Chapter 30: Mordo, You Need Electrotherapy

Mordo, this dark-skinned fellow, is indeed rather stubborn. Yet, after all, he is a man of the modern world—not some reclusive, antiquated mage rejecting all things contemporary. It is precisely his strong sense of discipline and devotion that fuels his desire to properly guide his young junior disciple, whom he suspects may well repeat the tragic fate of Cassilius.

“I happen to have an extra machine, actually. Was going to use it as a server. Want to play together?”
“Uh… all right!”
Adults are different from children; a grown man’s worldviews and values are long established, not so easily swayed. And so Mordo took the bait, intending to use the stories of characters from the world of Warcraft to teach his junior in a more heartfelt, approachable way.

But in the end, it was Mordo himself who was educated.

World of Warcraft, a legendary game that has swept the globe for over a decade, possesses a unique allure. Otherwise, why would it, after more than ten years and eight major expansions, still boast millions of devoted players?

Unwittingly, Mordo was led into the game by his junior. From the outset, he chose to play a paladin—not a mage, but the righteous air of the class deeply attracted him.

Very soon, he learned how Arthas, the human prince and paladin who once had a brilliant future and was beloved by all, fell step by step into darkness under the machinations of demons.

He also discovered the immortal words of Tirion Fordring, the paladin, who, when his child asked, “Dad, are all orcs evil?” replied, “Race does not define honor. We must not judge those different from ourselves too hastily. I have seen the most shameless humans, and I have seen the kindest orcs!”

These words struck Mordo profoundly.

Especially when he witnessed warlocks stepping forward to defend their homeland when the demonic legion assaulted the human city of Dalaran; when Darion Mograine, even after becoming a death knight, still led his followers to resist evil; when the night elves, driven by vengeance against the Burning Legion, were willing to infuse themselves with demonic power, becoming demon hunters...

Mordo felt his entire worldview being upended.

What could he say? After all, this was only a “game”! The things in a game do not truly exist.

Moreover, his junior had told him this was just a private server for testing.
One hit and you’re level 999—fancy that?
Three moves to take down a boss—how’s that for satisfaction?

Setting aside the gameplay, to criticize World of Warcraft’s values as a moralist would be an overreach. Though the game is rife with strife and unending war, its theme is not to promote battle royale, mutual trampling, or contempt for life.

On the contrary! The game’s underlying message is noble indeed: it encourages different races—even those on opposing sides—to set aside all differences, be it race or custom, and join together for the higher cause of fighting evil.

Games and novels alike move people because the emotions and ideals they portray are real, a reflection of society, a part of human nature.

That, more than anything, was what shattered Mordo’s beliefs.

Unawares, dawn had broken.

For the first time in his life, Mordo had played through the night. Meanwhile, his junior lay snoring like a pig.

But Mordo’s eyes were bloodshot, his mind awash with those classic, subversive storylines from the game.

Not until he noticed the dawn creeping in did he remove his hands from the keyboard, slumping in his chair, speechless for a long while.

He ignored his junior and left in a daze.

He did not even notice that the supposedly sleeping youth had cracked open an eyelid to sneak a look at him.

Like a restless spirit, Mordo wandered through Kamar-Taj, and at last, for reasons he could not explain, ended up before the Ancient One.

“Master, I think I’ve developed a new inner demon. Am I truly so weak that even a game can shake my convictions?” Mordo poured out all the storylines and reflections he’d encountered in the game, venting his confusion and distress to the Ancient One.

The Ancient One’s face seemed unchanged, yet inside, she herself was deeply shaken.

Of course, she knew that her disciple possessed a so-called “prophetic” ability. Initially, she had not thought much of her junior’s foresight. After all, she did not believe a mere mortal could truly glimpse the future.

Yet now, with the use of the game in this way, it all seemed arranged as if to pave the way for her.

Having lived for over a thousand years, she had long since seen through the ways of the world, and few could deceive her. She did not believe this was mere coincidence.

If one were to ask how she had lived for a thousand years, commanding Kamar-Taj as the Sorcerer Supreme—

Of course, it was because she, too, had drawn upon the power of Dormammu from the dark dimension, granting herself eternal youth and keeping her body at its peak for centuries—until she was gravely injured in a battle with a malevolent being from another universe, and her powers began to wane.

No matter how one looks at it, the fact remains that she used the power of darkness!

On the surface, she seemed the very picture of hypocrisy, instructing her disciples to face their inner demons and resist the temptation of darkness, while secretly using that same darkness to grant herself immortality and enjoy all its benefits.

She knew her own heart.

If not for her inability to find a worthy successor to protect the earth as the next Sorcerer Supreme, why would she covet this position and safeguard the world for a thousand years?

Sorcerer Supreme—this title belongs to the greatest of all mages; someone with the right to claim it appears but once in a millennium.

Now, it seemed as if her disciple had long seen through her command over the dark powers, and had come ahead of time to cleanse her reputation—or rather, to give Mordo a preventive dose, so he would not fall into despair.

To think that she, the dignified Sorcerer Supreme and his master, would owe her own disciple a favor because of this... Such an absurd predicament left the Ancient One uncharacteristically conflicted.

She possessed a kind heart and could never bring herself to deceive her disciples. All along, she had merely concealed the truth skillfully; while she always spoke of the dangers of darkness, she never claimed that she herself did not use it.

She, too, felt this was something of a paradox, or perhaps an endless debate—whether one might use any means necessary for a greater goal.

There will always be those who say, “If the means are improper, then no matter how good the outcome, it can never be justified.”

And there will also be those who say, “For the sake of a great cause—such as the survival and propagation of humanity—any line of human morality can be crossed.”