The Desperate Transmigrator

King's Valley, beside the dying embers of a campfire.

Onyxia's dragon claw clamped around Deren's throat, her slit pupils narrowing to thin lines beneath the moonlight.

Deren suddenly laughed, blood seeping from his cracked lips. "You know? You have two choices now."

His voice was hoarse yet clear, like a dull blade scraping against bone:

"Choice one: do as I say."

"—If you regret it someday, you can always turn back and give me a breath of Dragonfire. At worst, your father will drag you back and scold you, and you can go on being his tool dragon."

"Life will go on as before. Just pretend a mouse woke you from a pleasant dream tonight."

Onyxia's claws sank half an inch into his skin, blood running down Deren's neck and into his ragged collar.

"Choice two..." Deren twitched in pain, yet he was still smiling. "Burn me to death right now."

"Then someday in the future, when an adventurer's sword pierces your heart—"

He suddenly poked beneath Onyxia's collarbone with a bloodstained finger, at the most vulnerable reverse scale. "You'll remember this ant's joke."

The night wind suddenly went still.

"You think..." Deren suddenly began coughing, bloody foam spraying over the black dragon's scales, "that a lowborn wretch like me..."

He pulled open his shirt, exposing the clearly defined ribs beneath his skin. "Would stake my last half piece of bread just to harm you?"

Under the deathly silent moonlight.

Onyxia's dragon claw still gripped Deren's throat, but her hold had loosened slightly.

—He was gambling.

—And so was she.

Deren could sense her hesitation. The Black Dragon Princess's slit pupils trembled faintly as rage clashed with reason. He knew he had to add more fuel to the fire.

"You hesitated." Deren grinned, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "That means you know deep down—what I said might be true."

Onyxia's scales flickered beneath her skin, and her voice was low and dangerous. "You think a few mad words can shake me?"

Deren gestured for her to release him. "Put me down. I have a witness."

Onyxia hesitated for a moment before releasing her claw, waiting to see what trick he would pull.

He slowly bent down, picked up a dry branch from the ground, and then—

He drew the first mark in the dust.

[N'Zoth]

Onyxia's pupils abruptly contracted.

Deren did not stop. The branch continued carving into the dry earth, the writing crooked but clear—

[Yogg-Saron]

[C'Thun]

[Y'Shaarj]

"Stop!" Onyxia shouted, Dragon Awe erupting as the air around them seemed to freeze solid.

But Deren's hand was still moving. The tip of the branch had already touched the dirt, ready to write the final name—

—Crack!

A burst of bronze light suddenly exploded, and the branch in Deren's hand turned to powder.

"Enough! You little lunatic!"

A petite figure appeared out of thin air. Her brown twin ponytails stood up in fury as the Bronze Dragon in the form of a gnome girl—Chromie—fiercely stomped over every Old God name, smearing them into muddy messes. Her hourglass-shaped staff pointed straight at Deren's nose.

"Just writing those names can cause ripples in time! Do you think the Old Gods aren't watching you closely enough?!"

Deren laughed and coughed up a mouthful of bloody foam. "Finally willing to show yourself, Lady Chromie?"

Chromie stamped her foot in rage. "I wasn't going to get involved in this mess! But you idiot actually—"

She suddenly realized something and sharply turned to look at Onyxia.

The Black Dragon Princess's dragon eyes had fully appeared, scales covering half her cheeks. Her gaze darted back and forth between Deren and Chromie before finally settling on the trampled Old God names.

—This human really knew something.

—And the Bronze Dragon had actually tried to stop him.

Then what about all that mad talk earlier? Onyxia grabbed the gnome girl by her ponytail and demanded viciously, "Bronze Dragon whelp, you heard everything just now. Tell me, was this lowborn wretch right?"

Chromie struggled uselessly. Tears were nearly spilling from her eyes. She regretted meddling in the first place. But she could not bring herself to lie, so all she could do was shout, "Let go of me! Let go!" She simply did not dare answer Onyxia's questioning.

