The mages of Dalaran disliked Singed the moment they laid eyes on him. Although they had been told before his arrival that a not-so-benevolent alchemist would be joining the laboratory, and they were even mentally prepared for an alchemist who studied dark magic, what appeared before them was simply a madman ravaged by chemical concoctions.
And a madman who spouted nonsense the moment he opened his mouth.
One mage thought Singed was bluffing, so he deliberately pointed to a test tube: "Look, that's the deliciousness you want."
Then Singed walked over, removed the stopper, and sniffed it.
The mage sneered: "Why don't you drink it?"
Then, to the surprise and attention of the mages, Singed poured the plague prototype into his mouth and swallowed it, smacking his lips as if it were truly a delicious drink.
Faranell said in horror: "By the Holy Light, what have you done! That's real plague prototype!"
Singed revealed his signature sinister smile, staring at Faranell: "Did you really think I would consider it a harmless drink?"
"You'll turn into a zombie! Madman!" The mage who had mocked him earlier was both scared and regretful. He never imagined that he had provoked a lunatic. How could Lord Aiden have such an irrational person under his command?
Seeing that what was done could not be undone, Faranell stepped forward and said in a deep voice: "Listen to me, Mr. Singed. Do you know what your actions represent? In a few hours, at most twenty-four hours, you will become like that—" He pointed to a ghoul in the distance, firmly locked in chains, their experimental subject. "For safety's sake, we will use coercive measures to control you to prevent you from posing a threat to those around you."
"Should I be terrified?" Singed retorted sharply. He threw his shield aside, laughing loudly as he reached out to pat Faranell's shoulder, but the mage warily took two steps back. "Don't worry, contact won't be contagious, and I haven't mutated yet. I think I'll have at least three hours before I mutate. You need to hurry and let me help you decipher the formula for the plague virus."
Faranell was stunned, unsure of what to do. Was this how the "helper" sent by Lord Aiden, who could stand shoulder to shoulder with Archmage Antonidas, was supposed to provide assistance?
He couldn't understand the person in front of him. At this moment, someone called for Archmage Drenden. Faranell secretly breathed a sigh of relief; he really couldn't communicate normally with this madman.
"I heard you drank 10 milliliters of plague prototype directly?" Drenden sized Singed up and down, but didn't show any obvious disgust. "You're a crazy guy, aren't you afraid of becoming a ghoul?"
Singed revealed a terrifying smile: "Any new potion has a fatal attraction for me. I can't resist their taste—actually, you don't need to worry so much. Even if I really turn into a zombie, I will continue to be loyal to my summoner and will not be controlled by others. Now, let's get to work!"
Subsequently, the members of the laboratory were surprised to find that this madman didn't seem to be infected. As everyone knew, the most obvious change in the body of an infected person was the appearance of black spots on the tongue, but Singed did not experience this change. In subsequent observations, he also did not experience any discomfort. Because during the mutation process, the infected person would be in extreme pain, foaming at the mouth, and even bleeding from all seven orifices. But Singed remained normal.
The mages had to admit that this madman indeed had the capital to be crazy—he seemed to be completely immune to the plague venom.
Since Aiden pointed out the need to analyze the plague formula, Drenden and his laboratory, after various tests, roughly narrowed down the drug components of the plague venom to within fifty ingredients. What remained was to eliminate more interference and analyze the true constituent materials.
Singed's arrival greatly accelerated this process. He tasted these identified materials one by one, and then compared them with the plague venom he had drunk, quickly excluding the parts that did not belong to the venom. Especially after Prince Arthas brought back a large amount of plague venom, with such a madman using his own body to test the medicinal properties, the analysis work progressed rapidly.
Now, everyone in the alchemy laboratory both respected and feared this crazy alchemist. This person, who looked so evil, was actually carrying out the most righteous cause.
Sure enough, there were never any weaklings under the command of that black-haired commander.
… …
Aiden invited Uther, Fordring, and Dathrohan to his room to tell them that Vayne had found the lurking traitor.
"Who is it? I'll go catch him right now!" The hot-tempered Dathrohan immediately stood up.
Aiden found it difficult to speak, so he gestured to Vayne, letting her tell them.
"It's Gavinrad the Dire."
The name Vayne spoke made the three paladins pale. Dathrohan was even more unsteady, his body swaying.
"How is that possible!" Fordring exclaimed in horror. "He's our good brother, a great paladin!"
