Nefarian crouched beside the dying Loa, Rhunok, watching Fandral Staghelm carefully examine his wounds.
The Dracthyr guards and Ice Trolls of the Pioneer Territory finally arrived at the scene, forming a wide circle at a distance, vigilantly watching for any unusual movements.
"His essence was forcibly stripped away. I'm afraid I can't handle this," Vandal's green light still flickered in his hand, but he raised his head with a gloomy expression, delivering his verdict.
Simple healing spells had limited effect on wounds involving the essence of divinity.
Nefarian sneered, his scarlet vertical pupils glancing sideways at Vandal: "If someone hadn't insisted on 'helping' and interfering with my attack with his exquisite Nature magic, that mutated monster would be a corpse by now."
"Perhaps some of his core essence can still be retrieved."
Vandal's face instantly flushed, and a vein throbbed on his forehead.
He knew that his previous coordination error was a fact, but with his fiery temper, he would never admit defeat verbally, especially in front of a black dragon.
"Interference? If I hadn't timely blocked that shockwave with vines, this Loa would have long since been reduced to a pile of mush!"
"It's certain black dragons, attacking without any regard, not even seeing their ally's spellcasting path!"
His voice suddenly rose as he retorted.
Nefarian's lips curled into a mocking smile:
"Ally? Heh—I thought 'allies' in the eyes of you Night Elves would only be those Wild Gods."
He flapped his wings, his voice full of disdain.
"It seems you've been in the forest too long, you've even lost the most basic battlefield judgment. Throwing vines into my attack path to block me once is one thing, but to make the same mistake twice."
"What did you say?! You—" Vandal suddenly stood up, the Nature energy in his hand fluctuating violently with anger, and it seemed an meaningless argument was about to escalate.
"Enough."
A calm, ethereal, yet authoritative voice instantly extinguished the tension between them.
The moment the voice sounded, the winds and clouds above the Pioneer Territory suddenly changed!
Thick clouds were stirred by an invisible force, forming a giant vortex.
Molten gold-like liquid light surged in the center of the vortex.
The periphery howled with cold wind, but the eye of the storm was enveloped by a tangible pressure, not even allowing the slightest movement of air.
A slender and majestic figure elegantly glided out from the center of the vortex.
Lin Mo descended.
His dark dragon scales, illuminated by the golden glow of the vortex and the cold light of the snowfield, shimmered with a cold luster.
His dragon head had distinct features, and his long whiskers under his jaw swayed gently.
Lin Mo's dragon eyes swept over the area below, his gaze briefly resting on Nefarian and Vandal, the pressure instantly silencing both of them.
He slowly descended, hovering above the barely breathing Rhunok.
A dragon claw, wreathed in lightning, extended and gently pressed against the side of the reclining white bear's chest.
Om—
A gentle yet boundless aura permeated the area, carrying a rhythm that soothed wounds and nourished all things, penetrating Rhunok's shattered body.
At the edges of the horrific wounds on the white bear, charred necrotic tissue rapidly receded, and fresh flesh grew and mended.
Lin Mo's divine power healed the physical wounds on Rhunok but did not further replenish his essence.
He merely used his divine power to sustain his life, preventing the call of the Ardenweald from taking Rhunok away.
Moments later, Lin Mo retracted his dragon claw.
The terrifying wounds on Rhunok's body had largely healed. Although still weak and with dull fur, the flame of life had temporarily stabilized, and his breathing became deep.
His eyelids trembled and slowly opened. His tired but profound bear eyes looked at the Eastern Dragon hovering above him, and his head respectfully bowed.
Lin Mo gazed at the awakened Rhunok, his voice ethereal and majestic: "Rhunok, the White Bear of ZulDrak, your wounds, I have healed."
"However, your essence is depleted, and there are three paths ahead: recover your old strength, return your soul to the Wilds, or be replenished by me."
Rhunok slowly raised his head, breathing with a hint of confusion:
"What's the difference between being replenished by you and the first two?"
Lin Mo patiently continued to explain, his tone steady:
"If you recover, you will still belong to the Life Pantheon, returning to your former position."
"If your soul returns, you will rest peacefully in Ardenweald, awaiting reincarnation."
"If you are replenished by me—you will abandon your old divine status, no longer belong to the Life Pantheon, but come under my seat, receive my protection, and become my subordinate deity."
Rhunok was silent for a moment, his gaze turning towards ZulDrak.
"I don't have the strength to recover my own essence—without your divine power, I probably won't last long."
"Return my soul to the Wilds? What about my followers? I can't leave them."
He turned back, looking directly into Lin Mo's dragon eyes.
