Naga and Prophet

"Which one's closer?" Duke demanded, cutting straight to the chase.

"Huh?" Zjara, the Naga priestess, blinked, her heart suddenly doing a confused little jig. She finally grasped the chasm between her own vision and her master's. She was still thinking about how to use their existing forces to stomp out rivals and expand their territory.

But her master? He was asking which one was closer! It turns out, when your power levels are different, your thought processes are too.

"The Naga are closer, Master. Their leader is called Sepheris."

"Lead the way," Duke said simply, already striding forward.

At this point, General Seamus, who'd just seen Duke teleport back in the dead of night and was now watching him follow a Naga without a second thought, couldn't keep his jaw from hitting the floor. Duke's importance to Stormwind was undeniable. And now, Duke was a big shot, the Deputy Commander of the Lordaeron Alliance!

This was a man who could lead armies independently, a man whose very footsteps could shake the ground. It was no exaggeration to say that if anything happened to Duke, Stormwind's dream of reclaiming its homeland would be shattered like a dropped teacup, at least by half.

"Sir Edmund, are you… leaving the camp?" Seamus stammered, his voice laced with alarm.

"Yeah, got some Naga business to sort out."

"Please, Sir, wait until morning! I can arrange a proper escort for you!" Seamus pleaded, practically begging.

Duke waved a dismissive hand. "Can't wait, General. Southshore might become the Horde's main target within ten days. I need to bring all the Nagas and Murlocs under my thumb before then."

General Seamus, a man of unwavering duty, resolutely blocked Duke's path. He bowed deeply, his voice earnest. "Sir, please be mindful of your status and your importance. You are not just carrying your own dream, but the dream of nearly a million Stormwind citizens to restore their home. If you insist on setting off tonight, please, for the love of the Light, bring enough guards!"

Duke burst out laughing, a genuine, booming laugh. He almost blurted out the secret of his resurrection, but caught himself.

Still, he accepted. "Alright, alright. This is just a relaxing little hunt, nothing to lose sleep over. But fine, grab some blunt instruments, like hammers. And remember to hit gently; I want them alive."

At three o'clock in the morning, Duke and his entourage, accompanied by two hundred guards and nearly a hundred Nagas, marched along the eastern beach of Southshore.

Night battles in this era were a royal pain in the backside. In the inky blackness, not to mention the rank-and-file soldiers, even General Tom Seamus, who was in charge of this nocturnal expedition, felt a knot of panic tightening in his gut. He seriously doubted how much fight his men could put up if they were ambushed. If they didn't just panic and run like scared rabbits, they were already considered top-tier soldiers.

If the enemy were orcs, Duke wouldn't dream of pulling such a boneheaded stunt. But a bunch of low-level Nagas? Pfft.

For the past ten thousand years, most Nagas had lived in the ocean. Their vision was different from humans; it was more of a perception, like what humans called "dark vision." Conversely, the harsh midday sun would hit them like a ton of bricks.

Twenty minutes later, they hit pay dirt. It was a massive bay, concave and surrounded on three sides by sheer cliffs that only a rock-climbing expert could scale. The remaining side was a sandy beach. Duke and his crew practically had to wade into the water.

"Alright, it's almost dawn. Time to wake them up," Duke whistled, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Seamus looked up at the moon, still hanging high in the sky, and the muscles on his face twitched. Dawn? What dawn?

Three seconds later, the elite human soldiers, having received their orders, let out a thunderous roar. The sound easily cut through the night, startling the already vigilant Nagas. A swarm of Nagas poured out of the caves beneath the cliffs, dragging a few terrified Brokenfin Shore Murlocs along as slaves.

Duke noticed the biggest difference between these Nagas and his own Wrathscale and Grayscale clans: the fins on their arms and backs were a vibrant, shocking pink.

"Prepare for battle—" General Seamus hadn't even finished his shout.

Duke bellowed, "Close your eyes!"

