Chapter 630: The Dragonflight Ceremony (4)

Duke experienced a surreal sensation. Previously, his will seemed to operate on two distinct planes: his own and that of the system sprite. Now, it felt as though the overwhelming might of the four-colored dragons converged upon him like a relentless hammer, ceaselessly forging a metal ingot. Their hammering, imbued with willpower, not only tested Duke's resolve but also elevated his spiritual realm.

Such elevation merely awaited a catalyst.

Duke wasn't a native of Azeroth. He hadn't spent his childhood in the Elwynn Forest, reputedly the most peaceful place, where one must still deal with wolves and murlocs. Rather, he grew up as a commoner in a large city. This lack of battle-hardened upbringing meant he was slightly more susceptible to mental duress in combat, like easily succumbing to a Warlock's "Fear" spell.

Yet, Duke had his advantages.

He was a traveler who perceived the bigger picture.

This unique perspective, viewing the world as an outsider yet deeply engaged as a player, gave him a sense of superiority that native inhabitants could never grasp.

This quasi-godlike vantage point was Duke's trump card.

A surge of anger welled up within Duke.

You! All of you! What do you petty dragons take yourselves for?

Hmph!

I am Duke!

I rose from nothing to become a hero of the Alliance and took up the mantle of commander!

I'm the Duke who exterminated countless orcs, deceived many chieftains, profited from Gul'dan's lineage, and defeated Deathwing, Neltharion himself!

I'm the Duke who plans to use Ragnaros, the Firelord, as a mere lighter and to repurpose the Lich King's Frostmourne as an air conditioner after purifying it!

I am the unparalleled Duke!

You dragons, who are mere experience points to me, dare to roar at me?

What a joke!

Is it dragon might you're flaunting?

Well, don't blame me for being rude.

System sprite, come forth!

"Hmph!"

To the dragons, this seemingly ordinary scoff held a different implication.

Though Duke's magical circuits showed signs of disarray, the elements in the surrounding air vibrated in response to his aura.

In a blink, the elements manifested in four distinct colors, materializing into four visible magical long blades, slashing in every direction.

In that split second, the magical elements, containing mysterious might, exploded with boundless power.

"Ancient Dragon Might?!" When the magic light corresponding to the four dragon colors struck, these predominantly young dragons felt their spirits shatter.

They hadn't anticipated that Duke, a mere human, could unleash a might rivaling that of ancient dragons!

As the blade of magical light approached, they felt only one sensation—death.

"Oh?!" The three dragon leaders at the pinnacle of the Wyrmrest Temple simultaneously wore expressions of surprise.

If it were the dragon ambassadors by Duke's side, they would've been almost horrified.

Duke's counterattack was swift. The magical blade's mysterious might flashed briefly.

But through the eyes of these young dragons and dragonkin, they witnessed a different scene—the corresponding glow slashed, and their necks spurted blood. Their protective dragon scales, tough hide, and even their hardest bones were cleaved in two.

Their heads soared upwards, and their bodies collapsed, their blood staining the sacred grounds of the temple...

Am... am I dead?

Dragons instinctively retracted their necks, countless dragonkin recoiling in shock, touching their still-intact necks.

Was it... an illusion?

Though the might of this blade was fleeting, it was enough to terrify every dragon present. In that moment, the entire temple quivered—a reflection of the dragons' collective retreat.

How could such a terrifying being exist, one whose mere presence gave tens of thousands of dragonkin and thousands of young dragons the illusion of death?

Just recalling that sensation sent chills down their spines, making them feel weak!

Each dragon and dragonkin wondered: "Is Duke Marcus telling us he could kill us whenever he wishes?"

Witnessing this spectacle, Krasus and the other ambassadors by Duke's side were visibly impressed.

"Absolutely breathtaking!"

"Congratulations."

"Well done."

"For a human, that was impeccable."

Duke was slightly puzzled, "So, I passed the test? What... what was that?"

"That's something we've all experienced, though not as impressively as you did. Once the ceremony concludes, you'll understand," Krasus replied, leaving Duke even more curious. "Now, you can proceed to the topmost level for the ceremony."

Duke was taken aback.

Of course, he knew that the Wyrmrest Temple consisted of three levels, but he hadn't expected these cunning dragons to be so ambiguous about which level he'd be attending.

Riding the familiar red elemental flying carpet, Duke and his party were gently lifted, spiraling towards the temple's zenith.

Upon reaching the top, Duke encountered the three dragon leaders in their humanoid forms.

Alexstrasza greeted him first, "Not bad at all!"

Malygos appeared slightly disgruntled, "This human has stolen the methods of the 'Dragon Soul.'"

Nozdormu dismissed it with a scoff, "So what?"

Duke forced a smile.

Indeed, so what?

With the platinum disc fragment of the "Dragon Soul" in his possession, he had used the system to decipher some of its foundational principles, even analyzing the formula resembling dragon might. However, the power of his simulated dragon roar was limited. After all, he wasn't a true Guardian Dragon. He lacked a genuine dragon soul and couldn't possibly possess the terrifying might that would make all dragons bow.

At best, the might he exuded was comparable to a relatively potent millennia-old dragon. It could intimidate lesser beings, but had no effect on dragons of Krasus's caliber.

The Red Dragon Queen, Alexstrasza, proudly declared, "Regardless, Duke—the human hero who rescued me from darkness—has proven his valor. He has earned the right to witness Neltharion's fate here."

Fate? Wasn't Neltharion already dead?

Just as Duke pondered this, in the center of the temple's open-top pinnacle, an apparition of Neltharion's remains suddenly materialized.