We escaped successfully, and as I suspected, Gating had a time limit - three hours. The demons were summoned for a mere three hours, the weakest kind of Gating available.
I felt relieved as the rest of the night passed by without incident. The only sounds I heard were the occasional animal noises and the echo of my armored footsteps.
Gathering the souls of the dwarves, I stored them inside me. They burned hotter than a normal soul but were not as potent as the dragonkin from before.
Experimenting with the souls within me, I discovered that I could temporarily store them in my sword. This halted the whispers of the Old Gods, preserving my sanity for a while longer.
Though I couldn't deceive myself, I knew that in Azeroth, I would inevitably be forced to do things I didn't want to. Saving Azeroth seemed impossible unless I possessed omnipotence. Each World of Warcraft expansion brought a new apocalypse, with the pinnacle being Shadowlands. Despite my disdain for the story, I couldn't deny the strength of figures like Zovaal and Denathrius, perhaps even surpassing that of Sargeras and the Burning Legion or quite equal but the players didn't face Sargeras directly, they faced Argus.
'Why am I stuck in a world like this ?' I pondered internally. 'Why couldn't I have ended up in a more friendly realm?'
Lost in my dark thoughts, I continued to walk. Finally, as the sun began to peek through the smoke clouds, indicating the end of the Burning Steppes, I breathed a sigh of relief. But my relief was short-lived as I beheld the welcoming committee between the Badlands and the Burning Steppe
An enormous barricade loomed before me, manned by numerous Dark Iron dwarves hard at work.
'This wasn't in the game,' I thought silently, eyeing the barricade warily as I looked for any point from which I could pass
I continued to stare at the barricade, but my gaze soon shifted to the mountain looming behind it. The gate barred the passageway, but I could climb the mountain to bypass it. However, why rush now? Perhaps I could find a cave in the mountains or some other hiding spot to continue experimenting with magic. I knew that eventually, the Horde would cross the gorges and dislodge the Dark Iron dwarves from their fortifications.
Yet, I needed souls to fuel the demon summoning. I didn't fully understand how gating worked in this world. In the game, it was straightforward - you attacked to increase the spell gauge and then launched it. But here, in this reality, how could I decipher its mechanics without experimenting?
I sighed in exasperation as I resolved to climb the mountain and circumvent the gate that way. However, I needed to be discreet about it; I didn't want the Dark Iron dwarves to spot me and open fire with their guns and artillery from their fortifications.
Moving towards the side of the mountain that I intended to climb, I enhanced myself physically and began my ascent, searching for handholds and footholds. It was no easy feat, but I persisted until I discovered a small cave. Thankfully, it seemed I hadn't been spotted by the dwarves.
As I peered into the darkness of the cave, a sense of apprehension washed over me. The interior was oppressively dark and hot, devoid of any signs of life. The possibility that this cave could be the lair of a black dragon sent shivers down my spine, but upon closer inspection, I found it empty—no dragons, no eggs, no hatchlings.
'Okay, perfect,' I muttered to myself, scanning the cavern. With a determined expression, I decided to test my fire magic on something other than wood. Conjuring a small flame on the rocky surface of the cave, I observed its flickering light, knowing it wouldn't last long.
I settled into a lotus position, focusing my attention inward. A dozen flickering flames materialized before me, and I began to manipulate them, attempting to shape them into different forms. But before I could even attempt to shape one, the flames vanished abruptly. Frustrated, I grunted and tried again.
'I'll see if I truly have a talent for magic,' I thought to myself, determination fueling my efforts. However, the results were far from conclusive. It was disheartening to realize that my aptitude for magic was lacking—I was no prodigy like Jaina or Medivh.
Undeterred, I persisted in my training for two days, pushing myself to the limit. At times, my mana was depleted from my stubborn insistence on trying repeatedly, refusing to abandon my efforts simply because they didn't yield immediate success.
I made some strides in my training efforts. I could summon a slightly larger number of imps per portal, and I managed to increase my summoning frequency to three times a day before experiencing the searing pain akin to placing my hands in a chimney.
Regarding my fire magic, I refined my ability to cast fireballs and strengthening spells more swiftly, though I didn't succeed in innovating or developing any new spells. Despite my attempts, I couldn't master intricate spells like Apocalypse or Cataclysm, as I lacked the requisite expertise in spell weaving.
I also focused on refining my manipulation of souls to address the issues I encountered with the souls I consumed. Progress was made in this area as well—I discovered that consuming souls could temporarily enhance my strength, akin to indulging in candy.
I sighed as I closed my eyes to rest a bit, free from the whispers of the Old gods and free from the constant pulling of the souls as I stored them in my sword for the night.
I sighed with relief as I closed my eyes, finally free from the whispers of the Old Gods and the constant tug of souls. I stored them in my sword for the night, finding solace in the temporary respite.
As I drifted into sleep, I found myself once again in Sheogh, but this time, I returned to the place where I encountered all my demons. They stood below me, waiting.
Glancing around, I noticed a throne nearby. Unlike before, it didn't call out to me or seem cursed; it was just a simple obsidian throne.
I hesitated, wary of whether this was a trap laid by the demons to ensnare me in Sheogh or some other scheme.
'A man who takes no risks earns no rewards,' I reminded myself as I cautiously inspected the throne. With the tip of my sword, I prodded it, half expecting an explosive trap or some other sinister mechanism. To my relief, nothing happened.
With a calculated stride, I approached the throne and seated myself upon it. As I did, my consciousness expanded into a vast domain, granting me insight into every nook and cranny around me.
