Chapter 625
by post_apiChapter 625: The Timeless Contract
No matter what happened outside, Elwynn Forest always looked the same as when Jesse first arrived—hardly changed at all.
The afternoon sun shone through the trees as Jesse listened quietly to distant sounds. Confirming no hunters, wanderers, or even mages from the Wizard’s Sanctum approached, he drew a Soul Shard from his bag.
This time, he’d brought Gorefiend’s staff to strengthen his Shadow Magic, hoping to summon a powerful Felhound. He needed to test both the shadow control spell and demon enslavement simultaneously—the stronger the opponent, the better.
"You won’t need me to hold back the Felhound this time, Master?" Molofeel asked.
"Only intervene if I’m overwhelmed—kill whatever I summon," Jesse instructed.
The succubus nodded. Jesse tossed the Soul Shard onto the grass, closed his eyes, raised his right hand, and chanted the Felhound summoning spell.
The Soul Shard evaporated instantly. A void portal ripped open as Jesse gripped the dark staff, forcing the fissure wider. A Felhunter tumbled out, crashing to the ground…
This Felhound dwarfed ordinary specimens. Five nightmarish tentacles sprouted from its body—most had only two—making it writhe like a collapsed octopus, claws snapping on every limb.
Even Molofeel frowned at the sight. Jesse had no time to ponder. "Duke, Hedoniloinmos!"
He thrust his hand forward. A shadow claw materialized, pinning the demon’s skull. Raw struggle pulsed through the magic into Jesse’s bones.
Soon, he could barely contain it. The Felhound’s thick legs scraped furrows in the earth, fighting the shadow’s grip. Instinctively, Jesse willed it airborne—and the claw obeyed, hoisting the beast aloft…
*Was this the Death Knight’s Choking Spell from the games?*
Different magic, same effect: shadow-force suspension, disabling foes through suffocation.
But as Jesse prepared the Satyr’s enslavement incantation, the shadow claw faltered. The Felhound slammed down, then lunged at him, roaring…
*Did this require constant focus?*
Molofeel tightened her grip on the dagger. Jesse summoned another shadow claw, yanking the demon backward before lifting it again. The strain drained nearly a third of his energy—combined with the summoning cost, over two-thirds was gone. This Felhound eclipsed the weaklings he’d conjured in Eldre’Thalas…
And this was just the beginning. Two Mana Potions wouldn’t last the hour at this rate.
He focused, maintaining the Choking Spell with his right hand while his left traced the Satyr’s enslavement sigils… The words spilled from his lips:
"Vita, Taho’tozqi, Milorn, Taho’totani…"
Enslaving felt harder here than in Eldre’Thalas’s magic-saturated halls. Shadow answered his whispers and gestures with low whispers… yet coldly, without that realm’s fervor.
Just as the Felhound nearly broke free, a shadow sigil seared itself onto its forehead…
The mark sank into its skull. Rage became confusion, then submission.
Jesse sensed its mind shift: no longer a killer from the void, but a loyal hound bewildered by its master’s violence.
Victory ignited that familiar inner fire. Fingertips flickered green—briefly, but noticeably.
He wrestled down his bloodlust, steadying his heart until the Choking Spell faded. His hands lowered.
Living Ice Crystals couldn’t purge the fel magic in his blood. Like an Orc, he’d have to wait for it to fade. But controlling it during spells? That was progress.
*This* was why he avoided Life Drain. You never knew what twisted energies a target might carry.
The black dragon blood had its perks—only occasional Northrend-haunted dreams as downside.
He’d expelled most of Teron Gorefiend’s necrotic taint early; Sunwell’s waters purified the rest. No lasting damage.
He prayed the Ered’ruin blood from Dethmoora would be equally kind. For now, the Felhound was his. It crept closer, docile.
No Annihilan naming ritual meant Jesse couldn’t formally claim it… but the enslavement held.
"How long does the demon enslavement last?" he asked. "Five minutes? An hour?"
Molofeel turned, eyebrow arched as if he’d uttered nonsense. "Master believes a demonic pact dissolves *naturally*?"
"What do you mean?"
She tossed her dagger, catching it neatly. "Until death claims either of you. Or until you’re stripped of magic and will by catastrophe… or another spellcaster severs the bond. But such things?" A laugh. "Rare. You didn’t enslave a tavern wench, Master."