Chapter 147

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Chapter 147: Just Like a Dream

The burning firelight filled the field of view, thick smoke everywhere. Jesse felt like he was about to choke on his own lungs, his chest hurting as if being stabbed continuously with a dagger.

It felt like being thrown onto a horse, the strong jolts preventing him from passing out but also making it hard to fully wake up, constantly swaying in this half-asleep state.

He knew he only had some burns besides the minor injuries. The soldiers believed he was hurt by the power of the shadows, possibly because he had drained too much black dragon blood.

This black dragon blood was the cause of his intense pain at the moment.

It felt like hot lava filled up his chest, stomach, and brain. No matter how he scratched or hit his skin, the torment inside wouldn’t go away. He felt like throwing up but couldn’t, except for the first two mouthfuls, nothing else came out.

Despite feeling nauseous and heartburn, his digestive system felt dry as if there was no oil or water. He groaned in discomfort, and a voice comforted him, saying, "Almost there… almost there, mage!"

"How long until we reach Southshore? I need water…"

Jesse almost unconsciously blurted out these words, but the sound from his throat was rough like a wild beast.

A strong feeling of passing out suddenly arose. He had been hoping for a good sleep but now began to resist. He remembered how doctors in the hospital would constantly remind the dying patients not to fall asleep, as if once asleep, they would never wake up again.

He waved his arms trying to grab onto something, but it only caused the person in front to gasp. After a violent jolt, he couldn’t bear the rapidly engulfing weariness.

No… he suddenly opened his eyes, and everything around him abruptly stopped.

There was no shaking, no movement, no howling wind, no wild flames.

This quietness made Jesse extremely uncomfortable, as if he had been struggling in the Black Dragon’s Shadow Flame just a second ago.

He sat up and realized he was sinking into a soft dark red mattress.

The material of the sheets was so silky that it made him uncomfortable all over. Just by touching it with his hand, he could tell it was probably very expensive, made of silk or even more luxurious fabric. He was even a bit afraid that his sweat and mud would soil it.

But when he touched himself, he was actually very clean.

After spending half a month at sea without a bath, his skin, salty and sticky, became incredibly refreshed. Even the hair that had been sticking to his scalp was now fluffy and soft as if carefully washed with shampoo.

His current soft, plush hair was completely different from his previous coarse black hair. Since he rarely had the chance to wash his hair this clean, the feel of it was somewhat unfamiliar, even a bit addictive to touch.

The room was all clean and white, with simple and bright decorations. On the brown carved bedside table, there was a milky white porcelain vase containing unknown purple small flowers. Clusters of flowers extended from it, emitting a strange, exotic scent.

When he caught a whiff of this scent, his whole body felt purified, to the point where he started to dislike his own breath.

Where was this place, heaven perhaps?

Or maybe, a dream?

If this dream was caused by shadow damage, it seems quite normal, even a bit like a "beautiful dream", completely different from the nightmares created by those evil gods.

Then he noticed a package lying under his bedside table, a Warlock Pack shaken off from the Orc.

Compared to this beautiful bedroom, the Warlock Pack didn’t look so nice anymore, and because it was covered in patterned stains, it looked a bit like a trash bag pulled out from a muddy pit.

This bag… hasn’t been rifled through by anyone, right?

He felt a pang of anxiety, but then noticed that the knot tying the Warlock Pack was tied by himself.

He was sure of this because he was the only one here who used the knot-tying method he learned from his cousin in the previous life, people from the Kingdom of Stormwind or Lordaeron don’t tie knots in this way.

This indicated that no matter where he was, or who saved him, nobody had rummaged through the contents of the bag.

And if someone was sure there was something hidden inside, he should have woken up from the prison by now.

So what exactly happened…

Before passing out, he went through a battle that he would never forget in his whole life.

That dragon burned down countless houses in Southshore, killed many ordinary people and soldiers, and also the Gryphon Rider.

The sight of the Gryphon Rider lying in the house, and the expression on the face of the young female homeowner as she looked at his body, remained deeply imprinted in Jesse’s mind even after he passed out and woke up.

Is the dragon dead?

It must be dead, Jesse still remembers the head falling heavily at his feet.

It was a young dragon, its head like a snake, without the thick beard of an old dragon, or the sharp sturdy horns of a young dragon.

Jesse shouldn’t have doubted the power of a young dragon, after all, even a young dragon could be as powerful as the notorious "Devourer" Tremus. It’s just that at that moment, his mind couldn’t recall much. Too much chaos, too much pain, too much excitement; he just wanted to help Southshore, help Greed to end the tyranny of that evil dragon.

Greed… right, where is Greed?

Trying to move his lower body, luckily not paralyzed; his legs were numb, but still mobile.

Now he’s wearing a loose white shirt and pants that don’t belong to him. His previous clothes, including the cloak, are neatly folded and kept in a small dressing table-like cabinet by the window.

The cloak has returned to its dark brown color.

Thinking back to when his hand and right arm were burned by flames while wearing the cloak, his arm hurts in waves, and now it’s bandaged.

Jesse remembers using Life Drain at the last moment while holding the magic wand.

Normally, a burn received at Stonewatch Keep would heal with just a touch of sheep wool, why can’t the burn from the flames be restored by absorbing the life force of a black dragon?

Without the dream of the dark shadow, without healing, Jesse feels that something is not quite right.

Getting out of bed, Jesse touched his previously worn clothes, which had been cleaned and dried.

How long has it been since the incident at that riverside watchtower happened? He squatted down, touched the bag, felt that there were still many things inside, and just by touching it, he could feel small notebooks and the like that he had put in.

Oh, what about that stick?

Jesse stood up and looked around the whole room, noticing his stick standing by the window with a piece of cloth tied to it.

In other words, besides his clothes, none of his luggage had been touched by anyone.

So… where’s the imp in the bag?

Jesse felt like calling him out, but just as Saenor’s name was about to come out, he swallowed it back.

He gazed at the window beside him, wanting to figure out where he was.

Actually, he already had an idea in his mind, he just wanted to confirm it with his own eyes.

Taking slow and heavy steps towards the window, Jesse looked outside and, after getting used to the strong sunlight, saw a scene that resembled a fairy tale in front of him.

Rows of small buildings with purple domes crowded together on creamy white walls, with streets paved with deep red bricks, creating a pattern like strawberry jam.

Beyond the majestic purple-tiled castle in the distance, the endless shimmering lake reflected the sunlight, with flocks of white birds flying across the sky.

Endless green pine forests filled the rest of his vision, like a natural picture frame. Jesse pinched his face – this wasn’t a dream, he had been brought to Dalaran by someone.

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