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46. ??Nouri Velen. In my father's house

"Velan is dead"

Tyrion stood on the platform of the Black Temple, calmly watching the Draenei Nuri Velen kneeling there, sobbing. There was no mockery or expectation in his ice-blue eyes. He seemed to be doing business.

Same, said in a cold voice:

"The fate of the prophet has ended. An era has passed away. You and I are his last witnesses. Your father has won a free future for you. You should take advantage of it."

"Leave here, child. You have one night to pack your bags. At dawn tomorrow, you will return to the world of the living, and your father will be reborn as an avenger."

"Get away!"

The angry young man opened the hand that the great lord extended towards the prophet. He clenched his fist and stood in front of the prophet's remains, like a fearless fighter, protecting his most important treasure.

"I won't let you touch my father!"

Nuri's eyes were shining with flames. The evil energy in this young man's body was purified, but as the price of overcoming death, he should not be able to accept any more power. However, under the pull of the leader's seal floating on his forehead, a faint touch of

The golden flame ignited in his chest. Under the slightly surprised gaze of the great lord, the golden spark spread like wildfire. In just a few seconds, it led the power of the holy light back to Nuri.

in the body.

The hot golden wings flapped behind the Draenei. On his body, those golden lines were like the strongest armor of faith. The body of the protector Nuri, the terrifying bloodline from the prophet, made this man reborn.

The young man received the blessing of the Holy Light, giving him the power to protect himself in this cold place of death.

But this power is still far from that of a prophet.

"Bang"

Just when Nuri was about to rush forward and fight with the great lord, Tyrion swung his fingers outward, and the dark power was like a whistling whip, easily shattering the holy light wrapped around Nuri's body.

, the floating flames were like sparks and feathers flying in the air, illuminating the cold platform very brilliantly.

Unfortunately, the overconfident young man was beaten and rolled out in embarrassment, and finally hit the cold pillar of the platform. A whip mark appeared on his face. When he raised his head, he saw his own

My father's remains were frozen with ice by the evil lord, and then placed in the sarcophagus where he lay.

he lost his second time

"No! No!!"

Nuri moved his shoulders and got up again, but at the moment he rushed towards the big lord, the death lord Yrel suddenly appeared in the darkness and punched Nuri in the back of the head. She gathered her strength, but

This blow still knocked the young man unconscious from the pain.

"Bang"

The Draenei hit the front of Yrel's boots. The Death Lord raised her head and looked at the Great Lord who was slowly closing the lid of the sarcophagus. She asked in a low voice:

"How long does it take to be a prophet?"

"A long time, Yrel!"

The high lord knew what his subordinate wanted to ask, and he answered while sending the sarcophagus into the crack in the world of death:

"It takes time for a soul like Velen, who is loved to the extreme by the Holy Light, to fall completely into death. He willingly accepted this fate. That powerful soul will no longer resist, which will shorten this time a lot, but we still

The need for patience is like a jar of old wine brewing death. It can only be fragrant after being tempered by time."

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

Yirel brushed her white hair and showed a smile. She handed the thing in her hand to the great lord and said:

"The prophet gave me this before accepting my fate, and I thought maybe you would need it."

Tyrion turned back and looked at the Soul Song in Yrel's hand. He looked at the crystal. After a moment, he shook his head:

"The inheritance Velen gave you belongs to you, little Yrel. You can decide how to use it. Maybe you can go to Magni and ask him to use this crystal to make a hand-fitting weapon for you.

Weapons, you can also give them to other people who need them, but for me, I don’t need them anymore.”

The great lord smiled:

"I'm not in the habit of snatching trophies from my subordinates."

He turned around and walked into the crack in the world of death. The moment the great lord disappeared, Yrel kicked Nuri under her feet, and she shouted loudly:

"So, boss, what should we do with this guy?"

"Keep him here for one night, then throw him out early tomorrow morning! Let him fend for himself."

In the end, Yrel did not throw Nuri out of the Black Temple. She commanded a death knight to send Nuri to a room on the lower floor, and then went to the Dark Blade Intelligence Agency's database to reinstall Nuri.

The moment he woke up, he happened to see a tall Draenei death knight wearing black armor, holding a file box, pushing open the door and walking into his room.

Feeling the cold aura coming from Yrel, which was the same as the great lord, Nuri quickly grabbed the copper wine glass on the table as a weapon, and looked at her warily. Although the influence of the evil energy on him had dissipated,

But with the combat skills he learned as a general of the Burning Legion and the combat experience accumulated in nearly ten thousand years of war, the true combat effectiveness of Nuri, the son of Velen, cannot be underestimated.

"Bang"

A box full of documents was piled on the table by Yrel. The girl crossed her arms and looked down at Nuri. She said calmly:

"That thing can't protect you in this place! Don't worry, Prophet Velen sacrificed himself to save you. As long as you don't mess around, you will not be in 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 any hostility from Yrel. He breathed a sigh of relief and put down the copper wine glass in his hand.

On the side, he looked at the box full of documents on the table and asked:

"What's this?"

"This is the record of all the deeds of Prophet Velen that we can find. Most of them are some trivial matters and important deeds in the 200 years since the Draenei entered the world of Draenor until now."

Yrel picked up a document marked with the Dark Blade Intelligence Agency's logo on the surface. She threw it to Nuri and said:

"Due to the relationship between you and the prophet, I think you need this. In fact, you have never known much about your father. You may not know as much about him as I do. Before leaving here, I hope

In your mind, the image of Viren's father can be clearer. This is probably the last thing I can do for him."

