Return of the King

A heavy silence enveloped the chamber as all eyes turned towards Kha-Beleth, his question lingering in the air like a dark cloud. Suddenly, a chilling laugh echoed through the room, drawing everyone's attention to the leader of what appeared to be the Legion of Madness. His grotesque form sent shivers down even the spines of demons, known for their tolerance of such sights.

"You've returned, but what do you bring to the table?" he taunted, his words punctuated by his unsettling laughter. Even Malar, typically more composed than most, seemed on edge—a rare sight considering the demon's usual stoicism.

"I bring everything that I have to the table," Kha-Beleth retorted, his smile unwavering despite the tense atmosphere.

"You have nothing left—no legion, no riches, nothing," countered the leader of the Legion of Madness.

Kha-Beleth chuckled softly in response, fixing a piercing gaze on the demon. "Don't you forget something, Mal-Lerio. Who gave you your position? Who defeated the last Legion leader and paved the way for your ascent?"

"It was such a long time ago, Kha-Beleth. You were once the strongest demon with the mightiest legion, but now you are merely a strong demon without a legion," Mal-Lerio countered, his tone dripping with disdain.

"Bold to assume that any of you have grown stronger in my absence," Kha-Beleth shot back, his words laden with an unspoken challenge.

The leader of the Legion of Voracity growled, her gaze fixed on Kha-Beleth. "Do you truly think that we would lose at seven versus one, Kha-Beleth?" Her words were met with a mad laughter from Ahribban.

"Who said that I'll ally with you weaklings?" Ahribban's disdainful tone matched his haughty demeanor as magma spewed from his mouth once more.

"Indeed," I chimed in, echoing the sentiment. I had no intention of risking a confrontation against the strongest demon just yet. Kha-Beleth exuded confidence, and he wouldn't have shown himself unless he was certain of victory. That was his way.

"I am in complete agreement with them," declared the leader of the Legion of Pain. "So, it seems we are once again plunging into a full-blown war amongst ourselves? Oh, the sweet pain that I will harvest from this conflict will be enough to satiate Ur-Traggal for hundreds of years!" His words dripped with sadistic delight, relishing the chaos and suffering that lay ahead.

Kha-Beleth tapped his sword against the ground, the sound echoing ominously through the chamber as tension thickened in the air.

"You have five days," he declared, his voice resonating with authority. "Five days until the war begins. Consider this your final warning. Kneel or face oblivion. Your legions may fall, but mine will endure. I will appoint new leaders, and your names will be erased from history forever." His words hung in the air, a grim ultimatum that left no room for negotiation.

The beautiful succubus, Maliana, clenched her teeth as she surveyed the room. Then, with a sudden resolve, she bowed her head before Kha-Beleth, eliciting cries of betrayal from the other traitorous Legion leaders.

"Maliana, you traitorous wench!" Azkaal's voice rang out, filled with rage and disdain, while the Arch-demon of Madness reluctantly followed suit, bowing his head with a forced smile directed at Kha-Beleth.

Silence fell heavy upon the assembly, the balance of power now shifted to five Legions against two.

"It appears the tides have turned," Kha-Beleth remarked with a satisfied smile. "If we wish to prevent further bloodshed, I suggest we put an end to this internal strife. Azkaal and Ur-Magara, kneel before me once more, and acknowledge me as your rightful king and leader."

"Where is Kiril?!" demanded Azkaal, his voice brimming with hate as he fixed his gaze upon Kha-Beleth.

"I cannot say for certain," Kha-Beleth replied, his tone tinged with uncertainty. "I found myself trapped in an endless void for what seemed like an eternity. It appears the spell malfunctioned, transporting us to another plane of existence."

Azkaal's expression darkened as he processed the information, as he bowed his head at Kha-Beleth followed promptly by Ur-Magara

As Kha-Beleth's gaze fell upon me, a bead of sweat trickled down my brow. The weight of their expectant stares bore down on me, urging me to speak.

"But perhaps, Val-Beleth could enlighten us, as he was summoned in a world that wasn't Ashan," Kha-Beleth proposed.

As the attention of every leader in the room shifted to me, I felt a sense of unease creeping over me. Gathering my thoughts, I began to speak, my voice trembling slightly.

