Next

Lothar didn't need to bark orders at Duke; he knew, deep in his battle-hardened gut, that Duke would deliver. Understanding, after all, wasn't something you got from a playbook; it was forged in the crucible of countless skirmishes, a silent language spoken between warriors. And in Duke, Lothar had found a teammate so reliable, so utterly brilliant, it was like hitting the jackpot. This was the first time Lothar had ever laid eyes on a true, honest-to-goodness, all-around genius.

A wave of profound relief washed over Lothar.

And sure enough, Duke merely raised a hand, and with a casual flick of his wrist, unleashed the humblest of spells: a low-level 'Blizzard'. There were no deadly ice shards, no bone-shattering hailstones, just a gentle, rapidly descending flurry of snowflakes. These cold, hexagonal wonders quickly blanketed the burning soldiers, smothering the flames on their bodies with a swift efficiency that would make a fire marshal weep with joy.

Every soldier, snapping out of their dazed, smoke-addled stupor, stared at Duke with wide, grateful eyes. Compared to the middle-aged priest who was still standing there like a deer in headlights, muttering prayers to a seemingly deaf deity, Duke's response was nothing short of god-tier.

Many of the longsword-wielding soldiers were pale as ghosts, cold sweat beading on their brows, but miraculously, not a single one was fatally injured, let alone dead.

This outcome, of course, was far from satisfying Prince Malchezaar. This high-ranking Eredar demon, a creature of cosmic evil, would never in a million years have dreamed that a time-traveling, spell-slinging smart aleck would sneak into the ranks of his challengers.

"Mortal!" Prince Malchezaar roared, his voice shaking the very air. "Do you truly believe this is the end of my little performance?!"

As he raised his hand, a sickly black light bloomed in the prince's palm, radiating outwards.

In an instant, all fifteen elite soldiers felt as if their very essence had been scooped out. It was a terrifying, gut-wrenching sensation, as if their skin had become as thin as tissue paper, their muscles, blood vessels, blood, and even their bones having simply vanished. They felt like hollowed-out paper dolls, mere shells of their former selves.

It was a horror impossible to put into words. Almost every soldier who was hit stood there, frozen in a daze, not even registering the ominous dark energy swirling above their heads like a hungry storm cloud.

Three seconds!

That's all it would take!

The moment that vile dark energy erupted, these fifteen soldiers would be gone forever, their souls ripped from their bodies and bound within the chaotic depths of Karazhan's mage tower, destined to become sad, spectral existences, forever wandering its haunted halls.

"Run for your lives!" Lothar didn't know what that dark magic was, but he knew one thing: if these old friends, these comrades who had trained with him and stood shoulder-to-shoulder through countless life-or-death scrapes, didn't bolt, they were dead meat.

Being mentally prepared for everyone to bite the dust and actually watching it happen were two entirely different ballgames.

Lothar was strong, a powerhouse of a warrior, but no matter how mighty he was, he had no way to save fifteen soldiers simultaneously.

On a battlefield, a second of hesitation was enough to sign your death warrant. Even if many of these elite soldiers had finally snapped out of their stupor and started scrambling towards the edges of the encroaching darkness, how far could a soldier in full plate armor, lugging a shield and sword, and carrying at least a hundred pounds of gear, really run in three seconds?

Death had practically sent them a gilded invitation!

However, just as these dozen-plus elite soldiers were about to be instantly vaporized, Duke's magical touch appeared once more.

Seventy-two spectral mage hands, like a swarm of ghostly bouncers, grabbed and yanked every single soldier out of the killing zone of the prince's 'Shadow Nova' before it could even detonate.

Watching themselves being whisked away from the dark area as if on an invisible conveyor belt, and then looking back at the spot where the ground was now corroded by the dark power, sizzling and emitting an ominous, stomach-churning stench, even a blind squirrel could see that Duke had saved their bacon once again.

