Chapter 731

Chapter 731: The Secret Hideout of the Warlocks

Jesse left Molofeel in charge of watching over the greater demon with Elaine, then set off with Mor’zul. After all, he couldn’t feel at ease knowing that only Elaine and a group of mentally exhausted warlocks guarded the Storm Altar.

The place Mor’zul mentioned was very close to the “Triangle Junction” in the game, the intersection of roads leading to Lakeshire, Goldshire, and Darkshire.

They reached the bridge toward Darkshire and turned east, following the bank of the Nazferiti river into the Redridge valley. After walking less than ten miles, they spotted a mill and rooftops peeking through the trees.

Jesse didn’t recall such a village in the game; reddish-brown mountains rose with layers of green trees, the river flowed below, and the winter noon sky was deep blue… If he hadn’t been preoccupied with worries about the Demon Lord at the Storm Altar, or the matters of Stonewatch Keep and the Tower of Ilgalar, he would have wanted to stay and enjoy the place for a few days.

Mor’zul led him to a secluded cottage. Jesse used Detect Demon to scan inside and faintly sensed two demons: one weak, likely a succubus, though it was hard to tell clearly from outside; the other a Doomguard with an aura so feeble it felt like an imp.

Mor’zul knocked, and a plump, disheveled woman opened the door.

“Mor’zul…” she smiled, “You and my master performed the ritual…”

She paused, noticing Jesse, and widened her eyes. “Who’s this? Your scent is captivating.”

This was a succubus disguised as human.

“This is Mr Jesse Seso,” Mor’zul said. “Meet our new friend, Lady Segna. About that ritual… your master didn’t do well.”

“No surprise. My master’s a rare coward, but he’s my master.” Segna asked curiously, “So, is Mr Jesse Seso here for me, or for that Ered’ruin?”

Jesse eyed the basement stairs. “Ered’ruin.”

“Your tastes are unusual,” the succubus laughed.

Jesse shot her a look. Realizing he wasn’t joking, she stepped back. “Sorry, Mr Seso. Come in. That demon’s waiting patiently.”

Mor’zul entered the basement. Inside a messy Orcish magic circle glowing with fel magic and shadow light, a Doomguard named Zazalin was chained to the walls, horns scraping the ceiling. One wing was chopped off, and the magic circle stopped it from healing.

The basement stank of demon blood, undetected outside—likely sealed by magic.

“Zazalin,” Mor’zul said. “Greet the warlock and answer his questions.”

“Yes, master,” Zazalin nodded obediently, his fierce looks clashing with his compliance.

Had Mor’zul enslaved this Doomguard? Not surprising, since their group included those bold enough to enslave Doomlords. Perhaps enslaving Zazalin easily gave the Dark Iron Dwarf courage to try enslaving Kallez.

“Talk to him. I’ll wait outside, Jesse,” Mor’zul said.

Jesse knew Mor’zul wanted his trust, but since Mor’zul enslaved the demon, he could learn anything later. Mor’zul leaving was just a formality.

Alone, Jesse took the imp’s paper, picked a section with few Ulthalesh words, and handed it to the Doomguard in Demonic. “Do you know these words? This is your Ered’ruin language.”

The Doomguard lowered its head to read the tiny script. This once-proud battlefield killer, now meekly obeying, gave Jesse an odd satisfaction—like revenge or triumph.

Perhaps this feeling drove warlocks to risk summoning and enslaving demons.

“The Eredar forbid us from using our tongue in the Legion, master’s friend,” the Doomguard mumbled in Demonic. “Dying and rebirthing repeatedly made me forget my first language. Even ‘Ered’ruin’ feels distant. We are Burning Legion guards now, serving the great lord, bringing doom to his worlds—not natives of any world.”

The Doomguard sounded dull, less sharp than the halting-speaking Kallez.

That was the Ered’ruin race: Doomguards or Doomlords might be more flexible than Annihilan Pit Lords, but they weren’t clever.

“Not one word recognized?” Jesse asked.

The Doomguard hesitated, pointing at a few words in Demonic. “Void, Mage, I…”

Jesse listened as it struggled to recall two words—better than Saenor. He wasn’t disappointed; it proved ordinary Doomguards barely knew Ered’ruin. If so, mages like Dar’Khan or others from the Reliquary would struggle to decipher the scroll’s meaning.

“Tell me as many ancient Ered’ruin words or runes as you can, whether you know their meanings or not,” Jesse said, summoning Saenor. “Let this imp record them.”

Comparing Dethmoora’s scroll characters, the imp wrote each word the Doomguard spat out—mostly slang or curses, lacking even simple pronouns. The Doomguards had truly abandoned their language.

So why did Dethmoora use Ered’ruin with Kallez, a language even they’d forgotten? To encrypt it?

As the Doomguard strained to recall its “mother tongue,” Jesse thought of Dethmoora: imprisoned by Highborne, with Satyrs trying to summon her for questioning—both groups had mages fluent in Demonic.

Did Dethmoora use Ered’ruin to hide Ulthalesh’s location? Whatever the reason, it was unknowable now; Dethmoora was down to one Soul Shard.