His arcane fire magic circuit flared to life! A colossal fireball, radiating light as blinding as the midday sun, erupted from Duke's hand. It shot upwards, soaring to a height of over thirty meters, then exploded with a deafening CRACK!

The violent flash of light swept across the battlefield like an invisible tidal wave. The Thornback Nagas and their murloc slaves were all caught in its blinding embrace. The light-fearing Nagas and the big-eyed murlocs shrieked in pain, clutching their eyeballs, either bending over or rolling on the ground like dazed chickens.

The enemies were all as blind as bats, while Duke's side was full of vim and vigor. In this state, the Thornback Nagas and Murlocs had no prayer of stopping Duke's organized and disciplined "slave trader troops." Even with their impressive combat power, they couldn't muster even ten percent of it.

Moreover, blinded and with the deafening roar still ringing in their ears, they descended into utter chaos. Countless Nagas and murlocs flailed their weapons in a panic, even stabbing their own comrades. Some tried to scramble back into the caves, while others instinctively bolted for the water, desperate to escape.

The enemy was in absolute disarray, a complete free-for-all.

Most of the enemies on land were quickly subdued by Seamus's men, while those who stumbled into the shallow waters were dealt with by a third of the male Nagas sent by Valla.

All the blinded suckers were knocked down in a mere three minutes.

The swift defeat of their comrades outside sent shivers down the spines of the Nagas still cowering in the caves. Even as the Thornback Naga leader roared repeatedly, urging her kin to counterattack, precious few Red Fin Nagas dared to venture out. Even if they did, they were met by human hammers, outnumbering them many times over. This whack-a-mole style of fighting was a hit with most of the soldiers, though they could barely believe it was actually happening.

As Duke had said, "It was just a nice, easy hunt," not even a warm-up.

"Come on! Show yourself!" Duke yelled, then shot a turning fireball into the cave, which, according to his system scan, was only fifteen meters deep. The specially weakened fireball exploded, and the blazing flames forced a female Naga priestess, also sporting pink fins, to tumble out, sputtering.

Eighteen wizard hands instantly materialized, pinning the Naga priestess down. Duke didn't even give her a second glance, just tossed her to Vala.

"Teach your kind a good lesson. If they refuse to surrender, put them down." The Red Fin Naga Priestess and Vala both trembled, a mix of fear and grim determination.

Dawn broke, another morning dawned.

Though everyone in Southshore knew war was brewing, the ever-growing strength of their forces gave the townspeople and the defending Stormwind soldiers and civilians a huge boost of confidence. Especially that morning, all the Nagas who once lorded over the entire coastline east of the town came to the beach to receive training from the old female Naga wearing the emblem of the Hundred-Handed Death.

No one understood the Naga language, but that didn't stop them from seeing the red-finned Nagas donning special scaled shoulder armor. The markings on them, representing Duke Edmund's identity as a private soldier, were quite eye-catching.

"Oh, he truly is the King of the Sea," the Stormwind army and civilians murmured, awe in their voices.

At this time, Duke was waiting for the tide to go out. He had originally wanted to deal with that damn murloc prophet first thing in the morning, but he was told the creature was holed up on an island near Southshore's southwest coast.

That place was a real pain, riddled with reefs. Even a small sampan could easily get into trouble. If people wanted to go there, the best way was to wait for low tide and simply walk across the exposed beach.

If it were just Duke, he would have taken the Nagas and gone. Unfortunately, with General Seamus, a stubborn mule if there ever was one, around, they could only go when the tide was low, near noon.

Soon, it was almost midday. Duke and his crew waited for the tide to recede, then crossed the rocky coast and arrived at an unnamed island.

"Damn, so many fish-men."

There were fish-men in the sea, fish-men on the shore, fish-men everywhere you looked. The murlocs, who usually roamed in small groups of two or three, even on the beach, now gave Duke the impression of being more packed than sardines in a can, like a swarm of ants huddled together. While it wasn't so dense that you couldn't drop a pin, it was absolutely impossible for a sampan to navigate through.

Scales everywhere, massive fish-like bodies, huge, bulging eyeballs, and comically disproportionate hands and feet. Anyone with trypophobia would have had a field day.

