Chapter 131: The Death of Sargeras

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After shouting, Lothar felt completely drained. When he saw the possibly illusory figure of Duke reappear and give him a thumbs-up, he decided to go all in.

As expected, with the words falling, a middle-aged ghost wearing a Stormwind Kingdom court mage robe suddenly appeared not far to his left. Without saying anything, he shot a frostbolt straight at Sargeras.

Sargeras was taken aback.

Who was he?

But in the next moment, the memories of Medivh informed Sargeras who this strange ghostly mage was—Nielas Aran, Medivh's biological father!

This was truly seeing a ghost! Why would Aran's soul be here? Why did he have the ability to cast magic?

A series of questions further disrupted Sargeras's focus.

Of course, this alone wasn't enough to be fatal. Almost instinctively, Sargeras, possessing Medivh's body, activated a magical shield.

In the face of the highest level of magical power, low-density magic was nothing.

Aran's attack could only startle Sargeras for a moment.

However, no one would have thought that it was Duke who was orchestrating all of this.

Knowing how difficult Sargeras was to deal with, would Duke only arrange a single move? The golem's fist, infused with lightning, suddenly came crashing down.

The moment the golem moved, Sargeras hadn't reacted. In his mind, the golem was simply taking action to protect its master. He didn't think the golem's attack would cause any real harm to Aran.

But once he realized that Aran was actually a spirit, Sargeras had plenty of ways to deal with Medivh's father.

"Huh?" The light in Medivh's eyes, controlled by Sargeras, suddenly flashed.

It was a light of terror.

Because, to Sargeras's astonishment, the golem's fist changed direction in midair, striking him directly on the head.

What was going on!?

Sargeras had no choice but to make a second reaction in such a short time. He even interrupted Medivh's chanting, risking magical backlash to summon two giant flaming arms.

These were two enormous flaming arms, each fist the size of a carriage. The semi-solid, semi-ethereal flaming hands burst out from Sargeras's left and right, interlocking their fingers and stopping the golem's punch that would have smashed Medivh's body into a pulp.

"Phew!" Sargeras was frightened as well. The moment the crisis was resolved, he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. At the same time, he thought: What the hell is wrong with this garbage golem? If I have time, I'll definitely dismantle it!

At that moment, an unprecedented sense of crisis spread through Sargeras's consciousness.

From behind!?

The Demon Lord was still the Demon Lord. Despite being hit repeatedly and being overwhelmed, he still had a reaction.

He instinctively prepared to use the mage's signature ability, Blink, which would turn his body into arcane energy and reappear several meters away.

Being forced to use Blink was a sign of his distress. Sargeras had always looked down on ordinary mage spells. But he had no choice; his current body was Medivh's.

A mage's fragile body couldn't withstand much. If Medivh's body was destroyed, Sargeras would be in big trouble.

Sargeras had to recite the spell through gritted teeth.

However, a fraction of a second later, the spell did not activate.

A spiritual force from within his body stopped him and brazenly wrestled with him for control. Medivh?! It was actually the soul of Medivh! At this most critical moment, the remnants of Medivh's soul emerged to cause trouble. An overwhelming sense of doom gripped Sargeras' heart. Medivh's appearance not only disrupted all his spells but also caused his body to stiffen. In the next instant, a searing pain suddenly spread across Sargeras' chest. What!? Sargeras' neck moved like a rusted machine, struggling to lower his head to look at his chest.

There! A dazzling, golden sword blade pierced through the center of Medivh's chest, covered in human blood infused with the power of the fallen Titan. An unimaginably potent holy aura rapidly spread throughout Medivh's body.

"No!" Sargeras let out a roar that shook the heavens and earth. His magically amplified voice made the entire Karazhan and the surrounding area tremble. The battlefield around Karazhan fell silent. Demons engaged in battle shuddered, lifting their heads as icy breath escaped their sharp teeth. Dragons released their grip on the demons' mouths, raising their heads proudly.

Half-dragon warriors, who had been losing ground, also looked up towards the top of Karazhan. The Red Dragon Queen, Aegwynn, and the night elf priestess shared the same clear sense of wild joy in their eyes. Everyone realized that Sargeras had been wounded.

The heart-wrenching scream, accompanied by the rapid weakening of magical power from the portals on the battlefield and the disappearance of the magical light from the Karazhan mage tower, which hadn't waned since the battle began.

Everyone understood – Sargeras was finished! Although they didn't know who had done it, it was apparent that someone had struck a fatal blow to Sargeras-possessed Medivh! Lothar's pupils suddenly contracted, unable to believe his own eyes. Duke! The person holding the sword hilt behind Medivh was none other than Duke! Not Duke's ghost, but the living Duke.

Was he seeing things? Or had he already died, his soul preparing to accompany Duke on their final journey? Lothar's heart was in turmoil. Originally, Lothar didn't believe that Duke's ghost could achieve anything. He treated it as a last-ditch effort.

Now, Lothar had no choice but to believe! After all, Duke was on his side, and his situation couldn't get any worse. It was worth a shot.

True heroes never lack courage and are more willing to entrust hope to those they trust. It was with this mindset that Lothar cooperated with Duke. Who would have thought that Duke would pull off a series of schemes, striking down Sargeras-possessed Medivh in one fell swoop?

This was beyond imagination! Wasn't Duke supposed to be dead? Time and space seemed to freeze entirely as Duke remained cold and focused, with no intention of relaxing.

The Sword of Kings, which should only be wielded by Lothar, a descendant of Emperor Thoradin, radiated increasingly dazzling brilliance in Duke's hands. This was the power of humanity!

The will of Thoradin and countless human predecessors! It represented the tenacious will of humans to survive on this land for thousands of years!

In a sense, this Sword of Kings was the embodiment of human consciousness. Now, here and now, Duke used this sword to kill Medivh! To be continued…(To be continued.)