Stormwind Wizard God
Chapter 820: Baptism

Chapter 820: Baptism

Here’s the rewritten text, aiming for improved flow, clarity, and more natural English phrasing:

Duke sneered, a look that seemed to say, "I knew you’d ask." He then pointed into the distance, declaring, "The substance in that pool is the strength potion, specially prepared for you."

Upon hearing this, Grom, the "lousy actor," nearly lost his composure on the spot. Damn it, that’s clearly your vomit from last night! And you have the audacity to call it ’good stuff’ specially made for the night elves?! No, no, no! This can’t be the Duke I know! Was I truly deceived by his holy light? Why does it feel like Edmund Duke, the great Alliance hero—upright and honest in every way, whether tricking enemies or saving his people—has changed so drastically? Is this truly the influence of fel energy?

And speaking of which, this black sludge in the pool emits a disgusting stench. Even the wild boars of the Barrens, known for devouring anything, wouldn’t touch it. So, would the night elves actually be willing to consume it?

Grom’s strained grin annoyed Duke. He thought to himself, Grom, did you misunderstand something? I’ve always been loyal and utterly shameless. What you saw and believed before was merely your own illusion!

Grom had braced himself for Xavius to erupt in fury and overturn the metaphorical table when he saw the pool. At that point, Grom was ready to teach him a lesson. He knew well that as a powerful Sunstrider-class arcanist, Xavius wouldn’t offer many opportunities for a direct attack. Perhaps only one chance...

Just as Grom prepared for a confrontation, something happened that made him nearly collapse.

"Ah—this power!? It’s so magnificent—"

Xavius reacted like a starving wild dog spotting a steaming pile of... well, anything. He practically lunged forward. Ignoring the rain, Xavius leaned against the pool’s edge, his palms resting on the decorative tiles, looking as though he wanted to strip off his clothes and jump right in.

How utterly mortifying for Grom, who had been on the verge of initiating a fight. My reputation is about to be ruined!

Duke’s calm voice drifted to Grom’s ears: "You, an outsider, don’t understand the obsession of the high elves with power. For the sake of magic, they’ve already turned the Well of Eternity blacker than coal. So, this color and this level of corruption are nothing to them."

What?! Is that even possible? Grom’s eyes nearly bulged from his head.

If it were only Xavius behaving this way, one might suspect a joint act between him and Duke. However, the two elven arcanists who accompanied Xavius also craned their necks, appearing eager to rush over and examine the situation. They were clearly excited by the pool of what looked almost exactly like black sesame paste.

Well, you city folk—or rather, you wizards—certainly have your strange ways. We axe-wielding warriors just don’t understand it anyway. Grom was finally convinced.

Duke wasn’t exaggerating. At this very moment, hundreds of kilometers away in the city of Azshara, a violent storm caused the dark waters of the Well of Eternity to surge unnaturally, raising massive waves that almost engulfed Azshara’s Royal Palace in the distance. The black waves roared, crashing against each other in the air, emitting a light imbued with arcane energy. In the sky, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, like thousands of furious dragons galloping from the shore...

As someone who had just been teleported from the palace and witnessed the Well of Eternity’s rage, then observed the calmness of the fel energy pool before his eyes, Xavius even cheered loudly: "This energy is so stable!"

That’s right, this was Duke’s vomit. And while it was true that Duke had transformed the best parts of it, no matter how many impurities remained, it was still condensed from the purest fel energy in the Twisting Nether. Although its magical concentration couldn’t reach the level of the Well of Eternity, unlike the Well of Eternity’s high-purity magical water that couldn’t be used directly, Duke’s inferior fel energy could be easily absorbed by living beings. It was precisely because Xavius could discern this at a glance, and because Duke was now leveraging the Burning Legion’s formidable reputation to deceive, that a high-level wizard like Xavius believed it without a doubt.

Duke adopted a cold, arrogant demeanor, instantly dominating the entire scene with an aura that screamed, "I am your superior."

Purification is such a simple matter, and you still expect me, the Grand Lord of the Burning Legion, to do it? Not to mention these pollutants, even if I, Duke, defecated everything out, I suppose Xavius would still eat it.

He reveled in this sense of superiority. You little night elf, you want to curry favor with someone powerful, don’t you? Well, the powerful one is here now; kneel down and lick! You want immense strength? I’ve given it, but where is your sincerity?

Duke said nothing, but his eyes and his aura conveyed it all. There was undisguised murderous intent in Duke’s gaze: Xavius, be sensible. If you don’t satisfy me, don’t blame me for initiating a massacre in your city.

Xavius shuddered. The carrot and the stick always arrived simultaneously. Now that the Lords of the Burning Legion had fulfilled their promise, it was clearly time to pay the bill. Xavius—this wretch who had betrayed his dream lover, his country, and his compatriots—decisively offered himself and his resources first.

"Lord Mark Dooku! My direct subordinates and I are willing to dedicate our souls to the Legion. I will also bring Her Majesty Queen Azshara here to meet you today." Xavius declared this with such finality and conviction!

Soul and life can be sold at any time! This "heroic" spirit made Grom, standing beside him, feel a phantom toothache. At this moment, Grom finally gained the most intuitive and profound understanding of how utterly mad the ancient night elf mages were in their pursuit of power.

Duke didn’t even raise an eyelid, snorting with profound contempt, and pointed at the floor in front of him, which was covered with a thick, black, sesame paste-like sludge. Even in the eyes of the orcs, who weren’t particularly fond of cleanliness, that spot was undeniably filthy and foul-smelling.

But Xavius crawled over obediently, like a dog chasing a bone, prostrating himself on the ground covered with black mud and rain, his forehead touching the earth.

"Please grant me strength, Lord!"

Not only him, but even the other high-level Elf Wizards who had accompanied him fell to the ground.

Duke parted his lips slightly: "Fel energy is powerful! Fel energy is also great! It is the noble power bestowed by the great commander Lord Sargeras to the chosen races that transcend the mortal world. Weak trash are not qualified to accept fel energy—"

As Duke’s voice grew louder and louder, like the rumbling of thunder, a colossal, fifteen-meter-high IMAX-sized virtual screen materialized behind him.

"Look up! Look at what happened to those inferior races!"

The three elves raised their heads, their facial muscles twitching. In the projected image, more than twenty creatures of various races exploded and died. But the one who ultimately succeeded displayed an incredibly powerful surge in strength.

Duke then asked majestically: "Xavius! Let me ask you—are you willing to be baptized by the fel energy under the banner of the Legion?"