Chapter 18: The Great Hero's Entrance |
How does a great hero make their entrance?
Allen had wanted to use his signature move, Grease, but considering the number of melee fighters on his side, casting Grease now might hinder his allies more than it would hinder the enemy.
Forget it.
In that moment of hesitation, just as the paladin was about to be overwhelmed, Wen Lei's fingers released the bowstring.
The sharp arrow tore through the air with a piercing whistle, aimed directly at Lupos's head.
Yet, the giant wolf seemed to have eyes on the back of its head, leaping high into the air at the very moment the arrow was about to strike.
Whoosh!
The arrow grazed its belly and thudded into a tree trunk behind it, the fletching vibrating with a hum.
But this leap landed it right into another trap.
Varian had already predicted its landing point. His greatsword raised high, he charged forward like an arrow shot from a bow. The blade carved a cold arc through the dim forest, aiming straight for Lupos's neck.
However, something unexpected happened.
A dense shadow suddenly surged around Lupos's body, the blackness writhing and churning like a living thing. The next second, its form vanished into thin air, transforming into a mass of distorted shadow.
Varian's sword sliced through empty air, and a chill shot up his spine.
The shadow coalesced behind him.
Claws wrapped in shadowy energy slashed down viciously!
No time to dodge.
Boom—!!
A tremendous crash echoed, startling birds from the trees.
The paladin had rushed in front of Varian. His body was enveloped in a golden radiance—Divine Shield!
The light, like an inverted golden bell, protected both men within.
Immediately, the paladin pressed forward instead of retreating, ramming into Lupos head-on while still under the Divine Shield.
Thud!
The giant wolf's massive body was sent flying backward, tumbling twice on the ground before scrambling awkwardly to its feet.
Allen's heart nearly leapt out of his throat.
Varian Wrynn—the King of Stormwind, the future Lion of the Alliance—had almost died right before his eyes.
If his intervention caused a change in the timeline and Varian died right here, wouldn't the Bronze Dragonflight tear him to shreds and toss the pieces into a time rift?
He took a deep breath, his gaze locking onto the giant wolf that was getting back up.
I choose you!
Tasha's Hideous Laughter!
Also one of the only two offensive spells Allen currently mastered.
Allen raised his right hand, fingers spread, aiming at Lupos. Obscure syllables flowed from his lips.
An invisible ripple spread from his palm, instantly bridging the distance between him and Lupos.
Tasha's Hideous Laughter had a prerequisite: it could only be cast on targets with an Intelligence higher than 4.
If this wolf was as dumb as a rock, the spell would fail.
Allen prayed frantically in his heart: Please, be a little smarter! Even just a tiny bit smarter!
Lupos had just steadied itself, its crimson eyes locking onto the group, a low growl rumbling in its throat. It arched its back, preparing to launch a fatal strike.
Then.
It froze.
Those crimson eyes blinked, then blinked again.
It looked down at its own paws, as if discovering for the first time that these things were attached to its body.
[Saving Throw: Failed]
Lupos laughed.
A giant wolf with glowing red eyes, right there in the forest clearing, rolled on the ground laughing.
It lay on its back, its massive body wriggling and squirming, an eerie "giggling" sound coming from its throat.
Everyone was dumbfounded.
What the hell... kind of spell is this?
"What are you all standing around for?" Allen's roar shattered the silence. "Kill it!"
Allen didn't need to remind them. Wen Lei had already loosed a deadly arrow. The bowstring twanged, and the arrow shot forth, aimed straight for Lupos's chest.
At the same moment, Varian moved.
He pushed off with his legs, leaping into the air like a panther. His greatsword raised high over his head, his body traced a graceful arc through the air, landing right above Lupos.
Thud—!
The arrow plunged accurately into Lupos's heart, the shaft still vibrating.
Immediately after, the sword light descended.
Varian's greatsword, carrying the full weight and momentum of his body, slammed down onto Lupos's neck.
Squelch—
Blood gushed forth, splattering all over Varian. The massive wolf head was severed, thudding onto the grass and rolling away. The crimson eyes remained squinted in the midst of its hysterical laughter, as if it was still savoring something hilarious even in death.
Lupos didn't even have time to howl in agony.
