"Bitch! You have to face your destiny!" Medivh, under the control of Sargeras, was in love with Garona, a female half-orc, in the most aggressive, most orcish way possible. His fists rained down like raindrops, a flurry of blows that would have flattened a lesser mortal. But this was no problem for Garona, who had been looked down upon and tortured by other orcs in the tribe since childhood as a slave. She'd probably endured worse from a particularly grumpy gronn.
"Demon! Is this all you have to offer besides your evil magic? I despise you. You hit like a murloc!" Garona taunted, her voice filled with a surprising amount of energy for someone being pummeled by a possessed archmage.
Sargeras became even angrier, his face contorting into a truly terrifying mask of rage. On the other side, whether out of chivalry or gentlemanliness (or perhaps just a desperate need to stop the awkwardness), Lothar felt that he had an obligation to stop all this. He rushed forward, yelling "Let her go! You brute!", but was directly bounced away by an unknown magic from Medivh, sent sprawling like a very large, very armored rubber ball.
And Duke... Duke was just a bystander. A very, very entertained bystander. Although he already knew that this was a repetition of "history," a pre-ordained, slightly bizarre cosmic play, Duke still felt that his eyes were opened. "However, Sarggie," he thought, addressing the demon lord in Medivh's body, "you are so awesome, do you know that? Aren't you afraid that your children will run up to you and sing 'I call you dad, you beat my mom!'? Because that's definitely going to be a hit single in the future."
"Idiot! Do you think you can really join the kingdom of tiny humans? Come on, face your destiny!" A mysterious light appeared in Medivh's hands, and countless ant-sized runes, glowing with malevolent energy, flowed across Medivh's palms, backs of his hands, and arms, like a very intricate, very evil tattoo. The next second, a mysterious force shot into Garona's brows, hitting her like a magical freight train.
It was an extremely terrifying image for Garona. She saw the future, a future so horrifying, so utterly unbelievable, that even she herself did not believe in it. She saw King Llane Wrynn, the gentle and broad-minded monarch who had accepted her, taken her in, and given her a home on behalf of the entire human kingdom... killed by her own hands. The image was so clear, so utterly vivid, and the feeling was so real that Garona was completely stunned, her mind reeling.
The facial expression of Llane who refused to believe until his death, the horrified expression of Llane's son Varian next to him, and the painful expression of the queen who cared about her the most, all appeared in front of Garona with agonizing clarity. There was also the smell and touch of blood, and the horrifying, visceral feeling of her digging Llane's heart out with her own hands. Everything was incredibly realistic, like a very disturbing, very personal horror movie. The accumulation of these little, brutal details made Garona fall into a screaming, twitching frenzy.
"This is impossible!?" Garona shrieked, her whole body trembling suddenly. She collapsed to the ground, her entire form twitching slightly, like a broken doll.
"Bastard - what did you do to her?!" Lothar roared, picking himself up and rushing forward again, looking like a very angry, very determined bull.
"I just let her face the inevitable fate—" Medivh, who had returned to normal, now showed a playful and ferocious look on his face, like a cat that had just played a particularly cruel prank.
"Die - Sargeras!" Lothar roared, his voice filled with righteous fury, and rushed forward, the Sword of the King blazing.
Duke followed quietly, summoning his signature 36 mage hands (because why have one when you can have thirty-six?) and pouring arcane missiles at Medivh. Of course, he also knew that this was utterly useless. Arcane missiles with such low concentration and low damage may be enough to inflict damage on orcs or murlocs (and probably annoy a squirrel), but for Medivh, who reigned at the pinnacle of mysterious power in this world, it was no problem at all. He was basically a magical force field.
Duke could clearly see that the massive arcane missiles were automatically disintegrated by the high concentration of magic power emanating from Medivh before they even approached within three meters of him. They just fizzled into pathetic little sparks. That's not what he wanted.
Duke played the role of Khadgar, the dutiful apprentice. According to the nature of "fate," as long as he integrated himself into the 80% compliance, he might be able to replace Khadgar and successfully kill Medivh. This was his cunning, meta-gaming plan. This is what happened to Medivh in "history." He first dealt with Garona, then teased Lothar with a long sword, like a very arrogant, very powerful fencer. When he was playing fencing with Lothar, Khadgar, who was still using magic a moment ago, suddenly ran up and stabbed him to death with a long sword, because apparently, mages could also be surprisingly good at close combat when the plot demanded it.
