Chapter 697: Alright, Let's Have a One-on-One
As the world outside was engulfed in a maelstrom of conflict, where the sun and moon seemed to vanish, did Duke do nothing?
Impossible!
Duke, ever the strategist, had pondered long and hard over the matter of Ner'zhul.
He abandoned the idea of gathering all three artifacts. After all, he couldn't get his hands on the Scepter of Sargeras; attempting to do so could spell his doom, as even a fragment of Sargeras's lingering soul could annihilate him.
Nor could he obtain the Eye of Dalaran, the treasured relic of Dalaran. Having notified them, he had done his duty.
The only artifact he had a chance of protecting was the Tome of Medivh.
Duke had no desire to venture to Draenor. He wasn't afraid that, having just beaten Kil'jaeden's lieutenant and the commander of his legion, he would now embark on an expedition to Draenor. After all, at this point in history, Kil'jaeden should have been occupied elsewhere.
What Duke feared was the cataclysmic explosion that shattered Draenor.
In the original timeline, Turalyon and Alleria were killed in the blast, and Khadgar was flung into the void, only narrowly clinging to life.
My goodness, do not play with fire!
To withstand a nuclear-level explosion with a mortal body was not a feat for the faint-hearted.
Even without the explosion, Duke was not optimistic about the Outland expedition. The Alliance was riddled with internal strife, and it seemed unlikely that the expeditionary force of a few hundred thousand could defeat a fleeing Ner'zhul.
To conquer a realm almost as vast as Azeroth?
To exterminate the orcs?
How could that be possible!
After much contemplation, the simplest solution was to safeguard the Tome of Medivh, fortify the Watchtower, and gradually fortify the entire Cursed Lands. If he could achieve this, in a few decades, the Horde would meet its end in Draenor.
Having resolved his plan, the rest was easy.
The biggest change from history was that the Tome of Medivh, an item of such importance, was not foolishly stored in the Stormwind Library. That would be as senseless as a child crossing a den of thieves with a fortune unguarded.
The Tome of Medivh was kept in Karazhan, carried by Duke himself. But this was not enough.
Thus, Duke summoned a deity.
The problem arose: what price must be paid to tempt a deity capable of defeating the Demon Lord and kicking the Black Dragonflight?
Duke once agonized over this.
However, since a certain Dragon Queen awakened her gourmet talents because of ice cream, things became simpler.
The scene that unfolded before Ner'zhul was thus:
"Shrimp?!" Alexstrasza, in her human form, cared not for the soup splashing onto her ample bosom. She huffed and puffed, devouring meatball after meatball, her beautiful face comically distorted by the bulging cheeks filled with meat.
Yet the unintentional dragon's might she exuded naturally intimidated Ner'zhul, freezing the Hellfires in their tracks as if she had rendered them motionless.
"Ah, gurgle gurgle (Demons!?)" The Queen reluctantly set down her spoon, clumsily standing up: "Ah, lolo gula! (You asked for it!)"
Meanwhile, Duke, carrying a plate of delicacies, was at a loss, his face in his palm: "Please! Can you finish eating before you speak? You're disgracing the Dragonflight."
Realizing her lack of decorum, the Queen seemed to take a deep breath and then, with a "gulp," astonishingly swallowed more than ten meatballs in one go.
Watching those egg-sized meatballs move down her slender neck and disappear into her bottomless stomach, Duke's face fell.
No, it should have fallen long ago.
To tempt this gourmand, upon receiving news of Ner'zhul's impending attack, he and the Windrunner sisters had busied themselves for hours as chefs and waitresses.
After preparing several meals, all were not enough for her.
A dragon weighing tens of tons reduced to a human size and weight, yet expecting to be satisfied with a human's portion of food, was delusional.
But why fret over these trivial matters?
Oh, my carefully prepared soup dumplings! Woe is me!
"Burp!" The Queen belched, accidentally spewing a tiny flame, then gave Duke a thumbs-up: "Actually, the meatballs were delicious! I can even taste them in my stomach."
Do dragons have taste buds in their stomachs?
Turning to Ner'zhul, the Queen's mood soured. Seeing an orc reminded her of her humiliating past, and the sight of the demonic Hellfires made it clear what Duke had in mind.
"Though I knew your sudden invitation to dine wasn't out of goodwill, in light of that delicious meal, I'll help you eliminate every demon and black dragon that comes before me."
The Queen posed majestically, exuding authority—had she wiped the soup from her mouth, she would have been perfect.
Alas, she was but a figure of amusement.
Even so, her words brought a smile to Duke's face.
By the gods! This was a veritable get-out-of-jail-free card!
Wait!
"Not including orcs!?" Duke exclaimed.
"Not including orcs," the Queen confirmed dejectedly.
Duke didn't inquire further. The intricacies of the Wyrmrest Accord were beyond the understanding of outsiders.
No matter, this was already a great help.
Duke placed his utensils on the table prepared for the unexpected guest. Casually removing his apron, he handed it to the bow-wielding Vereesa.
Loosening his limbs, he strode towards the orcish chief warlock.
"Ner'zhul, is it!? Very well, let us duel!" As Duke spoke with an air of supremacy, a phantom dragon claw appeared in midair, effortlessly crushing the Hellfire that could have plunged half an army of men into chaos and despair into dust, scattering it to the wind.
Ner'zhul, shocked beyond belief, instinctively stepped back.
Alleria chuckled, resting her chin on her hand: "Duke, you scoundrel... making it sound so noble."
Vereesa added: "But I like his slightly mischievous yet heroic spirit when it counts!"
"..."
While the Windrunner sisters bantered, Ner'zhul inwardly cursed.
He understood then; this so-called duel meant battling Duke without summoning any demons. Damn it! What kind of warlock is that without his demons!?