Chapter 632

Chapter 632: Until the World’s End

Is this the elven kingdom of Quel’Thalas?

A wave of headache made Jesse grimace. He had never been here, yet it felt strangely familiar—so much so that he could point directly toward Silvermoon City…

Yes, he remembered this from his past life… Had he grown so old that he’d nearly forgotten? Regardless, he needed to escape this stream, whose waters seemed to eat away at his legs.

Jesse tried shuffling toward the bank. Numbness made the ten-meter distance feel like a marathon. He sighed and slowly sat down, straining to recall everything.

What was real?

This place, or… damn it, he couldn’t remember how he’d arrived. Had he spaced out again? Some bizarre dream?

Which was the dream?

If that other place was the dream, then what was this?

Vereesa’s laughter echoed in the distance, reminding him of Kalimdor. Unconsciously, he hugged his bony legs tighter.

Life expectancy, huh? Damn it all.

Jesse grabbed the fish trap beside him and lurched upright—only to feel a terrible, sharp pain as though his back had snapped. He lost balance and pitched forward into the stream…

Then a strong hand seized his right arm, steadying him. “Seso.”

That voice was familiar too.

Jesse turned to see a man.

Tall and slender, with a face too striking to call merely handsome.

Jesse had never seen a man so beautiful outside his dreams.

Wait—yes. This was the man from his snowy dream in Northrend.

What was he doing here? Jesse hadn’t seen him in that recurring nightmare for ages.

“She can’t hide her grief. You see it clearer than I do.” The man’s low, compelling voice left no room for disagreement.

Vereesa’s smile wasn’t like the one he knew.

But was it sorrow she couldn’t mask—or was this not Vereesa Windrunner at all? Bracing his aching back, Jesse steadied himself. After a long pause, he asked, “Who are you?”

The man replied, “No games. You know exactly who I am.” Deathwing. Jesse had guessed right.

This was Deathwing’s disguise within the Alliance court: Lord Dalaran Prestor, the Alterac noble.

Facing the father of black dragons, Jesse expected terror, despair, trembling knees…

Yet he simply stared, unnerved by his own calm.

Perhaps he resented being toyed with—or maybe, given his current plight, even Deathwing seemed less frightening.

“What do you want?” Jesse asked.

“What matters is what you want, Seso.” The man gazed toward the distant gardens. “Is this what you aimed for? Saving Azeroth while failing to save yourself and those you love?”

Jesse hesitated. “No.”

“Then listen,” the man turned back. “Krasus kept much from you. I won’t.”

“Draenor went badly. I retreated to Azeroth. Now I hide, seeking ways to protect and strengthen my flight, Seso. Yet all believe I’ve failed—even died. Including those who once swore loyalty.”

“However, the leader of the Dragonmaw Orcs, Nekros, still held some important treasures, one of which belonged to me. This treasure was the key to controlling Alexstrasza. Without it, the Dragonmaw Orcs in Grim Batol could not withstand her fury.”

The Demon Soul, Jesse thought, or perhaps the Dragon Soul.

Of course, this treasure, once hoped to destroy the Burning Legion during the War of the Ancients, had barely served its original purpose. Today, no one was willing to call this cursed artifact “Dragon Soul” anymore.

At this point, the man’s voice suddenly grew somber.

“My children told me that after the Dark Portal closed, Nekros assumed I was dead, and this treasure rightfully belonged to him. He also wasted the numerous dragon eggs he promised to leave for me, which was an unforgivable foolishness, a shameful betrayal.”

“I would not make you openly go against the Red Dragons or the Alliance; that would be unfair to you. You only needed to venture deep into Khaz Modan, kill this traitor, and seize the treasure to control the Dragonmaw clan. Afterward, have the Orcs send the dragon eggs birthed by Alexstrasza out of Grim Batol and hide them in the deep mountains to the south along with that Sacred Tool.”

“This would make you a hero of the Alliance—think about it, single-handedly destroying the lair of the Dragonmaw Orcs, ending the dragon riders’ threat, and lifting the shadow that had long hung over the Kirin Tor and the whole Alliance.”

