, save your son. ”

The High Lord said this, and he did not continue, but Viren had a premonition from Tyrion's silence After a moment, the Prophet stood up tremblingly, and he looked at the High Lord sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of him, and asked in an obscure voice:

"What do you want me to do?"

"Awesome!"

Tyrion clapped his hands and said like a happy child:

"It's great that everyone can understand Darkblade's style now, and let me think about what I want you to do."

The Great Lord stretched out his fingers, rubbed his forehead, and after a moment of thought, he tilted his head, looked at the prophet in front of him, and he whispered:

"I want you to be an Avenger!"

"There is no mercy, there is no bottom line, those evil things that Kil Gardan has done to you and your family, I want you to multiply it tenfold, hundredfold, thousandfold to return it! Don't be merciful! Don't give up halfway! ”

"I want you to brutally tear down every piece of the fraudster's flesh and smash every bone of the fraudster in front of me! Let him kneel before me like an old dog with a broken spine in the midst of the most painful wails, weeping bitterly and begging me to grant him a "merciful" death."

"And I'll refuse him! His skull will be my favorite collection, and his blood-stained bones will be the starting point of your dark journey."

"Kil'Gardan's eternal despair and torment will become the "Avenger" Viren, and will be the wildest proof of the dark power of your stars! And you will be the first Death Lord to take the Knight of the Darkblade back to Argus, and you will personally plant the hunting banner of death on the very top of Argus's Burning Throne! ”

"In that cold, dead silence, declare the Darkblade's absolute control over Argus! There, that world will be the new fortress of the Darkblade, it will be the dawn of the age of the dead, and I will harvest a Death Titan to treasure! ”

Tyrion narrowed his eyes, he looked at the prophet in front of him, and he whispered:

"How? What is my answer to this request that you cannot refuse? ”