Stormwind Wizard God
Chapter 122: Taunting Sargeras

Chapter 122 - Taunting Sargeras

At this time, Duke's clear voice came from behind Sargeras, cutting through the oppressive atmosphere like a very sharp, very sarcastic knife:

"Fallen Titan, destroyer of worlds, lord of the Burning Legion, great demon king, are you old and forgetful, and have you forgotten your disastrous defeat in Azeroth ten thousand years ago? Or was it because you were accidentally thrown at birth by Aegwynn, the former guardian of Azeroth, and became mentally retarded? I really don't know where your 'invincibility' comes from, because frankly, your track record is a bit spotty."

About 25,000 years ago, Sargeras betrayed the Pantheon Council, a group of Titans that created the Burning Legion, and began his Burning Crusade, presumably because he was bored. After recruiting two powerful fighters, Kil'jaeden and Archimonde, from the Eredar (who were probably just looking for a good benefits package), Sargeras enjoyed smooth sailing for the next 15,000 years, winning every battle, like a very successful, very evil conqueror.

However, in the war of invading the planet Azeroth ten thousand years ago, they were defeated by the native races of Azeroth and the derivative species of the experimental creations left behind by the Titans. It was basically a cosmic embarrassment. Although Sargeras could attribute the failure to the fact that his power could not directly descend on the planet Azeroth, or that the dragon soul created by the combined power of the entire dragon clan destroyed the portal, failure is failure. And a very public one at that.

The failure in Azeroth has become the biggest stain in his life since he rebelled from the Pantheon and established his own faction, and it has not been washed away to this day. It was basically a cosmic permanent marker. Not to mention that in order to sneak into Azeroth this time, he pretended to be killed by Aegwynn, the little guardian, and then corroded and devoured the soul of Aegwynn's son Medivh. For the chief boss of the Burning Legion, this is undoubtedly a very degrading thing. It was like the CEO of a massive corporation having to sneak into a building in a disguise.

It can be imagined that even if he wins this time by this means, when he faces his other old opponents again, he will be ridiculed to death by his old rivals, the Titans. They'd probably make t-shirts. No, perhaps since the failed invasion ten thousand years ago, which shattered the myth of the Burning Legion's invincibility, Sargeras will never be as glorious as he was ten thousand years ago. This failure is the biggest pain in Sargeras' heart, a cosmic splinter that just wouldn't go away.

Well, at this moment, Duke actually brought up something that was not related to the topic. It was more than just rubbing salt into the wound. He simply tore open his scars, turned the wounds open with hooks, made the wounds look brand new, and then sprinkled some mustard and chili on them, and finally whispered to Sargeras to tell him to remember this pain carefully. All that's left is to call a dance troupe to dance in front of Sargeras to celebrate the '10,000th anniversary of Sargeras's defeat,' probably with very enthusiastic choreography. The series of high-sounding honorifics before this statement is just for the slap in the face later! Not only did the slapping sound come from his face, his face was actually swollen, probably turning a delightful shade of purple.

Sargeras suddenly turned around, his eyes blazing with a fury that could incinerate planets, and cast his gaze on the young mage Edmund Duke, an ant among ants whom he had originally looked down upon. "Insolent ant! Did I allow you to speak?!" he roared, his voice shaking the very foundations of reality. Mixed with the terrible anger of Sargeras rising into the sky, the boundless pressure that seemed to be able to burn the entire planet to ashes was transferred from Lothar, and suddenly pressed down on Duke like a mountain pressing down on his body, presumably with a very loud squish sound.

Hearing that Duke helped him out, Lothar was still a little happy in his heart, a brief flicker of amusement, but then he widened his eyes, and his left hand tied to the shield subconsciously stretched out towards Duke, as if trying to catch a very small, very suicidal, very talkative bird. Because he realized what Duke was about to face, that kind of endless fear was definitely not something an underage boy could endure. It was the kind of fear that made grown men wet themselves.

