Kel'Thuzad's gaze landed on the cat, and the pale face twisted for a brief instant.
He tore the inn's half-open door completely off its hinges. Two icy claws emerged from the void, one grabbing Jaina by the back of the collar, the other seizing Arthas, dragging them both out from the rubble.
Jaina struggled once, and the ice claw immediately tightened. Biting her lip, tears streaming down her face, she looked toward Allen. Arthas's feet were still frozen solid, and as he was dragged across the floor, his knees slammed against the doorstep with a muffled grunt.
Standing at the entrance, Kel'Thuzad asked, "How are we doing this?"
"I can tell you very responsibly that those two people, the Cult of the Damned, necromancy—none of it means anything to me." He paused. "You can hurt them, you can defeat me in those areas, and I won't feel a thing."
Tasha's Hideous Laughter!
[Saving Throw: Success]
Kel'Thuzad's fingers twitched slightly. "If you try using another mental spell on me behind my back, I'll kill them immediately."
Allen spread his hands. "Alright, alright. I'll tell you the truth then. To me, the most important thing is my career as a mage. Losing to you in that field is something I absolutely cannot accept."
He stared directly into Kel'Thuzad's eyes and said word by word, "So let's settle this with the simplest duel possible between mage apprentices. If I win, you let them go. If you win, I'll leave myself at your disposal."
[Deception Check: Success]
[The sincerity in your emotions successfully deceived the target. He believed that your career as a mage truly meant everything to you. Of course, that part was true—you merely spoke the truth aloud. Your lie was hidden beneath genuine sincerity.]
Kel'Thuzad nodded.
Allen nodded as well. "Good. Then we'll compete using only the most basic spells: missiles and shields. Each of us summons a simple magical shield—no replenishing it afterward—and then we attack each other using the most basic Magic Missile spell. Whoever calls for a stop first loses. How about it?"
Kel'Thuzad sneered. Clearly, the other party thought he was merely some failed mage obsessed with forbidden magic, actually daring to compete with him in spellcasting.
Ever since childhood, no matter where he went, he had always been the most dazzling, the most extraordinarily talented one. Even Antonidas had taken interest in him and wanted him as a disciple.
Allen casually cast Shield and gestured politely. "Since I proposed it, you can attack first."
A pale blue arcane barrier unfolded in front of Kel'Thuzad.
Then he raised both hands. Arcane energy erupted from his palms, an endless torrent of azure light blasting toward Allen.
Allen raised a hand as well. Purple Magic Missiles shot from his fingertips.
Yet the arcane missiles pouring onto Allen vanished like mud sinking into the sea, causing no reaction whatsoever.
Seeing this, Kel'Thuzad clenched his teeth and poured even more magic power into his palms.
The flood of missiles became fiercer and denser. The azure radiance nearly swallowed the entire street whole.
But Allen's shield showed no reaction at all. It remained completely unmoved.
Meanwhile, cracks began spreading across Kel'Thuzad's shield. More and more appeared, growing denser and deeper, like fractures spreading across a frozen lake.
During these three days of study, although Allen still had not mastered Arcane Intellect, he had already tested something long ago.
In the eyes of the system, Arcane Missiles counted as Magic Missile.
And Shield was immune to Magic Missile.
Unable to move, Arthas stared through the violet torrents and flashes of light at the distant figure casually raising one hand.
Like some kind of savior.
Kel'Thuzad grew increasingly hysterical. His barrier shattered, yet he refused to call for a stop, while Allen's shield remained entirely unaffected.
Kel'Thuzad was on the verge of collapse. He had actually lost even in the field of magic he took the greatest pride in. And what he found most unbearable was Allen's utterly calm demeanor—as if this was effortless, as if even his shield had not suffered the slightest damage.
Kel'Thuzad could die. He could go to prison. But he would never allow himself to lose to the man before him again.
The purple missile pierced through the drifting particles of light and slammed directly into Kel'Thuzad's chest.
