Lilian Voss's father was a High Priest of the Church of the Holy Light and a devout believer in the Holy Light. He was more than willing for his daughter to serve His Majesty the King.
She herself wasn't particularly interested in the duties of a Priestess, far less so than the long-legged Priestess Whitemane. Despite her decent background, no one expected her to be more proficient in the assassin profession, able to blend perfectly into the environment to perform intelligence gathering and assassinations.
In the unaltered timeline, she would have been resurrected as an undead. Driven by fear and confusion, she would return to find her father, a Bishop of the Holy Light, only to be executed by him in the name of righteousness. After narrowly escaping and facing uncertainty, she would get caught up in the events of the Cult of the Damned before finally, after many twists and turns, becoming a hero of the Forsaken.
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Seeing her idol again, the current Lilian wasn't as cold as she would be in the future; her military training had added a lot of steady restraint to her youthfulness. Her expression was excited and her breathing a bit hurried, yet she still kept her emotions well-controlled. She couldn't help but raise her delicate hand—which bore calluses from long-term dagger training—and placed it over her right breast as she knelt on one knee in salute.
"Respected Master, Priestess Lilian Voss of the Guardians Cult pays her highest respects to you."
"Rise. Thanks to all of you, the cult can function normally. Every one of you is indispensable and very important to me. Perhaps it sounds a bit cold, but I still wish to keep you here, to strive for the protection of Azeroth for the rest of your lives."
"Now, I shall begin the blessing ceremony for you, bestowing upon you even greater power. Use the strength I grant you to eliminate all enemies who stand in our way, and nip threats in the bud."
Although Arthas felt it was a bit nonsensical, he followed the procedure. This doctrine had been written by Sinestra, and it sounded a bit strange—especially that blessing ceremony; one could only say that any censor would recognize its 'pro' nature immediately.
As long as the body could take it and endure it, this didn't seem like suffering, but rather enjoyment.
As the unique The Seventh Force entered her body—on this planet where various primal forces intertwined, the energy dissipated after being absorbed by the azeroth world-soul formed the The Seventh Force. Only those favored by the world soul could learn to use it, and it was even more powerful and pure than the non-renewable Well of Eternity.
This blessing was a process of transformation, molding them into his own shape. If it were a male disciple, this process could be skipped, but the effect would be much worse.
Lilian could feel the changes in her body; she shed her youthfulness and took on maturity. The massive explosion that would have originally been triggered by the intertwining of light and shadow vanished into nothingness, leaving only an ultimate fusion.
The The Seventh Force contained the six primal forces and could transform into any one of them at any time. However, it was currently immature; she could only use the energies of the Holy Light and the Shadow Void. She didn't understand enough about Fel Energy, Arcane, or life to perform those transformations yet.
Ignoring her state of undress, she hastily knelt in salute, her flushed cheeks bearing the devout expression found only in fanatics.
"Thank you for the blessing, Master. Lilian will surely become the sharp blade in Master's hand, cutting down all filth that dares to stand in Master's way."
The Guardians Cult had no concept of heresy; they respected other cults and even welcomed their own believers to transfer out. However, once they left, they were not to return. The cult did not welcome half-hearted followers; only the pure and devout could stay and be worthy of a deity's blessing.
As the saying goes, Lordaeron doesn't keep idle people, and the cult doesn't keep useless ones. Being cruel was fine; as long as they could offer the power of faith, it was tolerable. This was something that could be guided but not explicitly stated, or it would lose its effect.
Useless people who couldn't contribute anything could go mine; the Kobolds would surely love that.
The next day, Lilian was replaced by Whitemane, the long-legged Priestess.
Back in the classic era, Whitemane was the hidden boss in the Scarlet Monastery and would even resurrect her father's filial son, Renault; they were once known as the 'dog couple.'
Now, this valiant Scarlet Crusade Priestess had been intercepted. According to her, she felt grateful because she was saved by Arthas in Stratholme. At that time, her family had already decided to join Mograine, and since the person they were joining also worked under the Crown Prince, they simply joined in.
Because of that life-saving grace, Whitemane's level of devotion was the highest, even higher than that of the Highlord Bridget. Hers was gratitude, while Bridget's was a complex emotion of admiration and affection.
"Sally Whitemane greets the Master and pays her highest respects."
