Chapter 875

Dester was an eye demon.

And honestly, his appearance told Evenson everything he needed to know about the species.

He was literally a giant eyeball.

A giant eyeball with a gaze sharp enough to make you wonder whether he’d ever blinked in his entire existence.

"Forget it. I’m leaving."

Evenson turned around.

"We’ll withdraw, build up our strength, and make our move when the Rift changes. When the time comes, we’ll counterattack."

He wasn’t being unreasonable.

As far as Evenson knew, eye demons served the Burning Legion primarily as scouts and intelligence specialists. They were the people who watched, observed, gathered information, and generally knew things they had no business knowing.

Yet this operation was supposed to be an infiltration mission.

And his supposedly indispensable undercover operative, Agatha, had apparently forgotten to do the one job she was supposed to be good at.

Instead, she’d brought the intelligence chief directly to him.

At best, that was gross negligence.

At worst, Evenson was willing to believe Agatha had defected.

"Don’t go."

Agatha grabbed him by the arm.

"He’s already here. It’ll be a waste to make everyone go back and come all the way out again. At least hear him out."

"Fine."

Evenson reluctantly stopped.

It wasn’t because he was easily persuaded.

It was because Agatha was a three-meter-tall Doomguard matron with six arms, and when she got impatient, all six of them apparently worked together.

She wrapped him from shoulder to waist and lifted him completely off the ground.

His legs kicked uselessly beneath him.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

"Matron Agatha, you dragged me here just for this?"

Dester finally spoke.

His tone was so indifferent that it sounded as though none of this mattered to him in the slightest.

"...Fine."

Evenson gave up struggling and looked back.

Dester slowly sighed.

Two tendrils beneath his chin twisted together almost like fingers forming a gesture. His enormous mouth was filled with rows of jagged teeth, yet barely moved when he spoke. His single massive eye narrowed until only a thin slit remained.

"Life brings no joy. Death brings no sorrow. The Dreadscar Rift is but a passing shadow, and the position of its lord will eventually become dust. Why disturb this old man’s peace over such trivial matters?"

Evenson stared.

"What...?"

He was completely lost.

Sure, the guy had a huge eye, but he hadn’t expected him to see that far.

The demon didn’t even have feet, yet somehow his horizons were broader than everyone else’s.

And despite looking like something that belonged in a nightmare, Dester somehow gave off an oddly serene, almost saintly presence.

Evenson looked at Agatha.

"I don’t know what to say about him. Actually, forget it. Put me down first. I’m not running."

At least he had some dignity left.

He had hundreds of people under his command.

Being held up like a toddler in front of everyone was not how he wanted to spend the afternoon.

"You’re really not going to run?"

Agatha bent one of her arms and pulled him closer to her chest.

She lowered her head and scrutinized his eyes suspiciously, as if the slightest flicker would earn him an instant crushing death.

"Put it in writing."

"Fine! I really won’t run!"

Only then did Agatha finally bend down and set him on the ground.

Evenson straightened his clothes.

"I knew the Dreadscar Rift had some strange residents, but this one is beyond me."

The thought reminded him of the other demons he’d acquired from the Rift.

Taylor spent his free time working out and obsessing over television shows.

Shala was a lesbian succubus with an almost comically unwavering devotion to her romantic interests.

Hubs, the lazy hellhound, was obsessed with food and maintaining his enormous harem.

Dooman, the Voidwalker, was a withdrawn shut-in.

Even Trupsi, the relatively normal imp, was fascinated by demon fusion techniques.

Not one of them could be described as normal.

But Dester was something else entirely.

The guy was so detached from everything that if someone handed him a Bodhi tree, Evenson half expected him to sit beneath it and achieve enlightenment on the spot.

"Dester is the Rift’s intelligence chief," Agatha explained.

That part matched Evenson’s expectations.

"But once the front moved away, there weren’t any enemies left for him to spy on. And you know what the Abyssal Lords are like. There’s no limit to how stupid they can be."

