The moment Duke's spectral gaze fell upon Alleria, a lightning bolt of realization, cold and sharp, pierced through his ethereal form. The Timeline!
Her very presence screamed a profound, terrifying anomaly. According to the sacred texts of Azeroth's history, Alleria Windrunner was a legend of a bygone era, active before the cataclysmic opening of the Dark Portal, before the First War between humans and orcs ripped the world asunder. In the game Duke had known, she was already a revered, missing hero, her monumental statue standing sentinel at the gates of Stormwind City, a silent testament to a glorious past.
"So, I've been flung back… before the First War?" The thought was a chilling whisper in his soul.
A grim, ironclad resolve solidified within him. His post-resurrection mission was clear: the worst-case scenario wasn't just a war, but the imminent invasion of the Orcish Horde through the Dark Portal itself. If this cursed, monochrome land was about to be swallowed by the maelstrom of war, he had to claw his way to strength, to prepare for the inevitable, earth-shattering conflict. At the very least, he had to become powerful enough to protect his own damned, fragile existence!
But then again… Alleria was so impossibly beautiful.
As if sensing the shift in his focus, the system, with an unnerving autonomy, chimed.
"Ding. According to your subconscious directive, the color of the target individual is being restored…"
It was like watching a black-and-white world explode into vibrant life at impossible speed. The bleak, oppressive gray peeled away, replaced by a rush of color that surged along every curve of her body, every fold of her attire. It wasn't just a restoration; it was an unveiling, a black-and-white animation transforming into a living, breathing, hyper-real blockbuster.
In less than a second, the spectral Alleria before him solidified, becoming a being of breathtaking, tangible color.
As a super-popular character in the game, Alleria in the flesh was a vision of devastating beauty. She radiated the fierce, untamed aura of a Valkyrie, a warrior goddess descended from the heavens. Yet, born into the ancient, prestigious lineage of high elves, her ranger's ruggedness was tempered by an undeniable, almost ethereal nobility.
Her only coverings were a verdant, wind-whipped cape, emerald shoulder armor, and a daring, bikini-style inner armor that hinted at the perfect physique beneath. Her long, brilliant golden hair cascaded like spun sunlight, making her ivory skin appear even more luminous, more impossibly delicate.
Her body, honed by countless battles and rigorous training, possessed the most exquisite, sculpted curves. A swan-like, slender white neck led down to a delicate, sexy collarbone that seemed to invite a touch.
A pair of high boots, emerald green with golden trim, accentuated her proud, statuesque figure, making her legs appear impossibly long and lithe. Her entire being exuded a potent, exotic charm, a silent, smoldering sensuality that hit Duke like a physical blow.
If he still possessed lungs, his breathing would have been a frantic, wheezing bellows.
It was an irresistible, primal attraction. Neuron Activation! Without thinking, Duke's translucent hand, drawn by an unseen force, reached out towards Alleria.
The very next instant, a horrifying realization slammed into him, colder and more profound than any ghost chill. This was what the system meant by "loss of humanity."
Duke's ethereal form recoiled, his mind a maelstrom of confusion and self-loathing. Was this what a well-educated, law-abiding, morally upright young man was supposed to do? To reach out, unbidden, with such raw, untamed desire?
It turns out that losing one's humanity… is losing one's moral integrity!
Time seemed to warp, stretching into an agonizing eternity. Duke felt an overwhelming urge to collapse, to burst into spectral tears right there and then, a horrifying realization of the monster he was becoming.
But this… this was not the end.
Duke's nightmare had only just begun.
He was discovered.
A murderous aura, sharp and cold as a honed blade, slammed into Duke's soul. Alleria moved with impossible agility, a blur of green and gold. As Duke's spectral eyes registered what she now held, he froze, utterly stunned.
In the blink of an eye, her hand had flown to her back, plucking the long, green bow from its resting place. Three white-feathered arrows, their tips gleaming with a predatory, silver-white light, were nocked with terrifying speed. The destructive threat radiating from those arrowheads was palpable, a promise of annihilation aimed directly at Duke's fragile, spectral existence.
