NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 146: Chapter 146
Whilst Varrus was searching after Xavius, the man in question was actively plotting as well.
Within a tall, twisted tower, the 'King of Nightmares' and his army, the Nightmare Host, were gathering to do battle.
Standing at a height of 9ft, the horned Satyr had grey skin, russ colored fur, and hooves for feet.
Twisted into this shape due to failing the mad Titan God Sargeras, this former Night Elf planned on merging the land of dreams with reality, so that all may warp to his vision of the truth. To lose the trappings of a demigod, and consume Azeroth so that he might become Divine.
Reclining on a twisted throne of tree bark and metal, Xavius was bathing in the outpouring negative thoughts coming from the mortal realm.
Hundreds of pink orbs buzzed in the tall ceiling and walls around him. Each tiny gemstone-no bigger than a fist-represented a dream. A portal into the world between worlds.
With the recent destruction of the Eastern Kingdoms, and the world wide floods caused by the destruction of Ice Crown, the dreams had become less vibrant, fun, or hopeful. Instead, negativity, dread, and fear haunted these untapped minds.
Xavius, with his capacity to enter, and manipulate dreams, stoked these fears, and manifested himself and his champions in their minds.
A name resonated through these fragile domiciles the people called brains.
Xavius.
Every minute spent sleeping, every scream in the night, every sleepwalking murder that took place simply shouted one name.
Xavius.
The more he appeared in their thoughts, the more real he became, the more powerful he was!
Pink energy flowed from the Dream Stones planted in the wall, and entered his veins acting like an aphrodisiac on his soul.
The Satyr then used this energy in a self feedback loop to create more of the pink Dream Stones, and enter more dreams, and influence their nightmares to his liking!
Perching his fist underneath his chin, Xavius could taste victory on the tip of his tongue.
All he needed to do was cross the valley that separated the lands of Nightmare, and devour the Aspect of Dreams. Yet those pests, Cenarius, Malfurion, and the Queen Mother of all Wisps, Aessina stood in his way.
Clenching his fist, Xavius stared at a conjured image of Malfurion, and ground his teeth so hard, he almost broke his jaw.
That blasted druid had been the architect of his demise ten thousand years ago, foiling his plans to bring the Legion onto Azeroth. As a result, he had been cursed into this ugly form.
Then, when he had made a resurgence, found a new master, and almost achieved his long sought after victory, the damned druid had cursed him!
Malfurion had transformed him, Xavius, King of Nightmares into a tree. An immobile piece of lumber tossed into the sea!
There, he had met a stunning woman within the depths of despair, one who came up with the plan to merge dream with reality. He learned what he could from her, then ditched the insane woman to conquer Azeroth on his own!
Yet here Malfurion was, present once again to foil his plans.
However, he just so happened to know that a feud was brewing between the druid, and the newest terror to grace Azeroth.
Oh yesss, Varrus Vandercross was quite the up and coming villain. Although he paled in comparison to the likes of Arthas or the Orcish Horde, the nightmares generated from his existence had been quite delectable.
Viewing the events of the Emerald Dream via scrying orb, Xavius saw that both of these dangerous men were searching him out. To preemptively slay him in his seat of power.
'No, no, no, no, no, we can't have that, can we?' Xavius thought as he clucked his tongue, and shook his head with a grin.
Drumming his fingers on his throne, Xavius decided he should do them a favor, and reunite these two long lost foes.
"Scoff. Ransom. Toil." Xavius spoke into the ether, and flexed a smidgen of his mana.
Exiting the Dream Stones, three Legendary Heroic minions of nightmare emerged. The sounds of screams and horror heralded their arrival.
First to arrive, Scoff was an oozing, misshapen, tentacled monstrosity. He had dozens of mouths filled with razor sharp teeth, eyes pointing in every direction, and tongues lewdly licking the air.
Most notable about Scoff was the incredible stench he exuded. A rusty-brown malaise wafted off his leathery exterior in a draft so potent, even Xavius, King of Nightmares found it to be repulsive.
"We are. Here to. Serve. You. Master." Scoff wheezed like a man on his last breath as he spoke from his multiple mouths.
Xavius inclined his head, accepting the creature's words, then awaited his remaining two servants.
Next to arrive was Ransom, she was a grey, quadruped whose legs were pointed like cones. Her body was similar to a deers, except at the neck, a large mass of twisting muscle made up a neck that was just as large as her body. At the tip of her neck, there were three branches that broke off to form three separate heads. Each face of hers swapped between her victims, faces lost from the mortal realm forevermore.
She was famed for conducting the forced trade of ears, eyes, noses, chins, lips, etc and gifting ugly-deformed-faces to the beautiful, or providing "unbelievable" experiences to desperate men who never knew love. Truly sickening.
"More faces to steal?"
"More expressions to wear!"
"More souls to consume!"
"More!" "More!" "More!"
Ransom excitedly crowed between all three of her heads, warping between different voices and distraught expressions as she did so.
Xavius rolled his eyes at her performance, but she was an asset he was loath to discard simply because she annoyed him.
Lastly, the strongest of Xavius's three minions emerged from the shadows, and clung to them as if they were his long lost kin. Loafing around at back of the throne room, Toil's presence was felt as if he were breathing on Xavius's neck, yet his eyes told him that Toil was in the distance.
This abnormally tall and lanky man wore a fine black suit, white gentleman's gloves, and had a perfectly blank head bereft of color or expression.
Toil bowed with his long, gangly limbs, saying nothing, and for all intents and purposes, appearing as nothing more than a proper sort.
Xavius snorted at the man.
When he first came across Toil, he had been stalked in the shadows for centuries. The damned creature had tried to smother him, and exhaust his patience over the course of three centuries. It wasn't until he tricked the phantom into playing an extended game of hide and go seek that he finally managed to get him off his back.