"This world is called Azeroth," I began, only to be interrupted by murmurs of annoyance from the others. Undeterred, I continued, "It is teeming with life—elves, dwarves, humans, and more. But there is something else... demons. They call themselves the Burning Legion and-"

Before I could finish, Ahribban's furious roar shattered the air, accompanied by the sound of his fists pulverizing the table. Flames erupted around him as he bellowed, "Demons that are not ours? What blasphemy is this? I will burn them all! How dare they call themselves demons?"

"They are races corrupted by what they call Fel magic," I explained to Ahribban, meeting his fiery gaze. "It's a type of chaotic magic, but far more corruptive and dark."

The succubus nodded, her smile widening. "And what about this Azeroth? You mentioned various races, but are they of Asha's design?"

"No," I replied firmly. "They are not creations of Asha, nor do they worship any of the Dragon Gods."

A thoughtful hum escaped the succubus as she absorbed my words. "So, they are not our direct enemies," she concluded.

Kha-Beleth's voice cut through the tension, his words resonating with a chilling finality. "We destroyed our jailers, we killed the usurpers, and now we shall deal with the new usurpers of our name."

All present nodded in agreement, their expressions varying from contemplative to concerned, even the leaders of the traitorous legions seemed deep in thought as they regarded me.

"I have encountered some dragons," I began, my voice steady as I addressed the assembly, "but they were not the children of the Dragon Gods. They seemed more akin to evolved elementals."

Azkaal leaned forward, his eyes fixed on me intently. "And how strong is this Burning Legion?" he inquired.

"The Burning Legion is formidable," I replied, my tone grave. "They possess advanced technologies and formidable forces. Their leader, Sargeras, is akin to Lord Urgash or perhaps a minor Dragon God."

My words elicited a discontented huff from the Leader of the Legion of Destruction.

"Technology," Azkaal retorted with a sneer, "something that you weaklings from the Legion of Knowledge were all obsessed with. But this is nothing compared to true strength."

Ahribban scoffed, his disdain evident as he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Technology is far superior to individual strength, but coming from a simpleton such as you, Azkaal, it doesn't surprise me," he taunted, his words dripping with derision.

Azkaal's enraged growl reverberated through the chamber, his muscles tensing as if ready to lunge at Ahribban. But before he could make a move, thick fiery chains erupted from the ground, ensnaring him in their metallic grip.

"No fighting in the presence of God," intoned the Heretic solemnly, his voice carrying the weight of divine authority as he held the chains firmly in his grasp.

Tor-Berith, leader of the Legion of Pain, offered Azkaal a warning glance. "Control your temper, Azkaal," he urged, his tone laced with wisdom. "If you awaken Urgash with your incessant attacks, we will all perish here."

As the tension eased, Kha-Beleth, the enigmatic figure whose presence commanded respect and fear, addressed the gathered leaders. "We have new adversaries," he declared, his voice carrying across the room with a commanding presence. "You are granted two years to rally your legions, train new spellcasters, and harness the power of the artifacts pillaged from Ashan. At the end of this period, only one kind of demon shall reign supreme: us, the Children of Urgash!"

With a resounding clap of his hands, Kha-Beleth summoned portals behind each legion leader, signaling the end of the meeting.

"The meeting is adjourned," announced the Heretic, his voice echoing through the chamber as he nodded in approval before disappearing in a blaze of fiery light.

I stepped through the portal, my senses alert as I emerged back in the fortress, Malar at my side. The transition through this controlled portal was far smoother than the chaotic ones conjured by the Heretic. Yet, as I turned to take stock of my surroundings, a new presence caught my attention—a figure materializing behind me. Kha-Beleth, the imposing leader of our race, had followed me through.

"Do not fear, Val-Beleth," he spoke, his voice carrying a strange mix of authority and reassurance. "I mean you no harm."

His gaze swept over the fortress, his expression betraying a hint of disappointment. "This castle was once a bastion of magic, teeming with power and beauty," he lamented, his eyes tracing the worn walls and faded grandeur. "Now, it stands as but a hollow shell of its former glory."

His attention returned to me, his eyes piercing as he spoke again. "Though others may overlook it, I perceived from the moment I laid eyes on you that you were once human," he revealed, his words guarded yet sincere. "Fear not, for within this shield, no harm shall befall us," he assured, a smile touching his lips.

"Do not worry, for I was once like you in Ashan," Kha-Beleth spoke with a reassuring smile as we walked toward the library. "I, too, was a skilled spellcaster of the Seven Cities, under the tutelage of the strongest master. But I was naive, easily swayed by the belief that demons were the scourge of our world," he recounted, his tone reflective.

