[Wild Magic Surge Triggered!]
[Roll Result: 40]
[Effect Triggered: All injuries are healed.]
Without a second word, Allen used the Lucky feat to reroll.
[Wild Magic Surge Triggered!]
[Roll Result: 54]
[Effect Triggered: For the next month, you are immune to drunkenness.]
Allen looked up.
More than a dozen orcs had crossed the Grease spell zone. He raised a hand, and another bolt of lightning descended from the sky, illuminating the entire area.
He lifted his head and looked toward the heavens. If only a black dragon would show up. He could hijack one, ride on its back, and fly away from this place.
But where was he supposed to find a black dragon?
Allen thought for a moment.
Metamagic: Distant Spell!
Speak with Dead!
The centurion who had intimidated everyone moments ago had already been shot dead by Vereesa.
Its eyes were still open, the pupils already unfocused. Its lips hung half-open, fangs exposed, as though it were still roaring at someone.
Right before everyone's eyes, the centurion seemed to come back to life as it slowly sat upright. Terror flashed through the surrounding orcs' eyes.
"Who is the leader of these black dragons?"
The corpse turned its head toward Allen.
"Prince Sabellian, sir."
Allen did not smile. Sabellian. You again.
"Vereesa," he said in a low voice, "cover me."
"Understood."
She drew her bowstring. Mage Hand continuously returned the recovered arrows to her quiver. Every shot struck true as she kept suppressing the orcs charging through the Grease spell.
Allen closed his eyes.
Commune!
Establish contact with a deity or one of a deity's agents and ask three questions that can be answered with yes or no.
In Azeroth, even the Wild Gods counted as deities.
Surely Big Cousin couldn't possibly rank below them.
No matter what, he would try first.
He selected his target.
Deathwing. The Destroyer. The spokesman of Neltharion.
Black Dragon Prince Sabellian.
Sabellian was rampaging across the battlefield.
Shadowflame poured from his open jaws, swallowing an entire squad of retreating human soldiers.
He watched their armor melt in the flames. Watched their flesh char into blackened corpses. And he remembered that white-haired mage being turned into a sheep by his spell.
It felt utterly exhilarating.
This was how a black dragon should be. This was what true power should look like.
That human mage who had humiliated him at Menethil Harbor was nowhere to be seen. Even if he were here, he was probably cowering in some corner, trembling in fear.
Sabellian spread his wings, preparing to search for another batch of prey—
Then he realized he was no longer there.
Not on the battlefield.
Not in the Blasted Lands.
Not anywhere in Azeroth.
He stood within an endless expanse of pure white.
There was no sky. No ground. No boundaries. No end.
Within this white void, he felt his own existence becoming insignificant.
He did not know where he was.
He did not know what this place was.
He did not know what kind of thing had dragged him here.
Then he saw that person.
That human mage he thought about day and night, the one he gnashed his teeth over, the one he hated down to his very bones.
He stood there, looking at Sabellian as though observing an insect struggling inside a glass jar.
"You cowardly lizard."
His voice surged in from every direction, without source or orientation, as though the white void itself were speaking.
"Do you hate me?"
The fury inside Sabellian's chest exploded instantly.
He wanted to breathe fire. Wanted to smash this damned mortal apart with a single claw strike. Wanted to chew him into bloody pulp and swallow him whole—
He opened his jaws, shadowflame gathering deep within his throat.
But he did not release it.
His mouth closed on its own. The half-formed flames inside his throat extinguished themselves. His head nodded by itself.
"Yes."
The instant that single word slipped from his mouth, Sabellian's pupils contracted.
That was not what he wanted to say.
That was not what he intended to say.
He was trembling. His body no longer belonged to him.
"Do you want revenge?"
"Yes."
That person smiled faintly.
"I'm on the battlefield, where the blue light is flashing. Do you want to come find me?"
"Yes."
The moment Sabellian returned to his own body, fury erupted from every pore of his being.
His wing membranes snapped open violently, sending a griffin that failed to dodge in time spinning away.
His tail whipped through the air, shattering a cannon shell flying across the battlefield.
He lifted his head and looked into the distance—
At the foot of the mountain, the blue lightning was fading, yet embers still flickered like a dying star on the verge of burning out.
He shot into the sky, abandoning the battlefield and flying toward that blue light.
Like a black meteor.
Like an arrow loosed from a bow.
Like every ounce of suppressed rage finally finding a single outlet.
Damned insect. Damned mortal. I will kill you!
The orcs were still trying to figure out how to kill the two people trapped inside the Grease spell zone.
Then everyone stopped.
A sound pressed down from above, a low-frequency hum that made their chests vibrate.
They looked up.
Sabellian dove out from beneath the clouds, wings tightly folded, body stretched into a straight line. He was moving so fast that the air in front of him compressed into a visible shockwave.
The shockwave slammed into the ground with a heavy sonic boom. Stones exploded outward, sand and dust spiraled into the air, and several nearby orcs staggered backward from the force of the blast.
His eyes were locked onto the man in white robes.
Allen raised his head and stared at the ever-growing black meteor.
Once he entered the range of Dimension Door, he would use Command to make him flee, then jump onto his back with Dimension Door.
Tidal Charm.
Stun the enemy.
Tides of Chaos.
The next saving throw would automatically have advantage, and the next spell would definitely trigger a Wild Magic Surge.
Command.
The same old combo.
But Sabellian had already prepared for it.
Shadow Counterspell!
The power came too quickly—so quickly that Allen did not even have time to open his mouth.
Dense shadow power wrapped around his throat like an invisible hand, sealing his voice, locking his lips shut, strangling every word before it could leave his mouth.
His Command spell was trapped in his throat.
Allen did not panic.
Metamagic: Subtle Spell.
You can cast spells even while silenced.
Run away—
Those two words carried no sound. No movement of the lips. No vibration of the throat.
Yet the whisper still forced its way into Sabellian's mind.
[Saving Throw: Failed.]
Ten thousand voices screaming run away drowned out Sabellian's thoughts. His body jerked to a halt midair, as though he had seen something so horrifying it shattered his soul.
Allen was just about to cast Dimension Door again.
Then the guaranteed Wild Magic Surge from Tides of Chaos triggered.
Never before had Allen felt the wild power inside him erupt with such overwhelming intensity.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!
The next second, he found himself standing beneath an endless sea of stars.
He felt an oppressive presence behind him.
Slowly, with great difficulty, he turned his head.
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