Having seen the ups and downs of life, endured the death of his beloved wife, and faced the death of his comrades, Lothar's first half of his life can be said to be extremely rich. He was basically a walking, talking soap opera. Even though Lothar believed that his mind had long been as hard as iron, he did not dare to say what would happen if Sargeras's pressure continued. What would happen if it suddenly became Duke who had to bear all of this? Lothar couldn't even imagine it. He probably envisioned Duke turning into a very small, very flat, very scared puddle.

In his opinion, Duke, the young wizard, had done a perfect job. He successfully used his wisdom and magic to bring him and his people to Medivh. No other wizard in the world could have done this. Just based on this, Lothar felt that Duke was already a little hero, a very brave, very annoying little hero. However, Medivh controlled by Sargeras was too terrifying and too powerful. Lothar couldn't imagine the scene that would shatter Duke's heart.

But his outstretched left hand was destined to catch nothing and stop nothing. At this moment, Lothar, Garona, and Sargeras were all stunned, their jaws practically on the floor. Duke was completely unaffected by the violent pressure that should have crushed the mind of any mortal in the world. He just stood there, looking utterly bored. No matter how powerful your momentum is, he looks like he is strolling leisurely, perhaps contemplating what he'll have for dinner. He even winked at Sargeras and stretched out his right little finger, wiggling it impudently: "In fact, your momentum can be even stronger. My small body can still withstand it. Come on, give me your best shot, big guy!"

What the hell is this? What exactly happened? Medivh, who was possessed by Sargeras, had a confused look on his face. He really couldn't understand why even the most determined of the three of them, the humble human named Anduin Lothar, almost succumbed to the might of the demon king. But Duke didn't buy it. He was basically immune to cosmic intimidation.

This is not some kind of immunity of mental state, but a mysterious self-confidence that should be based on past performance. Yes! Duke probably felt that he had an absolute psychological advantage over Sargeras. He'd basically been farming this guy for years. Sargeras was almost going crazy, his eyes were full of fear and resentment, probably wondering if he'd accidentally invaded a comedy club. Duke's overly young face was always full of confidence, a smug, irritating grin.

This was not only the first time he was struck by fear that he thought of asking the system AI to help him separate his spiritual sea, but also allowed the information from the outside to first pass through a relatively independent space, and after filtering and analysis, it was delayed for one ten-thousandth of a second before entering his mind. Also, Duke's confidence is really based on its record. He had the receipts.

Duke muttered to himself, loud enough for Sargeras to hear, "Alas - should I tell you that I fought with both my main and secondary characters every week for equipment, and that I killed your two subordinates, Kil'jaeden and Archimonde, a hundred times? I even got their loot, and it was mostly junk!"

Maybe it was a joke, or maybe it was a spiritual victory, or maybe Duke firmly believed that "as long as he brought Lothar and Garona to Medivh, history would get back on track," and he was just enjoying the ride. Anyway, Duke had no control over whether other people were afraid or not, but he himself was not afraid, so he just smiled and annoyed Sargeras, like a particularly persistent gnat.

Uh, it feels so good to show off in front of a super boss! It was a power trip of epic proportions.

"I've changed my mind, ant, you will be the first to die! And it won't be pretty!" Sargeras let out a deafening roar, his voice shaking the very foundations of the workshop.

At this moment, Lothar made his move. The Sword of the King burst into dazzling golden light, merging with the flowing light when he Charged!, turning him into a golden, very angry missile. Medivh, controlled by Sargeras, quickly turned his staff and pointed it at Lothar, a purple beam of energy already forming.

At this moment, Duke saw a strange sight. The passage of time seemed to have stopped, or at least slowed down to a crawl. Every speck of dust, every ray of light, and even everything in the world around him was moving in a strange, slow-motion trajectory, like a very dramatic, very slow movie.

Garona, the legendary female Orc assassin who has always been extremely low-key and concealed her aura and presence... has taken action! And it was probably going to be very, very messy.

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