"However, the Overlords opened my eyes to a harsh reality. Despite their flaws, they revealed the true consequences of a world consumed by Order," he continued, reaching the library door. With a touch, a new section was revealed—a treasury of artifacts, each pulsing with its own unique magic.

"You, Val-Beleth, share more similarities with me than you realize," he stated, his gaze locking with mine. "I ask of you to return to Azeroth, seek allies in our fight against the Burning Legion. Share knowledge, offer artifacts, but exercise caution in your generosity. We are still demons, after all. First, we must weaken the Burning Legion's foothold on that world, rallying allies who will fight alongside us."

As we ventured into the deepest section of the reliquary, Kha-Beleth unveiled a tear-shaped object—an artifact of immense power. "This is the last tear of Asha, shed upon her death. Perhaps the strongest of all," he explained, cradling it in his palm. "With this, in two years' time, we shall forge a portal capable of traversing all worlds."

In a sudden surge of energy, Kha-Beleth's hand rested upon my torso, channeling power into me. I felt a physical transformation taking place within me.

"I have reconstructed your physical form. You are now able to return to Azeroth," he declared, his voice carrying a weight of authority. "Your mark grants you access to the artifacts within these vaults. Take whatever and whomever you deem necessary. Each Legion possesses formidable weapons and artifacts of their own so yours losing some is not an horrible trade if we can get allies in the end" 

"I understand," I replied, watching as Kha-Beleth left the venue. His actions puzzled me—why had he helped me without seeking anything in return? It was unlike him, and I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the air.

I surveyed the artifacts before me, my gaze settling on two particular items. With a steady hand, I reached for the Gauntlets of the Cyclops, knowing their ability to augment strength would serve me well. Alongside them, I chose the Ring of Haste, recognizing its potential to enhance my speed—a valuable asset in any battle.

I reached out through the ethereal strands of my contract with Aegwynn, signaling my readiness to be summoned once more. But this time, I had a clear mission and objective. Retreating into the depths of the library, I began to draft meticulous plans for the future. Rebuilding the citadel was secondary; my primary focus was on harnessing the full power of our stronghold for the Legion. Spellcasters and invokers would be crucial assets in the impending conflict. After all, our legion boasted the most formidable magical prowess in all of Sheogh, and it was imperative that we reclaimed that legacy.

Attracting new demons to our citadel was paramount. Currently, I had only basic demons at my disposal, far inferior to the powerful beings promised as members of the Legion of Knowledge. Each legion boasted its own unique and formidable demons; Destruction had the Ravagers, Hate had its pit lords, Proliferation had its Breeders, yet we had nothing. Despite mentions in the Legion's ancient tomes of demons like Keepers of Secrets and Abyssal Watchers, these creatures were nowhere to be found. The texts offered no clues as to where these elusive demons might be breeding.

I sighed as I watched the days pass, witnessing the remarkable speed at which the citadel was being rebuilt. Thousands of demons toiling simultaneously toward a singular goal was a sight to behold, their efforts swiftly resurrecting the once-grand obsidian spires that had long been the epicenter of Sheogh's magic.

The three breeders worked tirelessly, birthing imps at an astonishing rate. They nurtured magic to fuel their creation, and magic was in no short supply in the region.

New mines were discovered, a result of the demons' oversight in not employing magic to prospect the ground beneath us. Sheogh, theoretically the molten core of the planet Ashan, held a plethora of minerals waiting to be unearthed.

I stumbled upon a plethora of rare minerals, highly valued by humans as gold and silver, but far less scarce to us demons. These discoveries presented yet another commodity to trade with Azeroth.

Suddenly, I felt a tug on my soul, a beckoning from Aegwynn calling me back to Azeroth. With haste, I summoned one of the Succubi under my command and entrusted her with the plans to distribute to the others. As I was enveloped by the swirling energies of a portal, my body and spirit were drawn inexorably toward the unfamiliar world.

Upon opening my eyes, I found myself in a place that took me by surprise: not Stormwind as I had expected, but within the confines of a structure adorned in rich hues of purple. The emblem of Dalaran was unmistakable beneath my feet. Around me, a gathering of about fifty individuals bustled, their attire elegant and their presence exuding an air of sophistication. Among them were mages, and for the first time in my existence, I beheld the majestic figures of High Elves—towering and radiant. Leading their delegation was none other than Kael'thas Sunstrider, prince of the High Elves.

