Chapter 668

With that, the identities of the two demon women were settled.

The Ancient One compared the information Zahard had gathered with Evenson’s account and the Eredar Twins’ own testimony. The details matched closely enough that she finally stopped doubting them.

"What about the origins of the warlock class and its various organizations?"

"Warlock magic did originate with the Burning Legion," Zahard explained. "Quite a few worlds have people who learned the art and eventually pledged themselves to the Legion. But there are also plenty who took up that power specifically to fight the Legion."

"As for the warlock tradition itself, that’s harder to pin down. Warlocks aren’t exactly popular. They’re often hated, feared, or outright persecuted, so they tend to embrace secrecy. They keep their heads down and their affairs private."

"That makes their internal networks extremely difficult to investigate."

He waved a hand.

"But based on everything you’ve told me, the warlock you’re dealing with almost certainly isn’t loyal to the Legion."

Zahard sounded quite confident about that.

The Legion had plenty of warlocks, but they tended to follow a rather predictable pattern.

We’re warlocks. We open portals.

New world?

Open a portal.

Another world?

Open another portal.

Warlocks loved their doors.

Yet in all the years Evenson had been around, the only door he’d ever opened was the one to his own house.

The Ancient One moved on to several other points of suspicion.

Zahard answered each one without much difficulty.

Then she asked the question that had been bothering her most.

"What about the two powerful magical artifacts in Evenson’s possession? Do you know where they came from?"

Zahard hesitated.

After a long pause, he finally answered.

"From your description, they should be the Scepter of Sargeras and Ulthalesh, the Deadwind Harvester."

He paused again.

"And if both of those are in that warlock’s hands, then the Skull of the Man’ari, the skull of the original wielder, should probably be with him as well."

The Ancient One’s mouth twitched.

So the boy had been hiding a third artifact.

Interesting.

"Those weapons were all forged by the Burning Legion," Zahard continued. "But they haven’t remained in the Legion’s possession throughout history. They’ve changed hands countless times. Demons, warlocks, mages, even shamans have possessed them at one point or another."

"Eventually, the artifacts apparently ended up with a warlock organization that wasn’t affiliated with the Legion."

"The problem is that nobody knows exactly when the Legion lost them or when those warlocks acquired them."

Warlock organizations were secretive by nature.

If one of them acquired an artifact, they certainly weren’t going to announce it to the multiverse.

Why would they?

Imagine proudly displaying your legendary artifact only to discover that you’d also revealed your location, painted a giant target on your back, and effectively invited every powerful creature in existence to come knocking.

That was not exactly a winning strategy.

The Legion had even less reason to talk.

Imagine admitting that one of your own weapons had been stolen.

Even demons had reputations to maintain.

And if word somehow reached one of the Legion’s true heavy hitters?

Nobody wanted to find themselves removed from the next resurrection roster.

"So everyone involved has every reason to keep quiet," Zahard said. "The Legion won’t admit it lost the artifacts, and the warlocks certainly won’t announce that they have them."

"There’s a reason the Legion has always been so careful about its public image."

He gave a short laugh.

"Take Mephisto, for example. Until the day he died, he insisted that the Skull of the Man’ari was still in his possession. He claimed the only reason he didn’t use it was because he hadn’t yet encountered an opponent worthy of it."

"As for the Dreadscar Rift?"

Zahard spread his hands.

"Just a nonessential region of his territory. Absolutely part of Legion territory."

His voice suddenly became an imitation of an indignant demon lord.

"’What? Lost it? How dare you accuse me of losing it! Look at this week’s affixes and try that sentence again!’"

The Ancient One stared at him.

There was no point trying to establish exactly when the artifacts had changed hands, so she let the matter go.

What bothered her more was something else.

Artifacts of such power were normally supposed to belong to those capable of wielding them.

Yet, from everything she’d observed, Evenson didn’t appear remotely powerful enough to control three artifacts of that caliber.

And yet he possessed all three.

According to Evenson, his predecessors had left the artifacts to him because they had grown powerful enough that they no longer needed them.

Was that really true?

She was particularly interested in the mysterious warlock organization behind Evenson.

Just how powerful were these supposed masters?

Zahard snorted.

"That part is pure bragging."

He shook his head.

"Unless we’re talking about demons on the level of the Eredar leaders, I wouldn’t trust anyone who claimed they were powerful enough to have no use for artifacts like those."

"However..."

Zahard paused.

A rumor had suddenly come to mind.

