Chapter 744

Chapter 744: Transforming the Curse into Strength

It had to be said that casting spells with a Demonic voice was another boost to his dark magic. The language curse corroded his throat with demonic power, making it hoarse and rough, producing sounds like they were soaked in burning demon blood. But it also had two big flaws.

One was that Jesse fought against the language curse’s pressure, practicing for most of the day, and could only get out two or three syllables before feeling drained.

Still, that was somewhat okay because Jesse saw a bit of hope in resisting the curse to cast spells. The second problem was the real headache: he couldn’t have someone put a language curse on him before every fight, could he?

He didn’t trust these warlocks, especially not this Orc. He didn’t want to risk adventures with them or depend on them for his future spellcasting.

So how could he fix this trouble?

Jesse remembered the Orc commander he met at Grim Batol, Nekros.

That one could turn into a demon. Was there someone in the Shadow Council who could demonize themselves? Scary! But it was a way to get better at using fel magic and Shadow Magic.

Becoming a demon wasn’t the path Jesse wanted, though. He liked his current look. And turning into a demon might risk being enslaved.

Strong as he was, Jesse knew there was always someone stronger. He couldn’t act wild just because he had the Chain of Will, since it wasn’t perfect—its past users all failed.

So, he had to learn demon spells as safely as he could with what he had.

After a day of torment from the Orc’s language curse, he felt his throat was nearly burned out by demonic power, the sharp pain messing with his mind.

Actually, the block in learning the demon spell bothered him more. Then, he looked at the succubus nearby.

"Can you learn the language curse?"

"Master," Molofeel said, "I can try to learn the language curse for you, but let’s be honest, you don’t take me out much since I’m not… handy."

She tapped the demon bag lightly, and Saenor popped his head out, asking, "What do you want, Sayaad?"

"Teach it," Molofeel said.

"Learn what, the language curse?" The imp glanced at Jesse and the succubus, saying, "I know the spell for the language curse. It’s not deep magic, but I don’t have enough juice, Master!"

Jesse asked, "You can throw several Firebolts and use the Blood Pact—isn’t that enough magic for one language curse?"

"See, those fire spells and the Blood Pact…" the imp shrugged, "are my strong suits; all imps know them! I’ve never used the language curse and I’m not good at it. It’s a weird spell made by the Eredar, and you know their magic—they don’t care about saving power…"

Jesse scratched his chin, frowning as he leaned aside.

If there was no way at all to learn the Cripple Spell, he could live with it. But now he felt close to grasping it, yet not quite.

Or he saw the hope of learning it, but in real fights, it might be useless, turning a strong control spell into a show-off trick, which was frustrating.

"Not totally hopeless," the imp said, jumping from the demon bag and holding the Soul Shard bag. "If Master finds a way to make me stronger… maybe I’ll have enough power for the language curse. What do you say?"

Jesse asked, "I gave you some Soul Shards already, right? Have you gotten stronger?"

The imp shot back, "Of course! I’m way tougher than when I first came to Azeroth, but not enough. Oh, Master…"

"But… wait, yes!" It blurted out excitedly, "Now we’ve got a Burning Legion lord under control, so we might get that thing—the demon stone made from Soul Shards!"

"What’s that?" Jesse asked, puzzled.

"Some demons refine Soul Shards into odd stones that fix their bodies. My old boss, Ghost King Yaroslbal of Nastoy, ate them to grow strong. He started like us, a little imp, but he took over the Furnace, turned naughty imps into Soul Shards. You think he used them for what? Some for rituals, the rest he made into those fel stones, Master!"

"Healing stones?" Jesse asked.

"Healing stones?" The imp shook his head. "Never heard that name."

The imp’s words made Jesse think of the healing stones in games, called "sugar" by players—warlocks made them from Soul Shards to heal.

But demons didn’t call them "healing stones"; that name probably came from human or Orc warlocks.

"Never mind. I meant, are they stones that heal? You said they restore a demon’s body," Jesse added.

"They heal demons, but who knows if they heal you? Ha!" the imp said. "So, Master?"

"Can you make them?" Jesse asked. "Since you were Ghost King Yaroslbal’s guard, you must know the trick, right?"

"No," the imp shook its head. "I wasn’t a furnace worker; no clue how it’s done! Ask that big guy tomorrow. His imps outnumber Yaroslbal’s; they might know."

It peered eagerly out of the tent and added, "Why not ask now?"

"No, I’m tired," Jesse said, spreading his cloak to lie down. "Talk tomorrow."

Even so, Jesse really hoped Saenor would get stronger, at least to cast more demon spells.

If it couldn’t throw endless attacks, it could still boost him or others in battle.

Sure, the language curse was still a weakening spell—under it, chanting was impossible. But if Jesse ever trained to fully beat the curse’s mess with his speech, it would become a boost spell, turning his voice box into a demon’s.