"What on earth was that thing?" "Was it sent by the Scourge?"
"Why can that sword summon pumpkin heads?"
"First time fighting vegetables... it feels so weird..."
"Are those pumpkins... still edible?" This last question came from Chen.
"Uncle, what are you thinking? They've all turned to ash!" Li Li retorted.
Chen rubbed his belly, as if the recent exercise had once again depleted his stores. "Sigh, what a pity. I've never seen pumpkins that large before..."
Only Arator walked toward the Paladin. He crossed his right hand over his chest and bowed. "Senior... may I ask who you are?"
Seeing the man deliberately pull down his hood and lower his head to avoid recognition, Wayne quickly stepped in. "This is... a distant relative of mine... from an island in Kalimdor..."
"What?!" Hearing this, the people still investigating the Horseman and the pumpkins were stunned. Even long-time Goldshire residents like Zardeth and Corain had never heard of Wayne having relatives on that continent—which, aside from Theramore, had almost no human settlements.
Tess asked confusedly, "Boss... didn't you just tell me to... go get help just in case?"
"I... it was dark and I didn't recognize him at first," Wayne stammered. "It's been a long time since I've seen this uncle... elder..."
Chen felt a bit embarrassed and gave the "elder" a cupped-fist salute. "I was impulsive just now; please forgive me, sir. Your strength is deeply impressive."
The "elder" had never seen such a greeting and seemed reluctant to speak, so he simply nodded.
Arator pressed further, "Senior, was that person just now... truly Sir Thomas Thomson of the Knights of the Silver Hand?"
A glint flashed in the elder's eyes. In a low, raspy voice, he replied softly, "Yes. I recognized his sword... and his voice."
"What?!"
This admission sent the crowd back into a flurry of discussion.
"How could a member of the Silver Hand end up like that?" "Yeah, that was clearly a skeleton." "They disbanded years ago. I heard many members joined the Scarlet Crusade." "Is this knightly order... good at growing pumpkins?" Chen chimed in again.
"Uncle! Can you stop thinking about pumpkins! You're looking more and more like Po!" Li Li cried.
Wayne waved his hands. "Alright, alright, nothing to see here. Everyone go back to playing. My uncle just arrived and needs rest. Raymond, you and Tess clean up outside. Chen and Li Li, go see if the town needs help putting out fires. Scatter! Watching the drama still costs an hourly fee!"
Arator was clearly not satisfied. He was intensely curious about this peerless Paladin. "You haven't said what your uncle's name is..."
Wayne thought to himself that this stubborn kid really needed a good beating from his extremist aunt. "My uncle is called..."
In an instant, thousands of names flashed through Wayne's mind, along with the many images of this Paladin's past, present, and future.
"He's called... King Arthur!"
The crowd: "King Arthur?!"
Arator: "Is he a king from somewhere?"
"His surname is Cesar, first name Arthur. You can just call him Cesar from next door, OK?" Wayne snapped. "Stop asking. He's an man visiting, and you're treating it like an interrogation. If you keep this up, I'll interrogate your aunt next time she visits."
Once he brought up Vereesa Windrunner, Arator had no choice but to shut up. With the incident over, everyone went back to their business.
Once the crowd left, Wayne turned to "Cesar." "Care to chat?"
"Cesar" let out a complex laugh—filled with self-deprecation, speechlessness, and a hint of relaxed amusement—and nodded.
The two walked to the second floor and entered an empty deluxe double booth. Wayne put a pair of VR glasses on "Cesar" and put on a pair himself. They entered the cinematic world of Harry Potter and began to talk.
"Highlord, it is an honor to meet you."
Wayne's opening line was expected by "Cesar," yet its bluntness still caught him off guard.
"How did you know who I am?" Cesar asked.
Wayne thought: The moment you put on those glasses, your name showed up on the system. How could I not know?
However, he had already guessed it beforehand.
"I have fought alongside Shadowbreaker," Wayne said. "It was a life-and-death struggle with no retreat. I've seen the strength he possesses when he fully channels the Holy Light. Honestly, his full-power strike is about the same as the casual swing you made just now."
"He is currently the most senior Paladin in Stormwind. Anyone stronger or more proficient in the Light than him can be counted on one hand."
