Scapegoat

The swift-flowing Erendal River carved a massive U through the heart of Quel'Thalas. Though its source lay in the Great Sea, the High Elves' magic had transformed it into a completely freshwater river—the mother river of Quel'Thalas.

The Eastern Temple stood where the river began to curve south.

At that moment, two elves riding Striders along the riverbank were making their way there.

Striders weren't as wild as horses, but they still jolted their riders terribly as they ran. Lanlos could even feel his wounds aching faintly. Under these conditions, fine work like studying the Arcane was out of the question. Still, he wasn't wasting his time admiring the scenery.

True power only favored those who worked for it.

With the help of Sargerite's analytical abilities, he repeatedly reinforced and refined the knowledge he'd learned in his mind. At the same time, he reviewed the second-circle spells he'd recorded long ago, and even occasionally consulted his stored memories of third-circle spells.

"Lanlos, we're here." The mage had remained silent throughout the journey, and Vereesa was beginning to find it strange. At her age, the height of her youth, there was nothing she hated more than dull monotony.

Hearing the impatience in her voice, Lanlos couldn't understand why she was so unhappy, but he didn't dwell on it. There were more important things to do.

Compared to the desolate Western Temple, the Eastern Temple was far livelier, as it stood across the river from the Farstrider Enclave.

"Stop! Who are you?" Several fully armed guards blocked Lanlos and his companion, ready to draw their weapons at a moment's notice.

"I'm Lanlos, a teaching assistant at Fastherin Academy. I've come from the Western Temple with an important message for Landra Sunstrider." Glancing at the towering, ornate spire behind them, Lanlos reflected on Velania's modest work and living conditions before briefly explaining who he was.

The lead guard signaled to his companions, then bowed apologetically to Lanlos, but didn't let them through. "Please wait patiently. We'll inform her at once."

"If you don't mind..." The captain's gaze lingered for quite some time on the bored girl behind Lanlos. He came to his senses when one of his companions nudged him, then cleared his throat. His voice softened considerably. "There's plenty of room to rest and supplies in the guardhouse..."

That was the difference a high Charm score made.

Lanlos's face darkened like charcoal. He glared at the elven guard, who had suddenly turned solicitous, and barely managed to suppress the inexplicable anger rising within him.

After a brief wait, they were granted permission to enter and escorted into the tower of the Eastern Temple.

"Well, this is a rare sight. That girl Velania needs someone else to deliver a message for her?" In the central hall, a tall elven Magister turned around. Her powerful presence lent her a striking authority, at odds with her fiery red hair. Her cold arrogance made it hard to meet her gaze.

Unlike Velania's simple surroundings, Landra was surrounded by a well-equipped elven guard. The spellcasters serving there gathered around her, and her ornate robes, covered in profound runes, further emphasized her noble status.

As a Ley Line Warden, her power, wealth, and status far surpassed Velania's.

After a moment's hesitation, Lanlos opened his pack.

"Is this a Conduit Crystal? Why did you bring it here?!" Landra's brow furrowed, and she regarded him warily. The atmosphere around them suddenly grew heavy. It seemed that if Lanlos made so much as a wrong move, the guards and mages would seize him at once.

"Velania asked me to bring it. There's a problem with the Conduit Crystal, and she needs your help..." The Conduit Array was one of the most important devices in any temple, so Lanlos understood the caution. Well, it definitely had nothing to do with Charm!

"A problem? Velania is a Warden, after all. Even if she can't fix it, couldn't she just use Message to ask me? Why send two errand runners..." Realizing she wasn't being very polite, Landra stopped herself. With Mage Hand, she drew the crystal toward her and examined it closely.

But Lanlos didn't notice her casual insult. The instant he heard her mention Message, his brows knitted together and his expression darkened.

He hadn't thought of using Message because his past life had shaped his thinking, and he hadn't yet adjusted to this world. But Velania was a Ley Line Warden. Even from dozens of miles away, she should have had more than enough magic to reach them. So why...

"Damn it!"

The unease in Lanlos's heart proved justified. Landra cried out as countless fine green lines appeared across the crystal floating before her. The next instant, a low boom filled the air, and green flames burst from it!

BOOM!

Like a land mine going off, the vast amount of magic was instantly ignited by the chaotic energy. The savage Fel Flame surged out like a tiger descending a mountain, roaring as it crashed into everything around it!

Almost at the same time, a faint hum rang through the air. A huge spherical shield instantly enclosed the erupting flames. Its deep, thunderous impact struck Lanlos in the chest like a heavy hammer. He was so shaken that he nearly spat up blood.

"Seize them!" Landra shouted viciously, using her magic to maintain the shield and hold back the Fel's eruption.

