Chapter 608

Chapter 608: Late Pursuers

“I can’t say I’m fine,” Jesse said, looking at his burned, reddened palm. “The demon blood I drew into myself clearly hasn’t digested properly.”

“Didn’t you feel like throwing anything up this time?” Vereesa asked.

Jesse replied, “I haven’t vomited anything I’ve taken in for a long time. I thought my command over magic was improving, but clearly it wasn’t enough this time.”

Vereesa asked, “Will it cause trouble?”

Jesse shook his head. “For now, it seems to affect my mood a bit, but I can still control it. I was just trying a demon enslavement spell learned from a Satyr. The result was…”

“Fairly smooth, Master,” the imp interrupted. “Only your magic failed to stabilize at the end, burning away the unfinished spell. But with better control, a few more tries should bring perfect success.”

Seeing the lingering worry in Vereesa’s eyes, Jesse asked, “Have you heard of ‘the Orcs’ Despondency’?”

“I have,” Vereesa recited. “Many Dalaran mages observed Orcs in Lordaeron’s internment camps growing listless and indifferent to escape. Even the gladiators in Durnholde showed similar signs.”

“Exactly. Archmage Antonidas believes it’s because the demonic energy within them is fading.” Jesse explained, “The Orcs drank demon blood and forged a blood pact with the Burning Legion, but that energy isn’t permanent—it weakens over time. They drank a Pit Lord’s blood, incredibly potent. What I took was from a mere demon captain, and most of her power had already become Eldre’Thalas’s Arcane energy.”

“When the Living Ice Crystals regain their power, I’ll use them to purify myself again. Don’t fear I’ll do anything… terrible.”

“I only fear for your health, Jesse. I trust you won’t lose control.” Vereesa offered half a roasted frog. “It’s likely cold now, but eat? It might help. You haven’t eaten for ages.”

The sight of the meat made Jesse realize how long he’d gone without food. His stomach had felt unsettled since battling Dethmoora, killing his appetite. Thoughts of magic, spells, and Ulthalesh had drowned out his body’s needs.

“Thanks.” Jesse took a bite.

“Mosa’s awake,” Vereesa said. “She’s healing herself. We might leave sooner than expected.”

“Good,” Jesse nodded.

The Living Ice Crystals hastened Mosa’s recovery. By evening, she could stand and walk.

The pool room aided them too. After the water element unleashed its torrent spell, its soothing presence lingered, nourishing all nearby.

When morning came, Greed hesitated to leave the hall.

The Tauren gazed steadily into the forest ahead, showing no sign of her near-fatal clash with a powerful demon three days prior. Beside her, Jesse—aching from fel magic—and Greed—still nursing battle wounds—looked far worse for wear.

Jesse tugged the dwarf’s collar. Greed shrugged him off. “What?”

“Don’t forget,” Jesse warned.

“Forget what?” Vereesa asked.

“Uh…” Jesse glanced at the elf. “Our gear. Did you bring the demon’s heart?”

Vereesa arched an eyebrow. “Of course. I’d forget you here before forgetting that.”

Mosa gestured forward. Vereesa followed with light steps. Greed snorted. “Serves you right, asking a ranger if she remembered her spoils. Elves in the Hinterlands would nail you to a tree for such nerve…”

“All that bark, yet no bite?” Jesse retorted.

“Just say it outside: ‘Leave Eldre’Thalas. Now,’” Greed hissed. Jesse shot him a look, shouldered his pack, and moved ahead.

Exiting Dire Maul East proved easier than entering, the path now familiar.

The arena plaza outside held far more people than days prior. Jesse spotted Orcs across the fighting pits. More Ogres patrolled the streets. The square buzzed with activity—only the crumbling elven ruins anchored it to Eldre’Thalas.

“Gnolls, Quilboar, now Orcs,” Greed muttered. “What next?”

“Undead,” Vereesa answered.

Following her gaze, Jesse saw two black-cloaked figures whispering beside a broken pillar. Metal armor gleamed beneath their cloaks; helmets hid their faces. Their size suggested they were human.

Greyish skin showed through the shadows, lips black and bloodless, marred by visible wounds.

Noticing the scrutiny, both turned. Their hollow eyes glowed with necromantic light, chillingly familiar—Jesse had seen that same emptiness in a risen Dalaran mage in Deadwind Pass.

Once clear, Greed whispered, “Death Knights? Teron Gorefiend’s lot?”

“No,” Vereesa said. “Feels different. Jesse, tied to Molofeel’s Necromancers?”

“Unsure,” Jesse said. “But undead here, and Dethmoora’s Necromancer clues below? No coincidence.”

He suspected their true nature: black-clad undead, hunting treasures across the world. Medivh’s Black Knights.

Had they come for Ulthalesh? Perhaps other clues led them to a demon holding answers in Eldre’Thalas… only to arrive too late.

Jesse’s hand brushed the purple bundle at his waist.

“Avoid them,” Vereesa urged. “Don’t let them learn we met Dethmoora.”

“Let them search,” Greed chuckled. “Doubt those undead can cross that garden.”