Chapter 9: Chromie Ventures

When Duren stepped out of the room, Chromie was sprawled over the table, studying an explosive formula, while Onyxia leaned against the window, idly playing with a wisp of black flame between her fingers.

“Morning, you two,” Duren greeted lazily.

Without lifting her head, Chromie waved her hand dismissively. “Morning… wait?!” Suddenly, she looked up sharply, her gnome eyes wide with surprise. “Who… who are you?!”

Onyxia’s draconic pupils contracted abruptly, and the black flame in her fingertips flickered out with a soft “pfft.” She fixed her gaze on Duren as if seeing this human clearly for the first time.

Duren tilted his head. “What’s wrong? Didn’t recognize me after a nap?”

Chromie jumped down from her chair and circled around him twice, sniffing the air. “Something’s off… very off…”

Onyxia stepped forward slowly, her slender fingers suddenly gripping Duren’s chin, forcing him to look up. Her dragon eyes glowed faintly, as if inspecting him with some ancient draconic method.

“You…” Her voice was low and dangerous. “There’s something on you.”

Duren sighed helplessly, gently pushed her hand away, then pointed down at the ground beneath their feet.

The two dragons exchanged puzzled glances.

Duren covered his mouth with his hand, then pointed at the ground again.

Chromie and Onyxia looked at each other, first confused, then their pupils simultaneously dilated—

Azeroth!

In the room, the three beings—a human and two dragons—tacitly avoided acknowledging an unspeakable presence.

Onyxia stood by the fireplace, a cluster of black flames flickering at her fingertips as she expertly brewed tea. Her movements were elegant and practiced, more befitting a true noble lady than a black dragon princess capable of burning a city to ashes. The water in the teapot bubbled softly, releasing a faint fragrance.

Chromie sat cross-legged on the sofa, her short legs dangling slightly above the floor. She pulled out a delicate box of pastries from a time rift, lifting the lid to reveal a neat array of starry, shimmering cakes.

“Special supply from the Time Nexus!” she announced proudly. “Stolen… uh, borrowed from Suramar ten thousand years ago.”

Duren leaned over curiously and poked one of the cakes. The surface rippled with the waves of time.

“Eating this won’t make you time travel, right?” he asked half-jokingly.

Chromie rolled her eyes. “At most, it lets you see what happened in the past ten minutes—except for this one.” She pointed to a dark purple piece in the corner. “That one’s from Queen Azshara’s afternoon tea party. Eating it might give you tentacles.”

Onyxia approached with the tea set, her tail brushing lightly against Duren’s calf—not too hard, not too soft, like a warning or reminder. She poured tea for each of them. The tea was an eerie dark red, with a few crystalline flakes resembling dragon scales floating on the surface.

“Drink up,” she said with narrowed eyes, “good for the lungs.”

Duren stared at the tea cup, then glanced at the suspicious pastries in Chromie’s hand, suddenly feeling that his “fertilizer” plan seemed surprisingly safe by comparison.

The three sat quietly, enjoying their tea and pastries in an oddly harmonious atmosphere—until—

Duren set down his cup and cleared his throat. “Alright, let’s get down to business.”

He pulled out a crumpled list from his pocket, densely filled with purchasing items: ammonium nitrate raw materials, sulfur, aluminum powder, specialized containers... At the bottom, the estimated cost was boldly printed—an amount enough to buy half of Stormwind City.

Chromie’s pastry fell onto her lap with a “plop.” “Are you crazy?!”

Onyxia’s dragon pupils contracted slightly. “My treasury is almost empty.”

Duren gave an innocent smile. “That’s why we need a new investor.” His gaze slowly shifted to Chromie. “For example, a certain bronze dragon who oversees the timelines?”

Chromie clutched her hourglass staff tightly, ready to bolt. Her small face scrunched in frustration. “Impossible! Absolutely impossible!”

She glared at Duren, her golden twin tails flicking angrily. “Do you know how hard it is to save up the treasury at the Time Nexus?! Those coins have been accumulating since ten thousand years ago!”

Duren sighed and turned to Onyxia. “Your sister is really stingy.”

Onyxia sneered. “She’s not my sister.”

Chromie snapped, “Who’s your sister then?!”

Duren spread his hands. “See? Sisterly love.”

Both dragons glared at him simultaneously, their majestic presence nearly lifting the roof.

Unfazed, Duren pulled out a slate and sketched a crude flowchart:

Invest in ammonium nitrate → blow up Deathwing → world peace
World peace → bronze dragons don’t have to work overtime → Chromie can vacation every day

Chromie stared at the slate, her mouth twitching. “You think I’m a toddler? Such simple logic—”

Duren snapped his fingers. “Imagine your future self.”

His voice dropped, tinged with an uncanny persuasion. “No timeline rifts to repair, no apocalyptic prophecies to monitor, no heroes to guide...”

Chromie’s pupils dilated slightly.

“Only sunshine, beaches, barbecues...” Duren whispered. “And endless fine wines and pleasures!”

At that moment—

Chromie’s hourglass staff trembled violently, the sands of time flowing wildly. Her eyes glowed with a bronze light, countless fragments of the future flooding her mind like a tidal wave:

She basked on the beach of Tanaris, surrounded by piles of dwarf mead;
Nozdormu, for once, granted her a millennium-long vacation;
Even a vague figure of a human cradled her, feeding her grilled fish...

