Chapter 717

Chapter 717: A Lord?

The next evening, Jesse arrived at Moonbrook. He left Aarna at the inn’s stable, giving the stable master two extra silver coins for better care, then headed toward the house on Moonbrook’s back mountain where Mor’zul lived.

The last time he came was before the Fire Festival, during the kingdom’s hottest season. The whole Westfall baked like a flat frying pan, and the trees’ deep green was so thick it made his head ache.

But now the hills looked golden, with many trees bare and branches tangled in the forest. It seemed so different from his memory that he struggled to find his way.

Still, Mor’zul’s house stood high on a plateau. Heading uphill was best—even if he climbed too far, looking down would be easier than peering upward. Jesse just needed to follow any upward path.

"The demon presence hidden here… belongs to a skilled summoner, Master," Molofeel said, trailing behind. "I sense traces of dead demons and their victims, all thoroughly masked. Had you not told me a summoner lived here, I might have missed it."

"You still caught the scent," Jesse said.

"Always remember who I am, Master. Always," Molofeel chuckled.

"Who’ll know what you are soon, you lifeblood-drinking freak?" Saenor laughed. "Are you even a demon anymore?"

Molofeel didn’t flare up. Softly, she replied, "A lesser demon mongrel has no right to define demons." Jesse tapped his demon bag. "No squabbling now."

The imp mumbled and vanished into the bag. Jesse scanned the woods. "Dead demons mean nothing—Mor’zul deals in demon parts. But humans killed by demons? Did someone die here?"

"I can’t be sure, Master," Molofeel said. "The traces are faint. Maybe they died drinking demon blood, or from Void backlash during a summoning…"

Jesse nodded and climbed higher, stepping over roots and bushes while gripping the Azuresong Mageblade’s hilt.

By midnight, he spotted a gleam uphill and followed it to Mor’zul’s house.

As he neared the door, it opened. Mor’zul’s hunched figure stood there—alive, meaning others likely weren’t.

Jesse knew invisible demons guarded this place: imps, Sayaad, even a Felhound peering from behind the wall, baring fangs. He wasn’t shocked by deaths here—maybe Maginor Dumas’s mage minions, or scavengers hunting demon hearts, hides, or horns for coin.

"Jesse Seso," Mor’zul rasped. "Many warlocks claim you’re dead. Others insist you live. I believed them—and was right."

"I came to check your summoning ritual," Jesse said.

"Stalled without you." Mor’zul waved him inside. "Over a year since we met. I must show proper—"

Molofeel materialized beside Jesse. Flames ignited in her eyes, lighting the yard bright as day.

She looped an arm around Jesse’s neck, smiling toward the doorway like a fiery wraith—both chilling and alluring in the dark.

"You brought company," Mor’zul said.

Before Jesse answered, Molofeel cut in, "One of them."

The old man swallowed hard, throat bobbing. "Unwelcome, Mr. Mor’zul?" Molofeel asked.

"No," he said. "I marvel at your… power. You’re no ordinary Sayaad." Molofeel purred, "My master finds ordinary Sayaad dull."

With Molofeel beside him, Jesse felt none of his old dread entering Mor’zul’s house. Her calm showed that even if every hidden demon attacked, they’d stand no chance against the pair.

Yet Jesse admitted Mor’zul’s demon-summoning knowledge dwarfed his own. To call a Doomguard, he needed the old man’s help—after all, Mor’zul had studied demons since before the Orcs’ Dark Portal invasion.

"Daphne, brew the tea I bought in Moonbrook last time."

Mor’zul called for Jesse to sit in the chair across from him as he looked at Jesse, who had just settled down, with the succubus standing behind him. "Why the change of mind?" he asked.

Jesse replied, "Change of what?"

"I mean," Mor’zul said with a smile, "it was obvious you initially didn’t want to help me with the summoning ritual. After all this time, you’ve returned—you must have changed your mind. Why refuse me before? Why agree now?"

"Truthfully, I couldn’t even summon a Felhound back then," Jesse answered. "You asked me to help summon a greater demon, and I wasn’t willing to take that risk."

"In my view, demon summoning isn’t a gradual process," Mor’zul explained. "No one practices with imps before summoning a succubus, or summons a Mo’arg imp servant before calling a Demon Guard."

"You summon based on need. Want a hidden assistant for secret experiments? Summon an imp. Need to satisfy desires, confide in someone, or persuade others? Summon a succubus."

"Then why summon a greater demon?" Jesse asked.

"I’m different," Mor’zul replied. "Some say I summon for summoning’s sake. That clashes with what Stormwind’s warlocks—most warlocks—believe. But it’s my pursuit. If I must name a purpose? I have questions only a powerful demon can answer."

"If I help, you’ll share your demon knowledge with me," Jesse said. "And when I summon demons, you must aid me."

"Naturally," Mor’zul agreed. "I’d join every major demon summoning across Azeroth—even among Orcs. Sharing knowledge is my goal, though not everyone can handle it. After my ritual succeeds, I’ll share everything with all participants to reach higher aims."

"All participants?" Jesse asked.

"Yes. More than just us two," Mor’zul said. "I’ve gathered others lately. The Dark Portal events led me to demon researchers seeking this path. We’ve tried twice already—both failed. The incantation and ritual need refinement."

"You never named what you’re trying to summon," Jesse pointed out.

Mor’zul glanced at Molofeel and whispered, "A Burning Legion lord."

Jesse’s heart lurched. For a moment, he thought Mor’zul meant Archimonde or Kil’jaeden.

Of course, "Burning Legion lord" covered many ranks. Even Dethmoora counted as a minor lord to the imps and Felhounds she commanded.

"Since you’re joining us…" Mor’zul pulled a scroll from his shelf. "This summoning incantation came from a Kalimdor Demonologist. You know Kalimdor? It’s infested with ancient demons left from the War of the Ancients. Their Demonologists outmatch ours—for now. After the Dark Portal… we’ll surpass them."

Mor’zul likely meant Dethmoora.

Jesse took the scroll, half-worried Mor’zul planned to summon Dethmoora herself. That’d be absurd.

But a quick skim showed the incantation, while complex, lacked the intricacies of Dethmoora’s summoning.

That didn’t mean its target was weaker. Dethmoora’s spell required extra phrases to break her free from Eldre’Thalas’ prison. Summoning an unbound demon from the Twisting Nether needed far fewer words.

"May I take this?" Jesse asked. "I need to study it closely."

"Of course," Mor’zul said. "It’s a copy. Use your skills to check for errors. You read Demonic, yes?"

"Hope you copied it correctly," Jesse said. "Mistakes waste effort."

"I did my best copying it," Mor’zul replied.

"Then I’ll return to the town inn," Jesse said.

"Stay here," Mor’zul offered. "I have guest rooms for you and your female companion."

He glanced toward a nearby table and shouted, "Daphne! Where’s the tea? Why the delay?"

"Master—almost ready! Just a moment…"

A flustered voice answered. Molofeel chuckled softly.

"I won’t trouble you further, Mor’zul," Jesse stood. "We might be unsettling your ‘companion.’ I’ll return with news regardless."

Mor’zul peered toward the inner rooms and rose. "Very well, Jesse. I await your word."