The arrival of Duke and his party caused an immediate uproar.

Valar tried to use the Nagas' intimidating presence to assert control over these murlocs, but Valar failed again. Though the murlocs recoiled in fear and cowered, they never truly retreated or showed any sign of worshipping Valar.

General Seamus's scalp tingled. "My Lord Duke, I know the murlocs play an important role in your defense plan, but I still strongly suggest you evacuate first. We should gather more troops to control this situation, perhaps by sending in the Stormwind Kingdom Navy."

Before the formal transfer of command, the former Bloodsail warships anchored off Southshore were still under Duke's command. If Seamus was speaking from a reliable, military perspective, his advice was absolutely sound.

But Duke wasn't about to do that. He controlled the murlocs through a mix of immature coercion and deception, or to put it bluntly, sheer tyranny. Once the coercion, based on their fear of the unknown, was broken, Duke would never be able to control these murlocs again.

Even though murlocs were weak in combat, their sheer numbers could be incredibly useful. For example, last time, when they used ice boats to transport 50,000 elite soldiers. Without mermen to pull the boats, would the soldiers have to soak their lower bodies in the water and kick their way across?

"Hmph!" Duke snorted coldly, and the arcane circuits in his body suddenly roared to life. The sun was still blazing at noon in mid-October, but under Duke's terrifying magical power, the temperature around him plummeted.

"Beep, pop, pop—" a series of sharp cracks echoed, and directly in front of Duke, a hundred meters from the island's shore, an icy road, shimmering with a cold light, began to take shape.

The murlocs shrieked in terror, scattering left and right, fearing they'd be trapped by the sudden chill. They instinctively sensed the presence of overwhelming danger.

In mere seconds, a five-meter-wide, hundred-meter-long icy road, reflecting the bright sunshine, materialized before everyone.

"Gaoaoonaal (The Sea King Walker is coming)!" The murlocs shrieked, shrinking back to make an even wider path.

"Tom, fall back a bit," Duke whispered, then strode proudly onto the icy King's Avenue.

On his left, the Angry Scale Naga priestess Zjara, long knife in hand, followed. On his right, the Thornspine Naga priestess Sephirith, clutching a spear.

Normally, Naga priestesses held the highest status among their kind. Now, priestesses from two different Naga clans flanked Duke as if he were a secular king, a sight that further terrified the murlocs who had never joined Duke's army.

The two murloc leaders, Old Blind Man and Fish Spear, from the Western Wilderness, seemed to sense something was terribly wrong. The two pathetic creatures actually crawled over, trembling, and knelt on both sides of the ice road.

"Get out!" Duke snapped softly, unleashing arcane shocks simultaneously to his left and right, instantly knocking the two weak-willed murlocs off their feet, making them cough up blood.

But… those two seemed to realize that Duke was even stronger, and ignoring their injuries, they crawled back, kneeling at a more respectful distance.

"I'll deal with you later," Duke muttered in the murloc tongue.

They reached the center of the island. Duke heard a sound, a strange, rhythmic chant.

"Gaa… gaa… gaa…"

Duke, annoyed by the gibberish, simply let the system filter it and translate it directly.

Thousands of murlocs below all bowed in admiration: "The Oracle Prophet is right—"

"Mermen only obey the true king of the ocean. All creatures that do not belong to the ocean are not worthy of being the rulers of mermen."

Thousands of murlocs knelt again: "The Oracle is right—"

At this moment, at the highest point of the island, standing on a colossal pink clam shell, holding a staff that looked like a dragon's claw gripping a green crystal ball, with a swirling mass of water elements around his right hand, a bizarre murloc pointed his staff at Duke, who was now displaying his seventy-two wizard hands.

"So, this human…"

"Huh!?" Duke sneered. The system had completely locked onto the so-called prophet who had bewitched his murlocs into rebellion.

This prophet's power level was impressive. For a murloc, especially within a race known for its low intelligence, the emergence of such a wise murloc, with the peak strength of an Archmage, was nothing short of a miracle.