Duke once thought this "history" was utter nonsense. How could Medivh, who even Sargeras feared, be killed so easily? It was like the ultimate boss being defeated by a random grunt. But when I think about it carefully, it makes sense. Think about it, a mage, no matter how powerful he is, when he does not use spells but instead engages in close combat, or turns his back to potential enemies without protection, isn't this courting death? It's basically asking for a backstab. Moreover, the moment Khadgar took action, the remaining kind part of Medivh's soul jumped out to compete with Sargeras for control of the body, probably screaming "Now's your chance, kid!" It would be strange if Sargeras didn't die.
Duke was repeating that history, playing his part to perfection.
"Hahaha! Tiny human, you are so weak that I can defeat you without even using magic!" Medivh, just like 'history,' pulled out a shining silver sword from the space storage item and faced Lothar, looking utterly smug. Medivh's small body was not much better than Duke's. If it was a simple duel between swordsmen, Lothar would have taught him a lesson in no time, probably with a lot of grunting and very little magic.
Not to mention being possessed by Sargeras, even if the souls of Orgrim and Illidan, who are so powerful that they can fly into the sky and fight fiercely, came in, it would be useless. Sargeras' method was very simple – cheating. He directly used Slow to reduce Lothar's speed and strength to a level slightly lower than his own, and then they fought each other, which was very exciting for Sargeras, and very frustrating for Lothar.
"Haha! You claim to be the number one swordsman in the Stormwind? Your strength is just so-so! You're basically a glorified butter knife!" Medivh cackled, looking like the most arrogant, most powerful, most cheating mage in existence. Duke thought, "I've seen shameless people, but I've never seen such shamelessness."
Lothar wanted to say, "If you have the guts, fight me without magic, you coward!" but he didn't say a word. He knew Sargeras was playing a trick on him, and Duke, who was weak, couldn't help him remove such a high-level magic. He was basically stuck in a very slow, very frustrating sword fight.
Duke? Seeing Duke working hard to cast those low-level garbage magics, Sargeras sneered at Duke, dismissing him as a mere annoyance. Duke, the great sea king, was just ignored by Sargeras, who probably thought he was just a particularly persistent gnat.
Duke was still the best actor. He roared, his neck was so thick and red that it seemed like two sticks could be inserted into it, probably from all the screaming. At the same time, he poured out his magic power with all his strength, releasing those useless attack magics, making a lot of noise and very little impact. Frost arrows, fireballs, arcane missiles, arcane blasts – Duke used almost all conventional magical attack methods, creating a very flashy, very ineffective light show.
Everything was a cover. Looking at Medivh's back, Duke sneered in his heart: "Sargeras, you are so arrogant! So utterly, ridiculously arrogant! When I stab my sword into your back and you find that Medivh's weak mage body is your fatal weakness, I really look forward to the horrified face of the Burning Legion's number one boss. It's going to be glorious!"
Duke thought that he had done a perfect job. He was basically a master strategist. When he had done his best and pulled out the King's Guardian to teach Sargeras a lesson, ready for his glorious, history-altering moment...
The space seemed to be strangely dislocated, and a warm hot line appeared on his neck. Duke tilted his head, a moment of mild confusion, and the next moment, he saw himself...
Myself without a head on my neck.
The broken part was spurting blood heavily, like a very dramatic, very messy fountain. His vision spun, a dizzying kaleidoscope of light and shadow, and then he felt the cold ground on his face. Medivh's boots came into Duke's sight, looking remarkably clean for someone who'd just decapitated someone.
Wait! Something seems wrong! I'm dead?!
Sargeras' voice suddenly reached Duke's ears, filled with a triumphant, utterly smug glee.
"Idiot, do you think I wasn't on guard against you? If it was my good-for-nothing disciple Khadgar who can't use a sword, I might have ignored him, but you... I have always been on guard against you! Hahahaha! Ridiculous! Too ridiculous! You thought you could trick me?!"
Duke... died. And it was very, very embarrassing.