Allen smiled faintly. "Of course I'm fine. Look—I didn't even pass out this time."
Wren returned the smile knowingly.
Stella came running toward them on her short legs, her two blue braids swinging, brimming with excitement.
She had just finished administering emergency treatment to the severely wounded. Her small face was still smeared with blood and soot, yet it was full of pride.
"Benefactor! I saved—"
Before she could finish—
Thud.
Stella tripped over something and fell flat onto the ground.
"Ow! That hurts!"
She lay there, lifting her head with a pitiful expression.
Then she realized what had tripped her…
A stick.
A stick about the length of a forearm lay quietly on the ground.
But strangely, all the surrounding stone slabs had been scorched black and shattered by the void torrent—yet this stick remained completely intact, without even the slightest burn mark.
Stella was about to reach out to pick it up.
"Wait."
Allen had already stepped forward quickly and picked up the stick.
The moment it touched his hand, he felt something unusual.
[Perception Check: Success]
[Your gaze falls upon this seemingly ordinary stick. It was left behind where Teron Gorefiend vanished—the death knight who had been completely vaporized by the void torrent, leaving not even the slightest trace of his soul behind. Yet this stick lies intact upon the charred stone slabs, as if mocking the void's devouring power.
You examine it closely and notice intricate patterns at one end—ancient runes of some kind. Though only a fragment remains, the surviving portion still allows you to feel a vast surge of magical energy, like a bottomless ocean.
This is no ordinary object. Absolutely not.]
Allen turned the stick over, and item information appeared.
[Fragment of Atiesh]
[A fragment of Atiesh, the legendary staff of the Guardian.]
What?!! This is actually a fragment of Atiesh???
The legendary staff of the Guardian—one of the most renowned staves in World of Warcraft, the symbol of the Tirisfal Guardians, Medivh's weapon!
Allen nearly blurted it out.
He forcibly suppressed the shock in his heart, gripping the seemingly insignificant stick, his fingertips trembling slightly.
Although he possessed Xal'atath, Blade of the Black Empire, and could wield shadow magic with ease, he had only just unlocked the Sorcerer class—he truly lacked a proper staff.
Why would Teron Gorefiend have a fragment of Atiesh on him?
Right—Teron had come in pursuit of artifacts. Perhaps the Guardian's legendary staff had also been among his targets.
Maybe he had already found one fragment but hadn't managed to gather them all before…
Allen's lips curled into a faint smile.
In that case, I'll be taking your legacy.
No one paid attention to this unremarkable stick, so Allen naturally pocketed it without issue.
[Side Quest Triggered: A Strange Stick]
[You picked up a seemingly ordinary stick at the remains of Teron Gorefiend, yet it survived the void torrent—clearly no ordinary object. The lingering runes faintly point toward a surging magical force.
Try asking in a nearby city of magic—you might receive an unexpected surprise!]
[Quest Objective: Reach the nearest city of magic!]
[Quest Reward: Random low-tier spell x1, +1 class level]
A city of magic?
In Warcraft, the nearest one… would only be Dalaran, right?
Allen touched the fragment in his chest, thoughtful.
"Benefactor?" Stella leaned closer. "Is that stick something special?"
"No." Allen calmly withdrew his hand from his chest. "Just a broken stick—probably leftover firewood."
Stella gave an "oh" and quickly got distracted by something else.
At this moment, Marshal Windsor had finished bandaging his wounds and limped over to Varian.
He knelt on one knee, lowering his head.
"Your Majesty." His voice was hoarse and heavy. "It is my failure. I did not protect you. To have placed you in such danger—I deserve death."
Varian quickly stepped forward and helped the old general up with both hands.
"If not for you holding the treasury with your forces and buying time, we would never have made it in time."
Allen stepped forward and spoke at the right moment: "Your Majesty, Marshal—Teron Gorefiend's target this time was the Book of Medivh. I suggest retrieving it immediately and relocating it to a safer place. The Horde's forces likely sent more than just this one team."
Varian and Wren both glanced at Allen.
When it came to surprising people, Allen always managed to be even more surprising.
As for how he knew so many Horde secrets—especially those he had shouted on the battlefield—they were already almost used to it.
So Varian tacitly chose not to bring it up and instead trusted the intelligence Allen provided.
After all, in Stormwind, this sort of thing had precedent—a warlock being a prophet was perfectly in line with tradition.
Windsor's expression sharpened, and he nodded.
"That makes sense." He turned and selected several trusted guards. "With me."
They quickly headed toward the treasury.
Meanwhile, more guards flooded into the battlefield.
They began clearing the charred corpses, transporting the wounded, and restoring order.
Priests from the Cathedral of Light also arrived. More than a dozen priests in white robes held holy relics and began healing the injured.
Several of them stood at the center of the battlefield, sensing the surging shadow energy around them. They exchanged glances, their expressions grave.
"So this is Teron Gorefiend's power?" a young priest muttered. "It's far too evil… far too terrifying…"
Another older priest nodded in agreement: "Yes. This dense shadow energy—even the Shadow Council warlock orcs I encountered during the Second War were no stronger. Fortunately, His Majesty is unharmed, or the consequences would have been unimaginable."
Their conversation drifted into the ears of nearby soldiers and wounded.
Many instinctively lowered their gaze or turned away, pretending to be busy.
No one spoke up to correct them.
No one pointed out that these traces were not left by Teron Gorefiend.
No one said that the one responsible for them was standing not far away.
Allen scratched his head awkwardly, pretending not to hear.
Varian coughed lightly and turned to Allen and the others.
"Everyone, you've all worked hard. Why not stay at Stormwind Keep for a while and rest? I'll have the best priests treat you."
Allen was just about to politely decline—
"Not good!"
Marshal Windsor staggered back from the direction of the treasury. His face was deathly pale, drenched in cold sweat.
"Not good! Your Majesty! The Book of Medivh… the Book of Medivh is gone!"
Varian's expression changed drastically. "What?!"
Windsor rushed forward, panting heavily as he held up an opened box.
"The box that stored the Book of Medivh is completely empty." His voice trembled. "Only… only this was left behind."
He took out an insignia from the box.
It was a silver emblem, engraved with a snow-covered mountain, and atop the mountain stood a castle.
The crest of the Kingdom of Alterac.
All eyes instantly turned toward Allen.
After all, who didn't know that Allen Prestor was a noble from the Kingdom of Alterac?
He stared at the emblem.
At that damned mountain and castle.
The corner of his mouth twitched.
Fuck.
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