Duke didn't even question how Alleria could see him in his soul state. Oh, damn! This is a fantasy world! Anything unscientific is not uncommon!
Suddenly, the system's mechanical voice, now laced with an alarming urgency, blared in his mind: "WARNING! Hostile intent detected from Alleria Windrunner. Boss template loading… Estimated 100+ skills. Threat rating: HIGHEST LEVEL! DO NOT ENGAGE! Recommendation: SURRENDER OR ESCAPE IMMEDIATELY. Failure to comply will result in re-destruction in soul state, with potential for greater than 50% permanent soul loss."
At this moment, even the stampede of ten thousand furious horses couldn't adequately describe the utter, mind-numbing terror that seized Duke.
Why him?! Why, when other transmigrators landed as high elf nobles or the sons of human grand dukes, did he die upon arrival, only to immediately provoke one of the most powerful, beautiful, and utterly lethal heroes in the entire Alliance?!
A grim statistic flashed through Duke's mind: according to the cynical assessments of online forums, over 99% of ordinary, college-level animals transmigrating to a fantasy world would perish on their first day. Lack of adaptability, insufficient intelligence, or just plain, abysmal luck.
If Duke had hesitated for even another second, he would undoubtedly have joined the ranks of that 99%. But a flicker of desperate, primal intelligence ignited within him.
He froze, his outstretched hand snapped downwards, instantly transforming the worst kind of groping gesture into a frantic, desperate wave. It was akin to a soccer referee, desperately trying to stop the match.
"Huh?" Alleria's brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing.
From her reaction, Duke knew, with absolute certainty, that she could see him.
Allowing his spectral form to convey a profound, heart-wrenching sadness, Duke pointed, with trembling ethereal finger, in the direction of his own disemboweled corpse. He simply refused to believe that Alleria, with her legendary perception, wouldn't sense the damned killer boar still lurking nearby.
"Did the boar… kill you?" Alleria's voice, now devoid of killing intent, was surprisingly melodious, like the clear song of an oriole in the woods. She spoke the Common Tongue, which Duke understood for it was plain English, but with a bit of Jersey accent.
Duke wanted to scream "Yes!" but the word died in his throat, emerging only as a faint, reedy whisper of his soul. He could only nod, a frantic, bobbing motion.
Alleria sighed, a subtle shift in her posture, and released the tension on her bowstring.
"Ding—" The crisp, melodious twang of the bowstring resonated through the air, a sound of unique, deadly beauty.
The next second, Duke's ghostly heart nearly leaped from his chest.
Because three arrows, wreathed in flickering green flames, radiating a power that felt capable of slaying gods and demons, were suddenly loosed. They streaked towards him with terrifying velocity.
Gods! This woman still doesn't believe me! Is she going to annihilate my soul?!
The terrifying sensation, the sheer, soul-freezing dread, was indescribable. Duke's spectral form became utterly paralyzed, unable to move, unable to flee.
But nothing happened to him.
The arrows weren't aimed at him at all; he had merely been in the terrifying, immediate vicinity of their trajectory.
Or perhaps… this woman was deliberately trying to scare people. No, to scare ghosts!
The three arrows, flying in a perfect V-formation, screamed past him, tearing through the pale sky. They carved a beautiful, deadly arc through the dense woods, soaring over countless towering trees that should have been insurmountable obstacles, and vanished into the distant gloom.
Where in the hell was she shooting?
Though he knew it was almost impossible, a chilling premonition settled in Duke's soul.
"Ahhhhh—" A shrill, agonizing pig cry ripped through the silence from the far distance.
Duke was stunned. No way. 360 no scope! Is that even possible?!
For the first time, Duke experienced the most visceral, terrifying understanding of the boss-level heroes in the world of Azeroth.
So cool. So utterly, terrifyingly awesome.
'Damn boar! Someone give me his kill cam!'