Vayne said mercilessly: "I did sense the aura of a demon on him. If you can't find any other explanation, please don't rush to defend him."
"Why, why would it be him." Dathrohan slumped into a chair, digging his fingers into his hair, muttering to himself in a daze.
Uther's voice trembled due to the chaos in his breath: "Let the Holy Light tell us the answer!"
Nathrezim are one of the main races in the Burning Legion. They are extremely evil, possess powerful mental strength, and are difficult to kill. They enjoy the negative emotions of intelligent beings and are adept at using them to control the minds of their enemies.
Dreadlords are powerful beings among the Nathrezim. They are even more adept at using their abilities, even the powerful warrior of the Pantheon, Sargeras, eventually fell into corruption under their influence.
The hearts of mortals are always filled with various desires. Dreadlords use these human weaknesses to control their targets in a simple and effective way. In the battle to encircle Scholomance, it was because of Barthilas's utilitarianism and Arthas and Jaina's emotional entanglement that Mal'Ganis was able to easily manipulate them.
Because this time it involved a powerful first-generation paladin, the vice-commander of the Silver Hand, and a personal disciple of Archbishop Faol, Uther had to invite the already very weak Archbishop Faol out. Although the old man couldn't bear to see the fall of his disciple, he also didn't want to be in the dark.
Faol couldn't hide the pain in his heart. Years ago, he sent away his most outstanding disciple, Turalyon, watching him lead his troops disappear into the Dark Portal. Today, as he was dying, he had to personally send away another disciple?
Uther's original intention was to define this action as an "internal purge of traitors," but Archbishop Faol specifically called for Aiden and the Judicator Yrel, as if he had some special intention.
Saidan Dathrohan was the first to rush into Gavinrad's room. He seemed to have recovered a lot. He had been lying in bed, his life hanging by a thread, just two days ago, but now he was able to sit up and flip through the official documents sent over during the day.
Seeing him come in, Gavinrad said happily: "Are you here to pick up the official documents, my brother? I still have two documents that I haven't finished reading, it will take about ten minutes."
"No, I'm here to see you," Dathrohan said in a deep voice.
Then Uther and Fordring helped Archbishop Faol walk in. Gavinrad was stunned for a moment, and hurriedly said: "Teacher, you are not feeling well, you don't have to come and see me in person. Look, I have recovered a lot!"
"No, I have to come," Faol waved his hand, signaling the people around him to let go of him. He supported himself with his staff, staring intently at Gavinrad the Dire, his fifth personal disciple.
Gavinrad was a little unaccustomed to this direct gaze, and asked strangely: "What's wrong, teacher?"
Faol looked at Gavinrad in front of him, but thought of the loyal and reliable paladin in his heart.
When the orcs captured Stormwind City, Gavinrad followed Anduin Lothar, the regent of the Kingdom of Azeroth, to Lordaeron. Under the recommendation of Sir Lothar, this knight of Stormwind was fortunate enough to become the fifth paladin baptized by Archbishop Faol. He fought bravely in the war against the Horde, and his achievements were remarkable. He was a completely loyal and reliable knight.
After the war, he did not return to Stormwind City with King Varian, but chose to stay in Lordaeron, in the Silver Hand, continuing to fulfill the sacred duty of a paladin to protect the Alliance.
"I still remember Gavinrad the Dire. I personally baptized him and witnessed him become a noble paladin. 'Dire' is the religious name I gave him. He is an upright, brave, and completely trustworthy paladin, my dearest disciple."
Archbishop Faol looked at the person representing Gavinrad's identity in front of him, but spoke words that normal people would find incomprehensible.
"Behind this name, there are countless heroic battles, countless scars and honors, and countless people's trust and love," the archbishop's voice carried obvious pain, and his eyes began to flicker with tears.
"Teacher, aren't I right in front of you?" Gavinrad asked strangely, "What's wrong with you?"
"No, his noble soul has already left this body. Occupying it is only a terrible demon!" The archbishop glanced at him with nostalgia, and tears finally fell. He turned to his three disciples and said: "Do it, don't let it continue to tarnish this sacred name!"
"I didn't expect that you, an old man on the verge of death, would actually see through my disguise," Gavinrad's tone was surprised. "Then, have you seen your own death?"
The demon occupying Gavinrad's body used his originally severely injured and crippled left arm to grab a short sword and stabbed it into the archbishop's heart from behind.
"No!"