The next moment, more than a dozen blades were pressed against Lanlos and Vereesa's necks.

"Why are you arresting me?"

"Let me go!"

Unlike Vereesa, who struggled with all her might, Lanlos let the guards take him away. His distant expression suggested he was lost in thought.

Fel? How could this happen? This was impossible...

Clang!

The clang of the iron door finally brought Lanlos back to his senses. Seeing the guards outside the iron cage glaring at him, he gradually began to piece things together. Fel, demons, Conduit Crystal, Velania...

Compared to the Eastern Temple's bustle, the Western Temple was frighteningly quiet today.

Velania walked up to a plain, unremarkable wall and tapped it lightly. As a trace of green energy flowed into the surface, a faint magic circle appeared.

A series of low rumbles sounded through the hall. The floor in the center sank piece by piece, revealing a pitch-black spiral staircase. Velania descended. When the darkness became so complete she couldn't see her hand before her face, she clapped softly.

Fwoosh!

Blue magical flames suddenly flared from the torches along the walls. Their unexpected light brought a rare brightness to the space. But when people's eyes fell on the center of the room, most would have wished the torches had never been lit.

Corpses. Desiccated bodies lay piled all around, as though they'd been dead for countless ages. Yet the reddish-brown blood beneath them proved that none had been dead for more than a week.

In the middle of the blood-soaked floor stood a black, square platform. An elf who was still breathing had been thrown onto it, bound hand and foot. His withered hair, vacant eyes, and ashen cheeks were unbearable to look at. Clearly, endless torment had shattered his mind. Even when Velania approached, he didn't react at all.

"My poor apprentice." Wearing her familiar smile, Velania gently traced his cheek with a fingertip. As her magic flowed into him, his unfocused eyes finally fixed on her.

"Bastard, bitch, Quel'dorei... You won't... won't get away with this, you whore..." Rage and hatred filled his eyes, bloodshot veins spreading across them. His deeply sunken eyes made him look like a demon, and his hoarse, tearing growl sent shivers down the spine.

"I hate it when people call me a whore." Velania's smile never changed, though an almost imperceptible glint of malice flickered in her eyes. "Even my dearest apprentice isn't allowed to."

With a turn of her wrist, a crimson dagger engraved with elaborate patterns appeared in Velania's hand. No, it hadn't always been that color. It was congealed blood—the souls of elves who had died screaming.

"I'll be waiting for you in hell, you whore!" He glared at the woman, eyes wide. How he wished his gaze could kill. If it could, that witch would be torn to pieces!

"No." Velania murmured, drawing the dagger across the elf's jaw. With a careless slip, its tip pierced his skin. It slowly tore through flesh, then sank into his throat as the elf convulsed violently.

Blood poured out in a stream, gradually filling the complex, twisted grooves carved beneath the elf.

"Your soul belongs to my master. You won't be going to hell." Reflected in the blood, Velania's smile looked vicious and vile.

The pain of the dagger cutting into his throat was far worse than the elf had imagined. As his blood soaked into the magic circle beneath him, it felt as if countless ants were biting into his entire body. More terrifying still, as the circle filled, the skin and flesh on his body withered and shrank at an alarming speed, as though he had suddenly become an old man nearing the end of his life. He could only watch as his life flowed through his blood and slowly drained into the altar.

Fear. Agony beyond endurance!

He wanted to scream, but the air in his lungs only forced more blood from his throat. And the more he struggled, the sharper and deeper the pain that came from his very soul became.

The more he struggled, the more he suffered. And the more he suffered, the happier Velania became.

Watching the elf's face twist with fear and pain as he endured endless torment, Velania relished every moment. His expression had shifted from hatred to a plea for release, and each change filled her with delight.

This was what awaited you—all those who defied me would meet the same fate!

"An impressive performance, but it's still not enough." A deep, raspy voice rang out abruptly from every direction in the chamber, and the woman immediately stopped her frenzied laughter.

"Master!" The Ley Line Warden dropped to one knee facing the altar, bowing her proud head to her chest in utter terror.

At almost the same moment, the blood-soaked circle beneath the dying elf blazed with dazzling green light. As the chaotic energy gradually rose and gathered, a hazy, semi-transparent figure appeared on the other side of the altar.

A crimson scythe seemed to extend like a tongue from the horned skull. With a sweep of Sathael's arm, the elf offered as a sacrifice fell completely still.

But he wasn't granted release. Pale streams of light rose from his body and gathered in the air into the rough shape of an elf. Amid endless terror and screams, Ulthalesh devoured him completely.

"Only endless torment and suffering should be their fate!"