Toil was the most dangerous simply for the fact that Xavius could not kill the troublesome man. Privately, he wondered if he had the prowess of a demigod, but he determined it was not worth the risk to press such an enigmatic individual.
With their powers combined, they could defeat a demigod 3v1. Furthermore, with the recent influx of negative waves, they were each only an infinitesimal distance away from being categorized as demigods themselves.
They were Xavius's greatest champions, and would serve well to bait the do-gooder Malfurion straight into that meddling Varrus Vandercross's path.
He had heard of Vandercross's accomplishments through the hopeful dreams of the bastard offshoot Elves that called themselves Highborn.
He knew how deadly this man was, and he would take no chances when dealing with him.
"Scoff, Ransom, Toil, go to the border, and taunt Malfurion. Bring him to the land of nightmare, bring him to Varrus Vandercross." Xavius steepled his fingers, and commanded.
"Yes. King. Joy. Bring. To. Them." Scoff wheezed in a dirty deep voice.
"New pretty faces?"
"A handsome Rho'dan!"
"Him?!'
"Rho'dan!" "Rho'dan!" "Rho'dan!" The three heads cheered like school girls coming across a K-pop idol.
"...." Toil remained silent, and tipped an imaginary hat at Xavius before disappearing into the shadows.
As soon as everyone had left, Xavius continued to look into his scrying orb. His focus settled on a Green Dragon flying along with the pale skinned Elf.
Gulping to himself, Xavius felt a small tinge of fear when he saw she was flying closer to his domain.
"You are not my Queen. I will not marry you. I will not." Xavius said with determination, then once more lost himself in the dreams of others in a desperate bid to collect as much ambient power as possible before his ultimate confrontation with Ysera, Aspect of Dreams.
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Within the green sphere of the Emerald Dream, resting within a massive, splendorous temple Ysera, leader of the Green Dragonflight rested.
During her rest, the Aspect kept her eyes closed, for if she should ever open them, Ysera may bring untold calamity to both this realm and that of Azeroth.
However, her relaxation was short lived, as the loud voices of Malfurion, Cenarius, and other druids continuously debated circles around one another.
"The nature of balance dictates that corruption must coexist with cleanliness. You were quite uncharacteristically judicious in your planned extermination of the corrupted World Tree, Malfurion. Illidan's demise has touched you deeper than you care to admit" Cenarius, the father of all Dryads and grandfather to the Centaur chided.
"The cleanliness of the soul dictates the actions of the body. My actions were in support of Azeroth. Ice Crown's destruction required an equal and opposite reaction to achieve balance. I was that reaction." Malfurion powerfully responded.
"Ah, Malfurion, but if you truly held such beliefs to be self-evident, then you would have cleansed the forests of Kalimdor long ago. You still have much to learn." Cenarius shook his head in disappointment.
"Learning is a struggle I have tempered my entire life pursuing. It is times like these that inform me I have not learnt all there is to knowing. I thank you, great teacher." Malfurion bowed.
"Any time my pupil. You have a bright future ahead of yourself. In time, I suspect this spiritual transformation shall enrich your soul beyond what you have surmised. Do not despair, Malfurion, you are on the correct path."
On and on they spoke to one another for hours, rehashing the same talking points. It was absolutely driving Ysera onto the edge of madness!
'The name of their organization, the Cenarion Circle, is aptly named indeed.' Ysera thought to herself in some annoyance.
Eventually. Finally. The nonstop chatter had died down, and the duo had approached Ysera.
"Honored Aspect, I have learnt of intruders, and that they are colluding with the vile spawn, Varrus Vandercross. My mentor and I wish you safety as we set out to confront them." Malfurion bowed to her, and then departed.
Ysera raised an eyebrow.
When she had listened to Malfurion's plea, and saved his soul earlier, she had no idea she would accidentally drag along the man that had been so often dominating her dreams as of late.
Varrus Vandercross.
He was a polarizing, charismatic, handsome figure.
His actions had invigorated hope in so many, the power of their dreams had boosted her up so that she might compete with Xavius for dominion of this realm.
In truth, she hoped Varrus emerged the victor of this conflict.
For tens of thousands of years, she had had to put up with Cenarius's constant theories. When none of her children took his lectures seriously, he had found several new races on Azeroth to annoy.
Before long, the Emerald Dream began to play host to countless philosophers discussing the fundamentals on nature, balance, and the universe.
It was fun. For a time. But oh how they bored Ysera. It came to become such a hassle, she often closed herself off from the world, and lost herself in other people's dreams so she wouldn't have to listen to their diatribe!
Not only that, but they were all talk!
If the druids combined their powers, the entire world would be a green paradise where no one ever went hungry.
But instead, they never took action!
It was so frustrating, that she hoped and prayed that Varrus won. She was done blindly siding with the forces of nature, or following the directives of long dead Gods.
Nozdormu had followed that path, and what did he have to show for it?
While she was saddened by his loss, he was so determined to follow the 'proper' timeline, he failed to see the reality of the world.
As someone who was connected to everyone via their dreams, she played witness to their hopes, their sorrows, and their fears.
It was with this knowledge that she knew the world needed change.
Change that only Varrus could bring.
"Prepare yourself young one, enemies march against you." Ysera whispered through the air, carrying her words to the Elf. At the same time, she sacrificed a sliver of herself to bless the young one, and show her sincerity in aiding his success.
Warning sent, Ysera prepared herself for her upcoming clash with Xavius.
The Satyr was desperate for victory, and had grown reckless in his actions. His very understandable fear of the Burning Bride had pushed him into an untenable position.
All Ysera had to do was remain patient, and victory would surely be hers.
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AN: Read up to chapter 178 at: patreon.com/KarpQQ