However, "Archmage" and the like were definitely not going to cut it in front of Duke! No matter the reason, if this murloc prophet spoke against Duke's rule, Duke would show no mercy, even if it meant wiping out every last murloc on the island.

At this moment, Duke's magic circuits were already running at full throttle. All the spatial channels connecting to the elemental world were wide open. Every element in the surrounding atmosphere was already prostrating itself at Duke's feet, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice.

At this moment, the murloc prophet's tongue seemed to get stuck, a sudden realization dawning on him.

"What am I, a human being?" Duke sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. In his eyes, the Murloc Prophet was already a dead fish, belly-up.

Suddenly, the murloc prophet, who had claimed to be an oracle, widened his yellow eyes and pointed a trembling finger at Duke.

"Yes! That's right! He is the once-in-a-millennium king that we mermen will see! He will lead us to dominate the coast and make the mermen even greater!"

The murlocs below him, a sea of scales and bulging eyes, knelt before Duke, shouting in unison like a tsunami and a mountain roar: "The prophet is right! Meet our king!"

"Huh? What?!"

Duke was utterly flummoxed, shivering in the midday chill. Even though he'd conjured the cold himself, Duke still felt damn cold and completely thrown for a loop.

Duke had a thousand ways to boost the loyalty of Stormwind's soldiers and civilians, because they were all human beings, and he knew what made people tick.

But with the murlocs, Duke could only try to maintain a mysterious aura. Sometimes, Duke was even happy to keep his distance from them, leveraging their fear of the unknown to maintain a coercive posture, ensuring his iron grip on the murlocs.

But Duke was still utterly blindsided that this prophet had suddenly dropped to his knees and started licking his boots.

No matter what, this guy had been trying to steal his customers! Duke had already made up his mind not to kill him. Fine, just chop off its hands and feet and let it be a real fish. See how kind I am!

Now, the one who was at a complete loss was Duke.

Tens of thousands of murlocs knelt before him, and the murloc prophet pushed open the giant clam shell he had been standing on. Duke caught a glimpse: the thing actually looked a bit like a throne.

"Great Sea King Duke Edmund! Your humble servant, Mogor, salutes you!"

Mogor? The Oracle Mogor? Duke was absolutely certain he'd never heard of this guy.

But the system prompt chimed in: "Congratulations, you have recaptured the Murloc Oracle Mogor. It possesses supreme prestige among the Murlocs. Its words are law, and its language represents fate. You have successfully recaptured it, which means that, at the very least, there will be no more Murlocs in the world who will be hostile to you."

Duke frowned, still trying to process this bizarre turn of events.

Meanwhile, Mogor, with steps that looked utterly ridiculous to human eyes, scurried across the island's sandy shore on his three-fingered, duck-like feet, then prostrated himself before Duke.

"King of the fish-folk – please, sit upon your throne!"

Duke didn't agree immediately. Instead, he sneered, "Didn't you just say that 'all creatures that do not belong to the ocean are not worthy of being the rulers of the mermen'? Why are you acknowledging me as your king now?"

Mogor's big, yellow-white eyes with black vertical pupils swiveled around twice, rapidly. "In the distant, ancient times, there were no living creatures upon the earth. The ocean! It is the very cradle of all life! To escape the terrifying beings lurking in the deepest parts of the sea, the first murloc grew limbs and walked onto the coast. Many more murlocs followed suit."

Duke felt a ripple of embarrassment. Why did this story sound so… familiar?

"Some murlocs were not brave enough to break free from the ocean's embrace. They returned to the sea, finding habitats only near the coast. But there was a group of brave souls who continued to venture deeper into the land… Millions of years later, they became humans! And Duke Edmund is the destined king among the murloc inheritors!"

"Puff!" Duke sprayed, barely holding back a full-blown laugh.

Damn, Darwin's theory of evolution got a serious makeover when it got to you, didn't it? Seriously, do you want me to write you a word of 'admiration' for that load of barnacles?

