How should a great hero make his entrance?
Allen had originally planned to use his signature spell, Grease, but considering how many melee fighters were on his side, casting it now might end up hindering his own team more than the enemy.
Forget it.
In that brief moment of hesitation, just as the paladin was about to give out, Wren's fingers released the bowstring.
The arrow tore through the air with a sharp whistling sound, shooting straight toward Lupos's head.
However, the giant wolf seemed to have eyes on its back. At the very instant the arrow was about to strike, it leapt high into the air.
Whoosh!
The arrow grazed its belly and embedded itself into a tree trunk behind it, the fletching buzzing as it vibrated.
But that leap dropped it straight into another trap.
"Beast! Die!"
Varian had already predicted its landing point. His greatsword was raised high as he charged forward like an arrow loosed from a bow. In the dim forest, the blade carved a cold arc through the air, aimed directly at Lupos's neck.
And then, something unexpected happened.
Dark shadows suddenly surged around Lupos. The blackness writhed and churned like a living thing. In the next second, its figure vanished, transforming into a twisted mass of shadow.
Varian's strike hit nothing but air, a chill running down his spine.
The shadow condensed behind him.
Claws wrapped in shadow energy slashed down viciously!
There was no time to dodge.
Boom—!!
A deafening crash echoed through the forest, startling birds into flight.
The paladin had rushed in front of Varian, his body enveloped in golden light—Divine Shield!
The radiance formed an inverted golden dome, shielding both of them within.
Then, instead of retreating, the paladin charged forward, ramming straight into Lupos while still under the shield's protection.
Bang!
The massive wolf was sent flying, tumbling across the ground before scrambling back to its feet in a sorry state.
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 in front of him.
If his interference caused the timeline to shift and Varian fell here, those Bronze Dragons would probably tear him to pieces and toss him into a time rift.
Taking a deep breath, he locked his gaze onto the giant wolf as it struggled to stand.
You're the one.
Tasha's Hideous Laughter!
One of the only two offensive spells Allen currently possessed.
He raised his right hand, fingers spread, aiming at Lupos as obscure syllables flowed from his lips.
An invisible ripple spread from his palm, instantly crossing the distance between them.
Tasha's Hideous Laughter had a requirement—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, just be a little smarter! Even just a little!
Lupos had just steadied itself. Its crimson eyes locked onto the group as a low growl rumbled in its throat. It crouched, preparing to launch a deadly attack.
And then—
It froze.
Its blood-red eyes blinked. Then blinked again.
It lowered its head and stared at its own claws, as if noticing for the first time that they were attached to its body.
[Saving Throw: Failed]
Lupos laughed.
A giant wolf with glowing red eyes rolled around on the forest floor, laughing uncontrollably.
It lay on its back, four legs in the air, its massive body writhing as strange "he-he" sounds came from its throat.
Everyone stared, dumbfounded.
What the hell… was that spell?
"Why are you all just standing there?" Allen's shout shattered the silence. "Hit it!"
Even without his reminder, Wren had already loosed another deadly arrow, the bowstring vibrating as it shot straight toward Lupos's chest.
At the same time, Varian moved.
His legs pushed off the ground, and he leapt like a hunting leopard. His greatsword was raised high above his head as his body traced a graceful arc through the air, landing directly above Lupos.
Thud—!
The arrow pierced straight into Lupos's heart, the shaft still trembling.
Then, the sword fell.
Varian's greatsword, carrying the full force of his weight and momentum, cleaved brutally into Lupos's neck.
Slash—
Blood erupted, splattering all over Varian. The enormous wolf's head was severed in an instant, rolling across the grass. Its crimson eyes were still narrowed in laughter, as if it were savoring something amusing even in death.
Lupos didn't even have time to howl.
Its massive body twitched twice, then collapsed with a heavy thud.
Varian landed steadily. He was drenched in blood, but his eyes shone brilliantly, and a satisfied grin curled at his lips.
He casually flicked the blood from his blade, then picked up the still-dripping wolf's head and strode toward Allen.
"My god!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Allen, what kind of spell was that? That was incredible!"
Allen frowned as the gruesome head got closer, instinctively stepping back.
"Hey, hey, don't bring that thing over here!"
Varian didn't mind at all, shaking the wolf's head in his hand, sending droplets of blood flying. "What are you afraid of? This thing's worth a gold coin!"
At those words, the wolf's head suddenly looked much more pleasant to Allen.
"This is my family's secret technique," he said solemnly. "I'm afraid I can't disclose it."
Varian nodded, looking as if he understood. "As expected of the Prestor family."
Wren also lowered her bow, pulled out a dagger, and naturally crouched down to start skinning Lupos. At the same time, she cast a thoughtful glance at Allen.
A spell that could make an enemy roll on the ground laughing, completely losing the ability to fight… it was indeed quite powerful.
Stella pulled out a small brass horn from her backpack, embedded with several buttons.
She pressed one of them.
"Doo-doo-doo-doo—doo—doo-doo-doo-doo—doo—"
The horn automatically played a rousing victory march.
Holding the horn high, Stella stood tall and proud, as if accompanying her benefactor.
The paladin, who had been slumped on the ground, realized his loss of composure and struggled to stand.
His body was clearly at its limit, yet he still straightened his back and walked over to them.
"Thank you all for your help," he said hoarsely, but with sincerity. "If not for you, I would likely have perished here today."
He solemnly removed his helmet, revealing a young face marked by fatigue yet still resolute.
"My name is Morgan Ladimore," he said. "I am a paladin of the Church of the Holy Light. I will never forget your lifesaving grace. If there is anything I can do to repay you, please don't hesitate to ask."
Allen froze.
Morgan Ladimore.
Another tragic figure.
In life, he had been a great and noble paladin, fighting for the innocent, the poor, and those who suffered.
He had once followed Uther the Lightbringer into countless battles, enduring endless hardship and witnessing the despair of the Kingdom of Lordaeron.
Yet he always had one pillar of support—the wife and children waiting for him in Darkshire.
After the war, he returned home exhausted… only to be greeted by the graves of his wife and daughter.
Overwhelmed by guilt, anger, and grief, he lost his sanity. He killed the gravedigger, betrayed his faith as a paladin, and ultimately took his own life in despair.
But death did not grant him peace. His powerful obsession turned him into an undead spirit—Mor'Ladim—wandering Raven Hill, slaughtering all living beings.
Mor'Ladim was an elite undead monster, extremely ferocious. In his previous life, Allen had died to him more than once in hardcore mode.
After players killed him, they would learn through a quest that one of his daughters had actually survived.
That daughter would ask the player to bring her ring to her father's grave.
When the player brought the ring to Morgan Ladimore's grave, his spirit would appear.
Upon learning that his daughter was still alive, his tormented soul would finally find solace.
He would then gift his sword—Archeus—to the player.
It was only a green-quality two-handed sword, not particularly outstanding in stats, yet Allen had kept it in his bank until he went AFK, never discarding it.
Allen looked at the man before him—exhausted, yet still holding onto the dignity of a paladin.
His eyes still held light. His faith had not yet collapsed. His wife and daughter… were still alive.
Now that he was here… could Morgan's fate be changed?
"Morgan Ladimore," Allen said, snapping back to reality with a smile. "I'm Allen Prestor. These are my friends—Mathias, Wren, and Stella."
Stella popped her blue head out from behind Allen and waved energetically.
"We're heading to Darkshire," Allen said.
Morgan nodded slowly, a glint of light flashing in his eyes. "Then please allow me to guide you."
He paused, then added: "Darkshire has been under lockdown recently…"
"…because the Sons of Lothar are currently stationed nearby."
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