Rommath's fear

There was a one-day break after the 2v2 tournament ended. Al was sitting beside Kaynell's bed, discussing arrangements for the next day's 3v3 tournament with Rommath and Kael'thas.

"Mm..."

A weak groan sounded, and Kaynell's swollen, bloodshot eyelids stirred slightly.

"Tch."

Rommath snorted disdainfully, but his eyes remained fixed on the elf lying in bed.

The complicated look in his eyes spoke volumes. Clearly, what Rommath had yet to realize-or refused to admit-was...

This tenacious "lowborn" had already earned his recognition.

Kaynell's eyes were bloodshot as he stared blankly at the ceiling. After a long while, he seemed to come to his senses and finally noticed the people beside his bed.

"Lord... Al."

He struggled to sit up, but his broken limbs had already been put in casts.

Al gently pressed a hand against his shoulder and shook his head, his eyes filled with gratification and approval.

"Lie down for now. It's a shame that a city as large as Dalaran doesn't have a single priest. I've already sent someone to the nearest church to invite one here. Just bear with it a little longer..."

"Lord Al, I..."

Kaynell grew a little excited. The slight movement tore open the freshly stitched wound on his chest, and bright red blood spread across the white bandages.

"Ah!"

The elf who had fought fearlessly in the arena now grimaced in pain, leaving the others somewhat amused.

"I order you to lie down, Kainar Flamesun."

"Yes... yes, Lord Al."

Al paid him no further attention and beckoned the others to leave. Just as he was about to step through the doorway, he suddenly turned and smiled at the dejected elf.

"Our cause needs brave warriors like you. From the day you swore to follow me, your life stopped belonging to you alone. Do you understand?"

"Yes!"

Kaynell shouted loudly, his eyes growing moist. Lord Al's words made everything he had given worthwhile. He had finally proven his worth.

"Lucky brat."

The group strolled along Dalaran's streets like tourists taking in the sights.

Rommath followed impatiently behind Kael'thas. Unable to get much of a word into the conversation between the prince and Al, he could only mutter unhappily to himself.

"He's no lucky brat. He's ten thousand times better than that useless coward you sent out."

Hemet, who was also following Al, retorted disdainfully.

"You uncouth dwarf..."

Rommath flew into a rage. The past few days had been deeply stifling, and the old dwarf's words reminded him of Quinnthas's gruesome death and the predicament awaiting him upon his return to Silvermoon City. It left him furious, humiliated, and afraid.

A Grand Archmage second only to one, he felt as though everyone had been targeting him ever since he arrived in this unfamiliar city-Antonidas, Al... even that lowly commoner mage.

And now even this uncouth, lowborn dwarf could push him around?

"Hmm?"

Hemet rolled up his sleeve, and gray, stony skin rapidly covered his entire arm.

The already exceptionally thick arm swelled in an instant, becoming taller than Rommath himself in the blink of an eye. Such a terrifyingly large arm attached to the dwarf's short body looked rather comical.

The Grand Archmage's blazing anger wilted instantly, as though someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over him.

Can't afford to cross him. Can't afford to cross him.

The instant he saw that stone arm, Rommath seemed to remember something, and his heart began to race. With his extensive knowledge and experience, he naturally recognized what it was.

Damn it, where did that wet-behind-the-ears bookworm find so many monsters? First that unkillable cockroach, and now this runt with the Bronzebeard bloodline. More absurd still, this runt is actually a Mountain King?

"Hmph. Watch who you're dealing with from now on, long-ears. Old Hemet isn't some pushover."

The old dwarf quit while he was ahead and returned his arm to normal. He smugly rubbed his nose and made a rude gesture at Rommath.

Rommath hurried to catch up with Al and Kael'thas, who had noticed nothing. The instant his back was turned to Hemet, he discreetly wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

When Rommath was five hundred years old, he had still been a young elf. Fearing nothing, he had set off on an adventure through the Eastern Kingdoms.