"It isn’t impossible that the predecessors of that warlock really did abandon those artifacts."

"There are rumors that even more powerful warlock artifacts have appeared."

"And this time, it isn’t just the artifacts themselves."

"The method used to create them has apparently surfaced as well."

The Ancient One’s expression sharpened.

"Azeroth."

Zahard spoke the name slowly.

"That world has kept the Burning Legion’s main force tied down for quite some time."

"The warlocks there apparently created artifacts even more powerful than the ones you’re asking about."

"How?"

The Ancient One couldn’t hide her surprise.

Zahard’s voice dropped into a rough murmur.

"Sacrifice."

"The Council of the Black Harvest."

"They sacrificed an enormous number of demons."

"And their own lord."

The Ancient One’s expression changed.

"They killed hundreds of demons first, then poured their power and souls into their own lord."

"Once all that power had completely merged with him, the council’s senior members suddenly attacked."

"They restrained their own lord."

"And killed him."

Zahard continued as though describing an ordinary crafting process.

"His skull became the Skull of the Man’ari."

"His spine and leg bones became the Bone Scythe."

"His skin and blood were turned into the Tome of the Harvest."

The Ancient One stared.

They had killed their own leader.

Then turned him into equipment.

Warlocks really were every bit as horrifying as advertised.

"Apparently, after that incident..."

Zahard’s tone became amused.

"The leaders of other classes suddenly became much more humble."

"They started making public statements like, ’There are no lords here. We’re all colleagues.’"

"’We’re equals.’"

"’There is no hierarchy between us.’"

"They became remarkably friendly and approachable overnight."

The Ancient One rolled her eyes.

Obviously.

They were terrified that one day they’d make a mistake and wake up as somebody’s legendary weapon.

Still, if all of this was accurate, then most of the doubts she’d held about Evenson could finally be dismissed.

"Your information is reliable, then?"

She studied Zahard.

"If everything you’ve told me is correct, I can conclude that Evenson is completely trustworthy."

"Probably."

Zahard’s answer was noticeably less reassuring.

"Let me be honest with you. The Burning Legion and warlocks aren’t actually my area of expertise."

"I had to pass this request through six or seven different people to get these answers."

"And those people exist in different dimensions. Their flows of time aren’t synchronized at all."

"So some of the information could have significant chronological errors."

He paused.

Then his tone became serious.

"But even if every piece of information I’ve given you is completely accurate, what does that prove?"

"Warlocks are, by their very nature, exceptionally good at deception and betrayal."

The Ancient One stared at him for a long moment.

Then she slowly inhaled.

"You really saved that conclusion for the very end, didn’t you?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"So after all this, you’re telling me everything you just said might have been completely useless?"

She reached for the greatsword again.

With a sharp motion, she hurled it into the air.

"Excalibur!"

The sword erupted with blinding power.

"Wait!"

Zahard hurriedly interrupted.

"This isn’t my fault! Warlocks don’t think like normal people!"

"Sometimes they’re winning and suddenly decide to betray everyone and throw the game away."

"Then, when they’re losing, they somehow find the courage to run straight into danger!"

"How am I supposed to understand what goes through their heads?"

He sounded genuinely frustrated.

"And I’ve spent more time around the Void than most people alive!"

"Even I don’t understand them!"

Zahard’s final assessment was simple.

Warlocks had something seriously wrong with their brains.

Fortunately, Evenson himself wasn’t particularly concerned about Zahard’s conclusion.

His discussion with the Eredar Twins regarding the Worldwalker and the Void had already come to an end.

He leaned back on the couch, slowly rubbing the ring on his finger.

He seemed deep in thought.

Across from him, Sacrolash shot Clea a provocative look.

See that ring?

I gave it to him.

Clea puffed out her cheeks, clearly preparing a rebuttal.

But before she could say anything, Evenson spoke.

"Those people have been here long enough. I think it’s time to begin the next stage of the plan."

"Agreed."

Alythess nodded.

Then, a beat later, she seemed to realize what he’d said.

"Now?"

"Now."

Evenson’s answer was immediate.

Sacrolash’s brow furrowed slightly.

She glanced at Clea before asking,

"You’re going to show her?"

"I don’t think she’ll be able to handle it."

Evenson hesitated.

He looked at Clea.

For a moment, uncertainty crossed his face.

Then his expression hardened with resolve.

"I think..."

He took a breath.

"It’s time she knew everything about me."