Stormwind Wizard God-Chapter 645: Fool

The orcs might scratch their heads in bewilderment over how their legendary shaman had transformed into the Lich King—a mystery as confusing as trying to understand troll cooking recipes.

Truth be told, humans knew precious little about it either, since Ner'zhul had been holed up in the frozen wasteland of Northrend for years like a hermit crab, only to suddenly emerge with the earth-shattering revelation of Arthas murdering his father and butchering an entire city.

Just because everyone else stumbled around in the dark didn't mean Duke was equally blind.

What's more, as the man who had personally crushed Ner'zhul in a live magical broadcast ten years ago, Duke definitely commanded more authority on this subject than anyone else in the Alliance—or anywhere else, for that matter.

Since so many crucial details couldn't be verified through normal channels, Duke simply presented the ultimate truth based on his time traveler's knowledge like laying down a royal flush.

The Lich King was furious!

When Ner'zhul got his ethereal feelings hurt by Duke's mockery, he exploded with rage. Massive black gases materialized in the air and twisted into a colossal tornado that came screaming toward Duke like a freight train made of pure malevolence!

But Duke didn't even flinch, standing there calm as a lake on a windless day.

He even gestured for Mograine to stay put, like a man telling his dog to sit.

The black tornado crashed down with devastating force, and then... absolutely nothing happened.

Seeing the tornado vanish like morning mist, leaders from both Alliance and Horde stood slack-jawed with amazement.

Instead, Duke threw back his head and cackled like he'd just heard the world's best joke: "Bahahaha! Hahahaha! Ner'zhul, you're getting rustier than an old blade left in the rain! Oh wait, my apologies—I forgot you were already dead as a doornail. If you could actually kill me so easily from way up in frozen Northrend, then there'd be no point in me putting up a fight! I'd just roll over and surrender like a whipped dog. But as long as I can weather your mental tantrums, you're about as dangerous to me as a butterfly with broken wings."

"You... you..." If Ner'zhul still possessed lungs, he would have exploded from sheer fury like an overinflated bladder.

"When you strip away all the theatrics, you're nothing but a chess piece whose soul gets batted around by Kil'jaeden like a cat playing with a mouse—just another expendable experiment. Even if you use the Scourge to steamroll this entire continent, so what? Even if you manage to summon that particular someone to Azeroth just like Kil'jaeden commanded, what then? By that point, you'll have outlived your usefulness like last season's crops. I shouldn't need to spell out what happens to abandoned tools when the Burning Legion is finished with them, should I? Hahaha!"

At this moment, Ner'zhul felt genuine shock ripple through his ethereal form.

He was truly, utterly thunderstruck.

He couldn't fathom how Duke had learned about this ultra-secret mission that Kil'jaeden had personally whispered into his ear.

Yes! Exactly right!

Using the undead to destroy the world was just smoke and mirrors—a terrifying fairy tale to keep outsiders guessing.

As long as guardian dragons still soared through Azeroth's skies, humans—a race with the combat prowess of angry chickens—wouldn't pose any real threat to the world even if they all transformed into shambling corpses.

Kil'jaeden's true objective, naturally, was commanding Ner'zhul to crack open a portal and summon Archimonde, the Burning Legion's other supreme commander, directly to Azeroth's doorstep.

However, Duke had just spoken aloud Ner'zhul's deepest secrets and his most paralyzing fear—the Lich King had always been terrified that Kil'jaeden would toss him aside like garbage once he'd served his purpose!

Tell me, how could Ner'zhul not be absolutely petrified? How could he not shake like a leaf in a hurricane?

For one desperate moment, Ner'zhul almost considered becoming a turncoat—switching from rebellion to loyal service faster than you could say "For the Horde!"

But he'd barely entertained that treacherous thought when, from the distant void's edge, a pair of flame-wreathed eyes seemed to crack open and glance toward Azeroth with the casual interest of a predator eyeing prey.

Ner'zhul's loyalty to the Burning Legion immediately skyrocketed to maximum levels... or so it appeared! fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

He suddenly bellowed with forced bravado: "You pathetic, insignificant mortal maggot! You cannot comprehend the magnificent greatness of supreme commander Kil'jaeden! You will perish—you will absolutely, positively die a thousand horrible deaths!"

