Chapter 758

Chapter 758: Using Poison to Counter Poison

Jesse found himself impressed by Zardeth’s willpower.

As a traveler, even after surviving several encounters with shadow temptations and now bolstered by the Chain of Will, he knew to avoid certain forbidden things, with the Old Gods being the most perilous.

If he were a native of Azeroth, he doubted he could have done better than Zardeth. Faced with an artifact promising enhanced shadow power, Zardeth had sensed its corruption and refused it outright.

But now, how to destroy this thing?

In another practice room, Zardeth placed the obsidian fragment on the table before him. He glanced at Jesse. “I’ll check Erlan’s room.”

He returned shortly with a hammer. Jesse doubted these magic stones, steeped in Old God influence, could be shattered so simply.

Zardeth brought the hammer down hard with a resounding *clang* against the table.

The fragment, however, proved less resilient than expected—far less than the "goddess" statue stone Jesse and Greed had found in Uldaman. It cracked cleanly in two under the blow, but each half… looked disturbingly wrong.

The lingering shadow essence of the Old God within hadn’t dissipated.

They exchanged a look. They knew mere physical breakage wasn’t enough; someone could still be corrupted by the pieces, especially others in The Slaughtered Lamb.

“Purification potion?” Jesse suggested.

“Ursula isn’t here,” Zardeth said.

“I know where she keeps them,” Jesse said. “I’ll get it.”

Zardeth nodded. Jesse went to the Alchemy Room, returning with the purification potion, though he held little hope.

Sure enough, pouring the potion over the obsidian fragment momentarily masked its dark aura. But once the potion’s effect faded, the stone was unchanged.

Perhaps enough purification potion could eventually destroy the stone’s power, but the quantity required would be staggering. “Try fire magic,” Jesse said.

Zardeth stepped aside. Jesse placed the fragment on the floor and chanted the Scorch Curse.

“Kibimophrosas!”

Blistering flames instantly swallowed the small stone. The room surged with heat; even Zardeth, steps away, had to shield himself from the unexpected intensity. Jesse forgot the Red Dragon essence within him…

…his hair curling from the heatwave.

After the blast, the obsidian shards were flung across the room. One larger piece fractured into three; a smaller one lost a sharp corner. Yet, the power within remained intact.

They gathered the scattered, still-hot pieces. “It doesn’t fear fire elementals?” Zardeth asked, staring at the fragments.

“Remember what I said?” Jesse replied. “The Old Gods’ servants use such stones to summon elementals. In Silithus, they’re called ‘Wind Stones’ for summoning wind elementals. Many of Azeroth’s elementals serve those Old Gods. That’s likely why it resisted the fire so strongly.”

“I’ve heard similar from dwarves,” Zardeth murmured. “But the thought that all elementals around us obey some ancient evil… it’s unsettling.”

“Maybe give it to the church,” Jesse suggested.

“If there’s truly no other way… we’ll seek the priests at the Cathedral of Light,” Zardeth said, shaking his head. “But if they grasp its power, they might investigate. I fear it could implicate us, and my friends.”

“If we had a Doomguard servant here, master, destroying this would be simple.”

Molofeel spoke, giving Jesse a meaningful look. He knew she meant Kallez, the Doomlord summoned with Mor’zul. Mentioning that now, before Zardeth, was clearly unwise.

Sorrel nodded. “Ms. Molofeel is right. The Burning Legion uses fel fire to scorch all resistance… abyssal cultists, even the parasites themselves.”

“You mean demonic power?” Zardeth asked. “Fel magic?”

“Yes,” Molofeel confirmed.

Jesse was about to call Saenor, hoping its sacrifice magic could burn the stone, when Zardeth said, “Let me try.”

He fixed his gaze on the fragments, chanting in Demonic. Fel-tainted flames, bright green, ignited at his fingertips. The room filled with fel stench, overwhelming even the charred scent from Jesse’s fire… transforming it.

Zardeth clearly disliked the smell but gritted his teeth, finishing the spell. He clenched his fist towards the fragments. With a sharp *pop*, fel fire erupted in a concussive blast, scattering the pieces again.

Gathering the fel-tainted shards this time, they felt it instantly: the strange power was gone. The fragments were now inert, like ordinary black glass.

“What spell was that?” Jesse asked.

“Dwarves call it Searing Pain,” Zardeth explained. “Demonic power invades the victim’s mind, breeding rage and agitation. Combined with the Curse of Recklessness, it drives them mad instantly. I thought fel-tainted flames might harm the magic within these fragments. Didn’t expect it to work so well.”

“You didn’t share this fel spell with the others downstairs,” Jesse noted.

“Not with you. But we’ve discussed it, Jesse,” Zardeth replied. “Erlan Drudgemoor, for instance. Little talent for Shadow Magic, but he learned this fel fire quickly.”

As Zardeth spoke, Jesse suddenly understood why warlocks studied Shadow Magic yet rarely fell to the Old Gods like Twilight’s Hammer cultists or shadow-touched priests…

Warlocks learned Shadow Magic *from demons*. They delved not just into shadow, but deep into fel power.

Those with fel running through their veins held a natural resistance to the Old Gods’ corruption and whispers. That’s why warlocks, though reckless and drawn to danger, seldom followed the Old Gods’ path.