Cover-up

Morning light pierced the smoke hanging over the Swamp of Sorrows, coating the blackened crater in a layer of blood-red.

Deren stood at the crater's edge, his boot crushing a piece of mud melted into glass by the intense heat. The boom of the explosion still rang in his ears, while the pungent stench of burned ammonium nitrate filled his nostrils.

They had succeeded.

And failed.

They had succeeded in that Deathwing had indeed been blasted to pieces, fleeing into the Void with only half his body left. They had failed because—

"It's all gone."

Onyxia's voice came from behind him. Deren turned and saw her standing on the scorched earth in human form, the hem of her black dress covered in mud and ash. Her fingertips lightly brushed her waist—where the Black Dragon Legion's runic sword should have hung. Now, only half a charred scabbard remained.

Deren followed her gaze.

The dragon nest that had once been built beside the swamp was now nothing but a massive crater nearly a hundred meters across. The carefully designed fertilizer workshop, the stockpiled raw-material warehouses, even the Dragonborn guards forced into loyalty—all had been reduced to ash in the blast. Fragments of Source Armor lay scattered at the bottom of the crater like charred dragon scales.

Chromie crouched by the crater, happily collecting fragments of Source Armor. Deren told her to put them away; they could be exchanged for money or rewards later. "Wow, another one! Great, it can be traded for gold!" She whistled. "This stuff should fetch some money from the Goblins. Otherwise, our losses are way too huge."

Deren's stomach sank.

It was too conspicuous.

This explosion was the equivalent of announcing their location to all of Azeroth. The Alliance, the Horde, Dalaran, even the servants of the Old Gods lurking in the shadows—all eyes would be drawn to this scorched land.

Onyxia suddenly let out a cold laugh.

Deren turned and saw her nudging something at the crater's edge with the toe of her boot—a half-charred dragon horn, thick molten blood still flowing from its broken end.

"He escaped," she said softly, her Golden Vertical Pupils narrowing in the morning light. "But he left behind a souvenir."

Chromie hopped over and curiously poked the horn. "Whoa! Limited-edition Deathwing merchandise! This could sell for a lot—"

"Chromie." Deren cut her off, his voice hoarse. "Can you forge the scene?"

The young Bronze Dragon's smile vanished. She rose to her feet, her golden eyes becoming uncharacteristically serious. "What level of forgery are you talking about? 'Accidentally ignited swamp gas,' or 'Titan experiment gone out of control'?"

"Infighting among the black dragons," Onyxia suddenly interjected. She kicked the dragon horn. "The evidence is already here."

The three of them exchanged silent looks.

Startled cries from swamp birds came from the distance—the first creatures to notice something was wrong had begun to stir. Farther away, the observation crystals of Theramore Mage Tower had likely already turned toward this scorched ground.

Deren removed his cracked goggles and wiped them with the corner of his clothes. "We need to be quick."

Chromie took a deep breath and pulled out a pocket watch inlaid with bronze scales from her robes.

"Time Reflection: Forgery Mode activated!"

The instant the pocket watch sprang open, countless grains of golden sand burst forth, winding around every trace of the explosion like living things. The ammonium nitrate residue was rewritten into black dragon breath, the metal jets from armor-piercing rounds were disguised as claw marks, and even the trees shaved flat by the shockwave now bore draconic rune brands within their growth rings.

Onyxia did not remain idle, either. She cut open her palm and dripped black dragon blood onto key locations. Every drop that fell transformed into evidence of a violent battle.

Chromie's Time Magic immediately "stitched" it all together into the appearance of a complete dragon battle.

When the final grain of time sand returned to the pocket watch, the entire blast site had been completely transformed:

Anyone who saw it would believe that this had been a brutal, desperate fight between black dragons.

"Perfect!" Chromie snapped the pocket watch shut. "Deathwing fought... uh, his daughter? An internal conflict over him stealing her gold?"