"Even during a war, they barely care about intelligence. Once there isn’t a war, you can imagine how much attention they pay to an intelligence officer."

"Hailermondas completely ignored Dester."

"Eventually, Dester just became... this."

Once upon a time, Dester had been one of the most important figures in the Dreadscar Rift.

He had overseen intelligence operations for the entire forward base, and he had taken his work very seriously.

In fact, spying wasn’t merely his profession.

It was his favorite hobby.

Dester’s greatest pleasure was finding targets with potential value, fixing them with his enormous eye, and reducing them to ash beneath his Void gaze.

He genuinely loved his job.

Unfortunately, good times never lasted.

The front moved elsewhere.

Hailermondas stopped caring about him.

And Dester’s favorite pastime disappeared.

At first, he’d adapted.

There were no enemies left to watch, but there were still his own people.

Unfortunately, there were only so many people in the Dreadscar Rift.

He could watch them from every angle imaginable.

He watched them from the front.

From behind.

Upside down.

Sideways.

After several thousand years, he’d seen everyone so many times that even he couldn’t stand himself anymore.

Then the symptoms started.

First came severe anxiety and an inability to concentrate.

Then constant wandering thoughts.

Then foaming at the mouth and intermittent seizures.

Eventually, he started mumbling nonsense.

Just one more look.

Please.

Just let me look one more time.

At that point, most people would have expected him to eventually destroy himself.

Perhaps one day he’d simply throw himself into the Soul Engine and end it all.

But Dester had discovered another solution.

He began actively working on himself.

He sought inner peace.

He started spending centuries sitting motionless inside a cave.

According to Agatha, he’d sometimes sit there for more than a thousand years without speaking or moving.

"If he hadn’t needed to breathe," she said, "we would have assumed he’d died in there."

Evenson stared.

"How does someone that forgettable even attract attention?"

"He only came out once to make his presence known."

Agatha thought for a moment.

"That was almost two thousand years ago."

"What happened?"

"I’m not entirely sure."

Agatha’s expression became distant as she recalled the scene.

"But suddenly, a glowing green wheel appeared behind his head. His eyes were closed. He had a faint smile on his face, his tentacles were twisted together, and he slowly floated into the air."

Evenson waited.

"And?"

"When he reached the highest point, the wheel suddenly exploded."

Agatha spread her hands.

"He fell straight back down."

Dester sighed deeply.

"Demonic enlightenment... My heart was not yet still enough. I failed to achieve true awakening and could not attain perfect freedom."

"Oh."

Evenson nodded slowly.

He wasn’t sure he understood any of that.

It sounded like Dester had attempted to ascend into some kind of demonic sainthood and then been violently reminded that gravity existed.

But the amusement faded from Evenson’s face.

He looked at Dester coldly.

"You know everything that happened today."

His voice hardened.

"You really think you can stay out of this? What happens if I decide to kill you to keep you quiet?"

"Demonic enlightenment..."

Dester’s voice remained perfectly calm.

"This body is nothing more than a rotting shell. If you wish to kill it, then kill it."

"You know I’m a Warlock, right?"

Evenson narrowed his eyes.

"What if I don’t leave your soul behind?"

"The soul endures."

Dester’s eye remained half closed.

"Eventually, everything fades. The only question is when."

Evenson stared at him.

At this point, Dester deserved a temple.

"And if I told you that after we seize the Rift, we’d put you back to work?"

Dester didn’t react.

"We could take you to an entirely new world."

Still nothing.

"A world filled with countless strange and interesting things for you to observe."

Dester’s enormous eye suddenly snapped wide open.

"You will put that in writing!"

His voice exploded with enthusiasm.

All those years of spiritual discipline shattered in a single sentence.

"Let the sacred flame consume this old shell!"

Dester’s tentacles flew outward.

"I’m with you!"

Evenson blinked.