His back crashed against the stone wall behind him, and a metallic sweetness surged into his throat.
He still did not call for a stop.
He raised a hand. The arcane glow at his fingertips had already dimmed considerably, yet he still gathered it together and hurled it out.
The missile struck the shield and dissipated soundlessly. The barrier did not even tremble.
Kel'Thuzad slumped in the corner of the street, leaning against the freezing stone wall. His robes were covered in scorch marks, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Even so, he still refused to call for a stop. Raising a blood-covered hand, he continued maintaining the Arcane Missiles.
He stared fixedly at Allen.
Ner'zhul. Ner'zhul. Ner'zhul.
Why did it have to be you?
The very first day I met you, I truly thought I had found a like-minded companion, a kindred spirit. I thought there was finally someone in this world who genuinely understood me...
But you... you betrayed me after all!
I never cared how the other idiots in the Cult of the Damned saw me.
What drove me into despair, what made me hate more than anything...
...was you betraying me!
Ner'zhul!!!
Then kill me.
If you're the one who kills me...
Will I finally see the world of death I've dreamed of all this time?
Allen looked at him.
What conviction. No wonder he kept succeeding against my Tasha's Hideous Laughter. In that case, I'll send you offline ahead of schedule.
Just as he was about to go for the kill, a voice suddenly rang out.
"Mr. Prestor! Please show mercy!"
Allen pretended not to hear it. The missile shot from his hand, trailing a violet streak as it sped toward Kel'Thuzad.
Just as the missile was about to kill Kel'Thuzad ahead of schedule, an arcane barrier unfolded before him and blocked the attack.
Ansirem Runeweaver strode forward, followed by dozens of Kirin Tor battle mages.
"Mr. Prestor, Mr. Kel'Thuzad is a mage of Dalaran. You cannot kill him."
He paused, his tone softening somewhat.
"We will imprison him in the Violet Hold and deliver fair punishment."
Kel'Thuzad, collapsed on the ground, moved those lifeless gray eyes slightly.
Prestor. So your name is Ner'zhul Prestor...
Allen dug at his ear and curled his lip inwardly, pretending he had not heard anything just now.
"My apologies. I was too focused."
Ansirem waved a hand. "It's fine, it's fine. As long as Miss Jaina and Prince Arthas are unharmed."
The battle mages surged forward. Arcane chains emerged from the void and wrapped around Kel'Thuzad's wrists and ankles. Iron shackles followed immediately afterward, reinforcing the bindings layer upon layer.
They dragged him up from the corner of the wall. His robes were covered in scorch marks and bloodstains, his hair hanging messily across his forehead, his empty eyes staring blankly at some unknown place.
"Someone! Somebody!" Jaina's voice rang out from inside the inn. "Is there a priest here?! Mr. Paval needs healing—Allen, Mr. Paval's not going to make it!"
Allen rushed to the window and looked down.
Paval lay beside the overturned table, completely motionless. His face was white as paper, all color drained from his lips.
Paval...
He saw that Paval had truly treasured it, hanging that cheap piece of malachite Allen had given him around his chest as though it were a precious treasure.
Allen slowly turned his head, his gaze falling onto Ansirem.
He said nothing, but something inside those eyes sank into darkness.
Ansirem shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Prestor. Mr. Kel'Thuzad is a mage of Dalaran. He can only be judged under Dalaran's laws."
"Very well." Allen's voice was calm, as though he were merely commenting on the weather. "I understand."
Allen tightened his grip on Xal'atath at his waist. He raised his head and looked far down the street—that figure bound layer upon layer in arcane chains and iron shackles, slowly being escorted away by the battle mages.
Metamagic — Distant Spell.
Greatly extends the casting range of the next spell.
Target locked.
Kel'Thuzad.
And then.
Goodbye.
Mind Blast.
Allen parted his lips slightly.
"Bang."
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