Wayne returned to the construction site. By now, the day shift workers had already gone into the sheds to sleep. The thirty-odd people on the night shift were busy laying pipes and building walls—any tasks that could be done quietly were saved for the night.
Clearly, for an architect like Barons, who had overseen the reconstruction of Stormwind, a project of this scale was like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.
However, they were worried about a sneak attack in the dead of night. The two locations were only four or five kilometers apart. Whether by rowboat or traveling along the lakeshore, the journey would take less than an hour. Once the enemy extinguished their torches, they would be invisible in the pitch-black night, even with telescopes.
The two Dwarven riflemen were professional and brave hunters, but they didn't want to lose their lives over a simple escort mission. Although the Dwarves didn't know the human proverb about "quenching thirst with the sight of plums," they felt Wayne was comforting them with empty promises.
Yet, they were Dwarves who valued their word. The generator they were escorting came from High Tinker Mekkatorque's team and was worth about two hundred gold. If they broke their contract by fleeing, they would be fined and looked down upon by their peers in Ironforge's Military Ward. To a soldier, honor was more important than life—especially in front of humans. They refused to be deserters.
Wayne readily agreed to their request, promising not to let them go until they were all drunk.
"Not good! They've put out the lights on the other side!"
"We have to get the workers to pile up cement and stones into a circle immediately! Everyone hide inside and fight back with torches, stones, and hammers. If we can hold out until dawn, there might be a chance!"
Wayne jumped down from a tree and had Barons call over a dozen trusted workers. He pulled a vial of potion from his bag—he had given the other one to Winston before leaving the cafe.
"Do you dare to drink this? It's non-toxic and harmless. If you trust me, I can drive them away."
The Dwarven rifleman hesitated. Everyone knew you shouldn't randomly consume food or drink offered by someone you didn't know well, especially in these turbulent times. He didn't necessarily trust Wayne, but the situation was desperate. He had to be responsible for his employer and his partner.
Wayne was a bit reluctant to part with it, telling him to only take one sip and not to drink too much.
The confused workers and the two Dwarves watched as Barons slowly poured the strange green liquid into his mouth. He smacked his lips, made a face at the foul taste, and then...
He turned into a skeleton!
The people nearby, and even the workers who turned their heads to see what was happening, were terrified!
"What are you doing?!" The two riflemen immediately raised their guns, one aiming at the skeletal Barons and the other at Wayne. The rest of the craftsmen recoiled in fear. In their eyes, this was evil magic—turning a living person into the undead, just like the Scourge's necromancy!
Unexpectedly, the skeleton that was Barons shouted, "Wait!"
He looked down at his body and said in surprise, "Is this... an illusion?"
Wayne went up and grabbed his "hand," pulling him toward the two Dwarves. "Touch him. You'll know once you touch him."
To their shock, although he looked like a skeleton, their fingers felt flesh and bone when they touched him!
"I'm still alive! I just look like this!" Barons shouted excitedly. He understood what Wayne was trying to do.
Wayne immediately rallied the others. "Quickly! This effect only lasts about ten minutes. Everyone, turn off the lights and come take a sip. Those who turn into skeletons, line up! We're going to the riverbank, turn on the lights, and scare them to death!"
The two Dwarves and the bolder craftsmen took a sip. Not everyone turned into a skeleton; some felt lighter, others shrank. By the time the vial was empty, about one-third of them had become skeletons.
Everyone was amazed by the magical effect, momentarily forgetting the approaching enemy. It felt like they were celebrating Hallow's End early, wearing pumpkin heads to play ghosts.
"What is this stuff?" Barons asked.
"A strange potion made by a goblin," Wayne replied. "He gave it to a friend of mine, who gave two bottles to me. I didn't expect it to be useful now."
And so, a group of skeletons of various heights and sizes, along with workers in dark clothes with ash-smeared faces, crept to the lakeshore. Suddenly, the workers in the back turned on their searchlights and the lamps on their construction helmets, aiming them at the front row!
From a distance, it looked like a large pack of skeletons and zombies wandering the riverbank, making eerie, low moaning sounds—as if waiting for the "things" from across the lake to swim over so they could feast.
Heaven help them—even the people on the construction site couldn't help but think that if this happened in the middle of the night, anyone with a weak heart would be terrified.
Sure enough, several screams echoed from the distance, followed by the sound of people falling into the water and calling for help. Finally, several torches were lit on the lake. It seemed the Defias rebels, who had intended to sneak across, were forced to reveal their positions to save their comrades.
"Turn off the lights, turn them off!" Wayne whispered.
Not long after the lights went out, the potion's effects wore off, and everyone returned to their original forms. They expressed their admiration for Wayne, never imagining he could come up with such a plan.
Wayne felt a temporary sense of relief, but he knew the enemy would strike again at daybreak.
As expected, at 9:00 AM the next morning, a black-haired man in leather armor and stubble arrived at the site, flanked by two Royal Guards.
"Who's in charge here? Get out here!"
The man shouted arrogantly. Barons, who had only been asleep for a short while after staying up half the night, was jolted awake. When he rubbed his sleepy eyes and looked at the man, his drowsiness vanished instantly.
He couldn't believe his eyes. This man—a former comrade from the Stonemasons' Guild—was standing right in front of him!
This man hadn't managed to escape Stormwind with VanCleef after the riots. He had been captured by the Royal Guards on the spot and had been imprisoned in the Stormwind Stockade ever since!
Yes, he shouldn't be here at all!