Before the raid on Karazhan, they had admired only one man – Anduin Lothar.

From that day forward, they silently etched another name into the hallowed halls of their hearts – Edmund Duke.

Not only were they utterly flabbergasted by Duke's unimaginable reflexes, but they were also profoundly impressed by his ice-cold calmness, his lightning-fast decisiveness, his sheer selflessness, and an indescribable grasp of the bigger picture.

"Thank you, Sir Edmund. I owe you my life, plain and simple."

"In the future, when Boss Lothar finally kicks me to the curb," a burly soldier named Peter declared, "I, Peter, will be your follower, and we'll see if I've still got what it takes!"

Most commanders would be green with envy and spitting nails if their subordinates' loyalty was being bought off right under their nose, but Lothar was too busy being relieved that his men were still breathing to care.

"Alright, you knuckleheads, if I actually kick the bucket, I'll give you my blessing to hang out with Duke boy. Now get out of here and clear the deck! This isn't a fight you can handle!"

Lothar's elite troops, grumbling but obedient, beat a hasty retreat, evacuating far from the rooftop square.

Lothar cracked his neck, a grim smile playing on his lips. "Duke, any brilliant ideas brewing in that big brain of yours?"

"If you're not afraid of a little heat," Duke replied, shrugging, "you could try to lure this big lug out. I'd bet my last copper piece he's got a limited supply of those flame pillars."

"If I hadn't been forced to bail from that fire, I would've already put a dagger in this guy's eye," Garona grumbled, clearly miffed about being sidelined.

"Ditto," Duke quipped.

"Consider it done, then."

Hearing Duke's casual declaration, Prince Malchezaar looked like he'd just swallowed a lemon. He almost thought he was hallucinating. The pressure in the space suddenly shifted, morphing into a violent, tidal wave of raw power. Accompanied by a guttural roar, the sound of burning rage shook the very ground beneath their feet.

"Who in the blazes gave you the audacity to believe you could defeat me?! The Burning Legion is invincible!"

Duke remained utterly unfazed. "Pfft..."

Lothar and Garona both turned to stare at Duke.

"What?" Duke asked, feigning innocence. "I just smiled. I didn't say anything. Is that against the rules?"

"No, I just think you're braver than I gave you credit for," Lothar said, tapping Duke's arm gently with his shield, then, without another word, he charged forward like a freight train.

Lothar charged!

With every thunderous step Lothar took forward, the light radiating from him grew brighter, almost blinding.

This wasn't just a feeling, or a battle-induced hallucination; Lothar was genuinely glowing!

For a moment, Duke almost suspected that the fabled profession of "Paladin" had somehow popped up prematurely in this somewhat unreliable world of Azeroth.

What truly threw Duke for a loop was seeing the following lines of text scroll across his retina, courtesy of his system data:

"After testing, it was found that Anduin Lothar used the ultra-rare elixir: 'Titan Elixir', and his health points were temporarily greatly increased."

"...Lothar used the 'Colorful Miracle Potion', and his magic resistance was temporarily greatly enhanced."

"...Lothar used the 'Special Fire Protection Potion'."

"...Lothar activated the special amulet of the Archbishop of Stormwind. Lothar obtained an unknown super-powerful exorcism blessing, and his damage to demons increased significantly."

What's a pro gamer move? This is a pro gamer move!

Even though Lothar himself was a walking, talking boss fight, this dedicated warrior had still come prepared with his own personal arsenal of potions for clearing wasteland, even when the wasteland was another boss. He hadn't asked Duke for so much as a single copper coin subsidy.

The best damn teammate in all of Azeroth!

At that moment, Duke was almost moved to tears, a snot bubble threatening to form.

Garona and Duke watched, dumbfounded, as Lothar charged forward without a shred of hesitation, and with two mighty swings of his sword, he casually cleaved Prince Malchezaar's 'Hellfire' constructs in half...

Uh, right. Time to go fight Medivh.