"Wait. What happened to enlightenment?"

"Who do you want dead?"

Dester looked ready to personally charge into battle.

"This giant eye will stare them to death!"

The serene old demon from a moment ago was gone.

In his place stood a creature who looked as though he were seconds away from picking up the Blade of Dawn, gathering every anomalous creature in the Rift, and founding an empire.

Evenson nodded.

"Excellent. Problem solved."

He walked over to Dester and found what he assumed was the demon’s ear.

He leaned close and whispered.

Dester listened.

His enormous eye slowly narrowed.

Then he nodded repeatedly.

Once the plan was settled, Evenson turned back toward the others.

"Then the original plan remains unchanged."

He gestured toward Sif and Galia.

"You two stay hidden here with your forces. Once you see my signal, move immediately."

Sif and Galia began organizing their troops.

Then both turned back.

"What signal?"

"You’ll know it when you see it."

Evenson gave them an enigmatic smile.

He then turned toward Agatha.

"Our biggest obstacle should be Hailermondas. Could you arrange a meeting with the former lord of the Rift?"

"Do you want me to take you there?"

"No."

Agatha frowned.

"Then what excuse are you using to see him?"

"Tribute."

Evenson reached into his storage bag and pulled out two enormous blackwood cases.

He held them up.

A strange smile appeared on his face.

"I brought gifts."

At that very moment, Hailermondas, the rightful lord of the Dreadscar Rift, was asleep inside his grotesque fortress.

His weapon lay discarded nearby.

Two enormous batlike wings wrapped around his upper body.

His massive chest rose and fell.

Every breath produced a thunderous snore.

He was sleeping peacefully.

Then his wings suddenly snapped open.

Fel flames erupted from the horns on his head and the spines along his back.

His eyes flew open.

And despite being an Abyssal Lord, despite his immense size and monstrous appearance, there was unmistakable fear in those eyes.

There was a simple reason.

Hailermondas had been dreaming.

Normally, he had very little to do.

And, to be blunt, his intellect wasn’t exactly suited to complicated work.

So he slept.

Unfortunately, sleeping meant dreaming.

Even an Abyssal Lord couldn’t escape that.

In his dream, Kil’jaeden had finally recognized his greatness and decided to transfer him from this miserable backwater to the front lines.

Hailermondas had been overjoyed.

He immediately gathered the Rift’s finest weapons and equipment and set off.

Kil’jaeden praised his strength and generously rewarded him with three different sets of mount reins and an orange-glowing item.

He didn’t actually know what the items did.

But they had been gifts from Kil’jaeden.

Obviously, that made them priceless.

Then Hailermondas had arrived on Azeroth.

Kil’jaeden entrusted him with an important mission.

He was assigned to guard a critical Legion position.

More specifically, he had been ordered to stand beside a white stone covered in mysterious runes near an access point and wait for enemies to come to him.

He had waited.

And waited.

Then five strangely dressed figures had appeared.

Hailermondas had roared.

"Enemies of the Legion!"

And then—

Nothing.

Hailermondas rubbed his head irritably.

They said dreams reflected one’s waking thoughts.

Fine.

He’d had enough.

Tomorrow, he was going to officially retire.

He’d submit a request to be transferred to the front lines.

This miserable backwater was unbearably boring.

Hailermondas cared about only two things:

Bloodshed.

And killing.

This rear base offered neither.

Fortunately, at least he didn’t have to deal with the tedious administrative work.

That was thanks to his capable deputy, Matron Agatha.

She didn’t have scales.

She was physically frail.

She even had two enormous lumps of flesh on her chest that served absolutely no practical purpose.

She was ugly enough to make his eyes hurt, yet somehow she considered herself elegant.

Still, Hailermondas had to admit that she was competent at administration.

Perhaps that was simply how weak creatures survived.

After he handed the Rift’s affairs over to her, everything remained orderly.

No major problems had occurred.

