Saving Azeroth (By Stealing the Black Dragon Princess) - 26

Chapter 26: Cover-Up

Dawn's light pierced the smoke lingering above Dustwallow Marsh, gilding the charred crater with a bloody crimson hue that painted destruction in false beauty.

Deren stood at the crater's edge, boot sole crushing mud that had been melted into glass-like form by extreme heat. His ears still rang with explosion echoes that wouldn't fade, and his nostrils were filled with the acrid smell of burned ammonium nitrate mixed with scorched earth.

They had succeeded.

They had also failed.

Success—Deathwing was indeed blown to pieces, dragging his broken body into the Void like a wounded beast fleeing to die. Failure—

"All gone."

Onyxia's voice came from behind, flat and emotionless. Deren turned to see her in human form standing on scorched earth, her black dress hem covered in ash and soot. Her fingertips lightly touched her waist—where a Black Dragonflight runic sword should hang; now only half a charred scabbard remained.

Deren followed her gaze with growing dread.

The dragon lair once carefully built along the swamp was now just a crater nearly a hundred meters in diameter. The meticulously designed fertilizer workshop, stockpiled material warehouses, even the forcibly loyal dragonspawn guards—all vaporized in the explosion like they had never existed. Scattered at the crater bottom were elementium armor fragments, gleaming like charred dragon scales in morning light.

Chromie crouched at the crater edge, happily collecting elementium armor pieces with the enthusiasm of a treasure hunter. Deren had told her to gather them—they could be exchanged for gold coins and rewards later. "Wow, another piece! Excellent, can trade these for gold coins." She whistled cheerfully. "This stuff should sell to goblins for good money; otherwise, the losses are too catastrophic."

Deren's stomach sank with cold realization.

Too conspicuous.

This explosion was equivalent to announcing their exact position to all of Azeroth. Alliance, Horde, Dalaran, even Old God cultists lurking in shadows—everyone's attention would focus on this scorched earth like moths to a flame.

Onyxia suddenly sneered coldly.

Deren turned to see her using her boot tip to toy with something at the crater edge—half a charred dragon horn, the break still oozing viscous lava blood that hissed where it touched ground.

"He escaped." She said softly, golden vertical pupils contracting dangerously in morning light. "But left a souvenir."

Chromie bounced over with morbid curiosity, poking the horn. "Whoa! Deathwing limited edition merchandise! Could sell for quite a bit—"

"Chromie." Deren interrupted, voice hoarse from smoke and exhaustion. "Can you forge the scene?"

The bronze dragon girl's cheerful smile vanished instantly. She stood up, golden eyes unusually serious. "What kind of forgery? 'Accidentally ignited swamp gas' level, or 'Titan experiment catastrophically out of control' level?"

"Black dragon infighting." Onyxia suddenly interjected. She kicked the dragon horn with contempt. "Evidence is ready-made."

The three silently exchanged meaningful glances.

Distant swamp bird cries came—the first wave of creatures sensing abnormality was stirring. Farther away, Theramore's mage tower observation crystals had probably already turned toward this scorched earth like accusing eyes.

Deren removed his cracked goggles, wiping them futilely with his filthy clothes. "Need to be fast."

Chromie took a deep breath, pulling from her breast a pocket watch embedded with bronze dragon scales that gleamed with temporal power.

"Temporal Mirage: Forgery Mode Activate!"

The instant the watch sprang open, countless golden sand grains erupted like a swarm, wrapping around every explosion trace like living things. Ammonium nitrate residue was rewritten as black dragon breath scorch marks, and armor-piercing rounds' metal jets were disguised as claw gouges. Even trees sheared flat by shockwaves now bore dragon language rune marks carved into their rings.

Onyxia was not idle either. She cut her palm with a claw, dripping black dragon blood at strategic locations. Each drop transformed into convincing traces of fierce combat.

Chromie's time magic immediately "spliced" them into the appearance of complete draconic battle.

When the last grain of sand returned to the watch, the entire explosion scene had been completely transformed:

Anyone investigating would conclude this was a brutal, desperate fight between black dragons.

"Perfect!" Chromie snapped the watch shut with satisfaction. "Deathwing battling... uh, his rebellious daughter? Infighting over her stolen gold coins?"

Onyxia gazed at the forged battlefield, suddenly chuckling darkly. "I also need to pretend to be seriously injured. Act like a pitiful daughter harshly disciplined by her tyrannical father. Oh, and he destroyed my entire fertilizer business out of spite."

Deren was about to nod agreement when suddenly distant space-tearing hums came—

An azure teleportation portal was forming with crackling energy.

Jaina Proudmoore's staff tip had already emerged from the gateway.

"Audience arrives." Chromie whooshed behind Deren. "Acting skills ready!"

Before the portal's blue light fully dissipated, Jaina Proudmoore had already stepped through with purpose.

Theramore's ruler was not wearing her signature mage robes today, instead hastily donning a practical leather travel coat, golden hair casually tied back—clearly arriving extremely hurriedly. Her staff tip still danced with undispersed arcane energy, casting flickering cold light on scorched earth.

"By the Arcane..."

Jaina's voice caught in her throat.

Viewing from Theramore's mage tower was one thing; standing at the edge of this hundred-meter-diameter crater was entirely another. Her boots sank into loose scorched earth, each step raising fine ash that swirled around her ankles. Morning light filtered through the still-lingering smoke, illuminating crisscrossing cracks at the bottom of the crater like the earth's own scars.

