Chapter 233: The Oracle Prophet

Dawn broke, heralding another morning.

Although everyone in Southshore knew that a great battle was imminent, their constantly growing strength gave the townsfolk and Stormwind's defenders a great deal of confidence.

Particularly this morning, as the naga who had once dominated the eastern coastline of the town gathered on the beach to heed the words of the seasoned female naga wearing the emblem of the Hundred-Handed Death God.

No one could understand the naga language, but that didn't stop them from noticing the razor finned naga equipping themselves with a special set of scale armor shoulder plates, the insignia representing Duke Marcus' private army shining brightly upon them.

"Ah, the Sea King indeed," the Stormwind soldiers and townsfolk said.

At this time, Duke Marcus awaited the ebbing tide.

Initially, he wanted to deal with the pesky murloc prophet early in the morning, but was informed that the creature resided on an island off the southwest coast of Southshore.

The area was notoriously treacherous, riddled with hidden reefs that even a small rowboat could easily run afoul of. The best way for a person to reach the island was to wait for low tide and walk directly across the exposed beach.

If it were only Duke Marcus, he would have taken the naga with him. Unfortunately, with the stubborn Marshal Stoutmantle by his side, they had to wait for the tide to recede around noon.

As noon approached, Duke Marcus and his party crossed the bizarre rock formations on the coast and arrived at an unnamed island.

"By the Light, so many murlocs."

The sea was full of murlocs, as were the shores and even the land itself.

Usually scattered in small groups, the murlocs that had once roamed and wreaked havoc on the beach were now packed tighter than sardines in a can. It was like a huge cluster of ants; not dense enough to prevent a needle from being inserted, but certainly too crowded for a rowboat to pass through.

Scales were everywhere, as were the massive fish-like bodies, large eyes, and disproportionately ridiculous limbs.

This sight would undoubtedly be unbearable for those suffering from trypophobia.

The arrival of Duke Marcus' party stirred up commotion.

Vala, the naga priestess, attempted to use her intimidating presence to wrest control of the murlocs from the Oracle, but failed once again. Although they were fearful and shrinking back, the murlocs did not disperse, nor did they prostrate themselves before Vala in reverence.

Marshal Soutmantle felt uneasy, "Your Grace, I know that the murlocs hold an important position in your defensive plans, but I strongly suggest you withdraw for now. We should gather more forces to control this situation, such as calling upon the Stormwind Navy."

Before the formal transfer of command, the former Bloodsail warships anchored off Southshore were still under Duke Marcus' command. From a reliable standpoint, Marshal Soutmantle was absolutely correct.

However, Duke Marcus did not wish to take that course of action.

His control over the murlocs relied on immature intimidation and deception, which could be bluntly called tyranny. If the terror-based pressure were broken, Duke Marcus would lose control of the murlocs forever.

Although murlocs were weak fighters, their sheer numbers made them useful.

For example, when transporting 50,000 elite soldiers on ice ships, would they have the soldiers soak their lower halves in water and kick their way through without the help of the murlocs?

"Hmph!" Duke Marcus snorted coldly as his arcane circuits suddenly accelerated. Despite the fierce mid-October sun, the temperature around him plummeted under the influence of his terrifying magical power.

"Beep, beep," a series of explosive sounds rang out, as an icy path formed in front of Duke within the 100-meter distance from him to the shore of the island. The path shimmered with a cold, icy light.

The murlocs, frightened, let out bizarre screams as they scattered to the left and right, fearing being sealed by the cold. They instinctively sensed the presence of danger.

In just a few seconds, a 5-meter-wide, 100-meter-long ice road reflecting the brilliant sunlight appeared before everyone.

"Gah-woah-na-lo (The Sea King has arrived)!" The murlocs cried out in unison, cowering as they made way for a broader passage.

"Gryan, stay back a bit," Duke instructed softly, then proudly stepped onto the chilling royal road.

To his left was Valara, a Naga priestess of the Wrathfin tribe, wielding a longsword.

To his right was Sefirys, a Naga priestess of the Spinescale tribe, wielding a long spear.

Naga priestesses already held the highest positions among the Naga. Now, as two priestesses from different tribes flanked Duke like they were attending to a worldly king, the unyielding murlocs grew even more fearful.

Old Blind Eye and Fishspear, two murloc chieftains from the western wilderness, seemed to sense that something was wrong. The two scoundrels scrambled over, kneeling and trembling on both sides of the ice road.

"Scram!" Duke scolded lightly, releasing arcane bursts to the left and right, causing both weak-willed murlocs to be knocked away, coughing up blood.

But... it seemed that the two had realized Duke was even stronger, so they disregarded their injuries and came crawling back, kneeling further away.

"I'll deal with you two later," Duke said in murloc language.

Upon reaching the center of the island, Duke heard a mysterious, melodic voice.

"Gah-ah-oh-oh-la-lo (Murlocs are a great race) —"

Duke was annoyed, so he had the system filter it out and translate it directly.

Thousands of murlocs prostrated themselves in unison, "The Oracle Prophet speaks the truth —"

"Murlocs only obey the true King of the Sea; all creatures not of the sea are unworthy of ruling the murlocs."

Again, thousands of murlocs bowed, "The Oracle Prophet speaks the truth —"

At this moment, atop the island's highest point, standing on a massive pink clamshell and holding a staff with a green crystal orb grasped by dragon-like claws, was an odd murloc. Its right hand was enveloped by numerous water elementals. This murloc pointed its staff at Duke, who now bore the insignia of 72 mage hands.

"So, this human..."

"Heh!?" Duke sneered, his system completely locked onto the so-called prophet who had incited his murloc followers to rebel.

The prophet was quite skilled, for a murloc. It was a miracle that such a murloc wise man with the strength of an sky mage could emerge from a race with inherently low intelligence.

However, an sky mage was nothing in front of Duke!

No matter the reason, as long as this murloc prophet spoke against Duke's rule, Duke wouldn't hesitate to slaughter all the murlocs here.

In an instant, Duke's arcane circuits were operating at full speed, all connections to the elemental realms were opened, and the surrounding elements lay at Duke's feet, ready to serve him at any moment.

At that moment, the murloc prophet's tongue seemed to get stuck.

"What do you mean "this human", am I, this human?" Duke sneered. In his eyes, the fish prophet was already a dead fish.

Suddenly, the fish prophet, who called himself the oracle, stared with wide, yellow eyes and pointed at Duke.

"Yes! That's right! He is the once-in-a-lifetime human who has led us fish people to dominate the coast and become the great and immortal king of the fish people!"

All the fish people below knelt down and shouted in unison, "The prophet is right! We salute our king!"

"What the hell?"