Chapter 153: Teaching You a Lesson

Gazing at the vaguely familiar face, a name surfaced in the queen's mind. She suddenly recalled that Anduin had earnestly mentioned that Duke had aged due to a curse. Could it be... "Duke!?" the queen tentatively asked. Duke turned around and flashed a suave smile, "I am pleased that Your Majesty still recognizes me despite my drastic change in appearance. However, now is not the time to reminisce. Let me first deal with these orcs." It really was Duke! But she hadn't expected such a significant change; not only had his face matured by many years, completely shedding his childishness and becoming a young man, but he had also grown nearly ten centimeters taller, now standing at 180 centimeters. Without giving the queen and the starry-eyed noble girls any time to ponder, Duke casually raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. Under his control of the pure magical power, a gust of wind suddenly swept through the vast throne room, expelling all the stench of blood and burnt flesh. The next moment, an icy chill spread at a visible speed, instantly turning each corpse into a snow-white ice sculpture. The horrifying atmosphere in the throne room vanished. "Master, I'm sorry, I..." Windsor coughed up blood, attempting to stand. Duke pressed Windsor down with a Mage Hand, furrowing his brow as he turned, "Is there a priest in the Stormwind Keep?" Not far away, a thirteen-year-old girl suddenly spoke up, "Yes, my family's personal priest is in the side hall." "Thank you." Faced with a formidable enemy, Duke paid little attention to the exquisite-faced young noble girl, who resembled a doll. Duke reached the massive corridor and saw Orgrim Doomhammer, who appeared unfazed, standing up. "Human, why do you understand our language!?" Orgrim questioned in orcish. "Garona taught me." "Garona? That traitor!?" Orgrim bared his teeth, his face full of disdain. "Just be satisfied with knowing about the Shadow Council. Don't make things hard for her," Duke warned. "Hmph! You have no right to command me!" Orgrim roared angrily. Duke didn't mind, "Orcs never learn unless they're beaten. Fine, come! Round two!" Duke gestured to Orgrim with his fingers. "Ha—" Orgrim's figure suddenly accelerated. Orgrim had always believed that he was merely caught off guard during the previous encounter, and the human before him was not some terrifying spellcaster. Orcs often had remarkable intuition. Unlike Gul'dan, who merely standing nearby induced a fear of being eroded to death by powerful evil energy, Duke's magic, although abundant, was far less concentrated in comparison to Gul'dan, as Orgrim instinctively sensed. "If that's the case, I can win!" Orgrim assured himself. He soon discovered he was mistaken. Perhaps if he could get close to Duke, the mage would be like a sitting duck. However, Duke's actions betrayed a level of expertise that belied his youthful appearance. Shockwave was cast. A ring-shaped, flame-infused shockwave of magical power effortlessly repelled Orgrim's attack. Duke could clearly see, however, that the flames had no significant effect on Orgrim. A system sprite warned Duke, "Be careful! Orgrim has strong fire resistance." Duke's eyelids twitched. That made sense. As one of the orc leaders, Orgrim was practically a flesh and blood saint. With his fire resistance honed from playing 'leapfrog over fire pits' and 'swimming in molten lava' to retrieve the Doomhammer, how could Orgrim not have a high fire resistance? It was like a firefighter wearing a high-tech fireproof suit charging into a blaze; the flames couldn't cause much damage to Orgrim. Duke pursed his lips and abruptly changed tactics, extending his hands in rapid succession. Each time he raised his hand, an arcane energy-filled, azure giant hand struck towards Orgrim. Arcane! Once hit, Duke was astonished to find that Orgrim's arcane resistance was also quite remarkable. This made Duke a little frustrated. It didn't matter. Whether it was a punch, a slap, or a flick of the middle finger, it seemed as if he was toying with Orgrim in various ways. However, both were aware that the power condensed in those giant hands was continuously escalating. One meter, two meters... ten meters... fifty meters... a hundred meters. Orgrim had never imagined that he would be forced to retreat in the long corridor of Stormwind Keep by Duke. The pain was relentless, yet none of it was fatal. Of course, this was only applicable to the thick-skinned and highly resistant Orgrim. For other orcs with less magical resistance, Duke could instantly kill them with a single spell. Behind Duke, those with more courage, such as the young prince, ran to the entrance of the hall to watch. They stared in awe at Duke's leisurely pace, casting a spell with every few steps, efficiently killing the despicable orcs that had invaded the keep. Unconsciously, the majestic figure of Duke imprinted in their minds left them mesmerized. Which young boy didn't admire heroes? Which young girl didn't look up to heroes? Once, their object of admiration was Anduin Lothar; now, that name had quietly changed to Duke Markus. The queen silently approached Prince Varian, placing her hands on his shoulders: "Remember, Varian, only those who bravely step forward in times of crisis are true heroes. Be it Duke, or those soldiers who fell protecting us, they are all heroes." "Alright," Varian nodded solemnly. Orgrim was incredibly stifled. He roared and growled non-stop, launching one warrior skill after another in an attempt to get closer to Duke, but he couldn't do it. The long corridor forced his attack direction to become linear, leaving him no chance to avoid Duke's wide-ranging assault. It was a feeling as if a cat was trying to catch a mouse, but the cat was being toyed with by the mouse as if it were a mere insect. If only the terrain was different, Orgrim was confident he could bypass Duke and land a solid blow on the human who spoke the orcish language. Yet, until Orgrim was driven out of Stormwind Keep, he never found such an opportunity. Duke furrowed his brow; his arcane assault layers had stacked up to eight, but the damage dealt to Orgrim with each strike did not increase. Both the system's prompts and his own feedback on the magic 'touch' confirmed this. Orgrim possessed an extremely abnormal constitution. It seemed he could adjust his own body to develop resistance to specific elements or magic. To be honest, Duke wasn't without the opportunity to kill Orgrim, but clearly, Duke needed a considerable amount of time to exhaust Orgrim to death. For Duke, no orc was unkillable. Firstly, Orgrim wasn't foolish and would run if the situation worsened. Secondly, killing him now would interfere with Duke's plan. Thus, Duke held back his strength like an adult disciplining a child. Injuring but not killing.