Chapter 788

Chapter 788: Vowed to Protect Until Death

Jesse returned to Stormwind two mornings later. Though the journey’s jolting had caused him immense pain, crossing such vast distance quickly and relatively safely—especially for free—left him with no complaints.

Gnomish craftsmen claimed the subway needed at least two more years before carrying ordinary passengers. By then, both comfort and safety would improve significantly—something worth anticipating.

Emerging onto Dwarven District streets, Jesse gazed at the blacksmiths’ cold forges. He felt he could now perceive—or hear—something deeper within these fire-touched objects.

His month-long communion with fire elements had taught him tricks to sense previously ignored phenomena: the eternal whispers of this world’s elements.

While he still couldn’t distinguish sounds from earth, air, or water elements, flames had become unmistakable.

Whether Aerie Peak sages, Orc shamans, or Kul Tirans, none learned elemental dialogue primarily for battle. They sought knowledge crucial to their people’s survival—weather patterns, sea conditions—to aid daily life.

Jesse sought flame knowledge from the Thorium Brotherhood for combat strength, yet believed fire could assist him otherwise.

But his grasp of Kalimdor’s tongue remained elementary, requiring further study.

Now he detected residual heat from furnaces and faint fire-murmurs. Though incomprehensible, his Ironforge experiences suggested these overlooked sounds might be elements speaking.

Only by mastering the elemental language could he unlock the Red Dragon Queen’s essence fully. Upon entering his rented room, he found Molofeel leaning against the table, watching him coldly.

A *fwoomp* came from under the bed—his imp scrambling into hiding.

Studying Molofeel’s expression then himself, Jesse asked: "What’s wrong?"

"You know perfectly well, *Master*."

Molofeel stressed the last word.

"Your stench suggests another Sayaad licked you head to toe. I feel nauseated. Where did you hide her? Or did you use that Dark Iron Dwarf technique to summon some superior Sayaad? One whose invisibility hides her while she mocks me?" She inhaled sharply. "I explicitly warned you, *Master*—your magic belongs solely to me. You agreed. Among my few demands, this was paramount! Must I share your power with Twisting Nether demons? With anything in that dark void?"

Jesse rarely saw Molofeel this earnest—all playfulness vanished.

She resembled no succubus now, but some demonic Magus decreeing rules at a cult gathering. Her tall frame, exposed Mageweave patterns between corset laces, and elegant forked horns projected severity.

Previously when Jesse returned smelling of succubi, Molofeel teased him about trysts with Sorrel or "backdoor favors" from Gacresse. He’d dismiss her irritably.

But her grave demeanor now discouraged flippancy.

"I summoned no succubus, Molofeel." He tossed his belongings aside, sword clattering onto the bed. "I swear—I met a Dark Iron Dwarf in Ironforge who taught me to harness the Red Dragon blood’s potential. You convert it into power, but I’m no demon. I needed deeper study, Molofeel. In exchange, he requested worthy knowledge—so I taught him succubus summoning."

He paused, noting Molofeel’s unchanged coldness, then continued: "He performed every step—ritual, pact-sealing. I merely drew a shadow-enhancement circle, gave him a Soul Shard, and explained the chant, summoning method, and key precautions for handling demon servants. Nothing more."

"Describe that succubus," Molofeel demanded.

"A brawny one called Geya’tan. Whether that’s the dwarf’s naming or her own, I couldn’t tell. Since Ironforge forbids demons, he confined her to his house. I studied elemental communication texts there—mostly in his basement."

He pulled Dwarven and elemental language tomes from his pack, dropping them bedside.

"Naturally, I endured prolonged exposure. That dwarf never taught his Sayaad aura suppression—assuming that muscular demon even knew how. Weeks steeped in that reek, Molofeel… frankly, I nearly cracked."

"You never mounted her? Trapped with a female Sayaad for twenty-odd days?" Molofeel narrowed her eyes.

"Never."

She approached, placing a skeletal hand on Jesse’s chest. Reddish skin webbed with sickly bluish veins, her fingers—unnoticed since her transformation—crept upward like some macabre ballerina’s. They traced his neck, chin, then lips.

"Prove you’re not lying."

Molofeel’s whisper brushed his ear as her index finger pressed his lower lip, slipping past teeth onto his tongue. Jesse permitted the intrusion—if this bought trust.

Her taste emerged: Molofeel had mastered aura-concealment, rarely emitting detectable traces now. Though cloyingly saccharine, it didn’t repel him.

Slowly withdrawing her finger, she locked eyes with him, suddenly sucking it herself. After savoring, she licked her hand and finally smiled.

"You spoke truth—astonishing. Know what would happen had you entered that Sayaad?"

"No," said Jesse. "Kill me?"

"You know I cannot." Molofeel lowered her head, voice somber. "I’d drown in sorrow. My presence here would turn meaningless. I’d believe… you ceased being mine. That I mattered so little."

*She found my weakness*, Jesse realized. This wounded deeper than death threats or Gakin’s murder attempts. Yet he recognized her deliberate emotional barbs.

He stroked her black hair. "I’d never touch another succubus if—"

"If *what*?" she interjected urgently.

"—you remain eternally loyal. Never harm me."

"That vow I guard unto death."

"Death? Hah."

"Returning to Twisting Nether carries steep costs, Master… Don’t jest."