Chapter 644

Chapter 644: Orcs, and Quite Authentic Ones!

Flames… fierce flames everywhere filled his vision with raging fire.

Flowing lava scorched his skin, his nostrils seared; each breath only filled his lungs with more choking smoke… Jesse suddenly woke sitting upright, drenched in sweat with his back soaked.

Greed still slept soundly, Vereesa dozed, while Molofeel leaned against the door watching him. An imp peeked from a bag, staring their way.

"Just a common nightmare, master," Molofeel said.

Jesse nodded; it was merely an ordinary nightmare. No Deathwing, no self-important twisted ramblings from that damned madman.

Another day had passed, and he even felt some relief.

Outside, dawn hadn’t broken. Jesse carried his soaked shirt and bedding to dry. Watching soldiers patrol the fortress corridors and grounds, he confirmed this wasn’t Deathwing’s fabricated dream—he was truly awake.

Had Deathwing stopped caring about him?

Or was everything back on track, leaving him only to advance toward Grim Batol while the remaining black dragons ignored him? The night’s rest, bright sunlight, and bustling soldiers helped Jesse shake off some of last night’s gloom.

Just keep moving forward. Stick to the original plan: enter Grim Batol, find the Demon Soul, free the Red Dragon Queen. Leave the rest to others.

At least Greed and Vereesa were with him now—surely better than facing this alone in Stormwind. By noon, they gathered supplies from Deepwater Inn and prepared to leave Menethil Harbor for the Wetlands.

Along the way, Greed regaled Vereesa with tales of his last adventure with Jesse: the giant swamp monster lying in ambush, roadside crocodiles stalking them, distant howls of wetland Gnolls, and Orcish runes carved at Dun Algaz.

Mentioning Orcs reminded Jesse of the transformation orb Krasus gave him.

They were far from Menethil Harbor now, beyond regular dwarf patrols. Previously confined to Stormwind or ships under watchful eyes, Jesse feared testing the orb’s magic might cause accidents. But en route to Grim Batol, a trial run was essential to avoid blunders when it counted.

That evening, they ate dried black mushrooms from Deepwater Inn and fat creek toads Greed caught. Sitting on a roadside slope discussing Kalimdor, Jesse produced the orb. "Krasus gave me this to infiltrate Grim Batol."

"You’ve had this all along?" Greed asked. "For invisibility? Like a potion?"

"Far beyond invisibility. It transforms me. Into an Orc."

"An Orc?" Vereesa and Greed exclaimed together.

Jesse rotated the orb in the firelight. "Testing it now so you recognize me. Don’t mistake me for a Dragonmaw Orc when fighting starts."

"Impossible," Vereesa protested. "Don’t all Orcs look alike?"

"Some differ—yellowish, green, or black," Greed countered.

"Remember my clothes then," Jesse said. "Krasus claimed this orb alters magical appearance without physical change, unlike Greed actually turning to stone. It transforms worn items too."

"But your robes already resemble Orc garb, no?" Greed pointed out.

True enough; Jesse’s robe followed Shadow Council designs. "Then remember this blade," he said, tapping his Azuresong Mageblade’s sheath.

"Agreed," Vereesa nodded.

Jesse lifted the orb. Had Vereesa not taught him to awaken Living Ice Crystals at Nethergarde, he’d never manage such artifacts. Krasus hadn’t explained its use—apparently activating magical items was apprentice-level knowledge.

He felt like he’d been struck again.

Guided by the ice crystal method, he sought the orb’s mana. Upon sensing its energy, he seized it—and instantly fire engulfed him…

Scalding yet harmless, the flames made his body surge upward. Clothes and gear expanded proportionally.

As flames vanished, he towered over Molofeel. Greed gaped up, dumbstruck.

Vereesa’s hand flew to her dagger. "What’re you planning?" Jesse’s Orcish voice boomed—a chest-rattling, shockingly real baritone.

"N-nothing," she released her grip. "But the resemblance… it’s uncanny." Who crafted this thing?

A friend of Krasus, Orc transformation… Jesse suddenly recalled Vaelastrasz—the red dragon spy posing among Blackrock Orcs in Blackrock Spire! His handiwork?

Jesse flexed a fist like dark green stone, relishing muscles and bones thickened severalfold.

He swung his magic wand, threw test punches—no disruption. Molofeel stared hungrily, tongue flicking her lips.

Jesse glared to curb her blatant leer, then roared in Orcish: "For the Horde! For Ner’zhul!"

Thrilling!

"Lok’tar! Lok—Narash!"

His shouts made campfire flames tremble. Greed scowled. "Are you Jesse disguised as an Orc? Or an Orc disguised as Jesse?!"

"Wrong question, dwarf," the Orc sneered in thickly accented Common. "The Dark Portal’s disgrace is over! Soon the Horde sweeps across this world. Ask instead when your wretched kind meets its end!"

"Not funny, Jesse…" Vereesa said uneasily.

"Apologies."

Jesse dropped the accent, though the outburst had vented pent-up frustration.

He drew Azuresong Mageblade. A single arcane-infused swing destabilized his Orc form. Several strokes left parts flickering unevenly as his body rapidly shrank.

Krasus was right: wielding Azuresong was akin to casting Arcane chants. Henceforth he’d rely on subtler weapons like Blade of Eternal Darkness—shorter but far stealthier.

Seeing him revert, Vereesa exhaled. "Alright, that was… impressive. I’ll admit it startled me."

"Proof I committed to the role."

Jesse sheathed Azuresong one-handed, prompting a grudging smile from Vereesa.

"Never doubted your acting," Greed mumbled through mushroom jerky. "But you an Orc, demons invisible—how do we enter?"

Vereesa tossed aside cleaned bones. "Inside-out coordination. Covering each other beats him going solo."

Jesse nodded. Even exposed within Grim Batol, he wouldn’t face death alone.