Smart, but cunning – that was Duke's first impression of Mogor.

However, the murlocs around them were exclaiming in awe, one after another, then bowing down again. Duke was utterly bewildered by the spectacle.

"Everyone remember!" Mogor shrieked, his voice carrying across the island. "His Majesty Edmund is our true king! His power is above all Nagas and all other marine creatures! Remember?!"

"Remember—" The murloc horde bowed for the third time, their voices a deafening chorus.

The perfectly synchronized, exaggerated scene completely stunned the two Naga priestesses, General Seamus, and the elite soldiers of Stormwind behind him.

What the hell is this?!

People often called Duke the "King of the Sea," but Seamus had never truly believed it. He thought it was just a respectful nickname. Even when he saw Duke commanding the Nagas and murlocs, he figured Duke was just using some special trick. Who would have thought he'd actually witness such a grand, over-the-top ceremony of king worship?

Duke still couldn't quite bring himself to sit on the colossal, pearl-encrusted clam. He even had a fleeting thought: What if this clam is actually a trap, and I get offed as soon as I sit down, with no chance of resurrection? That would really be a masterpiece of a story.

Duke was overthinking it.

At this moment, Duke was shocked to discover that Mogor was actually using some kind of mental connection, lingering directly outside Duke's spiritual world, waiting for the call to be connected.

Duke mulled it over for a moment, then finally answered the call.

"Your Majesty, Mogor is at your service."

"Enough," Duke's voice suddenly turned cold. "I'm just a strong human being. Why are you putting on this show?"

"No, no, no, Mogor and the murlocs kneel at Your Majesty's feet sincerely."

"Huh?!" Duke's voice was pure sarcasm. "First you incite them to disobey my messenger's orders, and then you claim they're loyal to me?"

"That's because Mogor didn't know Your Majesty's greatness… and your terror…" During the spiritual connection, Mogor was already prostrating himself on the ground.

"Oh?" Duke became interested.

"Mogor is unwilling to see any murloc submit to a false king, but is willing to be absolutely loyal to a true overlord."

"Overlord?"

"Yes! Mogor not only witnessed your power, Your Majesty, but also felt the hundreds of thousands of wronged souls entangled around Your Majesty, unable to find peace. Only a peerless overlord can accomplish such a great feat. Compared to Your Majesty, who can change the fate of so many lives, the entire murloc race is but a tiny existence."

Duke narrowed his eyes. "You can see the wronged souls around me?"

"No, I can only feel the strong breath of destiny," Mogor replied, still groveling.

"Alright, I'll forgive your rudeness for the last time. But next time, I'll have the Nagas and the deep-sea giants cut off your retreat, and all the humans on land surround you and wipe out every last murloc in the world."

Duke's words made Mogor tremble all over, both in the spiritual world and in reality.

"Alright, let's go. From now on, sixty percent of the murlocs will obey Vala, and forty percent will obey Sepheris. As for you, Mogor, you will be Vala's deputy."

"As you command, my Lord," Mogor replied, his voice filled with newfound subservience.

Duke rubbed his brows and let out a soft sigh. He had finally completed the Southshore defense system.

After returning to Southshore, Duke welcomed King Llane on the 15th. Llane had rushed back after working day and night.

"Oh, Duke… the mage's portal is just so darn convenient. If your magic were stable enough, I'd have come back with you. Alas, it wasn't until Medivh became the Grand Magus that his teleportation got a little more reliable. Before that, it was always a roll of the dice." Llane didn't forget to grumble about his deceased friend.

"Any news?" Duke asked, cutting to the chase.

"Anduin and the others finally agreed to station the main force of the army in Southshore."

"Main force?" Duke's eyebrows shot up.

"Yes. They believe the orcs are likely to head west and land on the North Coast. So, the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Infantry Regiments of Gilneas, and half of Lordaeron's troops, will be deployed on the North Coast. Kul Tiras Grand Prince Drake's Second Fleet has also rushed there."

Duke's brow immediately furrowed.