"Uther the Lightbringer and Gavinrad the Dire are deceased." "Turalyon led the expedition to Outland and hasn't returned." "Saidan Dathrohan... many think he is alive, but the man he is now is no longer the real him." "Only Tirion Fordring, who is missing and forgotten by many—you, sir—could possess such power."
Tirion did not reply immediately. To him, the shock of the words was nothing compared to the world before his eyes.
He found himself standing on "Privet Drive" at night. It was a place he had never heard of, with an architectural style he had never seen. The air, the breeze, and the sound of his footsteps on the pavement felt entirely real, as if he had been instantaneously teleported.
A few mages nearby were whispering; they were living humans like himself, yet they completely ignored his presence. Meanwhile, Wayne stood beside him, waiting for his reply with an expression that showed he was used to such astonishment.
When Tirion took off the glasses, he found himself back in the spacious room. Wayne was still half-reclined, motionless. But on a screen in front of him, another "Wayne" waved at him and said, "This isn't an illusion, nor is it teleportation. It doesn't separate your spirit from your body. This is a real world you can enter just by putting these on."
Tirion took a few deep breaths. Realizing he couldn't comprehend the mechanics, he put the glasses back on to return to the cinematic world.
The fragments of information about the net cafe he had heard from Eitrigg and the high-level adventurers suddenly opened like a massive gate, flooding his mind. He recalled the various "worlds" he had seen on the screens of the customers while walking through the first floor—all completely different from this Harry Potter world.
He finally understood that the incredible legends he had heard on the road were all true—and even more miraculous than the tales suggested.
"No wonder Rhonin agreed to let Turalyon's son stay here," Tirion finally spoke, after confirming the long-bearded mage named Dumbledore couldn't hear them. "I was worried he might recognize me."
"Indeed. I am Tirion Fordring," he continued. "Though no longer a Highlord. Just an exiled old man."
Wayne wanted to say something, but he didn't know where to start. After all, this man carried a legendary past and an incomparably glorious future.
"It's late. There are clean, empty bedrooms upstairs. You can stay here for a few days; no one will disturb you. I believe with your current... look... even if Shadowbreaker stood before you, he wouldn't necessarily recognize you."
It was the truth, but it carried a hint of sadness. This Paladin, with his untrimmed beard and eyes hollowed by the years, bore little resemblance to the radiant, majestic Highlord of the past, even if his power remained undiminished.
"However, in front of others, I'll have to call you Cesar."
Tirion didn't fully trust this young man he had just met. Although Wayne's analysis made sense, it was hard to understand why a stranger knew his past so intimately. Honestly, he had agreed to come up and experience this partly to investigate the cafe as intended, and partly because he had enough power to handle any potential trap or ambush.
Wayne sensed Tirion's defensiveness. The betrayal of subordinates, being disowned by his wife, and being told his only son believed him dead—these tragedies had made the hermit of the Thondroril River extremely wary of strangers.
Tirion broke the silence. "Besides this, what else is there?"
He had heard many legends, including fire-breathing black dragons and a holy sword that turned the undead to ash. Wayne immediately pulled him out of Harry Potter and showed him trailers for other games.
Tirion watched closely, but the games—which were mostly about constant combat—triggered a slight internal resistance. Wayne knew that while the fire in Tirion's heart hadn't been extinguished, it wasn't yet time for it to flare up again.
"You can call me anytime, in the game or by calling a server," Wayne said, standing up to give Tirion some space.
"Old Mi... Old Mi...?" Li Li's voice came from outside the booth.
Tirion didn't move overtly, but his left hand moved closer to the hammer leaning against the wall.
Wayne opened the door slightly. "What's wrong? Why say it now?"
"Everyone is waiting for you to introduce the new game!" Li Li cried.
"New game?"
"Don't you know? Uncle is almost crying with excitement!"
Wayne turned back and gave Tirion an embarrassed smile. "Uncle Cesar, take your time..." He then left the room and returned to the first floor with Li Li.
He found the crowd gathered around Chen's seat. On the screen, Chen was at a port, carrying supplies onto a small boat moored at the dock with his companions.
Seeing Wayne through the screen, Chen waved from the ship. "Miller! I'm going to sea! I'm going to find Pandaria! Hahahaha!"
Wayne's first reaction was: What a goofball...
Then he looked closer. Holy crap!
Rafael Castor?!Claudio Marius?!The Mediterranean, Lisbon?!Uncharted Waters IV?!