"Pfft!" Duke laughed without shame, then raised his right index finger and wagged it with infuriating arrogance: "Haha! Threatening me? Ner'zhul, you're not even qualified to shine my boots! I killed you once, and I can sure as hell kill you again—and again, and again if necessary."

"You..." Ner'zhul was nearly driven to complete madness by Duke's casual dismissal.

Who could have predicted what came next?

"Don't even pretend you have that kind of power. I'm not even afraid of your boss's boss Sargeras, so why in the seven hells would I tremble before Kil'jaeden?" Duke sneered with the confidence of a man who'd stared down gods and lived to tell the tale.

Even though they weren't allies, even Thrall couldn't suppress the urge to chuckle at Duke's brazen audacity.

On the Alliance side, countless warriors looked at Duke with pure, undiluted admiration glowing in their eyes.

Should anyone be surprised that Duke lived up to his legendary reputation?

If it were anyone else spouting such seemingly impossible boasts, people would assume they'd lost their minds or drunk too much dwarven ale.

But Duke possessed something others lacked!

Ner'zhul had invaded Karazhan solo, and Duke had beaten him to death like a rented mule. Ner'zhul's demise was definitely Duke's handiwork.

Duke was absolutely the mastermind behind Sargeras getting hurled into the cosmic abyss.

What was true confidence?

This was genuine, unshakeable confidence!

Until some evil villain could actually crush Duke beneath their heel, Duke's undefeated legend would continue growing like wildfire.

Exactly right! Duke was arrogant as a peacock, but Duke had earned every ounce of that arrogance through blood, sweat, and victory!

"Arthas, advance—kill Duke! I want Duke's soul trapped in cramped confinement just like mine, suffering eternal torture that makes hell look like a pleasant vacation!"

Oh, you're showing your weakness, King of Filth. Doesn't this admission basically confirm you're nothing but an imprisoned wretch?

However, when Ner'zhul unleashed his ultimate technique, the power was still genuinely terrifying.

The dark aura hovering over the entire battlefield suddenly converged like iron filings drawn to a magnet. Visible streams of black energy gathered like tributaries flowing into a mighty river, transforming from thin wisps to thick cables, and from thick cables to massive columns resembling raging torrents. Finally, everything compressed into brilliant obsidian light that shot into Arthas's body like a bolt of concentrated nightmare!

Soon, accompanied by the sickening symphony of bones cracking and reshaping, an Arthas that no one had ever witnessed—that had never existed in any timeline—manifested before everyone's horrified eyes.

Standing over eight feet tall with explosively enlarged muscles covering his entire frame, this Hulk-like version of Arthas became the terrifying center of attention.

The power of darkness had taken root in Arthas and crystallized into fierce, lifelike metal skull decorations. These ornaments assembled themselves into larger armor pieces that wrapped around Arthas like a second skin made of pure malevolence.

Arthas took one thunderous step forward, and even the earth groaned in protest. Simultaneously, torrents of dark energy flowed from every pore on his massive thighs, giving off an aura of barely contained devastation.

"Duke! Your death warrant has been signed! I'll slaughter you first, then drag my sister to the eternal realm of the dead where she belongs." Arthas ground his teeth like millstones: "Of course, as payment for your insolence in angering me and insulting my master Ner'zhul, I'll transform you into the most revolting ghoul imaginable, then turn every woman who loves you into the most hideous banshees ever to haunt this world..."

Duke had once believed that nothing in existence could truly ignite his fury anymore.

How could Azeroth's limited vocabulary of curses compare to the profound artistry of a proper tongue-lashing?

However, when the words "ghoul" and "banshee" assaulted his ears, Duke felt an unnamed rage rising in his chest like molten lava.

Damn your eyes! I've been dealing with ghouls for over a decade, and you want to turn me into one? You still want to harm my women?

By all the gods! Didn't anyone ever tell you that the more arrogant a villain gets, the harder they fall when justice comes calling?