Stormwind Wizard God-Chapter 622: What is a Hero?

What is a hero, you ask?

Hero is a definition that'll drive you mad trying to pin down.

It's not like you can slap on a cape and call yourself the savior of humanity just because your ego demands it.

In times of peace, there are no true heroes—only pretenders playing dress-up.

But when the world goes to hell in a handbasket—

When kingdoms crumble like houses of cards,

When people are drowning in chaos and despair.

THAT'S when real heroes are forged in fire and blood.

After a decade of absence, Duke's face seemed frozen in time at twenty winters. Young as spring grass, yet possessing a bone-deep wisdom and unshakeable calm that would make ancient sages weep with envy. His obsidian eyes burned like a prophet's vision, piercing through the veils of time itself with a depth that could swallow kingdoms whole.

Ilucia's mind raced back through ten grueling years of managing the Edmund family's affairs with no official authority, enduring scorn that cut deeper than blades, shouldering burdens that would crush lesser souls, and bearing pain that gnawed at her very bones... She'd contemplated surrender more times than she could count.

But every time she remembered how her bloodline had risen from the ashes because of this sacrifice.

Every time she recalled Duke's masterful orchestrations and their earth-shattering importance.

Every time she lay awake in the witching hours, haunted by the incomplete love that burned between them like unquenched wildfire.

Ilucia had somehow clawed her way through. Looking back now, it seemed like a miracle worthy of the Light itself.

Without conscious thought.

Against all reason.

Ilucia in the carriage arched her swan-like neck and offered her crimson lips like a sacrificial offering.

"Mmm... mmm...ah"

Duke didn't pull away. He could feel with crystal clarity that the twin peaks of House Barov had grown even more magnificent than they were a decade past. If time wasn't breathing down their necks like a rabid wolf, Duke would have ravaged Ilucia right then and there until she screamed his name to the heavens.

"Enough. Since the Scarlet Crusade is camping nearby, let's hunt down Mograine first." Duke barked the command.

It wasn't that Duke couldn't weave magic to send messages and track down anyone on the continent, but it would be as useful as a chocolate teapot. He had to prove his identity first, then find the man who knew Lordaeron's military secrets like the back of his gauntleted hand.

Suddenly, a timid voice cut through the air like a mouse's squeak.

"Forgive me, but are you Sir Edmund Duke?"

Duke peered out the carriage window and spotted Sally. A grin split his face like lightning. "If you're hunting for Edmund Duke, former vice commander of the Alliance, then you've struck gold."

"I'm mortified beyond words!" Sally rushed forward and bowed so deep she nearly kissed dirt: "I completely misjudged you earlier."

As if struck by divine revelation, the silver-haired maiden's head snapped up for another bow: "My eternal gratitude for the rescue—without your intervention, Renault and I would be feeding the worms right now."

"Think nothing of it. My only regret is whether I gave you nightmares looking like some wild beast." Duke's smile turned rueful as winter.

The girl's cheeks blazed crimson remembering Duke's naked form in all its glory.

Renault beside her was thunderstruck. Who could have predicted that this seemingly perverted madman was actually the legendary Alliance hero who'd vanished into thin air ten years ago?

But his pride wouldn't let him be shown up like a green recruit, so he sucked in a breath deep enough to fill his lungs to bursting: "Pardon the intrusion, but I couldn't help overhearing that you seek the Scarlet Crusade."

"Dead right!" Duke's nod was sharp as a blade.

"I can guide you there—follow my lead."

To Duke's absolute amazement, the Scarlet Crusade's stronghold squatted less than two kilometers from their position, just beyond a pair of rolling hills that wouldn't challenge a lame horse.

Before the military gates adorned with crimson and ivory banners, Duke witnessed mountains of undead corpses. Scarlet-armored soldiers methodically finished off zombie remains with the efficiency of seasoned butchers.

Even walking the roads, you'd occasionally witness zombies with only half their rotting bodies suddenly spring to unholy life, nearly claiming unsuspecting victims.

Soon enough, a patrol intercepted their advance.

