Chapter 60: Deep Dark Fantasy |
Paval Reiss, Jaina’s personal guard, was taken aback.
Miss Jaina’s Frostbolt was supposed to be her specialty, wasn’t it?
She’d been practicing it all day yesterday...
Frostbolt...
Allen kept his eyes lowered and his expression calm.
That spell—he had no idea how to cast it.
He hadn’t even touched the most basic frost magic.
So without missing a beat, Allen immediately distanced himself from that inferior, low-level spell and said with a straight face:
“Frostbolt? I don’t know how to cast it.”
My mistake—my question must have been too simple.
As the Royal Magic Advisor, this great mage probably didn’t want to discuss such a basic spell with me, right?
She quickly adjusted her approach.
“Then, Master... how about Blizzard? Every time I use Blizzard, I get exhausted extremely fast.”
Allen wondered if Jaina had some screws loose. He couldn’t even cast Frostbolt, and she was asking about Blizzard?
“Um, actually, I haven’t done much research on frost magic.”
Jaina’s cold little face nodded slightly, but her mind was racing at full speed. Huh, the master doesn’t know frost magic? Let me think... what other spells are there?
“In that case, I’ve actually been learning Flame Shock lately, but I hadn’t finished the course before I had to set sail. Mr. Prestor, could you teach me that?”
Allen was silent for a moment.
Ah, what could he do? He was an honest man, not one for lying.
“Um,” his voice carried a trace of awkwardness, “to be honest, I haven’t done much research on fire magic either.”
Jaina let out a soft gasp in her mind.
So that’s it. He must be a master specializing in arcane magic, right? It wasn’t uncommon to see mages who focused entirely on one school. Think fast—what arcane spells have I learned recently...
She originally wanted to ask about Arcane Explosion; there were a few parts she didn’t quite understand. But as the words reached her lips, something inexplicable made her change course:
“Then... Mr. Prestor, you must be well-versed in Arcane Missiles?”
Arcane Missiles.
The most basic arcane spell—the very first lesson for almost every apprentice mage.
Surely he knew this one?
This time, Allen’s silence stretched even longer.
After a long pause, he spoke awkwardly:
“This... actually, I haven’t done much research on arcane magic either.”
The room fell into a dead silence.
Jaina nearly lost her composure, her icy little face barely holding up. She wanted to blurt out—
Frost? No.
Fire? No.
Arcane? No...
Then what kind of magic did you actually study?!
Paval Reiss exchanged a glance with another guard standing nearby.
That look conveyed the exact same thought—was King Varian taken in by some street charlatan?
How could he recommend someone like this to escort the young lady? Unbelievable!
They’d have to bring this up with Miss Jaina as soon as possible.
Allen saw the expressions on their faces and understood everything.
He sighed.
Fine, might as well go all in. Better to tell the truth than have this little lady pester him over such things.
“Actually,” he began, his tone calm, “I usually dabble in some deep and dark magic. Probably not suitable for you.”
With that said, she wouldn’t bother him anymore, right?
Sure enough, upon hearing this, Jaina’s guards changed color.
Paval’s hand was already on his sword hilt, his body leaning forward, ready to shield the young lady at a moment’s notice.
Though Jaina’s expression didn’t change, her mind was a turbulent sea.
Deep... and dark... dangerous magic...
It sounded like... a warlock?
By the time Paval politely asked Allen to leave the drawing room, Jaina was still in a daze.
She watched Allen’s figure disappear through the doorway, watched him vanish into the shadows of the corridor.
He was so mysterious...
What magic did he really use? How did he become Stormwind’s Royal Magic Advisor? What had he been through to make him always seem so... melancholic, so absent-minded?
By all logic, he should be a dangerous man.
But why was she...
Feeling that itch, so curious?
After a long while, Jaina finally spoke, her voice so light it was almost a whisper:
“What do you think... those deep, dark spells he mentioned could be?”
Paval’s face darkened.
No time to lose. He had to find out which port they could kick that warlock off at first chance. No way would he let him corrupt Kul Tiras’s pure, innocent daughter of the sea.
-----------------
On his way back to his cabin, Allen ran into Morgan.
Morgan was standing in the hallway, gazing at the seascape through the porthole. When he saw Allen coming, he smiled and greeted him.
The two went to dinner together.
Stella didn’t show up.
But Allen wasn’t worried; it seemed she was having too much fun soaking in that bathtub.
He had never actually asked them, but Morgan and Stella seemed to have taken it for granted that they would follow him to Dalaran.
Morgan, you could say, genuinely wanted to help—to repay the life-saving debt and continue pursuing justice.
As for Stella...
She was just freeloading.
Before, the one footing the bill was Wen Laisa, so Allen never felt it.
Now that he was the one paying, Allen truly understood what “heartache” meant.
Too expensive.
Supporting a freeloader.
If it weren’t for the 50 gold coins Wen Laisa had given him, Allen would have kicked Stella off the ship, told her to wait obediently in Stormwind.
Huh.
Come to think of it, those 50 gold coins were Wen Laisa’s money too...
After dinner, feeling a bit seasick, Allen went back to his cabin to rest first.
He still wasn’t used to the rocking of the sea; his stomach churned violently. He lay down on the bed, closed his eyes, and let the swaying lull him into a hazy state between waking and dreaming.
Morgan, on the other hand, went back up to the deck.
He helped the sailors with some odd jobs—moving things, hauling ropes.
Only when the sky was completely dark did Morgan return to his own cabin.
Morgan sat down on the edge of his bed and closed his eyes.
He began to pray.
The words of the Light’s prayers flowed slowly from his lips, low and devout.
A golden glow surged from his chest, gradually enveloping his entire body.
That light was warm and gentle, like a mother’s tender hand stroking him, driving away the day’s fatigue and clearing the shadows from his heart.
The Light surrounded him.
Morgan immersed himself in that warmth, losing track of time, losing track of where he was, losing track of all his worries.
Unknowingly, he prayed for a very long time.
When he opened his eyes again, he froze.
Outside the window, a violent storm had broken out over the sea.
The calm ocean from before had completely transformed.
The wind howled, the rain poured in torrents, and massive waves slammed against the hull one after another, shaking the entire ship violently.
Rainwater blurred the porthole, obscuring everything outside.
In the darkness, only the occasional flash of lightning illuminated the scene.
Boom—!!!
A thunderclap exploded, making the cabin tremble.
The thunder was so fierce, so sudden, that Morgan’s heart clenched.
The lightning’s glare streaked across the porthole, casting a ghastly white light on that small pane of glass—
And also illuminating something outside.
A shadow.
An incredibly massive shadow.
Its outline was blurry, twisted and eerie in the driving rain, but it was so tall it couldn’t possibly be human, and Morgan was frozen stiff on the spot.
Light above...
What was that?
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