Onyxia stared at the forged battlefield and suddenly chuckled. "I should look seriously wounded too. Like a pitiful daughter who was thoroughly taught a lesson by her father. Oh, and he also destroyed my fertilizer business."

Deren was just about to nod when a hum of tearing space suddenly came from afar—

An azure Portal was taking shape.

The tip of Jaina Proudmoore's staff had already emerged through the gateway.

"The audience is here." Chromie darted behind Deren. "Get your acting ready!"

Before the Portal's blue radiance had fully faded, Jaina Proudmoore stepped through.

Theramore's ruler was not wearing her signature mage robes today. Instead, she had thrown on a leather traveling coat in haste, her blonde hair casually tied behind her head—she had clearly arrived in a tremendous rush. Lingering Arcane Energy still flickered at the tip of her staff, casting wavering cold light across the scorched earth.

"By the Arcane."

Jaina's voice caught in her throat.

Viewing the scene from Theramore Mage Tower was one thing; standing at the edge of this crater over a hundred meters wide was another. Her boots sank into the soft, burnt soil, kicking up fine ash with every step. Morning light filtered through the lingering smoke, illuminating the crisscrossing cracks at the bottom of the crater like scars upon the earth.

Deren instinctively shrank back behind Chromie—then realized that the Bronze Dragon had become even shorter than him—so he could only force himself to step forward.

"My lady! You... uh... arrived so quickly."

Jaina's gaze swept over the three of them.

Her staff suddenly flared with warning blue light.

"What exactly happened here?"

Onyxia suddenly took a step forward, blood seeping from her wounds and branding several smoking footprints into the scorched earth. "As you can see, a... dispute between black dragons."

"A dispute?" Jaina's fingertips brushed through the turbulent energy currents lingering in the air. "A 'dispute' that can blast a new lake into the Swamp of Sorrows?"

Chromie suddenly jumped up. "Deathwing came by! He came to cause trouble for his daughter. Onyxia went into agriculture and made fertilizer, and he thought she'd fallen from grace and disgraced the Dragon Race. And while he was at it, he took all the gold she earned."

"Deathwing?" Jaina's eyebrows nearly flew into her hairline. "The mad Black Dragon King?"

"That's right!" Chromie gestured wildly. "A father-daughter showdown! It was especially intense! Look at this—" She trotted over with the charred dragon horn. "—the trophy!"

By the time Jaina took the horn, Deren's back was already soaked in cold sweat.

The mage's slender fingers brushed over the fractured surface, Arcane Energy glimmering around her fingertips. The break was too clean, as though it had been pierced by some kind of conical energy before being forcibly torn apart.

Her gaze slowly shifted to Deren. "You were there?"

"We were just passing by! Just passing by!" Deren's voice jumped an octave. "Our fertilizer plant happened to be built nearby, and then we suddenly saw two Black Dragons—"

"—fall from the sky," Onyxia smoothly picked up. "My father and I were fighting as we crashed into the swamp."

"And then, boom!!!" Chromie spread her arms wide in an exploding gesture.

Jaina's gaze swept back and forth across their three faces. Suddenly, she struck her staff against the ground, and a deliberately buried metal fragment flew out of the scorched earth—it was half the casing of a Rocket.

The air froze.

Deren's Adam's apple bobbed. Onyxia's fingertips twitched slightly. Chromie began secretly reaching for her pocket watch—

"So." Jaina suddenly turned around, facing the enormous crater with her back to them. "How would you suggest Theramore respond to this 'Black Dragon infighting'?"

Deren blinked. "...Issue an announcement?"

"Express our deepest concern," Onyxia added.

"And send a few observers!" Chromie raised her hand. "Preferably human mages. Black Dragons are rather sensitive to Arcane Energy—"

Jaina suddenly raised a hand, and everyone fell silent at once.

In the morning light, Theramore's ruler's shoulders trembled slightly.

She was laughing.