"Halt where you stand! The fortress ahead belongs to the Scarlet Crusade. State your business or face steel!"

Renault practically bounced forward with excitement.

"Renault?" The patrol captain clearly recognized the lad: "And who might these strangers be?"

"This is His Excellency Edmund Duke..."

Before Renault could finish his sentence, the captain's expression turned colder than a winter grave, cutting him off like a sword through silk: "Are you having a laugh at my expense, boy? Sir Edmund was declared dead as a doornail by the Alliance over seven years past!"

Spinning on his heel, the squad leader's blade sang free of its sheath as he roared: "Soldiers! Battle stations!"

The sound of steel leaving leather sheaths filled the air like deadly music, sword points glittering like a deadly forest!

Renault felt his stomach drop to his boots. He'd wanted to show off before Sally like a peacock, but instead he'd stepped on a hornet's nest.

Inside the carriage, Duke's brow furrowed deeper than a dwarven mine.

Mograine ran his army tighter than a miser's purse strings, making identity verification more troublesome than herding cats. Worse still, all his gear had been obliterated when he'd been teleported back, leaving him without a single token to his name.

Duke drew a breath that could fill a dragon's lungs: "No time to beat around the bush."

Suddenly, a voice boomed across the entire encampment like the roar of an ancient god.

"ALEXANDROS! I know you run this place tighter than a nun's virtue! But we've got bigger fish to fry than a kraken in a bathtub. Tell your boys to stand down!"

That was amplification magic, and typically no mage would dare unleash it in a military camp without signing their own death warrant. It was tantamount to hollering fire in a crowded theater.

But time was slipping through their fingers like water!

The military camp erupted into chaos, and the Scarlet Crusade soldiers who'd been coiled like springs burst into action.

Then another voice thundered from the command tent—unlike Duke's calculated projection, this was pure, earth-shaking power that could wake the dead.

"DUKE!? By the Holy Light, am I seeing ghosts or have I stumbled across another of the walking dead!? Men, listen sharp! Clear the path and let him through—NOW!"

The first part addressed Duke directly, the second half was bellowed at his subordinates with enough force to rattle armor.

The soldiers stood stunned as statues. They'd served under Lord Mograine for countless campaigns, but never had they heard their iron-willed commander abandon military protocol for such an intimate welcome.

The patrol soldiers who'd intercepted Duke snapped to attention like bowstrings, clearing the road and saluting with precision that would make parade-ground instructors weep with pride.

The wooden gates of the fortress exploded open, and the green recruits watched in wonder as grizzled veterans frantically straightened their gear and bearing.

"Sir, what in blazes is..."

"Open your eyes wide, greenhorn! You're witnessing the return of a living legend—an event rarer than dragon's teeth and twice as precious."

Ten years had passed like autumn leaves on the wind. How many decades does a mortal soul possess?

The veterans from those blood-soaked days had either fallen in glorious battle or limped home bearing scars like badges of honor. Most who remained in service had climbed the ranks to positions of command. But not a single grizzled warrior who'd survived the Second War of the Dark Portal would ever forget the legendary name of Edmund Duke.

Because...

This name meant VICTORY carved in enemy bones!

This name overflowed with wisdom sharper than any blade!

This name embodied fearlessness that would make demons tremble!

Every officer spontaneously assembled beside the camp's entrance.

Not in current formation, but in the battle-tested ranks of those bygone days of glory.

That aura—thick with the killing intent of warriors who'd danced with death a thousand times—also contained respect deeper than the Maelstrom itself.

This complex storm of emotion infected every soldier present, and they unconsciously fell into formation behind their superiors like iron filings drawn to a lodestone.

Gazing upon the Alliance's deputy commander astride his destrier, draped in wizard's robes with a face unmarked by time's cruel passage, the veterans' eyes filled with tears hot enough to forge steel.

A guard of honor's voice cracked like thunder: "PRESENT ARMS FOR THE LEGENDARY HERO—HIS EXCELLENCY EDMUND DUKE!"

The next heartbeat brought a roar that could shatter mountains and boil seas.

"HAIL TO SIR EDMUND!"