Seeing that the Bronze Dragon did not dare answer her, Onyxia's face darkened and the atmosphere grew oppressive. She grabbed Chromie by the collar and snarled, "So everything this lowborn wretch said was true?"

Chromie turned her head away, unable to meet her gaze. The two dragons fell into a heavy silence. After a long while, Onyxia casually cast a Healing Spell on Deren. The flesh around his wounds slowly began to heal. She narrowed her dragon eyes, her voice low.

"One last question—why me?"

Chromie also leaned in, her bronze eyes gleaming with curiosity. The hourglass atop her staff tilted slightly, as if awaiting an answer.

Deren touched his healed skin and gave a bitter smile.

"Because you're the only one!"

He spread his hands, his tone full of self-mockery.

"What other dragon would spare a glance for a mortal who was nearly starving to death? The Red Dragon Queen is far above us, and the Bronze Dragons appear and vanish without a trace—"

Chromie coughed awkwardly, pretending to study her own hourglass.

"The Blue Dragons are either mad, the Green Dragons are asleep, and the Bronze Dragons..." Deren shot Chromie a glance. "...do nothing but watch the show and speak in riddles."

"As for the Black Dragons?" He grinned. "Your father has already gone mad, your brother is obsessed with creating monsters, and the rest are either lunatics or lackeys. If I showed up at their door, I'd probably be turned into experimental material on the spot."

The corner of Onyxia's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.

"And kings? Ministers? Noble knights?" Deren shook his head. "Even if they believed me, when the world came crashing down in the future, they wouldn't even be able to save themselves."

He raised his head and looked directly into Onyxia's eyes.

"But you're different—if you can't win, you can still spread your wings and run."

"A dragon that has lived for thousands of years understands how to weigh the pros and cons better than a short-lived human."

Onyxia froze for a moment, then she actually laughed. Her smile held the sharpness unique to dragons, but there was also a hint of genuine pleasure.

"Interesting," she said softly.

Seizing the opportunity, Deren dropped to one knee. Though his posture swayed slightly from weakness, he extended a hand.

"The wager is simple—you protect me and keep me alive."

"And I'll find a way to deal with your father."

Chromie suddenly clicked her tongue and slammed her hourglass heavily against the ground.

"Hey! Are you acting like I don't exist? You, a tiny little mortal, think you can deal with Deathwing?"

Onyxia also looked at the human boy with doubt in her eyes.

Deren laughed so hard tears came to his eyes. "You both know I received Apocalypse, that I have countless pieces of knowledge in my head. How will we know it won't work unless we try? Besides, if it fails, Deathwing can just burn me to death with one breath. As for you, Princess, at worst you'll get scolded and punished. No matter how bad that gets, it can't be worse than having your head hung from the city gates in the future."

Chromie cut in. "What about the damned Timeline?"

Onyxia glared viciously at her, while Deren argued, "The Princess has only a limited effect on the future anyway. She isn't connected to any major events. Such a minor change won't have much impact on the Timeline, so just cover it up and muddle through somehow."

Chromie bit her lip and considered it for a while. "Fine. I shouldn't have come here in the first place, getting tangled up with this Black Dragon. Whatever. She's only a minor character anyway, so she won't have much impact on the future." With that, she cast a spell with her staff. The surroundings changed silently.

Onyxia nodded reluctantly. Hearing that she was merely a minor character still rankled her. But Deren frantically signaled to her with his eyes, and she barely managed to hold back her temper.

Once Chromie finished casting, she waved a hand, preparing to leave. "All right, that settles things here. I should get going early and head back to write my report."

"Wait!" Deren stopped her. "We're on the same side now. If I need you in the future, you have to come when called."

"Help you conceal spacetime singularities? And be 'at your beck and call'?" She sneered. "Who do you think you are? A guardian of time?"

Deren did not back down. Instead, he stared straight into her eyes.

"I received Apocalypse and saw the future—this itself represents the will of Azeroth."

