Stormwind Wizard God-Chapter 616: Fire, Undead, and Unexpected Kisses

This wasn't your run-of-the-mill, garden-variety fireball spell that any two-bit hedge wizard could conjure up after a few lessons. Hell no! It was the height of summer, and throwing around ordinary fireballs in this kind of weather was like playing with dynamite in a powder keg—one wrong move and you'd have a forest fire bigger than Texas spreading faster than bad news in a small town.

But Duke's fireball? That magnificent bastard was in a league of its own entirely. The thing was absolutely massive—bigger than a wagon wheel and twice as deadly. The moment it made contact with those shambling corpses, they erupted into flames like they'd been doused in lamp oil and kissed by lightning. Every single zombie went up like a Roman candle at a Fourth of July celebration, burning hotter than the fires of hell itself.

The scorching heat wave that came roaring back hit everyone like a slap from the devil's own hand. Even Renault and Sally, who were standing a good thirty-plus feet away, instinctively threw their hands up to shield their faces from the blistering inferno, squinting like they were trying to stare down the sun at high noon.

This kind of raw, devastating power was enough to put Duke head and shoulders above any wizard either of them had ever laid eyes on—including the fancy court mages they'd heard tales about.

They desperately wanted to study this mysterious young spellcaster more closely, but the situation with the zombies was developing faster than a house fire, forcing them to snap their attention back to the immediate crisis at hand.

Originally, Renault had been planning to rush in with his sword blazing, ready to hack and slash his way through any zombies that survived Duke's magical bombardment and were still stumbling toward them like drunken sailors on shore leave.

But here's the thing about zombies—those walking nightmares don't feel pain worth a damn. If one of those burning corpses managed to get its rotten claws on Renault and wrap him up in a bear hug, those flames dancing across its putrid flesh would turn into his funeral pyre faster than you could say "crispy critter."

However, Duke's fireball packed more punch than a locomotive hitting a brick wall. The supernatural flames tore through the zombies' decaying muscle tissue like a hot knife through butter, reducing each shambling horror to nothing more than a vaguely human-shaped pile of charcoal and ash.

But here's where things got really weird—and we're talking "stranger than a three-dollar bill" weird. The fire consuming each zombie would mysteriously snuff itself out just before the corpse hit the ground, like some invisible hand was blowing out birthday candles.

Within moments, the entire area fell silent as a tomb.

No more bone-chilling groans and moans from the undead horde. No more sickening twitching and writhing from half-destroyed corpses refusing to stay down. Not even the crackling sound of flames devouring rotten flesh or the popping and snapping of burning wood from nearby structures.

The hot summer breeze drifted through the forest like a ghost's whisper, making the trees sway and rustle with sounds that resembled long, mournful sighs.

Whoever this enigmatic young wizard calling himself Duke really was, both Renault and Sally felt like they could finally breathe again now that those abominations had been reduced to nothing but dusty piles of ash.

Duke had no good answer for Sally's probing questions about his true identity.

His expression was darker than a thundercloud on a stormy night. He had convinced himself that he'd managed to return to this timeline early enough to make a real difference. At the very least, the Scourge hadn't begun its full-scale reign of terror yet, so theoretically there shouldn't be any major catastrophes brewing on the horizon. After all, Duke had given Kel'Thuzad such a thorough beatdown more than a decade ago that even the necromancer's twisted soul had been purified and worn away by the Holy Light like sandpaper on wood. Logic dictated that even if remnants of the Cult of the Damned were still skulking around in the shadows, they shouldn't pose any serious threat.

Apparently, logic could go take a long walk off a short pier.

This wasn't just some two-bit cult conducting twisted human experiments in their basement laboratory.

This was shaping up to be a full-blown Scourge invasion, even if it was still in the early stages—like seeing the first few drops of rain before the hurricane hits.

Suddenly, the unmistakable sounds of fierce combat came drifting on the wind like bad omens.

There were still people under attack? And from the sound of it, there were quite a few of them caught up in whatever hell was breaking loose!

Duke's brow furrowed deeper than a farmer's furrow, and he spun around to address his young companions: "Keep yourselves safe and stay put."

Before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, he vanished in a brilliant flash of magical light, teleporting himself a good hundred feet away in the blink of an eye. When Duke materialized at his destination, he seemed to mutter some choice words under his breath, took a few running steps to build momentum, then teleported again with another blinding flash.

To Renault and Sally's amazed eyes, Duke had transformed from mysterious wizard into something resembling a supernatural force of nature.

Renault turned to his companion with wide eyes: "If he had wanted to hurt you back there when you first met..."

Sally's smile was more bitter than black coffee: "How was I supposed to know what kind of power he was packing? But thank the Light above, he's fighting on the side of humanity."

"So what's our play now?"

Sally's voice carried the steel of absolute determination: "We follow him."

"But we're not supposed to be here..."

"We're just apprentices and trainees. Those orders weren't specifically given to us, were they? As someone who truly believes in the Holy Light's teachings, I cannot and will not stand by twiddling my thumbs while innocent people are getting slaughtered." Sally's smile, framed by her snow-white hair, carried that ethereal, almost divine quality that Renault had been secretly captivated by for months.