A sense of foreboding gripped me as I surveyed the scene before me, muttering under my breath, 'This is not good.'

"Glad to see you've returned, Val-Beleth," came Aegwynn's voice from behind me. I turned to meet her gaze, noting the weariness etched upon her once-youthful features—a stark reminder of the burdens she bore.

"Well, it seems this month has been quite eventful for you," I remarked with a smile.

"Month? It has been around 8 months since your banishment from Azeroth," Aegwynn replied, her tone tinged with perplexity.

"Ah, it appears the chaotic timelines of Sheogh are at work once again," I mused. "But it seems that while I was away, you've had your own trials," I added, flashing her a reassuring smile.

Before our conversation could continue, we were interrupted by the presence of an elderly man who appeared to be of royal stature, coughing politely to garner our attention.

"Lady Aegwynn, you mentioned that this... demon has information regarding the orcs that ravaged Stormwind," King Terenas inquired, directing his gaze towards me.

I paused, gathering my thoughts before responding. "Indeed, King Terenas," I began. "The orcs you speak of... They were not the same as those I encountered in Ashan. The orcs of Azeroth were unholy abominations, twisted by dark magic and tainted by demon blood—a creation of the wizards and their nefarious experiments with human criminals. However, these orcs were creatures born of this world, much like your elves or what you call trolls."

"We have nothing in common with these beasts," one of the female High Elf spellcasters interjected, her voice dripping with disdain.

"You have far more in common than you think," I replied, my voice measured, resonating with the authority of ages past. "All mortal races are but fleeting sparks in the endless expanse of time. We watched as the first firmament was wrought, witnessed the fall of gods, and yet we endure, eternal witnesses to the passage of epochs. Your people's history, though rich and storied, spans but a fraction of the eternity we have traversed."

A hush fell over the assembly as my words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of truth. The High Elf spellcaster's disdain melted into contemplation, her gaze softened with a newfound understanding.

"Indeed," I continued, "while your cultures may differ, at the core, you share the same mortal essence as the orcs. Born of this world's cradle, shaped by its trials and tribulations."

"But unlike us," I added, a hint of solemnity coloring my tone, "you are not bound by the chains of divinity. We, the spawns of gods, are prisoners of their designs, forever ensnared in the tapestry of fate woven by our creators—a fate from which we shall never break free."

A heavy silence descended upon the assembly as I fixed my gaze upon King Terenas. "But make no mistake, King Terenas," I continued, my voice carrying a weight of urgency. "The orcs are mere pawns in the grand machinations of the Burning Legion. They serve as a vanguard, a harbinger of chaos meant to destabilize the Eastern Kingdoms. And once their task is complete, the Legion will descend upon Azeroth, sweeping aside both your people and the orcs in one fell swoop."

"And what is your plan, demon?" inquired another king, his demeanor more imposing than King Terenas.

"You simply need to unite," I replied, meeting the king's gaze with unwavering conviction. "Humans and elves, standing together as one force. You can even extend your alliance to include the dwarves and gnomes. With such a formidable coalition, victory against the Horde is within your grasp."

"Is it truly that straightforward?" the king challenged.

"Nothing worth achieving is ever easy," I responded evenly. "But with determination and a strong alliance, victory can be attained."

"This is precisely what we have been discussing," grumbled another king, his tone laced with frustration. "But Gilneas will not sacrifice its citizens for your foolish war, Terenas," he declared defiantly.

"Stormwind has been razed, Genn!" exclaimed another king, his countenance resembling that of a seasoned sailor. "Stormwind boasted the second strongest ground military in all our kingdoms, yet they were utterly powerless against these monsters. Your arrogance knows no bounds!"

"These beasts will never breach our mountain defenses," Genn retorted confidently.

"And what if they do?" pressed another king.

"Trollbane," Genn answered through clenched teeth, his gaze fixed on the king. "They will meet the same fate as every invader who dared to challenge the might of Gilneas."

As he spoke, a few muffled snickers emanated from certain corners of the room. Although the king remained oblivious, I couldn't help but notice them.

'Well, it seems I have found myself amidst the creation of the Alliance,' I mused silently, observing the room teeming with the influential figures of Azeroth.

–

That'll be all for today

See you soon