"What did you see?"

When Mogans saw Mosul lying on the ground holding his forehead and his abdomen swelled up, as if he was nauseous and nauseous. He was extremely worried and quickly poured half a glass of wine to the other party's mouth.

Mosul saw the dark liquid shaking in the red wine, suddenly widened his eyes and retreated, saying over and over again: "No...no, I can't do this..."

Morgans was startled by the sudden reaction of the other party. Mosul was a guy who liked to drink, especially Dalaran wine and Stormwind Black wine. He would go around the hotel in Galinna or the slaughtered lamb tavern in the Mage District every time he traveled to Stormwind.

But his reaction now seemed to be avoiding it as if he saw poison.

"Okay, okay, I won't force you if you don't want to drink, I just want you to relax!" Morgans put the cup aside, but Mosul kept staring at the wine in it.

"Calm down, Mosul, you said just now that you saw something, I just wanted you to talk about it."

"I can't listen to you." Mosul murmured, "I do whatever I want."

His eyes were blurred, and he looked ahead and seemed to be not looking at anything in front. His eyes seemed to pass through Morgans, and then through the walls of the house and transmit to the north. He didn't know where he could find someone to focus.

"I just suggest, Master Mosul, I didn't force you to do anything." Mogans sighed, but the other party did not react to his words. He noticed a trace of strangeness.

The mage reached out and shook his hand in front of Mosul's eyes. Mosul stared at his eyes as if he suddenly woke up.

"I'm back?!"

"you……"

"Did I have a dream just now, Morgans!" He grabbed the mage's shoulder and grabbed it hard and said, "Are it true? Have I been staying in this room just now and never went out? Or did I just transfer my position through some kind of magic, and I have just come back. Did you bring me back?"

"You may have hallucinations, my friend, you've been sitting here since the beginning."

Seeing Mosul come to his senses, Mogans breathed a sigh of relief. He thought that everything was over and Mosul might be going so crazy.

He reached out and wanted to pick up the pendant he brought, but when his hand was about to touch it, he hesitated for a moment. He was a little worried that he would encounter the same situation as Mosul. When the unknown scene, if the so-called "what you see" is witnessed by himself, can he ensure that he can maintain his rationality and get rid of his hallucinations?

But a curiosity swallowed the mage. He reached out to lift the pendant, but nothing happened. The pendant did not even emit a purple light as usual, as ordinary as a fake ornament that could be seen in a jewelry store to deceive laymen.

Mosul had already stood up, and he touched his forehead, his eyes moved with the pendant until Morgans put it back in his clothes and hid it before he sat back on a wooden chair next to him.

"You scared me just now." Morgans walked to the opposite side of the table and sat down: "This must be the magic of the young dragon. Perhaps the owner of the Black Stone Tower is in control of the dark evil magic that we have not yet understood. When the young dragon communicated with me, he caused mental damage to you on my pendant."

"Maybe he wanted to come to me, but for some reason, it seemed that I couldn't feel what you saw."

Mosul listened silently without commenting.

After the air in the room condensed strangely, Morgans finally couldn't help asking: "What did you see? That hallucination might be very helpful for us to find out why the zombies are out of control, or what spells the young dragon's dark spell belongs to. I feel that when we are facing an unfathomable enemy, would it be Nefarian himself?"

"A gray plain." Mosul's lips moved slightly: "Maybe I shouldn't have been involved with that person from the beginning. I thought he would become my mentor to guide me into the void and accept real sublimation, but... after all, no matter how powerful he is, he cannot give me timely support in such a distant place."

"I followed the wrong person"

"Who?" Morgans felt that he could no longer keep up with the thinking of his mysterious friend.

The black warlock opposite was silent for a while, as if thinking about something.

"You have never heard of his name. If I don't tell you, maybe you will never have a chance to hear this name. Do you want to know? But it doesn't matter whether you know or not, it doesn't matter, it makes no sense, and he can do nothing."

"I want to know." Morgans leaned his face up to me and said, "If this is good for my shadow practice, it sounds like he has given you a great help and makes you such an outstanding shadow master. If I can be lucky enough to strengthen him, it will definitely improve. I hope you don't hide such precious resources and don't share them with old friends."

"I said, there is no need." Mosul explained expressionlessly: "A long time ago, when the orcs first entered Azeroth, I saw his shadow. He told me that the orcs would bring true order and glory to Azeroth. It was because the orcs followed the blueprints drawn by his masters that they were willing to come to Azeroth and save the tragic people trapped in such a small world."

The mage frowned. Even though he believed that Shadow was a profound belief and that the orcs were indeed a powerful race, he still could not accept that some existence he had never heard of described Azeroth who had given birth to him and raised him.

There were some terrifying creatures in the void who were very hostile to Azeroth and the creatures above. He knew very well that Morgans, who had received Dalaran education, had a natural resistance to these existences. Even if he learned their knowledge and magic, he did not want to completely succumb to their slavery.

Mosul turned his head and said, "Now I know he is wrong. Azeroth is not a small world where he can despise him at will. Countless ancient existences live on it. For these existences, even Annatheron, the powerful master who I thought ruled countless void planes, was just a small and ignorant ant."

Mogans nodded happily and said, "What you said makes sense...but what made you know?"

The warlock gently raised the corners of his mouth, pulled out a knife that he wore around his waist, and put it on the oil lamp for a while, until the knife was burned black and didn't take it away.

Is this some kind of mysterious ritual? Morgans had heard of ancient mysterious magic that used fire and fire to predict and manifest. He stared at the flames that were rushing up, looking at the twisted objects in it, but could not interpret anything.

Suddenly, Mosul's blade turned and directly penetrated the tip of the knife into Mogans' neck, and penetrated it deeply into the position of his head. Mogans just glared, his lips trembled a few times before he could no longer move.

He wanted to chant mantras, no matter what mantra it was, but no matter whether it was consciousness or throat, he no longer had the ability to respond to his remaining consciousness.

The knife had burned the wound, but blood still oozed out, but it didn't gush so exaggeratedly. Mosul grabbed Mogans' collar and took out the dark skin pendant inside, then dragged the shaking half-dead man out of the room and pushed it into the lake.

"I did it." He said, holding the pendant firmly, "What about now?"
Chapter completed!