Chapter 675: Pass on a Message

The final safeguard!?

Jaina's beautiful blue eyes widened in disbelief. She wanted so much to pretend to be moved to tears of gratitude for her rescue, but ultimately...

"Duke Marcus! You are an absolute scoundrel—"

If she could bite Duke to death, she would gladly tear his flesh off, piece by piece!

The Jaina of now was far from the calculating and savvy strongwoman of later years; this petite lady couldn't help but lash out.

Unfortunately, her clawing and gnashing were doomed to be suppressed by Duke.

Yes, she did lash out at Duke, sending a "Fire Blast" hurtling towards his face.

If Duke had been an ordinary man, Jaina's attack could have made him unrecognizable even to his own mother.

Alas, Duke was a master of the Luminous Arcane!

Such a low concentration of magical elements would naturally dissipate upon encountering the elemental aura around Duke. Jaina had indeed accounted for this.

Regrettably, what she hadn't calculated was that Duke would retaliate.

Right!

Just as Jaina's "Fire Blast" was cast, Duke, abandoning all semblance of seniority, returned the favor with a "Counterspell" at the very same moment!

The so-called "Counterspell" involved an instantaneous mobilization of atmospheric elemental power, disrupting the opponent's magical circuitry and balance. If timed perfectly against an opponent's spell, it could throw the caster's magic into chaos for at least 8 seconds.

And this was just against a mage of the same caliber.

Duke, a Luminous Mage, bullying a lesser Earth Mage, was shameless in the extreme.

Jaina's internal magical circuits instantly churned into disarray. She was close to fainting on the spot.

"Cough, cough, cough!" The poor, outdated darling was choked.

Without more than a minute to recover, which was predicated on not being further disturbed, there was no chance of recovery.

On the other hand, Duke's appearance had undoubtedly triggered an earthquake of reactions.

The knights of Lordaeron were thunderously jubilant.

The orcs, however, scattered like pests fleeing a disaster, desperately escaping from the town.

"Run! It's that demon, Duke!" Even the bravest Warsong orc lost his fighting spirit under the flag that represented terror and death.

Duke's banner was a horrifying legend the orcs believed could never be overcome.

Duke's banner was the dark cloud that loomed, inescapable, over the orcish race.

Wherever Duke's Stormwind banner stood, the orcs could never claim victory.

Though every orc was loath to admit it, Duke turned these axioms into reality time and again.

This time would be no exception.

Suddenly, a cold surge radiated out from the church, billowing out in a ring.

As the chill passed, the pebbles on the ground seemed to shiver, bizarrely spinning and even floating into the air.

It wasn't a supernatural anti-gravity event, but rather the chilling air was so immense and terrifying.

In less than three seconds, the entire town within a 500-meter radius was engulfed by the frost.

The orcs, attempting to flee, froze mid-stride—ridiculously, their lower bodies were completely immobilized by the creeping frost.

"Ahh!"

"No—"

"Ancestors, save me—"

Various orcish cries of agony rose, and it was only at this moment that the knights of Lordaeron realized the frost had perfectly avoided each of them.

Regardless of whether they were in Duke's line of sight or even inches away from an orc, only the orcs were struck, while the knights nearby remained unscathed.

Jaina's expression of astonishment was likewise frozen.

What kind of control was this!?

Duke nonchalantly raised his right hand and snapped his fingers with a flourish.

"Snap!" A sound like the switch of hell's gates being thrown.

Abruptly, at least three hundred arcane energy palms appeared out of thin air.

"Hands of the Mage!?" Jaina exclaimed in shock upon witnessing Duke's action for the first time.

Every knight of Lordaeron held their breath in that instant.

"No—" In terror, the orcs awaited their final judgment.

Countless arcane missiles rained down like a torrential storm, each missile from the Luminous Mage packing the destructive power of a ballista bolt.

And in Jaina's incredulous gaze...

As the knights stood agape...

The orcish army that could have easily overwhelmed them was effortlessly crushed.

Jaina was very reluctant to use the word 'crushed' to describe the shocking scene before her.

Yet, that was precisely the most fitting word.

A warhammer capable of shattering a knight's shield turned to iron scraps upon contact with an arcane missile.

The burly orcs, towering over two and a half meters, were blasted apart as if they were broken puppets.

Shattered tusks, bulging eyeballs, a rainbow of brain matter, the indescribable colors of viscera, the grisly white of broken bones...

If the church before was a past tense slaughterhouse, then what lay before Jaina now was an uncensored live broadcast of carnage.

"Ugh!" Jaina, who thought she could vomit no more, found that even with an empty stomach, she could still retch bile.

After finally finishing, Jaina, trembling, managed to choke out, "Duke, you bastard! Don't you ever think I'll marry you in this lifetime!"

Duke laughed, his face wearing a look of triumphant cunning: "Good! Very powerful! I like that phrase of yours!"

Jaina nearly fainted from anger.

There were no orcs left in sight.

No! There was still one!

A noticeably more robust orc, with both arms broken, knelt in pain near the church's main entrance.

This crippled orc struggled to his feet, his eyes blazing with rage as he roared unexpectedly in the standard Common tongue.

"Why?"

"Why!?"

"Duke Marcus! Why didn't you kill me?"

Jaina, like every knight there, looked at Duke in amazement.

To slaughter hundreds of orcs with such precision and spare only this one's arms clearly seemed intentional on Duke's part.

Duke released Jaina's arm, crossed his hands behind his back, and walked regally to the church doors. Standing on the steps with his chin tilted up at a forty-five-degree angle, he looked down on the towering orc.

"Tell Grom Hellscream to roll out of the Eastern Kingdoms! As long as I, Duke Marcus, stand on this continent, there will be no place for orcs. If he truly angers me, I will neglect all else and comb through the Tirisfal Glades, dragging out every orc to be hanged!"