Chapter 638

Chapter 638: Once Again, the Target is the Wetlands

The next afternoon, Jesse arrived at The Slaughtered Lamb basement. The Felhounds at the entrance obediently moved aside upon seeing him, even rushing ahead to the Alchemy Room door as if to guide him.

After spending enough time with these demons, he slowly began to forget their ugly, fierce faces and notice their cute side. Jesse just hoped this wasn’t shadow corrosion warping his sense of aesthetics.

In the Alchemy Room, Ursula was busy organizing potion bottles and bags. Hearing footsteps before seeing anyone, she called out, "Jesse, is that you?"

"It’s me." Jesse reached the entrance and asked, "Everything ready?"

Ursula slapped two potion bags onto him. "Everything’s here: Mana Potions, Fire Protection and Shadow Protection Potions, Invisibility Potions… Restorative Potions. That’s all. I packed them in special bags so the bottles won’t break—these crystal ones are precious and could shatter during travel."

"Plus the Flask of Distilled Wisdom and that strong Shadow Protection Potion I gave you…" She hesitated. "Not that I’m prying, but won’t you tell me what you’re doing? Preparing like this makes it seem you’re facing an army. It’s frightening."

*She’s right*, Jesse thought. "We’ll talk when I return."

"Fine. If you won’t say now, I’ll stop asking." Ursula tucked the bags into his robe and straightened his sleeves. "Whatever happens, I hope these help. If you don’t return… I’d feel responsible. Like my skills failed you. I’d regret it forever."

Jesse muttered, "Maybe I’m just selling potions in Dalaran."

Ursula patted her coin pouch. "Then you’d lose money… Want your leftover coins back? Don’t starve smuggling yourself."

"Won’t starve." Jesse pulled a scroll from his demon bag. "Keep the coins. Just safeguard this."

"What is it?"

"A magic circle from Kalimdor. Weakens demons severely. If Zardeth ever summons a Demon Guard—or worse—this might save lives."

"Zardeth will rejoice. Truly timely aid." Ursula unrolled the scroll. "My Demonic’s rusty, but Erlan mentioned Zardeth wanting stronger demon servants. He hesitated fearing what he’d summon."

"I promised him Kalimdor’s findings. Consider this delivered." As the Alchemist rerolled the scroll, she asked, "How long will you be gone?"

"That’s the problem," Jesse said. "I don’t know. Just helping where I can."

"You’re worrying me, Jesse."

"Focus on your own safety. Don’t make me rescue you from Stratholme thugs or Weald slavers."

"Stop that nonsense!" Ursula glared.

"When have I ever been captured? Last time the Alliance declared me dead, didn’t I return?" He secured his demon bag. "Don’t fret, Ursula. We’ll meet soon."

He hurried out of The Slaughtered Lamb.

*Last one done. No more farewells. No more instructions.*

Home brewed tea soothed him through the night. Tomorrow’s voyage to the Wetlands would bury these thoughts.

At Stormwind Harbor, Jesse watched the predawn sea from the docks. Each day since Kalimdor had grown colder.

*When Deathwing’s flames come, let it be winter. Let Grim Batol’s peaks drown in snow—so Azeroth feels on my side.*

The thought made him question his sanity.

Molofeel sat invisibly ten meters away, her presence palpable. The untrusted Sayaad was now his sole companion. Her motives—power, mana—no longer mattered.

*Ah, and Saenor.*

*If I survive, I’ll stop snapping at that imp.* He clutched his demon bag tighter.

Now he understood why warlocks fell: embracing shadow and fel magic until becoming Satyr-like monsters. When doubt surrounds you, only dark powers and Twisting Nether beings stand firm—eroding convictions.

His gaze drifted to the city gate, darting between passing dwarfs.

*Waiting for Greed? Then why say those things over ale?*

Soon crewmen shouted boarding calls. Jesse lingered on deck, eyes fixed on Stormwind’s white-tiled walls.

Dwarf Knights on gryphons soared past the Cathedral spires toward Stormwind Keep. Since the Dark Portal war, Ironforge’s cavalry had garrisoned here. Gryphon nests now dotted the Valley of Heroes.

This world neared the Azeroth he remembered: Cathedral of Light complete, Turalyon and Sons of Lothar statues erected, nest-studded walls.

All fought for what mattered most. His hesitation must end.

Jesse descended the creaking stairs amid sailors’ guttural cries. The ship lurched.

*If this succeeds, I’ll pluck the Red Dragon Legion bare—or I’m not Jesse Seso.*