Chapter 650

Chapter 650: The Narrowing Choices

Jesse traveled south from Tor Lona, leaving the forest behind and entering a completely unfamiliar mountain hollow.

Greed had been right; just by looking at the layers of mountains called the Bartol Mountains, Jesse could feel the dark energy still lingering among the hills. Undoubtedly, the area with the most concentrated shadows ahead was Grim Batol, a place where perhaps only Orcs, who had drunk demon blood, could survive for so many years.

Ever since dreaming of Krasus’ prison, Jesse had contemplated what to do next.

Deathwing could torment his will and disrupt his thoughts in dreams, but at least he had never directly harmed his mind in reality.

So while walking deeper into the mountains, as long as no dragon riders hovered overhead or signs of Gnolls or Raptors lurked nearby, he took the time to think.

Setting aside desperate thoughts like betrayal, he decided the best plan was to obtain the Demon Soul and destroy it before Deathwing could react.

This would free the Red Dragon Queen and release all the dragon lords’ power, letting their strength return to them.

If the dragon lords sensed their power returning, those outside Grim Batol would realize the Demon Soul had been destroyed and immediately link it to Deathwing.

Once the Demon Soul shattered, Queen Alexstrasza would reclaim her power first.

She was in Grim Batol, closest to the scene. If she could summon the other dragon lords to help, their chances of success would rise.

Next, it depended on who flew fastest. Jesse guessed the spellweaver Malygos would arrive first—as the world’s most powerful Arcane manipulator, he might not even need to fly physically.

If willing, the Bronze Dragon King Nozdormu might come quicker than the Blue Dragon King, though Jesse didn’t know if he could truly cross time.

As for the Dream Queen Ysera… Jesse couldn’t imagine how she might arrive, but no matter how long she took, three dragon lords with restored power could at least force Deathwing back.

Maybe by then, Deathwing wouldn’t dare show himself.

Jesse recalled Deathwing mentioning trouble in Draenor—the incident where the archmage Khadgar had defeated him with magic.

Long possession of the Demon Soul had gradually torn Deathwing’s body apart. He’d hired goblin craftsmen to bolt metal armor onto his skin, preventing total collapse. During the clash with Khadgar, the mage’s Arcane chant dismantled the seemingly unbreakable armor, causing the father of black dragons’ power to crumble and nearly kill him.

Even wounded, Deathwing remained the strongest dragon lord. But if three or four restored guardian dragons gathered at Grim Batol, he’d avoid confronting them.

Though Jesse would earn the black dragon’s lasting hatred, he’d survive this crisis. To plan the future, he needed to stay alive first.

Choosing this path left two problems. First: would the Blue and Bronze dragons come?

Even with their power restored, Jesse doubted they’d appear immediately.

He believed the freed Red Dragon Queen’s influence might draw the unstable Malygos and elusive Nozdormu to Grim Batol.

Second—the crucial question—was how to shatter the Demon Soul. Could he use Deathwing’s mark on his arm?

Press the mark against the Demon Soul?

Or crush it with his marked hand… The idea felt absurd.

Jesse clenched his fist, knowing such a simple gesture couldn’t break the world’s toughest artifact.

But the mark had to mean something—like enchanting a weapon with that hand’s power, or… perhaps Queen Alexstrasza would know.

Staring at the endless mountains, forests, and rivers, he found it unreal that his next moves could sway the world’s mightiest dragons. With no other options, he had to gamble.

Though fuzzy on details, Jesse remembered the mage Rhonin from tales—clueless that Deathwing’s gifted ring with black dragon scales could destroy the Demon Soul. In desperation, Rhonin tried it and sliced the golden artifact open.

Now, Jesse equally wondered if Deathwing’s mark could shatter the Demon Soul. He could only test it. Wasn’t this desperation too?

The world couldn’t heap endless troubles without offering one lucky break. He recalled the gnome in Stormwind who’d fixed his pocket watch.

—Trust your choices, Mr. Seso. Was he a Bronze Dragon?

He’d better be, Jesse thought.

He’d suspected it then—the gnome’s name and magic felt far too powerful for an apprentice mage.

Now, maybe it was time to believe in the uncanny.

Once he tried destroying the Demon Soul, Deathwing would sense his intent instantly. If he failed… at least Deathwing’s rage would take time to reach him, letting Jesse struggle a little longer before death.

As long as he stayed awake, he could try again.

Currently, Deathwing was likely in Lordaeron’s royal court, discussing Alterac Kingdom affairs with King Terenas II and Alliance nobles.

How long would flying from the royal city or Alterac Mountains to Grim Batol take? How fast was Deathwing?

Jesse stopped his pointless wondering—dwelling on unknowns wasted energy.

After two days of walking, once the swamp mist vanished entirely, he climbed a peak that morning and gazed toward the darkest energy. Across the valley, he finally saw it: a shadowed wall and tower fused with a mountainside and cliffs.

Grim Batol.