Chapter 147: It’s a Dream

Burning fires filled the field of vision, smoke filled the air, and Jace felt like he was going to choke until he coughed his lungs out, his chest hurting like he was being stabbed with an awl over and over again.

It now felt like being gotten on the back of a horse, and the strong lurching made it impossible for him to pass out and difficult for him to come to his senses, always swaying in this half-asleep, half-awake state.

He knew he hadn’t suffered any serious trauma other than some burns, and the soldiers thought he’d taken damage from the Shadow Force, most likely because he’d siphoned off too much of the Black Dragon’s blood.

These black dragon’s blood was the source of the intense pain that caused him at this moment.

Whether it was his chest, abdomen or brain, it was as if they were filled with hot magma, no matter how much he scratched and pounded his skin he couldn’t alleviate the torment inside, he wanted to vomit but couldn’t vomit anything, except for those first two mouthfuls he never vomited anything again.

Despite the incessant regurgitation and heartburn, his esophagus stomach and intestines now felt as if they were dry to the point of no grease at all, and he groaned twice in embarrassment as a voice soothed him, “It’s almost here …… It’s almost here, Mage!”

“So how long until we get to Southsea Town? I want water ……”

Jace spat the words out almost unconsciously, but the sound that came out of his throat was thick as a wild animal.

A strong feeling of wanting to pass out rose violently, and he, who had been looking forward to a good night’s sleep, violently began to resist. He remembered those dying people in the hospital, the doctors would keep reminding don’t fall asleep, don’t fall asleep, as if once you fell asleep you would never wake up again.

He flailed his arms to try and grab something, but only elicited a gasp from the people in front of him, and after an extremely violent lurch, he finally couldn’t handle the weariness that was quickly drowning everything out.

No …… he snapped his eyes open, but everything around him suddenly stopped.

There was no tremor, no shaking, no howling winds, no maddening fires.

The silence was extremely disconcerting to Jace; after all, he felt as if he had been struggling in the midst of the Black Dragon’s Shadow Flames the last second.

He sat up and realized he was sinking into the soft, dark red mattress.

The material of the sheet was so silky it made him squirm all over, and just by running his hands over it he knew it was likely to be ridiculously expensive, and he didn’t know what kind of silk or more lavish cloth was used to weave it so that he was even a little afraid of his own sweat stains and sludge getting it dirty.

But touching his body, he was clean.

The salty, sticky skin that hadn’t been bathed for half a month at sea before had also become fresh, and the hair that had been plastered to the scalp was even fluffier and softer as if it had been carefully washed with shampoo.

His hair in this life was extremely different from the hard stubbled black hair of his last life, soft like plush. Because he rarely had the opportunity to wash his hair so well, it still felt a little strange to the touch, and even a little on top of his head.

The room was white, the décor simple and bright, and on the carved brown nightstand sat a cream porcelain vase with small, unknown purple flowers, clusters of which extended from it, emitting a strange, singular scent.

The whole body feels like it’s been purified when you smell it, so much so that you start to loathe the breath you exhale.

What is this place, heaven?

Or is it, uh, a dream?

If this was a dream caused by Shadow Damage, it would be too normal, or even too “beautiful” to be a nightmare created by those evil gods.

That’s when he noticed the package lying under his nightstand, the warlock’s bag shaken from the orc.

The warlock bag had looked less pretty in comparison to this nice bedroom, and because of the patterned stains covering it, it kind of looked like a garbage bag that had been tipped out of a mud pit.

This bag …… wouldn’t have been rummaged through, would it?

His heart tightened, but then he noticed that the knot tying the warlock’s bag was his own.

The reason why he was so sure was because he was the only one here who used that method of tying knots that he had learned from his cousin in a previous life, and neither the people of the Kingdom of Stormwind nor the people of Lordaeron tied their knots in such a way.

This means that whoever saved him, wherever this place is, didn’t rummage through the contents of the bag.

And he would have woken up from his jail cell by now if someone had determined what was hidden inside.

So what really happened ……

Thinking back to before he passed out, he experienced a battle, one he would never forget in his life.

The dragon that burned down an unknown number of houses in Southsea Town, killed an unknown number of common folk and soldiers, and the griffin knight.

The look of that griffin rider as he collapsed in the house, the look on the young housewife’s face as she looked at his body, was still etched in Jace’s mind even after he had passed out and woken up.

Is that dragon dead?

It should have been dead, and Jace remembered the head falling heavily at his feet.

It was a young dragon, his head snake-like, without the thick beard of the older dragons or the sharp, sturdy, bull-like horns of the young ones.

Jace shouldn’t have doubted the power of the young dragons, after all, even the young dragons were as powerful as Tremus, who was known as “The Devourer”. But at that point, he couldn’t think of much else. Too much confusion, too much pain, too much excitement, he only wanted to help the town of Southsea, to help Grid put an end to the dragon’s rampage.

Grider …… Yeah, where’s Grider?

Trying to move my lower body, I was fortunate not to be paralyzed, my legs and feet were a little numb but still able to move.

He was now wearing a loose white shirt and pants that didn’t belong to him, and his previous clothes, including the cloak, were stowed away on a small dresser-like cabinet by the window.

The cloak had reverted to a dark brown color.

The thought of being flame-burned in his cloak caused another pang of pain in the palm of his right hand, and indeed in his entire right arm, which was now bandaged.

Jace remembers casting Life Absorption at the last minute, and doing so while holding that staff.

It’s reasonable to think that the burns from the stone fortress could be healed by sucking on a sheep, but the burns from the flames couldn’t be recovered by sucking on the black dragon’s life force?

Without Shadow Dream, without Damage Recovery, Jace didn’t feel right anywhere.

Getting out of bed, Jace touched the clothes he had worn earlier, which had been cleaned and dried.

How long had it been since what had happened at that river sentry tower? He crouched down and touched the bag, feeling that it still contained quite a bit of stuff, and that touch alone would have brought up the pamphlets and such that he’d packed in.

By the way, where’s the stick?

Jace stood up and surveyed the entire room, noting that his stick was up by the window and had the cloth he had tied on it.

In other words, excluding his clothes, none of his luggage had been handled.

What about the brats in the …… bag?

Jace kind of wanted to call him out, but Saeuno’s name just reached his lips and he swallowed.

He looked at the window next to him to at least see where this was.

In fact, he already had the answer in his mind, he just wanted to verify it with his own eyes.

Dragging his somewhat heavy steps to the window, Jace looked out, and after adjusting to the sun’s intense light, a fairytale-like picture came to life.

It was full of small, somewhat Byzantine, purple domed, cream-walled buildings crammed one on top of the other, with streets paved with crimson bricks running across the period, like a strawberry jam texture separating the cream.

Behind the towering, stately purple-tiled castle in the distance, an endless lake shimmers with ripples, and knots of white birds fly through the sky.

Endless forests of emerald pines filled the rest of the view, it was like a natural picture frame. Jace pinched his face, this wasn’t a dream, he’d been made to come to Dalaran.