"Dragon God, if I follow you, my followers will receive protection, treated the same as the mortals of Ital'ruk, is that right?"
Lin Mo slowly nodded, his black eyes deep and unmoving:
"Indeed. My protection will be impartial."
Rhunok let out a long breath, revealing a relieved, wry smile:
"Alright, then consider it that I owe you my life. From now on—I am willing to follow you."
Lin Mo extended his front claw, gently resting it on the white bear's head.
"From this day, you are my subordinate deity. I bestow upon you a new name, which shall echo through the mountains and resound through the rivers."
He declared the forging of this sacred covenant.
Lin Mo's massive claw slowly closed, the scales between his knuckles reflecting a cold light interwoven with gold and black.
A faint, almost imperceptible hum descended from the sky.
The next moment, the life force within Rhunok's body began to surge—mortals, of course, could not take away the life force of a Wild God, at least not the Trolls of ZulDrak.
His aura, like a hot spring beneath the far northern snowfield, transformed into a brilliant light interwoven with emerald green and pure white, slowly seeping out from the depths of the Bear King's flesh.
Those lights transformed into countless tiny vine-like phantoms, reluctantly coiling around his body, emitting faint hums, as if weeping for their departure.
Lin Mo chanted in a low voice, like a resounding bell, vibrating within the souls of every mortal present:
"He has willingly offered himself, and shall belong to me—"
As his words fell, the radiance in Rhunok's chest suddenly fractured.
All the life force transformed into a slender stream of green and white light, disappearing into Lin Mo's palm.
Then, golden-red points of light abruptly ignited in the same spot, looking as if Lin Mo had reforged that power into a new form.
In reality, he had merely opened a small portal, sending the original force back to his divine realm, and then drawing in the lava of faith.
Immediately—the power of faith surged down!
It was not a gentle spring, but golden, flame-like lava, descending from the divine realm Serakhen, pouring directly into Rhunok's soul.
That was the power accumulated from the devout faith of all Obsidian's followers, carrying the radiant heat of glory and the majesty of the Dragon God, completely reshaping the foundation of the Bear King's existence.
Within the flames, Rhunok's body grew taller in stages, his snowy white fur turning into a silvery white with flowing flame patterns, and his eyes burned with an eternal, unextinguishable golden-red blaze.
"Roar—"
A soul-shaking roar transformed into tangible thunder, exploding with a crash, tearing apart the thick clouds above!
The nascent divinity, centered on him, spread out in ripples of golden-red across the frozen tundra, solemnly diffusing in all directions, proclaiming the birth of a new god.
Lin Mo slowly raised his head, his voice echoing between heaven and earth:
"From this day, you are my subordinate deity, the White Bear guarding ZulDrak, repelling enemies like a mountain, protecting your people like a peak—"
"Named: King of White Mountain!"
Having made his declaration, Lin Mo lowered his gaze to the newly reborn giant bear below.
Rhunok bowed his head deeply, his new golden-red eyes revealing pure reverence and submission.
Lin Mo said no more.
He gracefully turned his dragon body, not returning to his divine realm, but casting his gaze southward.
Without any earth-shattering commotion, he merely flicked his dragon tail, and space rippled before him.
A misty portal then opened.
"Wait—"
Nefarian suddenly interrupted Lin Mo, who was about to leave.
Lin Mo turned his head to look at his apprentice, knowing exactly what he wanted to ask.
"What you ask, I already know. Await good news."
Lin Mo did not wait for Nefarian's reply. The next instant, his majestic black dragon shadow vanished into the depths of the mist.
As Lin Mo departed, the celestial phenomena rapidly dissipated, the thick clouds re-converged, and the biting cold wind once again howled across the outskirts of the Pioneer Territory.
Only the "King of White Mountain," Rhunok, still sat there, emanating his nascent divine power, and a silent, deeply awestruck group of mortals remained.
When the divine power gradually faded, the first to speak was Obsidian's apprentice, Nefarian.
"Alright, 'King of White Mountain,'" He murmured Rhunok's new title, "Now it's time to tell us the full story."
"Of course," Rhunok said softly, "Young Black Dragon."
The previously gentle aura of the white bear Loa had dissipated, replaced by a stern majesty that blended the might of mountains with the divinity of order.
His voice remained deep, his gaze turning to Vandal, who was also staring at him, "And the Night Elf Druid."
"You wish to know who forced me to such a desperate state?"
"The answer lies with the Frostmane Clan's chieftain, Moragon, and—the Wind Serpent Loa, Ques'thrun."
