Chapter 602

Chapter 602: The Legacy of the Burning Legion

Though saved by the water element’s surging magic, Mosa had only woken briefly. After drinking some water, she quickly fell back into deep sleep.

After all, she had suffered severe arcane burns. In such a state, even potent Healing Potions would prove useless. Being revived by water magic didn’t mean instant recovery.

Jesse and Vereesa decided to return to the demon corpse for further clues. Greed stayed behind to care for Mosa, while Jesse left Saenor with them to shout his name as warning should danger arise.

Though both walked slowly through the passage, burdened by injuries and exhaustion, the atmosphere felt noticeably lighter.

Vereesa murmured, "As a child, I believed Tauren were monsters guarding demon palaces. Even after learning otherwise with age, shedding that prejudice remains difficult."

She turned to Jesse. "Yet Mosa shows more kindness and courage than most Quel’dorai I’ve known."

"Remember the Tauren we saw in the arena?" Jesse said. "Not all are like Mosa. Perhaps birds of a feather flock together—only the brave and kind become your true friends."

"Praising yourself now?" Vereesa arched an eyebrow.

Jesse chuckled. "So you admit we’re genuine friends now? Not just some pact between a house thug and a greedy sellsword?"

Vereesa opened her mouth to retort but froze upon noticing Molofeel’s sudden silence. Just then, the stench of demon flesh wafted toward them.

Jesse looked ahead—they’d unknowingly reached the hall where they battled Lehaiden.

Shadowflame danced across the chamber as stray arcane energies bathed everything in ghastly violet-blue light. The withered corpse of the Ered’ruin Doomguard still lay where it fell.

The sight churned Jesse’s stomach. He sucked in a sharp breath, bracing against the wall to steady himself. "What’s wrong?" Vereesa asked.

"Just an upset stomach," Jesse shook his head.

Vereesa frowned at the body. "Why does that elf’s corpse reek so?"

"She was no elf, Quel’dorai," Molofeel corrected.

"Some spellcasters take demonic forms," Vereesa countered. "Have you never heard of such beings?"

"Merely borrowing demonic power," Molofeel dismissed. "She was a true demon, hiding in elven guise within Eldre’Thalas."

"If she was truly demonic, why didn’t you sense it earlier?" Jesse pressed.

The question hung in the air—he too had failed to detect her nature with Detect Demon.

"She was a formidable demon mage, master," Molofeel conceded wearily. "A flawless mortal disguise. Imagine the effort spent masking every flaw—yet your summoned felhound tore through it effortlessly."

Jesse studied Dazhalm’s remains. "Had she tapped the magic tower’s power while in elven form, she wouldn’t have weakened so… We’d have stood no chance from the start."

"She meant to use that power to summon more demons," Vereesa mused, tracing a Shadow Bolt’s scar on a pillar. "Jesse, how did you realize destroying the tower would sever her power?"

"You suggested it," Jesse reminded. "Mentioned demons fighting over mana here…"

"That was just idle talk," Vereesa shrugged.

"Vereesa," Jesse changed tack, "how do we report this to the Reliquary?"

She glanced at the succubus. "Molofeel extracted Dethmoora’s soul. I’ll deliver the Soul Shard… Ah, you want to keep it?"

Jesse smiled sheepishly. "The Reliquary never demanded the demon’s soul. Its heart should suffice as proof."

"No objection here," Vereesa said. "But how do we convince them Dethmoora was a demon? When did she infiltrate Eldre’Thalas? Why linger? Clearly she left sometimes—for what? Writing demonology books? Demons care nothing for fame. Was she recruiting cultists?"

"She belonged to the Burning Legion, Quel’dorai," Molofeel interjected. "Recall her words upon revealing herself: ‘Ten thousand years of torment.’ She loathed her elven existence in Azeroth—I felt her agony."

"Likely an Ered’ruin commander under Archimonde during the invasion," Jesse reasoned. "After the Legion’s defeat, she fled. Either she sought to resurrect Archimonde, or the Legion ordered her to scout Azeroth for power sources—like Eldre’Thalas."

"After the Well of Eternity’s destruction… the Sundering," Vereesa nodded, "the Kaldorei couldn’t hunt remnant demons for ages. Infiltrating Eldre’Thalas then would’ve spared her millennia of pursuit. Your theory holds."

She studied the succubus. "I thought all demons served the Burning Legion, yet you seem to despise them…"

"Despise? Hardly," Molofeel’s lips curved. "Regardless of my master, I resent being ruled by that dark Titan. Legion demons ignore warlocks beyond their ranks—and my master clearly isn’t one." Her smile sharpened. "Unless powerful warlocks rewrite their wills through enslavement magic."

"Enslavement magic…" Jesse recalled the Satyrs’ scrolls—they’d truly intended to enslave Dethmoora herself.

Were those Satyrs actually serving the Burning Legion…?