Her full peaks heaved; it was truly a sight of standing at the summit and seeing all other mountains as small.
Arthas repeated his previous tactic, taking out the tome and opening it. He placed one hand on her hair, performing the gesture of baptism and blessing. Though it was mostly for show, this set of movements had a strong religious mystery to it and could better win people over.
"You have done well as a Priestess within the cult. I am watching your every move, and the world soul is watching you as well. You have developed believers, spread the doctrine, and actively solved the problems faced by followers, making an indelible contribution to the cult's development."
"All of this is seen by me. Your devotion brings me comfort, your firm will shows me new possibilities, and your beautiful countenance brings me joy."
After reading this passage, he only then realized something was off. He flipped the book over to the cover; it indeed said 'Guardians Cult Blessing Procedure.' He glanced at Sinestra, who was dressed as a nun nearby, his gaze very puzzled. Was this really what should be said during a baptism?
Wasn't this just tailoring the words to the person?
Sinestra, the Black Dragon Aspect, winked at him, feigning innocence. She had said long ago that it was best to win over the cult's big three; there was no better choice than those by one's pillow. They didn't need a formal status; they only needed to know loyalty.
Whitemane's pretty face flushed slightly as she listened, but she didn't mean to object. Though the words were a bit explicit, they were very real. She was indeed very beautiful, and many nobles had tried to pursue her, only to be rejected.
She had dedicated her heart entirely to the cult and the deity; she would not let any man enter her heart.
From the moment in Stratholme, she lived only for the Crown Prince. Now, she was simply getting what she wished for, and there would be more waiting for her in the future.
Arthas had no choice but to continue the blessing procedure, droning on about a lot of things, until finally, they had to face each other with complete honesty.
Fallen petals are not heartless things; they turn into spring soil to further protect the flowers!
The third day was the turn of the female Highlord, Bridget. This female lord had also exhausted her family's resources to assist Arthas back then, making her one of the earliest loyalists. Now she could inherit the position of Highlord; though she had no territory, she could enjoy subsidies from Lordaeron every month.
This benefit and grace could even be passed down to her offspring; if her direct descendants inherited the title, they could also enjoy such benefits.
This was the result of providing help in a time of crisis, and it was something that made everyone admire her. No matter what one thought, only what one did mattered—it felt a bit like judging by deeds rather than intentions.
Time passed quickly, and half a month later...
Vereesa was transferred over to become one of His Majesty the King's captains of the guard, responsible for coordination, planning, and intelligence analysis. The youngest of the three Windrunner Sisters had ventured deep into enemy lines alone during the Gnomeregan operation and almost died at the hands of the Troggs. She would have been devoured, leaving no corpse behind and no way to be resurrected.
Upon being questioned, Vereesa, whose secret thoughts were exposed, told everything, which left Sylvanas—who was supervising the war—at a loss.
She just wanted to earn military merit to prove herself, and also to prove to Arthas that she wasn't useless and could help him, hoping to earn an opportunity.
This was a classic case of a fangirl going for'success or death,' only it was a bit too extreme.
After returning to domestic life, every day he opened his eyes to a crowd of beauties. For breakfast, he could see Jaina frying an egg for him; for lunch, he could see Sylvanas in her light attire after exercising; and only at night would he see the awakened Tyrande and Azshara—these two women had, unusually, synchronized their sleep schedules.
Everything was progressing in an orderly fashion. On one hand, there was logistical supply and the restoration of production; on the other, there was the accumulation of troops in preparation for the military operation to Northrend against the Lich King. This time, the goal was the complete annihilation of The Scourge, so those going needed to be elites, with a majority being mages.
They were responsible for controlling various Arcane golems for combat, alongside Dwarven and Gnomes engineers. They were in charge of forging and assembling cannons for bombardment, giving the Lich King Nerzhul a little 'technological shock.' There was no need to rush; they only needed to advance steadily and let Nerzhul fall into a state of frantic despair.
He was already like a flickering candle in the wind. The spell cast by Illidan and the Blue Dragon using the eye of sargeras had already dealt substantial damage; what followed would be like cutting meat with a dull knife. While the number of Undead Scourge was still low, they would carry out endless suppression and extermination.
Even hundreds of thousands of undead could be wiped out bit by bit. The Lich King could resurrect the undead, but surely he couldn't resurrect robots and rock constructs?