"Otherwise, why me? Why now?"

Chromie's expression stiffened slightly. Bronze Dragons possessed an almost obsessive sensitivity toward "fate" and "inevitability." She stared at Deren for several seconds, then suddenly pinched a grain of Sand of Time from her hourglass and flicked it into the center of his forehead.

"Only once," she said coldly. "You only get one chance to summon me."

With that, her figure began to blur. Before she vanished completely, she cast one last glance at Onyxia.

"Don't die, Black Dragon Princess... your ending in the Timeline is truly boring."

As the Bronze Dragon vanished, the night remained deep, and Onyxia's eyes flickered in the firelight. She looked at Deren and asked, "What's your plan?"

Deren said gravely, "I'll wait here. Go back and pack some gold coins. There'll be plenty of places to spend money later, but don't empty the vault and make people suspicious. Get me a few sets of clothes while you're at it. Also, make a fake body for yourself and pretend to be ill to fool the nobles in the city. Don't let anything slip and alert your father. Then come back here and meet me."

The Black Dragon Princess nodded silently, then disappeared into the night. Deren picked up the half-eaten black bread and put it back over the fire to warm it, then continued eating it bit by bit. He did not find it unpleasant in the slightest. In the flickering firelight, his face shifted between brightness and shadow, as though this altered future had no known destination.

Onyxia returned to the manor's vault and lightly traced the cold metal lock with her fingertip. Her thoughts still lingered on the look in that frail boy's eyes back in King's Valley. That almost insane certainty made it impossible for her to completely cast him from her mind.

"I must be mad..." she murmured, her dragon eyes faintly glimmering in the darkness.

Ignoring the vault's mechanisms, she appeared directly inside. Piles of gold coins glinted with a cold sheen beneath the night sky. This was the wealth she had accumulated over years of lurking in Stormwind City, meant to bribe nobles, plant spies, and consolidate power. And now, she was actually going to use it for some lowborn nobody of unknown origin?

Her fingertips hovered in the air as she hesitated for a moment. But Deren's voice seemed to echo in her ears once more.

"You've long suspected that all of this is a dead end."

Onyxia's pupils abruptly contracted. She waved her hand sharply, and gold coins flowed like water into a Space Bag she had prepared beforehand. She did not stop until the vault was nearly empty. By her rough estimate, there were more than two thousand gold coins—more wealth than most nobles possessed.

"If he dares deceive me..." Her scales flickered faintly beneath her skin, and a low dragon's growl rolled in her throat.

Back in her bedroom, Onyxia stared at the illusion of "Katrana" she had made on the bed. She sighed softly as magic gathered at her fingertips. The illusion's lips were pale with sickness, her eyes unfocused, making her look every bit like someone afflicted with a grave illness. She then instructed the butler that she needed to shut herself away to recover and would refuse all visitors.

Onyxia curled her lips in satisfaction. Such a petty trick would not fool a true powerhouse, but it was more than enough to deal with those nobles consumed by pleasure. She turned and pulled several sets of fine men's clothing from the depths of her wardrobe. She had prepared them for disguises and reconnaissance, yet now they were to be worn by a beggar named Deren.

"How absurd." She snorted, but still stuffed the clothes into the Space Bag.

The night was dark and deep. When she returned to the campfire, Deren was still sitting where he had been, holding half a piece of charred black bread in his hand. Yet his eyes were frighteningly bright.

"You're back." He grinned, as if he had long expected her choice.

Onyxia waved the Space Bag in front of him, the crisp clink of colliding gold coins unusually grating.

"Two thousand three hundred gold coins." She said coldly, "If you dare waste even one..."

Deren ignored her threat and impatiently opened the bag, grabbing a handful of coins to examine carefully beneath the moonlight. His fingers trembled slightly, not from fear, but from an almost fanatical excitement.

"Enough..." he murmured. "Enough for us to get started."

Onyxia frowned. "What exactly do you need all this money for?"