“Not only that, you only had to do this much, and I would grant you a long life beyond your imagination, letting you stay with your loved ones until the world’s end.”

Hearing the man’s words, Jesse felt his heart skip a beat, as if the stream had stopped flowing. “What about the Red Dragon Queen? Do you want me to refuse Krasus?” he asked.

“No.” The man said, “You must agree to him; he has a very odd item. With it, you can smoothly enter Grim Batol and control those pitiful Orcs, which will be easier for us. As for dear Alexstrasza’s fate, truthfully, I do not care.”

“If he finds out I am working with you, he will kill me,” Jesse said.

“His focus is on me now; that is not your worry.” The man looked into Jesse’s eyes and smiled, “So, you have decided to work with me?”

Jesse realized he could not refuse this offer.

Vereesa’s smile flashed in his mind, alongside the ugly old face that could be her grandfather. These images twisted into a strong desire that pulled him to take this step, falling into the web Deathwing had woven for him…

He knew well what his fate might be, but it seemed he had no choice but to plunge in.

Could he refuse Deathwing?

“Can I really live as long as an elf?” Jesse asked.

“Elf?” The man smiled, “Self-proclaimed eternal mortals are laughable, Seso; you will become eternal.”

“I see,” Jesse said.

“You are truly unusual. Krasus made many mistakes, but at least he found you.” With that, the man stepped closer and grasped Jesse’s thin arm.

Jesse looked down and saw a black dragon claw leaving a smoky sigil on his skin.

“This magic mark lets me hear your voice. If you face trouble, I will not ignore it, since my future offspring’s fate rests with you. But I cannot draw too much attention now, so I cannot appear myself. I hope you understand my situation.”

“How did you find me?” Jesse asked.

The man said, “After all, your blood runs with mine, Seso.”

As he finished, a thick black shadow swallowed everything. Jesse felt as if he hung in mid-air, his whole body trembling as he sat up sharply.

Sunlight streamed through the window; the gray tower of Stormwind Prison still stood under the blue sky. Was it morning?

It was just a dream.

He swallowed hard; the dream’s terror lingered, and his forehead was damp with sweat. He did not know if it was fear of Deathwing in the dream or fear it might come true.

Wait, Vereesa had said nothing yet, but he dreamed of marrying her until they grew old. He laughed at his own arrogance.

He touched his wet forehead, but from the corner of his eye, he spotted a faint black sigil on his arm. This was real; the dream was real.

Deathwing could hear his voice. But Jesse was not surprised.

What did he expect? That it was just an ordinary dream?

This sigil was surely some kind of watch; Deathwing needed to confirm his loyalty.

Was it only sound?

Could it hold thoughts, or even… feelings?

After Krasus found him, Deathwing slipped into his dreams that very night. How he knew all this, Jesse had no idea.

A wave of fear gripped his throat.

No, Deathwing’s magic could not read his thoughts; otherwise, all his knowledge of the World of Warcraft would have spilled out.

If it could, Deathwing would not have spoken to him that way.

But this changed nothing. Was he doomed to be watched by Deathwing forever? Still, it might not last long.

He knew Deathwing had no shortage of followers.

Even if he obeyed Deathwing and did everything, once Deathwing proved he had returned from failure in Draenor and showed his strength, once he took all the dragon eggs and that Sacred Tool, countless hidden powers in Azeroth would shout “Dragon Father.”

Then, he would be just a small pawn, easy to kill, with no way to fight back. Jesse slowly saw what he faced.

Eternal life?

He would never let himself fall that low. He knew what Deathwing’s talk of the world’s end meant; that arrogant fool spoke freely.

Recalling Vereesa’s face from the dream, though lovely, it was only an illusion. The real her would never let him become Deathwing’s puppet for eternal life. Thinking this, a bitter taste filled his heart.

At this point, it was a fight to the death.

On one side was him, and on the other was the mightiest dragon the world had ever known.