Deren instinctively shrank behind Chromie—then realized the bronze dragon was even shorter—and had to bite the bullet and step forward.

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

Jaina's piercing gaze swept across the three.

Her staff suddenly lit up with a warning blue light.

"What exactly happened here?"

Onyxia suddenly stepped forward, fresh wounds seeping blood and leaving smoking footprints on scorched earth. "As you see, a... family dispute between black dragons."

"Dispute?" Jaina's fingertips brushed residual energy turbulence lingering in the air. "A 'dispute' that blew a new lake into Dustwallow Marsh?"

Chromie suddenly jumped up enthusiastically. "Deathwing came! He found fault with his daughter. Onyxia doing agriculture, making fertilizer—he considered it degrading to dragonkind, losing draconic face. Incidentally also stole her hard-earned gold coins."

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

"Exactly!" Chromie gestured wildly with exaggerated movements. "Father-daughter battle! Super intense! Look at this—" She trotted over, dragging the charred dragon horn. "Trophy!"

When Jaina received the dragon horn, Deren's cold sweat had already soaked through his back.

The mage's slender fingers traced the break with surgical precision, arcane shimmer flowing at fingertips. This break was too clean, like being penetrated by some... conical energy and then forcibly torn.

Her calculating gaze slowly moved to Deren. "You were present during this?"

"Passing by! Purely passing by!" Deren's pitch rose an octave defensively. "Our fertilizer factory happened to be built nearby, suddenly saw two black dragons—"

"Descending from the sky," Onyxia smoothly continued, "my father and I fighting, crashing into the swamp."

"Then BOOM!!!" Chromie spread her arms, making an explosive blooming gesture.

Jaina's gaze swept back and forth across three guilty faces. Suddenly, she tapped her staff—a deliberately buried metal fragment flew from scorched earth. Half a rocket tube casing.

Air froze.

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

"So." Jaina suddenly turned, back to them, facing the crater. "How do you suggest Theramore should respond to this 'black dragon infighting'?"

Deren blinked in confusion. "Issue an announcement?"

"Express deep concern for regional stability." Onyxia supplemented.

"Send some observers!" Chromie raised her hand. "Preferably human mages. Black dragons are more sensitive to arcane energy—"

Jaina suddenly raised her hand. Everyone instantly fell silent.

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

She was laughing.

"What will you do next?" When Jaina turned, her face showed calm composure once more. "This explosion destroyed everything except those large reactors."

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

"Of course." Jaina elegantly dusted ash from her staff. "I find this quite reasonable. It also avoids further Deathwing fury. But how should we divide profits?"

Her fingertips lightly flicked—the rocket remnant turned to blue light dissipating in the wind.

Deren said gravely. "Given these sudden circumstances, I think it's necessary to convene stakeholder meetings. To properly discuss the fertilizer industry's future. I can guarantee Theramore receives at least thirty percent of the shares."

Jaina nodded in agreement. "For possible investigation teams from various parties, I will handle it. For rebuilding fertilizer production, I will also convene meetings. Oh, you have no lodging now. Any thoughts?"

The three exchanged glances. Deren spoke. "Then we can only impose on Theramore for a while. Provide us lodging until the fertilizer production meetings conclude."

Chromie said wearily. "I will return to the Caverns of Time. This matter gave me such a headache. I need a good rest now."

Deren patted her shoulder. "Return to face the Dragon King's questioning? Better come with us—expense account."

"Well... that isn't impossible." Chromie swallowed, immediately changing her mind.

Theramore's night sky lit by fires, laughter spilling from the Mage Quarter's blue-roofed tavern into the streets.

Deren collapsed on the cushioned bench, empty cups and clean-gnawed lamb bones piled before him. After striving to survive half a year in constant tension, never daring to relax. Now with great matters accomplished, unspeakable exhaustion filled his entire body.

"Burp... another cup!" He raised his wooden mug, amber liquid sloshing and spilling half onto the table.

"Human bodies are truly fragile." Onyxia elegantly carved the roasted whole lamb on her plate, knife tip precisely extracting every strand of meat. She had changed into a Theramore-style deep blue gown—elegant and alluring.

Chromie sprawled entirely on the wine barrel, short legs dangling in air. "Another barrel! Time dragons do not fear alcohol!" Her pigtails had come completely undone, golden strands threaded with wildflowers from who knows whom.

Jaina leaned against the bar, fingertips lightly tapping the oak barrel. Magical frost instantly cooled newly opened wine to optimal temperature. She watched these three who had escaped death, lips unconsciously curving upward.

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

Crystal glasses clinking startled nightingales from the window ledge.

At midnight, Deren staggered back to his guest room. Theramore's host had prepared a luxury suite—saying luxury, really just more spacious than ordinary inns with a balcony overlooking the sea.

He collapsed on the down bed without even removing his boots. Moonlight filtered through floor-to-ceiling windows, laying a silver path across the floor. Ale, roasted meat, and lingering gunpowder scents still clung to his nostrils. Chromie's off-key dragon war songs seemed to echo in his ears.

They won.

Deathwing fled severely wounded. Old God forces temporarily retreated. The world-ending shadow weighing on his shoulders for months... finally dissipated.

Deren's vision gradually blurred with exhaustion.

"Hey, Deren! Do you know who I am?" An ethereal voice came from inside his head, clear and insistent.

"Go away, I need to sleep. Talk tomorrow about whatever it is." Deren impatiently waved his hand at empty air.

"Alright, I will find you later." The mysterious voice in his head disappeared like smoke.