You might say they were absolute idiots for staying so calm even when the enemy was right at their doorstep… and you would be exactly right. They were idiots.
The Celestial Dragons were a strange breed. There were absolute powerhouses like the ones Kel'Thuzad had just obliterated, and then there were wastes of space like Saint Epthelm and the Mjusgard family—beings with intelligence below average, yet somehow blessed with stubborn, hard-to-kill lives.
BOOM!
Suddenly, a massive explosion shook the ground. The performance hall was located in the outer district and was enclosed, so they couldn't see outside.
Saint Epthelm frowned at the noise. "What was that? Go check it out immediately!"
Several agents rushed out of the luxurious hall and looked outside… only to freeze in shock.
Tirion D. Grimm.
He was walking casually toward them. The explosion must have been him simply kicking the door down. He was holding the Phylactery and muttering to himself.
"Old K, you done cleaning up?" Grimm stretched lazily.
"Yes, my honored Master," Kel'Thuzad's respectful voice echoed from within.
"Good job. Strong work. Now I have a task for you," Grimm ordered. "Find an island called Naxxadar and begin construction of Naxxramas. There is a little Lich already waiting for you there."
"As you wish, my Master! It is exactly what I intended to do!"
Kel'Thuzad drifted out from the Phylactery, right into the view of the agents.
What was that? A skeleton? A demon? A corpse…?
Regardless of what it was, the aura of death it exuded was suffocating. The agent spun around and screamed back into the hall, "My Lord! Danger! Let me escort you out of here NOW!"
"Huh?"
Only then did a flicker of fear enter Saint Epthelm's mind. He hurried outside… and found himself staring directly into the glowing eyes of the Lich.
THUD!
His legs gave way instantly. He fell flat on his butt, paralyzed by terror.
"Hehe, Old K… you really scared the kid there," Grimm said helplessly.
"Mere vermin. Would you like your most loyal servant to eliminate him?" Kel'Thuzad exhaled a cloud of frost, making Epthelm scramble backward on the floor like a crab.
"Look at you, looking all scary. Never mind. Go do your job. I'll handle things here." Grimm waved his hand.
"As you command, Master." Kel'Thuzad shot upward into the sky and vanished.
"DO NOT LET THEM ENTER THE PALACE!" Epthelm screamed, scrambling behind the agents.
The agents guarding Mary Geoise were elite forces. While not invincible, they were highly trained. Seeing Grimm walking toward the palace as if taking a stroll, they immediately moved to intercept. A few stayed to protect the Saint, while others tried to alert the Five Elders.
"Yes… this is how a Celestial Dragon should act. Pathetic."
Grimm's figure blurred and disappeared. When he reappeared, he was standing directly behind Saint Epthelm. The Celestial Dragon shrieked, and the agents turned in panic.
"Grimm! Y-You dare do anything?!"
"We are descendants of the Gods!"
"W-What did you do with the supreme warriors sent by the Five Elders?!" The agent holding the Den Den Mushi forgot what he was doing.
"Y-You… what do you want?!" Epthelm trembled. Grimm was now inches from his face.
"Descendants of Gods? Oh really?" Grimm smiled.
Hearing those words, the Celestial Dragon somehow found courage. He pulled a pistol from his waist. "That's right! You dare defy the Gods?! DIE!"
Truly an idiot.
Grimm's hand shot out, grabbing the man by the throat. A simple squeeze.
Instantly, Saint Epthelm was "Purified."
At the same moment, Grimm unleashed a Holy Storm. A wave of sacred energy obliterated every agent in the vicinity instantly. The shockwave was so powerful it brought down the surrounding walls and columns.
Mary Geoise was now in total chaos.
---
Next Door.
"F-Father! Father!"
Saint Garbatia crawled out from the rubble, blood streaming down his head. He looked around. The once-grand hall was destroyed, littered with the bodies of Government agents.
After a while, he found his father, Saint Mjusgard… or what was left of him.
The upper half of his body was completely crushed under a massive slab of stone. Blood pooled everywhere. He was undeniably, thoroughly dead.
"F-FAATHEERRR!!"
Garbatia stumbled back in horror, only to bump into another corpse—another Celestial Dragon. He screamed hysterically, "Someone! Anyone! Save Young Master!!!"
But no one answered. The entire holy land was in a state of panic and slaughter.
The only reason Garbatia was alive was pure luck. A rock had scraped right past his head, missing him by an inch.
Was this what they meant by "ill weeds bloom forever"?
Thump… thump… thump…
Footsteps approached slowly through the dust. Garbatia turned, blurry-eyed and crying, and shouted, "Hey! You! Come help Young Master right now!"
As the figure emerged from the smoke, Garbatia's blood-smeared face froze. His arrogant, annoying tone vanished instantly, replaced by desperate fawning.
"S-Saint Epthelm! My friend! Please, help me get out of here! I am wounded!"
His mannerisms changed completely. No more "Young Master this, Young Master that." He was groveling. Since they were both Celestial Dragons, their status was equal, and right now, Garbatia was begging for help.
Saint Epthelm looked at the bleeding, pig-like creature sniveling in fear.
Right, his name is Garbatia. Lucky to survive this, isn't he?
Killing him would be as easy as breathing, but why bother? Keeping him alive might prove useful later.
With that thought, "Epthelm" smiled gently. "Of course. But don't forget you owe me a favor, Saint Garbatia."
"Of course! Anything!" Garbatia nodded frantically like a woodpecker.
"Epthelm" placed a hand on him, lifting him up, and together they walked deeper into the undamaged parts of the palace.
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