Allen's voice was arrogant and contemptuous, every word sounding like a "gift" squeezed out from between his teeth: "I, of the Black Dragonflight, command the most powerful forces in all of Azeroth. My father, Deathwing, is the Destroyer; my sister, Onyxia, is the mighty Black Dragon Princess, the future Broodmother of the Dragonflight. And as for me—I am the future ruler of all Azeroth!"
Katrana stared at the impassioned young man before her, momentarily at a loss for words.
Could it be… he really wasn't a lost heir of the Prestor family?
The situation had completely exceeded Katrana's expectations. This man was actually impersonating a black dragon right in front of her—the real one.
And not just any black dragon.
He was impersonating that detestable brother of hers.
It was… it was… far too interesting!
If Nefarian found out, he'd probably go mad with rage, wouldn't he?
The corners of Katrana's lips lifted slightly, her smile carrying a hint of indescribable amusement.
[Deception Check: 18, Success]
[You successfully deceived Onyxia—making her believe you are a ruthless, audacious madman bold enough to impersonate a black dragon in front of her. This courage and absurdity amuse her… she begins to appreciate you.]
Seeing the check result, Allen let out a long breath of relief, feeling like he had barely scraped through.
While the iron was hot, he pressed forward, adding more weight to his act by throwing out something of value he could offer.
Onyxia's purpose in coming to Stormwind was nothing more than getting close to Varian and manipulating the King of Stormwind. That was her most important objective.
"If you dare reveal my identity—" his voice lowered, laced with threat, "I guarantee you'll regret ever being born into this world."
He turned toward Katrana, his tone shifting again—arrogant, yet carrying a trace of condescension: "But if you behave yourselves—especially you, my lady—"
He paused, putting on a "you should feel lucky" expression: "I can introduce you to King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind. A figure far beyond your reach, hmph."
Katrana froze for a moment.
Then she looked at Allen with playful interest. "You're a black dragon? And you think I'll believe that?"
Hearing her words, Allen reached out and drew Xal'atath, Blade of the Black Empire, turning toward Malathrom with a sinister smile curling at his lips.
Coupled with the faint shadowy aura swirling around him, he looked like some cultist crawling out of the abyss.
"Don't believe me?"
His voice dropped low and dangerous: "Heh."
He raised his hand and pointed straight at Malathrom, casting Command once again.
"Kneel!!!"
[Saving Throw: 4, Success]
[Saving Throw: 1, Critical Failure]
The one who succeeded the save was Malathrom.
And the one who failed was…
Katrana felt a flood of whispers suddenly surge into her mind.
The voices overlapped layer upon layer, as if coming from an impossibly distant place, yet also whispering right beside her ear. They intertwined, forming a heavy, authoritative word—
Kneel.
Kneel.
Kneel.
The voices grew louder, closer, and yet farther at the same time.
Kneel.
Kneel.
Kneel.
By the time Katrana came back to her senses—
she was already kneeling humbly before Allen.
Her head lowered, her lips lightly brushing the tip of his boot.
WTF?!!!
Allen was completely dumbfounded.
I didn't even cast it on Onyxia! And what the hell—how did she fail the save? Xal'atath, was that you messing with things?
It's over. Completely over. Onyxia is definitely going to fly into a rage, tear him to pieces, and swallow him whole—bones and all.
Wait!
Feather Fall!
Right now—jump out the window, then cast Feather Fall on himself. No way Onyxia would dare transform into a dragon inside Stormwind!
Allen suddenly exerted force, only to find his boot held firmly in place.
Rage.
Overwhelming, sky-filling rage.
She—Onyxia—the proud daughter of Deathwing, the future Broodmother of the Black Dragonflight, was actually kissing the boot of such a lowly man, such a pitiful, weak little insect?!
She had to kill him.
She must!!
But—
why?
Even Onyxia herself didn't understand why there was a trace of pleasure deep within her heart.
She must kill him!
Yet Allen had already slipped his foot out of the boot and dashed toward the window without looking back.
Grease!
A massive pool of slick grease instantly spread across the gap between him and Onyxia.
Jump, Jump, Jump!
At that moment, a voice came from outside the door: "His Majesty the King has arrived—!"
Before the announcement even finished, the door was violently pushed open.
Varian Wrynn strode in. Behind him followed Marshal Windsor, along with Wren, Morgan, Stella, and the rest.
The reason for their forceful entrance was simple—they were here to rescue Allen.
Varian had long since ordered SI:7 agents to keep watch on Allen's group after they returned to Stormwind.
When Allen was abducted, Wren hadn't even noticed yet—but SI:7 already had. They split into three groups: one to notify Wren, one to report to the King, and two to track the kidnappers all the way here.
Everyone stared at the scene before them—
Allen's missing boot, the marks on his wrists, Katrana kneeling on the ground, and the unknown liquid spread across the floor—
and were utterly stunned.
Varian pointed at Allen and Katrana. "You… you…"
Wren's eyes burned with fury. Stella covered her eyes with one hand, yet still peeked through her fingers.
"This isn't what you think! This is Lady Katrana Prestor—she's my sister!"
Allen wasn't trying to help Onyxia. He was terrified that if the truth came out, the enraged Onyxia would throw caution to the wind, transform into a black dragon right here, and slaughter everyone present.
"What??? She's your sister too??? You two—?!"
"No, I—"
Varian, after all, was a king. He took a deep breath, quickly suppressing his shock and embarrassment, and forced a polite smile as he looked at Katrana.
"So you are Allen Prestor's sister? My apologies. Lately, I've been told that a Lady Katrana wished to meet me. Had I known you were Allen's sister, I would certainly have made time."
Allen silently put his boot back on.
Katrana had already stood up, her expression completely blank.
She elegantly adjusted her nightgown and gave a slight nod to Varian. "Your Majesty is too kind. It was I who imposed rather abruptly."
The two of them carried on a brief exchange of aristocratic pleasantries in an atmosphere so awkward it was almost suffocating.
After the short conversation, Varian invited Katrana and Allen to dine at Stormwind Keep on another day.
Then everyone hurriedly left this suffocatingly awkward place as fast as possible.
Just before parting, as Allen passed by Katrana, a hand suddenly grabbed him.
Katrana leaned close to his ear, her warm breath brushing against it, her voice so low only he could hear: "Does this count as me submitting to you?"
She enunciated each word slowly: "Your wicked and noble Black Dragon Prince."
Allen's body froze.
"From now on… happy cooperation."
She released him, a meaningful smile curling at the corners of her lips, and turned to leave.
Allen stood there, completely numb.
That sinister, cunning, vicious woman—what exactly is she trying to do?!
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