A thousand years ago, the dwarves had yet to experience the War of the Three Hammers, and the Bronzebeard, Dark Iron, and Wildhammer clans had not yet split apart. It had been the dwarves' most prosperous age.

His curiosity piqued, he had wanted to learn about dwarven culture, so he traveled alone to snowy Dun Morogh, hoping to behold the splendor of Ironforge, the city of wonders.

Rommath would never forget that day. A shadow that blotted out the sky swept overhead, and searing black breath poured unrestrained onto Ironforge's gates.

It was a rampaging black dragon.

Rommath's legs went weak, and he stood incongruously rooted to the spot.

The adult black dragon soon set its sights on him, abandoning the already melted stone gates and the dwarven guards fleeing in every direction.

Rommath desperately slapped his unresponsive legs, but it did no good. The enormous creature had frightened him so badly that he had completely forgotten he was an intermediate mage.

The elf trembled like a leaf and soon fell into despair. He could make out every detail of those enormous red eyes and shield-sized black scales. The adult dragon was already very close.

"Hah!"

Just as Rommath closed his eyes and waited to die where he stood, a deafening roar made him shudder.

A gray figure even larger than the dragon appeared before Rommath's eyes. The ground shook with a rumble-the sound of the giant charging.

The dwarf seized the dragon by the neck and began tearing at the enormous creature's wings.

The dragon struggled frantically, spewing torrents of dragon breath from its mouth, but the giant continued exerting his strength as though he felt nothing.

M-magic immunity.

Rommath sat collapsed on the ground, dumbstruck. In reality, Avatar merely granted greater magic resistance, but the elf, who had long since lost the ability to think, mistakenly believed the giant possessed magic immunity.

The battle soon ended. The giant snapped the dragon's neck, then returned to normal amid the cheers of the guards and civilians who had rushed over upon hearing the news. He was actually a dwarf drenched in blood!

Rommath stared blankly at the dwarf being tossed into the air, caught, and tossed up again by the other dwarves, listening as the crowd shouted the name "Bronzebeard."

He would never forget that day, never forget the dwarf named Bronzebeard, never forget the adult dragon's dying wail, never forget the enormous dragon head mounted on a wooden stake at Ironforge's gates, never forget...

Kael'thas looked back with some distaste. Rommath was standing far too close to him, but he soon noticed something wrong. The Grand Archmage's forehead was covered in sweat, and his lips were trembling slightly.

"Rommath? Rommath?"

"Ah? Your Highness?"

Rommath jumped and reflexively raised the wand at his waist. Only when he saw that it was Kael'thas calling him did he belatedly hide it behind his back.

"You..."

The prince studied him suspiciously. The Grand Archmage's panicked appearance was rather questionable.

"I'm just a little worried. Yes, I'm just a little worried about tomorrow's 3v3 tournament."

Rommath gave an awkward laugh and offered the strained explanation.

"This brat was scared out of his wits by Old Hemet's strength. Speak to me with more respect from now on, understand, you little brat?"

Hemet struck a pose with his hands on his hips and spoke loudly to the prince. His smug expression made Kael'thas's blood pressure steadily rise.

"Hahaha! That's the funniest joke I've ever heard. What makes you so unambitious even in your dreams, hmm, Old Hemet?"

"Bullshit! I'm a Mountain King! Ever heard of Avatar? That's an ultimate move only a real man can possess. A delicate little girl like you should go home and play with your dolls."

The two figures, one tall and one short, traded trash talk without the slightest regard for appearances.

Al helplessly covered his forehead. Kael'thas, who had been discussing tactics just a moment ago, had been led completely astray.

Even Al thought Hemet, that inveterate braggart, was talking big. How could an Earthen who had only just undergone an ancestral bloodline awakening possibly frighten a newly promoted Grand Archmage like Rommath?

Honestly, even bragging should follow some basic rules.

As Al thought this, he failed to notice that the panic in the Grand Archmage's eyes was only growing.

Perhaps that undefeated giant from a thousand years ago had left an indelible psychological scar on Rommath, who had still been weak back then.