Renault roughly scraped off the disgusting zombie goo that had splattered all over his body and sword blade, then took off running in the direction where Duke had disappeared like his life depended on it.

It didn't take them long to reach ground zero of the action.

What they found was a battlefield straight out of their worst nightmares.

On the main thoroughfare, at least several hundred zombies had surrounded an ornate carriage like a pack of wolves circling wounded prey. This wasn't just any ordinary traveler's wagon—this carriage screamed "high-ranking nobility" from every gilded detail, because nobody else in their right mind would travel with a personal guard unit of more than thirty battle-hardened soldiers plus a professional battle mage as their magical muscle.

This security detail looked like they knew their business and had been through the wringer more than once, but the odds were stacked against them higher than a house of cards in a hurricane. If it weren't for the massive fireballs being launched with devastating regularity from inside the carriage, that pathetic defensive circle formed by the guards would have crumbled faster than a house built on quicksand. freeweɓnøvel.com

Even with magical support, the deep gouges and claw marks crisscrossing the carriage's armored exterior told the tale of how close the undead horde had come to breaking through their defenses and turning everyone inside into zombie chow.

A chill ran up Renault's spine from his tailbone all the way to his scalp, making every hair on his head stand at attention.

Sweet mother of mercy! This was the main highway connecting the magical city of Dalaran to the mighty fortress of Stromgarde! He had walked this very same road just yesterday, and it had been as peaceful as a Sunday morning. When in the name of all that's holy had this massive zombie army appeared out of thin air?

The only silver lining in this whole disaster was that the besieged convoy's situation had improved dramatically since Duke's timely arrival on the scene.

Three towering walls of magical fire erupted around the carriage like the flames of divine judgment. Any zombie stupid enough or driven enough to charge headlong into those blazing barriers would be reduced to smoldering ash and charcoal within just a few stumbling steps.

Although wave after wave of shambling corpses continued their relentless assault on the carriage like moths drawn to a deadly flame, the intervention of a master-level wizard had finally given the embattled guards room to breathe and hope to survive.

Standing atop a nearby hill like some kind of avenging angel, Duke casually flicked his fingers, and fireballs began raining down on the zombie horde like artillery shells from heaven. Each blazing projectile was perfectly aimed and timed, obliterating multiple undead abominations with surgical precision and devastating efficiency.

A few minutes later, blessed silence returned to the world once again.

As the magical walls of fire dissipated into nothing, two of the surviving guards approached Duke's position, clearly intending to offer their heartfelt gratitude to their mysterious savior.

However, Duke teleported right past both approaching soldiers like they were invisible and materialized directly in front of the noble carriage itself.

His sudden, unexpected movement immediately put every remaining guard on high alert, hands moving instinctively toward weapon hilts.

The world these days was about as fair as a rigged poker game in a back-alley saloon.

Not every person who stood by and watched you suffer was necessarily your enemy plotting your downfall.

Not every person who rescued you from certain death was necessarily a saint with pure intentions.

The surviving guards didn't draw their weapons, but every single man kept his eyes locked on Duke with the wariness of seasoned veterans who'd seen too much betrayal and backstabbing. Although their faces were young and none of them had reached middle age, their calm, calculating demeanor told Duke louder than words that every man here had tasted real combat and spilled blood on actual battlefields.

"Esteemed... Master Wizard!" The guard captain's eyes took in Duke's simple linen clothing, and he found it impossible to reconcile this plainly dressed figure with the elaborately robed court mages he was accustomed to dealing with. Unfortunately, Duke's overwhelming magical prowess was an undeniable fact that couldn't be argued with. So the captain did his best to choose words that struck the right balance between respect and diplomatic caution.

Duke felt his heart racing like a thoroughbred at the Kentucky Derby.

Yes! This was it! This was exactly what he'd been hoping for!

It had been a full decade since he'd last set foot in the world of Azeroth.

While ten years might not seem like enough time to turn the world upside down, Duke knew that even small changes could have earth-shaking consequences that rippled through history like stones thrown into still water.

Like the tragic assassination of King Llane Wrynn.

He had no idea how many fingerprints he'd left on the course of history during his previous time in this world.

Standing before him was a group of guards who had deliberately concealed their official insignia and identifying marks, but when Duke spotted familiar emblems discretely placed in relatively hidden positions on their armor and equipment, he could no longer keep his emotions in check.

Completely ignoring the nervous tension radiating from the guards, Duke strode confidently up to the carriage and cleared his throat with all the authority of a man who owned the place.

"An old friend has come calling! Tell me, who currently leads the Edmund family of Stormwind Kingdom?"

Dead silence from within the carriage, but after exactly three heartbeats, an excited female voice rang out like church bells on Christmas morning.

"That would have been me, but now... it's you, my lord."

What the hell!?

Before Duke's brain could even begin to process what he'd just heard, the carriage door burst open like a dam breaking, and a slender figure launched herself at him with all the reckless abandon of a cannonball fired from a siege engine, throwing herself into his arms without a care in the world for propriety or consequences.

Duke's skull made intimate and painful contact with the hard-packed earth below in a collision that would have made a blacksmith's hammer jealous.

The next moment, soft, sweet lips pressed against his in a kiss that tasted like victory, homecoming, and promises of adventures yet to come.