Akama nodded upon hearing this. He initially assumed Rhodes intended to cast some specialized auxiliary support magic to aid them; having watched from a distance earlier, he had witnessed Rhodes utilizing spells like Shield, Stoneskin, Haste, and Bloodlust.
"No problem, Mr. Rhodes. My people would be honored to receive your assistance. With your empowerment magic, we will surely be better equipped to complete this mission," Akama said, bowing his head.
"You misunderstand, Lord Akama. I don't mean the kind of enhancement magic you're thinking of. I mean a purification spell called Dispel. It can remove certain strange influences—potentially restoring you to your original forms.
Of course, once the ritual is done and you set out on your mission, I will still provide the combat enhancements you expected," Rhodes said with a confident smile, revealing his true intent.
He couldn't guarantee 100% success with the Dispel spell, but he felt it was worth a shot. Based on his calculations, the probability was high.
Akama's clouded eyes flickered with a mix of caution and a trace of barely perceptible hope. Behind him, the Broken stirred, whispering among themselves. They had long grown accustomed to their cursed forms, enduring physical distortion and the alienation of their kin. Yet, deep down, who among them did not yearn for the lost glory of the Draenei?
"Lord... Lord Rhodes, did I hear correctly? You are saying you want us to return to our former selves? That you have a way to lift our curse?" Akama's voice was raspy and low, trembling with shock.
Since the end of the war with the Orcs, many Draenei warriors had found their appearances changing. They began to "devolve," growing sharp tusks and distorted features—a transformation widely regarded as a curse. Some called themselves the Broken; others still identified as Draenei and sought a way back, but none had ever succeeded.
"Not long ago, I met with Prophet Velen and we spoke at length. From Illidan, I learned more about your plight. Your mutation and degradation are the result of specific energy corruption.
I possess an ancient secret of Exorcism—it doesn't belong to any power system known to Azeroth, but rather to the magic of another civilization. It may be able to purge the twisted curse born of Fel corruption. If my magic can successfully expel that foreign energy, you should return to your original forms. I cannot promise 100% certainty, but the odds are in our favor. So, are you willing to try?" Rhodes asked.
The Broken warriors immediately broke into a flurry of whispers, debating whether Rhodes's words could be true.
"High Exarch Akama, I believe we should trust him. We saw the Holy Light radiating from him earlier; he is a man of justice," one whispered.
"I agree, High Exarch. Regardless of the outcome, we must try," others added.
Akama, his heart racing with excitement, nodded to his companions and turned back to Rhodes. "Lord Rhodes, I am profoundly grateful for your help. Win or lose, you are our benefactor. However... I must ask if this magic carries the risk of death. I must ensure the safety of my people. If it fails, will they die?"
"Rest assured," Rhodes promised. "Even if it fails, there will be no casualties." As long as he wasn't using offensive or curse-type Hero magic, there was no risk of physical harm.
"Then I have no more doubts. We have nothing left to lose but our hatred for the Legion and these shattered shells," Akama said solemnly. "Lord Rhodes, regardless of the result, the Ashtongue tribe thanks you for your effort. Please begin. I will be the first to receive the spell."
As their leader, he intended to stand at the vanguard to ensure the safety of the ritual for his kin.
"No need for such trouble. Everyone stand together; I will cast it upon all of you at once," Rhodes said with a smile. Spells from the Heroes world often had "Mass" or "Global" properties when cast at high expertise, allowing him to target the entire group.
Akama and his people exchanged glances, and nearly a hundred Broken stood before Rhodes, their expressions taut with nerves. Jaina, Kael'thas, Rhonin, and the resting Alliance soldiers watched with bated breath. Illidan stood by with crossed arms, his burning eyes flashing with curiosity to see what this "Dispel" could truly do.
Rhodes closed his eyes, his mind sinking into the depths of his Spellbook, tapping into the mysterious power of the Heroes of Might and Magic world. He slowly raised his hands, and a strange ripple—distinct from Shadow, Light, Arcane, Fel, Life, or Death—began to gather around him. This power was neutral and calm, yet it possessed an undeniable quality of "Order" and "Purification."
"DISPEL!"
Rhodes shouted, pushing his hands forward. An invisible, wave-like energy field rippled outward from him, completely enveloping Akama and his tribesmen.
The moment the energy touched Akama, a violent reaction occurred!
"Argh—!" Akama let out a low growl of pain. His massive frame trembled violently. The rough, calloused skin, distorted features, and unnatural bone spurs born of Fel corruption seemed to come alive, squirming and struggling. Thick, nauseating clouds of emerald Fel smoke were forcibly driven from his body, forming a twisted, resisting membrane on his skin.
Simultaneously, a large amount of Shadow energy was being expelled. The degradation from Draenei to Broken had been pushed by Fel, but the Shadow energy within them was also a major culprit.
Shadow is the antithesis of Light, and as a race blessed by the Naaru, the Draenei were born to use the Light. When corrupted by Fel, that extreme Light had fallen and curdled into Shadow. In the Black Temple, the "Shadow of Akama" primarily used Shadow-based abilities for a reason.
The air filled with the stench of sulfur and decay as the Fel and Shadow residues were purged. Akama's face contorted in agony, but he gritted his teeth and refused to fall, his eyes burning with a determined will.
Rhodes could feel the power of the Dispel spell clashing fiercely with the curse rooted in Akama's life essence. It was more stubborn than he had imagined; it wasn't just a magical effect, but a fundamental distortion of their biological form—or rather, a void where a specific energy used to be.
Rhodes realized they were missing something: the Holy Light. Their original Light had been converted to Shadow; to turn them back into Draenei, he had to refill that void.
Rhodes raised his hand and summoned a massive pillar of Holy Light, blanketing all the Broken.
"Hold on, Akama! I am using the Light to help you—to re-infuse your spirits! I need your will to cooperate!" Rhodes encouraged loudly. He increased his mana output, the Holy energy around him vibrating so intensely that the invisible purification field began to glow with a soft white radiance.
The Paladins on the field could clearly feel that the Light Rhodes summoned was of a purity and strength beyond anything they had ever encountered. Highlord Mograine gripped the Ashbringer, feeling the blade resonate with Rhodes's spell. Lord Rhodes is truly the Son of Light!
Minutes passed. The Fel smoke and Shadow energy grew fainter and fainter. The physical distortions began to smooth out, but they were still a hair's breadth away from a full recovery. Rhodes exerted himself and cast a second Dispel.
Finally, the energy peaked and began to settle. Rhodes slowly withdrew his hands while maintaining the flow of Holy Light.
As the energy field faded, Akama dropped to one knee, gasping for air. The change was staggering—his skin no longer held the sickly gray-green hue, but instead glowed with the blue-purple luster characteristic of the Draenei. The bone spurs and sores had vanished, and the physical warping had receded.
The hunched backs, sharp tusks, and clawed fingers were gone. Their features had shifted from the "Broken" visage back into the noble faces of the Draenei. Every single one of them had changed.
"It is done. How... how do you feel?" Rhodes asked, his voice tinged with exhaustion.
Akama stood up slowly, stretching his limbs, his face a mask of shock and joy. "At first, it was agonizing... but now, I feel a lightness I have never known. It is as if a heavy shackle has been shattered. I can feel the Light... to be recognized by the Light again, it is more beautiful than I remember." He looked at his hands; they were no longer the claws of a Broken.
At that moment, all the Broken had been restored. They could once again call upon the Holy Light.