Chapter 82: Bang! |
Kel'Thuzad's gaze fell on that cat, and his pale face twisted for a moment.
He flung the inn's half-closed door wide, two ice claws reached out from the Void, one on each side, grabbing Jaina and Arthas by the collars and dragging them out of the rubble.
Jaina struggled; the ice claws tightened at once. She bit her lip, tears blurring her face as she looked at Allen. Arthas's feet were still frozen; when he was dragged, his knees struck the threshold and he let out a muffled groan.
Kel'Thuzad stood in the doorway. "How shall we duel?"
"I can tell you honestly that, whether those two people, or whatever the Cult of the Damned is, or whatever necromancy—it's all worthless to me." He paused. "If you hurt them, or win against me in those areas, I will feel nothing."
Tasha's Hideous Laughter
"Saving Throw: Success"
Kel'Thuzad's fingers twitched. "If you try to secretly cast any mind-affecting spell on me again, I will kill them outright."
Allen spread his hands. "Alright, alright, I'll be honest. The thing that matters most to me is my mage career. Losing to you in this field is absolutely unacceptable."
Deception Check: Success
"Your sincere feelings successfully fooled the other party. He believes you; your mage career is very important to you. Of course — you simply told the truth, your lie hidden beneath genuine emotion."
Kel'Thuzad nodded.
Allen nodded too. "Fine. We'll contest the most basic spells: Missiles versus Shield. Each of us summons a simple magical shield, no reinforcements allowed, then we use the simplest Arcane Missiles on each other. Whoever cries stop first loses. Fair?"
Kel'Thuzad sneered. He probably thought the other was merely a frustrated soul obsessed with forbidden magic, daring to challenge him in his proud arena. Wherever he went since childhood, he had been the brightest, the most gifted. Even Antonidas had favored him, wanting him as a disciple.
Allen casually cast a Shield, making a polite gesture. "Since I proposed it, you may attack first."
A pale blue arcane barrier unfurled before Kel'Thuzad.
He raised both hands, arcane energy bursting from his palms, a continuous stream of deep-blue light shot toward Allen.
Allen raised his hand as well; purple Arcane Missiles darted from his fingertips.
However, Kel'Thuzad's arcane missiles against Allen vanished like a stone dropped into the sea, without a ripple.
Seeing this, Kel'Thuzad gritted his teeth and poured more magic into his palms.
The torrent of missiles grew faster and fiercer, the azure light nearly swallowing the entire street.
But Allen's shield registered no reaction, not a flicker.
Kel'Thuzad's own shield began to crack, the fractures spreading and deepening like cracks crawling across an ice surface across the lightwall.
In these three days of study, although Allen still hadn't learned Arcane Intellect, he had already tested it: in the system's eyes, Arcane Missiles are Magic Missile.
And Shield is immune to Magic Missile.
Arthas could not move. He stared past the purple turbulence and sparks at the man who had casually raised his hand farther down the street.
Like a savior.
Kel'Thuzad grew increasingly hysterical. His barrier had shattered, yet he did not cry stop, while Allen's shield showed no damage at all.
Kel'Thuzad was near collapse; he had even lost in his most proud domain of magic. What he found most unbearable was Allen's breezy indifference, the shield completely unscathed.
Kel'Thuzad could die, could be jailed, but he would never allow himself to lose to this man again.
The purple missiles tore through scattering light fragments and struck Kel'Thuzad squarely in the chest.
His back hit the stone wall behind him, a metallic-sweet taste flooding his mouth.
He did not cry stop.
He raised his hand; the arcane glow on his fingertips had dimmed considerably, but he still focused it and hurled it forth.
The missiles struck the shield and dissipated silently. That shield did not even tremble.
Kel'Thuzad slumped against the corner, his back against the cold stone, his robe scorched in places, blood seeping at the corner of his mouth.
Even then, he did not cry stop. He raised his bloodied hand and kept maintaining Arcane Missiles.
He stared at Allen.
Ner'zhul, Ner'zhul, Ner'zhul.
Why had it to be you?
The first day I met you, I thought I had finally found a kindred spirit, someone who truly understood me... but you— you betrayed me!
I never cared what the other fools in the Cult of the Damned thought of me.
What drove me to despair, what I most hated... was your betrayal!
Ner'zhul!!!
Just kill me.
If you kill me...
Will I finally see the deathly world I've dreamed of?
Allen watched him; such conviction. No wonder he had consecutively saved against my Tasha's Hideous Laughter. Since that's the case, I'll just disconnect you early.
He was about to strike fatally when a voice sounded, "Mr. Prestor! Please spare them!"
Allen pretended not to hear. The missile left his hand, dragging a purple trail, streaking straight for Kel'Thuzad.
Just as the missile was about to prematurely kill Kel'Thuzad, an arcane barrier blossomed in front of him, blocking the attack.
Ansirem Runeweaver strode forward, followed by dozens of Kirin Tor battle mages.
"Mr. Prestor, Kel'Thuzad is a mage of Dalaran; you cannot kill him."
He paused, his tone softening, "We will confine him to the Violet Prison and administer fair justice."
Kel'Thuzad, collapsing on the ground, his ashen pupils moved a fraction.
Prestor. So your name is Ner'zhul Prestor, huh...
Allen picked at his ear, sneered inside, pretending he hadn't heard.
"Sorry, I was just too focused."
Ansirem waved a hand. "It's fine. As long as Jaina and Prince Arthas are unharmed."
The battle mages surged forward. Arcane chains snaked out of the Void, wrapping Kel'Thuzad's wrists and ankles, iron shackles following, fastening layer upon layer.
They dragged him up from the corner. His robe was full of scorch marks and bloodstains, hair falling messily over his brow, eyes hollow as if staring at some nameless place.
"Someone! Someone!" Jaina's voice cried from the inn, "Is there a cleric? Paval needs treatment—Allen, Paval is close to dying!"
Allen rushed to the window and peered out. Paval lay by the overturned table motionless. His face was paper-white, his lips drained of color.
Paval...
Seeing Paval treat that cheap malachite like a treasure, wearing it on his chest like a prized possession.
Allen slowly turned his head, his gaze falling on Ansirem.
He said nothing, but something in those eyes sank.
Ansirem shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Prestor. Kel'Thuzad is a mage of Dalaran. He must face Dalaran's punishment."
"Very well." Allen's voice was as calm as commenting on the weather. "I understand."
Allen clenched Saralath at his waist. He lifted his head, staring toward the end of the street—the figure bound in arcane chains and iron shackles, being escorted away by battle mages, receding slowly.
Metamagic — Range Extension.
Greatly extends the casting distance of the next spell.
Target locked.
Kel'Thuzad.
Then.
Farewell.
Mind Blast.
Allen parted his lips lightly,
"Bang."
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