"What will you do after this?" By the time Jaina turned around, her expression had returned to calm. "The explosion destroyed everything. Only those few big metal lumps are still there."

Deren said calmly, "...You mean the fertilizer business? Deathwing's interference this time has caused irreparable losses to Her Highness the Princess's enterprise. We can cooperate: we'll provide the technology, while Theramore provides the manpower and raw materials to produce fertilizer again."

"Of course." Jaina elegantly flicked the ashes from her staff. "I think that's perfectly reasonable. It would also avoid Deathwing's wrath. But how will the profits be divided?"

With a light flick of her fingers, the Rocket wreckage dissolved into blue motes of light and scattered into the wind.

Deren said gravely, "Given these unforeseen circumstances, I think it's necessary to convene a meeting of the interested parties. We should properly discuss the future of the fertilizer business. I can guarantee that Theramore will receive at least a thirty-percent share."

Jaina nodded in agreement. "I'll handle any investigation teams that might come from various parties. I'll also gather people for a meeting on rebuilding fertilizer production. Oh, you have nowhere to stay now. What are you thinking?"

The three dragons looked at one another. In the end, Deren spoke. "Then we'll have to trouble Theramore for a while. Cover our food and lodging until the fertilizer production meeting is over. Then we'll talk."

Chromie said wearily, "I'll go back to the Caverns of Time. This whole matter has been giving me a headache for ages. Now I can finally get some proper rest."

Deren patted her. "Go back and face the Dragon King's questions? Why not come with us? Put it on the company account."

"Well... that's not impossible." Chromie choked for a moment, then immediately changed her mind.

Theramore's night sky was lit by lanterns, while boisterous laughter spilled from the Blue-roof Tavern in the mage district.

Deren sprawled across a cushioned bench, with empty cups and gnawed-clean mutton bones piled before him. He had struggled to survive for over half a year, never daring to relax for even a moment. Now that the great undertaking had succeeded, an indescribable exhaustion seeped through his entire body.

"Burp... Another, another cup!" He raised his wooden mug, spilling half of the amber liquid as it sloshed about.

"Human bodies truly are fragile." Onyxia elegantly carved the whole roasted lamb on her plate, her knife tip precisely stripping away every shred of meat. She had changed into a dark-blue Theramore-style gown, alluring and captivating!

Chromie lay sprawled over a beer barrel, her little legs swinging in the air. "Another barrel! Time dragons aren't afraid of alcohol!" Her twin ponytails had come loose, and some unknown person had tucked wildflowers into her golden hair.

Jaina leaned against the bar, lightly tapping an oak barrel with her fingertip. A magical frosty mist instantly chilled the freshly opened ale to its ideal temperature. Watching these three people who had escaped death, the corners of her lips unconsciously curved upward.

"To our new partner!" Deren suddenly raised his cup high. "To Theramore! To... uh..." His gaze met Onyxia's vertical pupils. "To the joy of being alive!"

The clink of crystal glasses startled the nightingales outside the window into flight.

At midnight, Deren staggered back to his guest room. Theramore's mistress had prepared a luxurious suite for him—though "luxurious" only meant it had a balcony overlooking the sea, unlike an ordinary inn.

He collapsed onto the feather bed without even taking off his boots. Moonlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, laying a silver path across the floor. The scents of ale, roasted meat, and gunpowder still lingered beneath his nose, while Chromie's off-key Dragon Race war song seemed to echo in his ears.

They had won.

Deathwing had fled with grievous injuries, and the Old God's forces had temporarily retreated. The shadow of world-ending destruction pressing upon his shoulders... had dispersed.

Deren's vision gradually blurred.

"Hey, Deren! Do you know who I am?" A distant voice drifted from inside his mind.

"Go away, I'm going to sleep. Whatever it is, talk to me tomorrow." Deren waved a hand impatiently.

"...All right. I'll come find you again later." The voice in his head vanished.

Fourth update. Please continue to vote and bookmark.