Using non-living constructs for combat was more powerful and effective than stacking up human lives.
Besides developing technology, what Arthas was currently researching was the blessing ability that demigods were best at. Bestowing special abilities upon believers allowed them to use the The Seventh Force, and their strength could continue to rise to the level of a demigod.
Even if their strength reached that level, without reaching the corresponding realm, they still couldn't be immortal.
He didn't think too much about other messy things; he only knew one thing, and that was to protect his family well—at the very least, he couldn't let them die.
Blessing believers and strengthening their individual abilities was just like other demigods—the classic example being the Loa worshipped by the Trolls. They would provide help to believers who called for it depending on the situation, thereby deepening the other party's faith and devotion.
After reaching the demigod realm, he didn't know what lay beyond—perhaps becoming a True God. But what did a True God need? Was it even greater strength, or the power of faith?
The combat power of a True God was on par with a Titan, but a Titan was born as the strongest being in the physical universe, their strength also on par with a True God. They could bless believers and, in terms of strength, easily destroy a planet and create life at will!
They could turn rock or steel into corresponding constructs, possessing a faint will and spirit, or possessing a powerful spirit and decent intelligence.
They just couldn't create flesh-and-blood creatures, only non-living entities.
One must eat one bite at a time and walk one step at a time. Currently, he only thought about it occasionally and wasn't too urgent. As long as the portal wasn't opened, Sargeras couldn't come over, and he still had enough time.
Looking at it now, there were some problems with faith management. As the number of believers grew, the daily prayers and the more devout their hearts, the more power of faith they could provide. They would also have various needs and calls, and he needed to consider whether to consume the power of faith to save them.
For example, someone dying of thirst praying for a bottle of water. Someone dying of hunger praying for a piece of bread. Someone dying of illness praying for some medicine.
As mentioned before, the more devout the believer, the more power of faith they provided, and correspondingly, they needed more frequent responses. Some simply had to be answered—for instance, if Whitemane needed to show a miracle before new believers, he couldn't just ignore it, right?
Some were just opportunists, thinking about whether believing in a new god could bring some benefits; if there were benefits, they would continue to believe. If there were none, it wouldn't be strange for them to switch faiths on the spot.
Rubbing his head, Arthas really didn't want to handle such matters because they were too tedious. But if he didn't handle them, it would trigger a crisis of faith. If being a demigod meant having to respond to the calls of believers at all times, wouldn't being a demigod be for nothing?
Before becoming a demigod, he woke up at six in the morning and went to sleep at two in the morning, seven days a week without break. If being a demigod was the same—having to think about believer problems while sleeping, eating, or having fun—then what was the difference between this demigod and a beast of burden?
A beast of burden demigod!
The thought was a bit funny. When a person is extremely speechless, they really do laugh out loud. What the hell!
"No, I have to think of a way."
Arthas tapped his desk rhythmically with his finger. He didn't want to be a beast of burden; he wanted to be a happy demigod. This job had to be done because the power of faith was a good thing—it was needed for blessings and for transforming life; it was almost omnipotent, but the price to be paid was a bit too high.
After thinking it over, he decided to talk to Azshara. This Queen might have her own unique insights. After all, she was the Queen of the Kaldorei Empire; in terms of vision, even Tyrande felt inferior to her.
Accompanying the sound of high heels treading on wooden boards, Azshara, in a pure white court gown, pushed the door open and entered. One hand supported the door frame while the other was slightly on her hip, her exquisite face tilted up slightly, looking very arrogant.
"Little mate, how did you come to think of me? I recall tonight is Jaina's turn to accompany you; I have no interest in cutting in line."
Ahem, what on earth was Azshara thinking all day?
"Can't I just look for you to talk about some serious business?"
Arthas looked extremely speechless; don't look down on his character!
Azshara sized him up from head to toe, then walked over and sat on the office desk, making her hips look even fuller as they pressed out several creases. She took the red wine handed over by the head maid and took an elegant sip.
"Come on, the serious business right now is breeding offspring; that's what you said."
"..."
"Ahem, I have something to ask you. Regarding the matter of faith, I want to hear your opinion."
Arthas didn't dare let her continue, otherwise they wouldn't be able to talk about serious business today. The Queen's determination to have offspring—anyone who hadn't experienced it wouldn't know just how crazy it could be.