He let out a muffled growl and began his narration:
"My Lord's radiance rose in Ital'ruk, like an unignorable beacon in the darkness."
"Its heat scorched the hands of those Trolls accustomed to seizing power through violence."
Rhunok was immersed in his memories, "Moragon of Frostpaw, a mortal with aspirations as high as the sky, believed his destiny was to unite all of ZulDrak."
"And Ques'thrun—that wind serpent coiled in the cold wind, its cunning and greed had long exceeded the agreements between the Loa."
"Fear made them ally, but their goal was not merely self-preservation, but to seek power that could contend with my Lord."
"However, only now do I deeply understand that my Lord's might far surpasses even our previously most fanciful expectations."
Rhunok's massive bear claws gripped the frozen earth, seemingly savoring his newly acquired power.
"Mortal swords, Troll voodoo, even the so-called Loa, are but a joke before my Lord."
'Like the sun in the sky, illuminating everything—' Rhunok stopped praising Obsidian only after Nefarian's gentle cough.
"I've strayed a bit, but in short, for new power, they turned their gaze to—us, the other Loa."
Flames of anger burned in his golden-red eyes: "Ques'thrun used his whispers to corrupt Moragon."
"They devised a blasphemous plan—to steal the essence of other Loa to empower themselves."
"Attempting to forge power that could rival my Lord!"
"The first victim—" Rhunok's voice carried sorrow, "was my neighbor, the resilient Akali, the Rhino Loa."
"They ambushed him with despicable means, forcibly extracting his essence."
"Then the solitary Xylos, the Serpent Loa, also did not escape."
"Akali," Rhunok's voice deepened, tinged with mourning for his fallen friend, "on the eve of his soul returning to Ardenweald, a wisp of his lingering spirit struggled to find me."
"He warned me, exposed this dirty conspiracy, and brought a crucial piece of information."
Rhunok raised his massive head, his eyes glinting with cold light: "Akali told me that those two thieves were not a united front."
"Ques'thrun, that wind serpent, cunningly wanted Moragon to distribute the stolen power among his kin or followers, thereby expanding its network of influence."
"But Moragon, that greedy chieftain, how could he willingly share the power he had obtained with others? He only wanted to keep everything for himself!"
"And so, Moragon, unbeknownst to Ques'thrun, made an even crazier, even more foolish decision."
Rhunok's voice was filled with contempt, "He secretly absorbed the essence of Akali and Xylos! A mortal, attempting to forcibly incorporate the primal power of two Loa into his fragile body!"
"This was tantamount to seeking death!" Rhunok let out a low roar, shaking the accumulated snow from the branches, "Two different powers surged within him, clashing violently."
"Akali said that Moragon was almost torn apart by the conflicting forces on the spot. He collapsed like a puddle of mud, falling into a long and painful struggle on the brink of death, gravely ill."
"At that time," Rhunok leaned slightly forward, his golden-red eyes fixed on Nefarian and Vandal, as if questioning whether they understood his choice, "I thought the opportunity had come."
"Moragon was dying, Ques'thrun had not yet fully controlled the situation, and his power was dispersed."
"I, Rhunok the White Bear, Father of Bears of ZulDrak, would step forward to punish the thieves and end this blasphemy!"
"Just as I was about to finish Moragon, Ques'thrun ambushed me."
Rhunok's breathing grew heavy, as if he was reliving the moment of powerlessness.
"He also temporarily suppressed the chaotic power within Moragon and manipulated him to attack me from both sides."
"Then, I was defeated. Utterly defeated. I could feel my essence—my Loa essence—being greedily taken and stripped away by them."
"So I could only flee," Rhunok's voice was low and resolute, "Ques'thrun would never let me, who knew of their conspiracy and had lost my power, go."
"But I had nowhere to run, because few of the remaining Loa were trustworthy. In despair, I thought of my Lord."
Rhunok's lips curved, proud of his decision, "Only my merciful Lord could save me in my despair."
"I disrupted the two conflicting powers within Moragon, seizing a glimmer of hope, and fled here."
"The rest, you already know."
Having finished his narration, Rhunok, the King of White Mountain, lowered his head, seemingly calming the tumultuous emotions within him.
He looked at Nefarian: "That is all. A disaster brought by a greedy chieftain and a treacherous wind serpent."
Nefarian nodded slightly, indicating understanding.
His dragon wings slowly unfurled, his gaze sweeping over the still-silent Vandal and the awestruck crowd around them.
"A very interesting story."
Nefarian's voice was calm, showing no emotion.
"King of White Mountain," you now have a new identity."
"I think it's time for the radiance of the Brilliant Dragon to shine upon all of ZulDrak."
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