I sensed numerous demons capable of answering my call—imps, hellhounds, and even succubi—feasting on the body of another demon to the north of my location.
Suddenly, I heard a commanding presence calling out to me, a force incomprehensibly greater than my own. I felt insignificant, like a mere ant in the presence of this colossal being. Raising my gaze, I beheld an immense draconic head looming in the sky, its eye larger than any mountain I had ever seen.
Trembling, I listened as the divine voice addressed me, resonating with authority and power. "You are now an Heir of Sheogh," the voice declared, sending a surge of knowledge flooding into my mind. I clutched my head in agony as if molten magma were being poured upon me, burning away until I assimilated every fragment.
"Leader of the Legion of Knowledge, rise, Val-Beleth," the voice continued, bestowing upon me a sacred title. Tears of molten fire streamed down my face as I looked upon the divine presence, his voice tearing my inside like knives.
"In gratitude for your blessings, Lord Urgash," I whispered reverently, rising from my throne and kneeling before the divine entity as I trembled from fear, this thing could kill me even before I breath, an instant will be all it requires to disintegrate me into oblivion.
"The eternal struggle for the vacant throne of Sheogh shall become the crucible in which you shall forge your destiny," boomed the resonant voice of Urgash, its divine resonance shaking the very earth and causing volcanoes to erupt in a fearsome display of power. All demons in the vicinity, including myself, knelt in reverence, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his presence.
"Your fate, whether to perish or to endure, rests solely in your hands," declared Urgash, his words carrying the weight of divine decree. With a final rumble, his formidable presence dissipated, leaving behind a sense of awe and trepidation in its wake.
As the echoes of his voice faded, I sank back onto my throne, trembling at the memory of encountering the god. Gradually, the world seemed to return to its natural state, and I found solace in the calm that followed his departure.
'Val-Beleth,' I mused over the name bestowed upon me by Urgash. The suffix "Beleth" held immense significance among demonkind, reminiscent of the dreaded Kha-Beleth, whose name struck fear into both enemies and fellow demons alike.
The information I had received spoke of the ongoing war for the throne, following the disappearance of Kha-Beleth. Once again, demons were locked in deadly conflict, each vying for supremacy and dominance over the others. It was a familiar cycle of violence, where might determined right and the strongest prevailed.
'My castle,' I thought, casting my gaze upon the colossal structure floating above the throne upon which I sat. It served as the stronghold where the demons under my command could find respite and multiply to bolster our forces.
Nestled within the remote reaches of the North in Sheogh, my castle stood as a silent sentinel, its imposing presence overshadowed by the realms of lesser demon lords. Though our powers were comparable, we were but insignificant entities in the eyes of the greatest arch-demons, mere ants scurrying beneath their notice.
Bestowed with the prestigious title of Leader of my own legion, I found myself at a loss, for such an honor was typically reserved for the mightiest archdemons who served directly under the Overlords. Yet, I had never heard of a legion named the Legion of Knowledge, nor did I have any knowledge of a legion operating independently of the Overlords' command. It was a revelation that left me perplexed and intrigued.
Glancing at my left hand, I beheld the symbol etched upon it—a singular eye, reminiscent of the banners adorning my castle. Was it the emblem of my legion, I wondered?
Securing a stable foothold in Sheogh was imperative if I wished to expand my forces. With a stronghold firmly established, I could summon greater numbers of demons into Azeroth through Gating. After all, the influence of a lone demon is limited at best.
I extended my senses once more, reaching out to all the demons under my command, urging them to come and greet me as I inspected the castle.
As I wandered through the halls, I found the castle to be relatively empty. However, one feature caught my attention—the library. I was surprised to discover such a vast collection of books within a demon stronghold. I had always thought of demons as mere brutes, but here were volumes on magic, politics, and even history.
I grabbed a few books from the library and made my way back to the throne, intending to delve into the knowledge they contained.
As I stepped outside, I was met by the sight of around fifty demons of various kinds, all gazing at me with widened eyes. They greeted me with reverence, kneeling before me as a sign of respect.
Satisfied with their acknowledgment, I was about to address them when I sensed something lurking outside. I closed my eyes briefly, shifting my focus back to Azeroth. When I opened them again, I was met with the sight of a monstrous vulture hurtling towards me.
'Fuck !' I cursed silently as I swiftly dodged its beak strike and rolled away, drawing my sword in one fluid motion. With a swift swing, I attempted to strike the creature down, but it evaded my attack. Then, to my surprise, I saw a glint of lightning magic in its open beak.
I attempted to dodge, but the lightning bolt was too swift, striking me squarely in the torso. I grunted inwardly as I was sent flying, crashing into the cave wall. But before I could fully recover, I retaliated, launching a firebolt at the vulture's wing, creating a gaping hole.
With determination, I rose to my feet and charged at the creature, delivering a decisive strike that severed its head from its body. As the vulture fell lifeless to the ground, I inspected the wound I had sustained. The lightning bolt had not pierced my armor, but it had left a scar and a lingering sensation of pain where it had struck.
'I didn't bring the books with me,' I realized, scanning the area. Suddenly, the eye mark on my left hand began to glow, and the book materialized through a portal created by the mark.
'Well, that's convenient,' I thought, a perplexed expression crossing my face as I reached for the book titled "History of the Legions of Urgash" and began to read.
–
The start of the political struggle of Sheogh and the little training.
Don't hesitate to give your opinions on the chapter
See you soon