Its massive body twitched twice, then collapsed with a heavy thud.
Varian landed, steadying himself. He was drenched in blood, but his eyes shone with an intense light, a satisfied smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
He casually flicked the blood droplets from his sword, picked up the still-dripping wolf head, and strode towards Allen.
"My god!" His voice was full of excitement. "Allen, what kind of spell was that? That was amazing!"
Allen watched the ferocious wolf head getting closer, his brow furrowed, subconsciously taking two steps back.
"Hey, hey, hey! Don't bring that thing over here!"
Varian paid no mind, shaking the wolf head in his hand, sending droplets of blood flying. "What are you afraid of? This is a gold coin!"
Hearing Varian say that, the wolf head instantly looked much more appealing in Allen's eyes.
"This is my exclusive, secret spell," he said with a serious face. "I'm afraid I cannot disclose it."
Varian nodded, a look of understanding on his face. "As expected of the Prestor family."
Wen Lei also put away her longbow, pulled out a dagger, and naturally crouched down to start skinning Lupos's hide. She shot a thoughtful glance at Allen as she worked.
A spell that could make an enemy roll on the ground laughing stupidly, completely incapacitated... was indeed quite powerful.
Stella rummaged in her backpack and pulled out a small brass horn, inlaid with several buttons.
She pressed one of the buttons.
"Doot doot doot doot—doot—doot doot doot doot—doot—"
The little horn automatically played a rousing victory march.
Stella held the horn aloft, chest puffed out, as if providing a musical accompaniment for her saviors.
The paladin, slumped on the ground, realized his undignified state and struggled to his feet.
His body had clearly reached its limit, but he still tried to straighten his back as he walked over to the group.
"Thank you all very much for saving me." His voice was hoarse but sincere. "If not for you, I'm afraid I would have met my end here today."
He solemnly removed his helmet, revealing a young, weary yet resolute face.
"My name is Morgan Ladimore," he said. "I am a paladin of the Holy Light. I will never forget your life-saving grace. If there is anything I can do to help, please do not hesitate to ask."
Allen was stunned.
Morgan Ladimore.
Another tragic soul.
In life, he was a great and noble paladin, fighting for countless innocent, poor, and suffering people.
He had followed the Lightbringer Uther on campaigns, enduring countless hardships and torments, witnessing the desperate tragedy of the Kingdom of Lordaeron.
But he always had a spiritual pillar: his wife and children, far away in Darkshire.
After the war ended, he dragged his exhausted body back to his hometown, only to be greeted by the graves of his wife and daughter.
Extreme self-blame, rage, and sorrow consumed his sanity. He mistakenly killed the gravedigger, betraying the paladin's faith, and ultimately took his own life in despair.
But death did not grant him peace. His powerful obsession transformed him into an unrelenting Undead—Mor'Ladim, wandering the Raven Hill Cemetery, slaughtering all living things.
Mor'Ladim was an elite Undead mob, exceptionally fierce. In his previous life, during hardcore mode, Allen had died at his hands more than once.
After players killed him, they would learn from a quest that one of Mor'Ladim's daughters had actually survived.
That daughter would entrust the player to bring her ring to her father's grave in mourning.
When the player brought the ring to Morgan Ladimore's grave, his spirit would appear.
Learning that his daughter still lived finally brought solace to his tormented soul.
He gifted the player his own sword—Archeus.
It was a green two-handed sword, its stats not outstanding, but Allen had kept it in his game bank, never discarding it even until he quit the game.
Allen looked at the weary man before him, who still maintained the dignity of a paladin.
His eyes still held a light. His faith had not yet crumbled. His wife and daughter were still alive.
Now that he was here, would Morgan's fate... change?
"Morgan Ladimore," Allen snapped back to reality, offering a smile. "I am Allen Prestor. These are my friends—Mathias, Wen Lei, and Stella."
Stella poked her blue-haired head out from behind Allen and waved vigorously.
"We are heading to Darkshire," Allen said.
Morgan nodded slowly, a glimmer of light flashing in his eyes. "Then please allow me to guide you there."
He paused, then added, "Darkshire has been under martial law lately...
Because the Sons of Lothar happen to be stationed near Darkshire."