D101 Chapter 202

Many fortresses had separated Hearthglen from the main road. To reach this fortified city, one would be boxed in on both sides by mountains, the only way to reach it was to traverse a snake-like valley. 

For over a month, the forces of Man had been slowly grinded back by the Scourge and the Dreadlords. 

With the aid of food, weapons, and armor given by Helios, and the Elves of Quel'Thalas, this certain route had managed to hold out longer than anyone had  imagined possible. 

Assuming leadership over Garithos, Alexandros Mograine had clashed again and again with the Dreadlords, and he alone inspired the troops and terrified peasants that maybe, just maybe there might be some glimmer of hope. 

That was until the latest push…

Every fortress, town, hamlet, and hunters lodge in between the main road and the gates of Hearthglen were burnt out husks, and lay in ruins. 

The structures had been used as stop gap defenses, to buy time for promised relief, yet relief never came. 

On this dark, dreadful night, tens of thousands of weary, sleep deprived men were forced into nonstop, unceasing combat. 

The Dreadlords, in their malevolence, had capitalized on the Human need for sleep, and attacked them night and day. 

There wasn't a singular moment in which the Humans weren't on the backfoot. 

The only solace to this punishment, was the constant supply of ammunition, and the occasional Mana Stone keeping the mages afloat. 

Within the walls of Hearthglen, everyone worked towards their shared survival. Most people were of peasant stock, and had labored during most of their lives. 

Women and young boys mined rocks and stone in the back mountains, and constantly carried them to the front lines. These objects were used to constantly reinforce torn down sections of wall, and build new, makeshift structures as fall back points. 

Soldiers slept in shifts, never once leaving their armor for fear of being called to muster. Their stench and unshaven bodies created a scene of unprofessionalism, yet no one had time to care about such civilities. 

Weary priests made the rounds, blessing troops, exorcising disease, and knitting wounds. 

Rogues-what few there were-prowled the streets in search of rats, insects, and other carriers of disease. It had become noticed early on that the Demons had a penchant for such creatures, and fear of plague saw these Rogues acting with extreme caution. 

Meanwhile, Helios and the Elves acted as the Elite relief unit. Mostly composed of rangers, with a priest and a mage, they would be targeted and destroyed if they held any one section of the wall, so they roamed the battlefield. 

Raining accurate Arcane Arrows upon the enemy with an unlimited amount of Mana and vigor, the Elves hadn't slept all week since the Sunwell had been restored. Theres was a damned existence, yet the goodwill they had generated thanks to their actions was significant. 

On this cloudy, rainy night, Helios had been shooting Arcane Arrow after Arcane Arrow like usual. He had grown numb to the number of Undead he had killed, and moved on instinct by this point. 

He had made promises of reinforcements, yet none had arrived. 

In his opinion, Hearthglen was lost. It was only a matter of time. 

As he had this cynical thought, he felt the ground shake, and prepared to jump. 

The Undead Commanders had grown clever as of late, and had been digging tunnels. A tower had collapsed the other day, and it was not a pretty sight. They had barely fought the enemy back that day, and many men had been lost due to the collapse.

A second later, the rumbling stopled, and Helios saw something that confirmed his worst fears. 

“Breach, breach! There's been a breach at the central gatehouse! Rally! Rally sons and daughters of Lordaeron!” Mograine cried out. 

Piercing another dozen foes in the skull, Helios moved to support them, but then he saw something that turned his blood to ice. 

Swooping down in all his glory was one of the Legendary Heroes that led the Undead, it was a Dreadlord. 

Except…his aura! 

He had only felt something like this once before, when he was battling the Amani, and they summoned that, that-!

“Demigod.” Helios muttered in shocked horror. 

“Shall we retreat to the Rune Stone, and open a portal?” A Ranger asked. 

“He is the Ashbringer. He defeated the Dreadlord before, he can again, have hope!” Another Ranger spoke up. 

Helios shook his head, and felt himself trembling. 

Mograine was a Legendary Hero, but this was too much, even for him. 

“Go now, we must go before it is too late!” Helios announced, yet as he said this, a blood red light exploded from the Dreadlord's position, and covered the entire city. 

“Detheroc, son of Molag'Bal sends his regards, mortals. Your souls belong to me!” Detheroc announced. 

The red aura then began to pulse like a heart, and Helios felt his own heart start to match the rhythm of the domain. 

Faster and faster the red aura flickered, faster and faster, Helios felt his heart beat. 

Gripping at his chest, Helios fell to his knees, and saw that everyone else had done so as well. 

Everyone by Mograine. 

“Submit, Ashbringer. Agree to be my eternal servant, and these mortals shall be spared my wrath.” Detheroc boomed. 

“So long as man draws breath, he shall never follow in the wake of a Demon!” Mograine denounced Detheroc, and cleaved downward at him with his sword. 