She did occasionally bother him with trivial matters, which annoyed him.

But recently, she’d finally developed some sense and taken complete control of the base’s daily administration.

Hailermondas had finally been able to sleep in peace.

Still...

Something seemed strange.

There seemed to be fewer people around him lately.

Hailermondas frowned.

He counted them using his fingers and toes.

Sixteen...

He ran out of fingers.

"So that’s... seventeen."

He counted again.

"Twenty-eight."

Another pause.

"Thirty-nine."

"Fifty."

He frowned.

"Hmm."

There didn’t seem to be anyone missing.

If anything, there were more people than before.

Nothing to worry about.

Hailermondas was just about to return to sleep when Agatha’s holographic projection suddenly appeared before him.

He glared at it.

"What now?"

His voice rumbled like distant thunder.

"Didn’t I tell you not to bother me?"

He had just praised her for finally becoming competent.

And now she was bothering him again.

Agatha’s projection flickered.

She seemed nervous.

Hailermondas smiled inwardly.

He enjoyed seeing her afraid.

"What is it?"

"It’s the little Warlock."

Agatha spoke carefully.

"He’s here. He says he has tribute to present to you."

"He’s still alive?"

Hailermondas rested his chin on one massive hand and thought about it.

His intelligence might have been questionable.

His mathematics certainly were.

But there was only one Warlock who ever came to the Dreadscar Rift.

So he knew exactly who Agatha meant.

"Fine."

He waved dismissively.

"Bring him to the fortress."

He wanted to see the little Warlock.

It had been thousands of years, and that strange little creature was apparently the only Warlock who had ever bothered coming here.

He was also the Rift’s only supplier of soul crystals.

After Hailermondas had traded his blood for those crystals, Evenson had stopped visiting for quite some time.

Hailermondas had assumed the Warlock had finally died.

Apparently not.

For someone with that much bad luck to remain alive for so long was practically a fel miracle.

So whether it was because Hailermondas wanted to see the tribute or simply wanted to witness this miracle with his own eyes, he had to meet the Warlock.

When Hailermondas finally emerged onto the enormous circular platform outside his fortress, he found his most powerful personal guards surrounding Evenson.

The Warlock stood in the center.

His posture was slightly bent, displaying the appropriate amount of respect.

"You came back."

Hailermondas approached with heavy footsteps.

He stopped and looked Evenson over.

"Hm."

His eyes narrowed.

"You actually dared to come here in person this time."

In Hailermondas’s memory, Evenson had always visited through a mental projection.

This time, however, he had come physically.

"I came specifically to offer tribute."

Evenson bowed slightly.

"It seemed disrespectful to appear before you as nothing more than a projection."

"Hah!"

Outside of sleeping, one of Hailermondas’s few remaining pleasures was receiving flattery from weaker creatures.

"And you’re not afraid I’ll eat you?"

"Surely the great lord wouldn’t strike a man who came bearing a smile."

Evenson smiled.

Then he slowly crouched down and placed the two cases on the ground.

"Allow me to show you the tribute first."

"Very well."

Hailermondas grinned.

His eyes were already fixed on the cases.

"What did you bring? Two crates of high-quality soul crystals?"

"The quality is excellent."

Evenson opened both cases.

He reached inside and pressed something several times.

Then, with sudden force, he shoved both cases across the ground toward Hailermondas.

"Surprise, motherfucker!"

Evenson’s figure vanished.

Hailermondas stared down at the two cases.

He had absolutely no idea what had just happened.

Then—

Beep.

The two cases emitted a tiny electronic sound.

Hailermondas’s eyes widened.

BOOM!

Deep beneath the Rift, Sif and Galia suddenly felt a tremendous flash from above.

A shockwave swept through the underground passage.

They looked up.

A massive mushroom cloud was rising into the sky.

For several seconds, neither woman spoke.

Finally, Sif slowly pointed toward it.

"I think... that’s the signal."

...