Nuri didn't say anything. He sat by the bed, opened the file, and looked at the formulaic, cold descriptions. After a few minutes, he raised his head, with a trace of doubt shining in his eyes:

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

"Stop imagining things!"

Yrel flicked his tail:

"As far as I know, the Prophet has always been clean after leaving Argus and has never had any scandals with any women. Obviously, this is because you and your mother are too important in his heart. But we have never listened to the Prophet

He mentioned things about you and your mother, probably because he felt that you had already perished in the disaster of Argus, so he regarded it as the most painful torture in his life."

"Did you know? Your appearance, no matter how you appear, is a good thing for the prophet. At least before he died, he was not alone like in the past."

A trace of sadness flashed in Lord Death's eyes:

"Perhaps he died happily and was very satisfied. He was happier when he welcomed death than when he was alive."

"Yeah?"

Nuri savored these slightly sad words. He lowered his head and flipped through the documents in his hands. In the descriptions of those words, a vague image of a prophet slowly appeared in his mind, as if it was filling in his childhood thoughts.

Just like my father's fantasy.

"You can go."

Nuri whispered:

"I'd like to be alone for a while, thank you."

"Well, hurry up."

Yirel walked towards the door. She looked back at Nuri, looking at the face that was very similar to the prophet, and the dim and broken seal of leadership floating on her forehead. She whispered:

"When the sun rises tomorrow, you will leave here. This is also the meaning of the prophet. He does not want you to be too deeply involved with us dead. To the world of the living, we are a group of hateful heretics."

"Oh, by the way, there's this too!"

Yrel took out the purple Soul Song Crystal from his pocket, shook it in his hand, and threw it to Nuri:

"This is the beloved thing that the prophet has carried with him for tens of thousands of years. I think you are more qualified to hold it than me. Although you are not a prophet, in your hands, it can only be used as a decoration and souvenir, but you should keep it well.

It."

"Bang"

As Yirel left and the door closed, tears fell silently from Nuri's eyes at this moment. Although as an adult, such a tearful gesture was too girly, but considering the child's experience

Don’t be so harsh on him because of the heavy past and the recent separation between life and death.

In the room of the Dark Temple, illuminated by the dim crystal lamp, Nuri flipped through pages of records about his father over the past 200 years, which were outlined from the dictation of the Draenei Death Knight.

The image of the prophet.

An image of wisdom, kindness, sometimes a little hesitation, and some blind obedience to faith became fuller in his heart, and there were also stories about the things the Draenei did in Azeroth, the prophets, and Draenor.

Compared with the old world, the prophets in the new world seem to have become much more determined, and even their behavior has become much clearer.

He is making progress, he has learned the lessons of the past, and he is beginning to try to lead his people in a more positive manner.

That was his father, a prophet, a fugitive, a leader, a qualified father, and a hero to his sons.

Early the next morning, the moment the sun jumped above the horizon, Nuri stood in front of the teleportation platform of the Dark Temple with a small bundle on his back. The only person who came to see him off was Yrel.

The young man seemed very silent. He didn't say much. The moment the teleportation platform opened, Nuri turned around and put the Soul Song Crystal back into Yrel's hand. He looked at the Death Lord in front of him,

He said:

"This is what my father left for you, Yrel. I am not qualified to hold it."

After speaking, the young man stretched his body. He looked at the slightly cold and dim dark temple in front of him and whispered:

"Thank you for the documents you brought. They made me no longer confused. They made me understand the firm goal hidden in my father's heart. That will also become my goal. I don't have nothing. He left me the best life."

, when I look back, I can see him, he is standing behind me, smiling at me so kindly, encouraging me to move forward."

"That is hope. It is an emotion I have never had in the past ten thousand years of darkness. Holding hope is enough to make me no longer confused. This is enough! Thank you, Yrel, you are a kind person

The uh, undead."

Yirel didn't say anything. She played with the purple Soul Song crystal in her hand. She looked at Nuri who entered the teleportation platform and 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 teleportation platform. He smiled at Yrel, and a hearty smile appeared on his face that was quite similar to Velen:

“very simple”

"I want to inherit my father's legacy, take my father's people with me, and take my people with me."

"go home!"

"Buzz"

The teleportation light shone at this moment. Under Yrel's slightly surprised gaze, Nuri's figure disappeared from the teleportation platform of the Dark Temple. He would be sent to the teleportation hall of New Stormwind City, and then he would

Go into your own life.

"Take the draenei home?"

Yirel tossed the purple Soul Song crystal up and down, and she shook her head. It was really a lofty ideal.

But then, the Death Lord frowned again and looked at the purple crystal in her hand. She had a headache. She couldn't give this thing away. It seemed that she really had to hold it.

And according to the opinion of the great lord, maybe she should use this magical crystal to make a weapon for herself?

"Then, what should it be called?"

Yrel scratched her horns. On the way to the Molten Core Forge, she had been thinking about what name her weapon should have. This crystal was given to her by the prophet, who is hope.

She can use this crystal properly to help Azeroth survive the disasters caused by demons, and to unleash her anger on those damn demons.

Well, I heard that the prophet's favorite thing during his lifetime was the sacred rosary carved from azure crystal.

All right!

"Then call it"

"Blue Fury!"


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