“So be it.” Detheroc turned into a puddle of blood just as Mograine was about to slice into him, dodging the swipe of his sword. 

“Judgement!” Mograine called out, and brought a golden hammer of Light onto the blood that was flowing towards him. 

“Gaagh!” The Dreadlord's annoyed hissed resounded from the pool of blood. 

Concepts of decay and acidity radiated from this blood. Wherever a loose drip fell to the ground, the dirt would shriek, hiss, and blacken as if it were diseased. 

However, this sanguine stream didn't halt or yield after taking the hanmer strike of Judgement, and moved to wrap itself around Mograine like a smothering blanket. 

An aura of Light surrounded Mograine, burning and sizzling this putrid attack, just barely keeping it from touching his flesh. 

“Hnnnaagh!” Mograine yelled his fury, and tried wrestling the blood away. 

“If you will not serve me in life, then you shall serve me in death!” Detheroc formed his body behind Mograine, then shoved a massive clawed clean through his back. 

Mograine's mouth moved, but no words came out. 

The people of Hearthglen, all those still conscious, and paying attention to the battle, all lost hope in that instant. 

“Enjoy these last few breaths of clean air, mortals. For your souls await the eternal agony of Coldharbor!” Detheroc gloated. 

‘Damn you Vandercross. I hated your father, and placed my trust in you…it's over.’ Helios thought as his vision began to darken. 

As he had this thought, Helios felt the ground SHAKE. 

An earthquake the likes of which he had never experienced, followed by a bright flash forced him to open his eyes. 

200 magnificently large, white Mana Stones nearly the size of a house slammed into the perimeter of the city, and stood erect like ancient marble statues. 

A moment later, the Dreadlord's crimson red domain then began to snap around like a clothesline flying free in the wind. The stones began to take on a red hue, and the air started to clear. 

“What is the meaning of this?! Show yourself!” Detheroc looked all around, but saw nothing. 

Helios, now somewhat recovered, was also glancing everywhere, wondering where he was. 

Blinking, he almost missed it. 

The 200 Mana Stones began to glow, and all at once, they took the energy that they had absorbed from Detheroc's domain, and channeled it in a beam from a 360 degree angle of direction. 

“Preposterous!” Detheroc raged as he took to the sky to escape. 

Flying in a figure eight, the Dreadlord managed to avoid most of the beams, but he couldn't evade them all. 

His wings began to scorch, and he began to ascend upward even faster, disregarding dodging so that he could exceed the beams’ effective range. 

What Helios saw next he would never forget for the rest of his life. 

“Careful Icarus, don't fly too close to the sun.” An otherworldly voice spoke in warning. 

‘Is that-!’ 

Helios's suspicion was confirmed a second later as Varrus emerged from invisibility, and was on a floating carpet. 

Both of his hands were held forward, and a copper-brown aura was enveloping the Dreadlord. 

“Release me, mortal!” Detheroc raged as he struggled to move. 

“Kill him.” Varrus coldly intoned, not even bothering to banter as he was wont to do. 

Emerging from his side, Syra came out swinging. 

The Dreadlord smirked, then turned himself into a puddle of blood. 

Syra, ever the battle maniac, began to cut into the puddle of blood with gusto. Her Holy Void empowered blade ate away at him entirely, and thanks to Varrus locking him in place, Detheroc couldn't move! 

“Stop! I command you!” Detheroc ordered authoritatively. 

“Go slower, make him suffer.” Varrus countered. 

Syra slightly inclined her head, and turned her swift slices into the kind of agony one would experience when cutting themselves upon a cheese grater. 

By shifting the wavelength of her aura along her blade, she cut into him with the flat of her sword. 

Detheroc, experiencing this new level of pain, began to say all kinds of things with the hopes of gaining some mercy. 

“My brother, he plans to infiltrate your base, if you are fast enough, you can stop him! Mercy, please!” Detheroc said, materializing himself, and begged. 

“There is no mercy.” 

After half an hour of this torture, when the blood stream was now not much larger than a blood puddle, Varrus gave Syra the go ahead nod. 

“Finish him.” Varrus said, and prepared a localized Warcraft Soul Gem. 

This time, he fully intended on destroying the soul of his enemy, and denying him the safety of returning to his home plane, only to effectively respawn some time later. Skyrim Soul Gems only took the essence of the dead, then kicked the soul off to wherever it went. But Warcraft Soul Gems were just as foul as they sounded. And for a group of brothers like the Dreadlord, there was no one-in Varrus's opinion-more fitting of this punishment. 

“My older brother, Balnazzar, he plans to-gah!” Detheroc gasped, then had his entire essence disappear once Syra stabbed him through the chest. 

No one murdered his family. 

No one.