Chapter 30: A Heinous Kidnapping Case |
When Allen woke up, all he saw was pitch-black darkness.
He instinctively tried to move, only to find his hands and feet tightly bound by coarse ropes. He struggled desperately, but the ropes only tightened further, digging deep into his flesh.
What... happened?
His memories slowly came back.
Today, he had just arrived in Stormwind City with Wen Lei and the others. The carriage had stopped at the Pig and Whistle Inn. He picked up his luggage, went upstairs, pushed open the door to his room, and was about to put his things down—then a sharp pain hit the back of his head.
When he woke up, he was here.
What kind of security was this?!
Had he been kidnapped by an enemy? Wait, did he even have any enemies in Stormwind City?
He struggled again, but the ropes didn’t budge.
"When did you arrive in Stormwind City? What are you doing here?"
Allen couldn’t see the speaker, only judging by the voice that the person was sitting not far away. He quickly spoke up, his tone dripping with fear:
"Sir! I’m a member of the Prestor family. Don’t kill me—someone’s willing to ransom me! Name your price, I promise—"
The voice let out a cold laugh.
"Heh."
The owner of that voice, Duke Marasmom, glanced at Lady Prestor beside him. After receiving a meaningful look from her, his tone turned even icier:
"The one we’re here to kill is precisely a member of the Prestor family."
Allen’s heart sank like a stone.
Damn it.
So it wasn’t my enemies—it was the Prestors’ enemies? How unlucky could I be?!
His mind raced. Wen Lei and the others must have realized he was missing by now. They’d probably go to Varian for help, right? Would Varian be able to find him? For now, he just had to stall for time.
"Wait, you’ve got it wrong. I’m just a con artist—I’m not actually part of the Prestor family! It’s all a misunderstanding! Let’s talk this out!"
"Hmph."
Duke Marasmom sneered again.
"Lies through your teeth. I think a dead Prestor is more believable."
Allen was speechless. If reasoning didn’t work, he had to try to scare them.
Since he was already playing the role of a Prestor, he might as well go all the way. After all, Onyxia wouldn’t move south until ten years after the Dark Portal opened.
With that thought, Allen took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and instantly switched to an arrogant demeanor.
"Ahh—"
He let out a long sigh first.
"I’ve been holding back long enough."
His voice was no longer fearful—it carried a hint of superiority.
"Do you even know who I am?"
Marasmom glanced back at Lady Katrana.
She seemed amused, lazily leaning back on her soft couch, propping her chin on her hand, and watching the young man who had been trembling moments ago but was now suddenly bold with keen interest.
So Marasmom let out a scoff. "Who are you?"
Allen gave a cold smile, one laced with arrogance and contempt.
"To avoid unnecessary trouble, I’ve cooperated with you as much as possible—but you just don’t know when to quit."
He lifted his chin, facing the kidnappers in the darkness with a condescending gaze.
"Speak my name, and it will make you jump."
Katrana raised an eyebrow.
Marasmom said, "Oh?"
Allen took a deep breath, then spat out the name word by word:
"I am the son of Deathwing—the great and wicked Black Dragon Prince, Nefarian himself!"
Duke Marasmom froze, instinctively looking toward Lady Katrana.
Katrana’s expression also stiffened.
Seizing the moment, Allen parted his lips and uttered a single word:
"Release."
[Command]
An invisible force surged from him, rushing straight toward the figure in the darkness—
[Saving Throw: Failed]
A rustling sound came from the darkness. Then, a pair of trembling hands groped their way closer, untying the ropes on him and pulling off his blindfold.
The moment the blindfold was removed, the sudden light made Allen squint.
A middle-aged man was slumped before him, his face full of terror, his entire body trembling. It was Duke Marasmom. His lips quivered, unable to understand why he had done what this man told him to.
Could it... could it be that what he said was true?
Allen rubbed his wrists, now marked with red lines from the ropes, and slowly stood up.
Then, he saw it.
In the depths of the dim room, on a soft couch, a woman lounged lazily.
Her long legs were crossed, pale and smooth like the finest silk, her toes slightly pointed.
Allen’s gaze traveled up those gorgeous white legs, meeting a pair of violet eyes that looked at him with a half-smile, like a cat watching a mouse struggling under its paw.
"Th-this... Lady Katrana Prestor..." Duke Marasmom turned his head toward her, trembling. "W-what do we do now?"
Lady Katrana Prestor???
Allen was completely stunned now, even terrified beyond reason.
...Aside from that one person, he couldn’t think of any other possibility.
Was the seductive woman before him the sinister, venomous, treacherous black dragoness—Onyxia?
Damn it.
How could he be this unlucky?!?
Based on his memories from his past life, in Year 8 of the Dark Portal, the Black Dragonflight should still have been playing house in Lordaeron.
He should have been safe in Stormwind City, playing the role of the young Master Prestor, until at least Year 10 of the Dark Portal. Why was this black dragoness here in Stormwind right now?
Damn it, he had made the mistake of relying on empirical thinking again. Game lore often skimmed over things with a few lines, but in the real World of Warcraft, the paths of these living, breathing people were not something he could easily predict.
Wait a second. Allen suddenly remembered the other bounties he had glimpsed on the bulletin board back in Goldshire when he took the Lupos bounty.
Livestock had been disappearing in Goldshire lately.
Everything added up. Hadn’t Onyxia been the one eating them?!
Why hadn’t he made the connection earlier? And now he had come running straight into Stormwind to die?
Allen took a deep breath, forcing down the storm of emotions churning inside him.
Now wasn’t the time for regret. More critically, he had just pretended to be Nefarian right in front of Onyxia?
Allen wanted to immediately clarify that he was just a con artist. But then he thought again—if he pretended to be the Black Dragon and then suddenly dared not continue that pretense upon seeing Lady Katrana, Onyxia would suspect that he knew her true identity.
He absolutely couldn’t let this black dragoness find out he knew who she really was. That would mean certain death.
He had no choice but to grit his teeth and keep up the act.
"So, you’re from the Prestor family. Hmph. It’s your honor that I’ve chosen to impersonate your youngest son."
Allen straightened his back. Though his spine was slightly damp with cold sweat, he swept a condescending gaze over the slumped Marasmom before finally resting it on Katrana.
"You mortals, if you know what’s good for you, just kneel and submit to me."
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