Chapter 597

Chapter 597: The Dark Chamber of Demon Blood

Deep within Eldre’Thalas palace, the air was bitterly cold and oppressive. After arriving here, the last remnants of life energy vanished, dispersed by the ever-present shadowfire braziers. Countless dark emotions surged within them, stirred by the dark magic—loneliness, anxiety. Even Jesse, a warlock accustomed to battling negative energies, felt his spirits sink under the magic’s weight. The others fared no better.

The demon corpse they’d just encountered troubled them deeply. If not a Felhound, what demon could have drained that Sayaad with magic? Was it the same magic Molofeel wielded?

Pressing forward through the dark magic-saturated corridor, Jesse felt his thoughts spin uselessly, yielding no answers.

As his mind neared its limit, the group reached an arched doorway. Beyond lay a vast hall, grander than the pool chamber where the Kaldorei mage had been. Thick stone pillars supported both floor and a ceiling lost in shadowed heights, with staircases leading to upper terraces.

This hall had likely hosted solemn gatherings once. Eldre’Thalas’ inhabitants would gather here—watching performances from different levels, feasting, conducting rituals. Now it stood empty, devoid of demons. Jesse’s Detect Demon sensed no demonic presence.

Where were the demons? For just two Felhounds, all this seemed excessive… Then Jesse spotted a demon slumped beneath a pillar ahead.

Its face was gaunt, body emaciated—so withered that distinguishing between Eredar or Mo’arg Demon proved difficult. Towering over two meters tall, it lay like a drained husk, a skeletal heap.

“A Mo’arg warrior,” Molofeel observed. “Uncertain if it served the Burning Legion. No legion armor, and its skin’s mageweave markings are faded.”

“Might’ve been a prisoner,” Greed suggested.

“There,” Mosa pointed toward another pillar’s base, where a shadowy form lay curled.

They approached this second demon—another Mo’arg, shorter and thinner, clad in tattered robes. Though torn by some force, the fabric seemed less decayed than the corpse itself, almost recently damaged.

“Enchantment traces linger here,” Vereesa noted. “I can’t identify the type, but… I feel it, Jesse. This robe’s wearer last channeled magic less than a year ago.”

“So what happened here?” Greed pressed.

“Unknown,” Jesse replied.

“Could they have fought over that energy source?” Vereesa proposed. “Battling for the Arcane power from the spire until one victor claimed it all.”

“Sounds like an Ogre arena contender,” Greed remarked. “Eldre’Thalas’ underground coliseum… crowning one champion through blood-soaked trials.”

*Some battle royale nonsense…* Jesse thought. Yet their theory held unsettling logic. “Then where’s the winner? Can you sense Dethmoora’s presence here, Vereesa?”

“Truthfully, Jesse,” Vereesa said, “the magic here is chaos itself. I detect Dethmoora’s residue everywhere, faint yet unmistakable—like that Demonic Figurine’s aura.”

“What if that Doomguard killed them?” Greed asked.

“Would Ered’ruin leave demons like this?” Saenor gripped his warlock bag’s edge. “*Our master’s* work? Far more believable!”

“Demons brim with fel magic,” Jesse countered. “Absorbing that would doom me! Only demons could stomach it.” He noticed the demon’s magic wand had become a lifeless stick, its gems and enchantments utterly drained. Whoever did this left nothing behind—a thorough predator.

They ascended a staircase to the second-floor terrace. Aside from an unrecognizable demon carcass, they found an elven corpse. A male, adorned in opulent robes and a gemmed crown—likely a Highborne. Like the others, he’d been completely drained. Though his face was skeletal, his final agony remained etched there, features twisted like a nightmare specter.

Greed lifted the crown. As he pulled, its dull gem crumbled, leaving only a silver circlet. Even this gem’s energy was gone.

Nothing else here seemed noteworthy. “A door over there,” Greed indicated a half-open stone portal downstairs.

“Investigate,” Vereesa declared, descending the steps with Jesse close behind.

At the threshold, a vile stench slammed into Jesse. Though he’d endured countless foul odors, this nearly made him vomit the mushroom strips he’d eaten earlier.

*What hellish thing is this?*

Neither shadow’s mental corrosion nor fel magic’s aggressive reek compared to this gut-churning miasma. Vereesa leaned against the doorframe, retching, face sallow and legs trembling. Greed cursed violently between gasps. Mosa stayed back, repelled.

Molofeel entered first, braving the stench. But halfway through, she froze before Jesse—then vanished in a flash of light.

*Someone inside?*

Jesse signaled his Felhound to hide behind distant pillars. Arm covering his nose, he stepped inside. A narrow stairway led down to a cramped chamber, its floor submerged in viscous fluid. Walls and floor bore mangled demon corpses—mostly Mo’arg and Sayaad, even an Eredar head piled nearby. The sludge was unmistakably congealed demon blood.

Seeing bloated organs, Jesse retched violently. Gasping for air, he noticed a grim contrast: while many bodies lay desiccated like those upstairs, others appeared freshly slaughtered.

The others forced themselves inside. Greed dry-heaved instantly. Vereesa stumbled, nearly tripping over a demonic limb.

Fearing survivors, Jesse used Detect Demon, scanning past the carnage. Deep within the chamber, where the blood pooled thickest, sat a gaunt figure.

No demonic aura emanated from it—just an emptiness shielded from the surrounding corruption. Jesse relaxed his focus, peering physically. The figure’s head hung low, features obscured. *Another elven corpse?* As Jesse neared, the head snapped up.

A Kaldorei woman, skin pale silver. Her eyes blazed with silver-white Arcane light. Clad in a demon-bloodied lavender robe, she gripped a wooden staff. Attempting to rise, she slipped in the gore and fell back to one knee.

“Invading Eldre’Thalas carries grave consequence, outsider.”

Her Common Tongue rang out—flawless, accentless. Jesse stared, momentarily stunned.