“Plop!”

Chromie’s legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the floor, her staff clattering beside her. Her lips quivered, drool escaping the corner of her mouth. Golden light from the future visions lingered in her eyes. She seemed like a ragdoll thoroughly played with, her throat emitting a foolish giggle: “Hehe, hehe.”

Onyxia raised an eyebrow. “Looks like she saw something incredible.”

Duren squatted beside her, waving his hand teasingly before her face. “So? Worth the investment?”

Chromie mechanically turned her head, then suddenly grabbed Duren’s collar. “How much do you want?!”

Her eyes shone fiercely, like a hungry wolf spotting a fat lamb.

A few hours later, Chromie stood in the middle of a stone house in Booty Bay. With a flick of her small hand—

“Rumble—!”

A bronze time rift unfolded in midair, followed by a torrent of gold coins, gems, and magical equipment cascading down like a waterfall, instantly forming a small mountain.

Duren’s mouth hung open slowly.

Onyxia’s dragon pupils contracted slightly. Her fingertips absentmindedly toyed with an ancient elven gold coin lying at her feet—one dating back at least eight thousand years.

“This…” Duren bent down to pick up a dagger shimmering with arcane light. “An artifact from the High Elven era, right?!”

Chromie proudly lifted her chin. “Exactly. ‘Borrowed’ from Dath’Remar’s private treasury.” She kicked a pile of coins. “These are mintings from the Arathi Empire era. Now, fewer than a hundred remain throughout all of Azeroth.”

Looking at the treasure-filled warehouse, Duren suddenly felt like a beggar.

Chromie squatted atop the pile of coins, frowning as she counted. “Thirty thousand, thirty-five thousand, forty thousand…” She looked up at Duren. “Is this enough?”

Duren swallowed hard. “Enough to buy all of Booty Bay…”

Onyxia let out a sudden cold laugh, her claw fishing out a necklace inlaid with sands of time from the treasure heap. “I remember this.” Her gaze darkened dangerously. “The ‘Tear of Amansoor’ stolen from the Dragonblight Temple three thousand years ago.”

Chromie’s face turned pale in an instant. She snatched the necklace and shoved it back into the time rift. “You’re mistaken! That’s a fake!”

Duren rubbed his forehead. “So the bronze dragons’ so-called ‘guardianship of the timeline’ is actually just rampant pilfering?”

“That’s called ‘historical artifact preservation’!” Chromie retorted indignantly. “Besides, leaving them there just means they get destroyed by wars. Better to let me—”

“—keep them safe for you?” Onyxia raised an eyebrow.

Chromie: “…Exactly!”

After three hours of inventory, the final tally left Duren weak at the knees:

Gold coins: 478,000 (covering currencies from seven lost civilizations)
Magical gems: 322 (including three suspected Titan artifacts)
Epic gear: 54 pieces (12 of which historical records say were destroyed)
Other miscellanea: including but not limited to Queen Azshara’s comb, Medivh’s spare staff, and a vial labeled “Arthas’s baby tooth”

Chromie clutched the last item tenderly—a singing night elf music box. “This one can’t be sold! It was Tyrande’s childhood toy!”

Duren blinked. “You stole even that?!”

Chromie: “I said I’m safekeeping!”

“Keep it safe, keep it safe! From now on, you’re my financial manager.” Duren bent down and patted Chromie’s small shoulder. Then, stroking his chin slyly, he said, “Maybe we don’t even need this much money. You know, knowledge is wealth. We might even attract some big spenders to invest.”

Watching Duren, deep in thought about who to con into funding this scheme, the two dragons suddenly felt incredibly lucky to be on his team.

Morning sunlight spilled over the stone house in Booty Bay, where a brand-new copper sign gleamed brightly in the dawn:

“Barrens Agricultural Development Company – Booty Bay Branch”
Main services: Efficient Fertilizers | Soil Improvement | Pest Control (Physical)

Onyxia crossed her arms, staring at the sign with her dragon pupils narrowing. “‘Pest Control (Physical)?’”

Duren clapped his hands, satisfied. “Literally—solving pest problems by physical means.” He made an explosive gesture. “Boom! Pests gone.”

Chromie stood on tiptoe, trying to wipe off a goblin graffiti in the corner of the sign—a crooked, crude dung fertilizer doodle. “I still can’t believe we’re actually running a company…”

“That’s called a business cover,” Duren said, pulling out a stamp and pressing it on the doorframe: “Grand Opening.” “Now we can buy raw materials openly. The goblins will just think we’re foolish farmers.”

Inside, Duren spread out a map, pointing at the Dustwallow Marsh. “Funds are in place, supply channels are open. It’s time to move the production line back to your lair.”

Onyxia’s tail tapped lightly on the floor. “Too risky. If my father’s minions find out—”

“No worries. We’re a legitimate company. All materials and production relate to fertilizer. Do you think your family’s lackeys have the brains to uncover the ultimate secret of fertilizer? Would they want to investigate the stinky ammonia raw materials? Or taste the ammonium nitrate?” Duren sneered.

The black dragon shook her head vigorously at the horrifying process of ammonia production.

“But things need to be routed through Theramore.” Duren interrupted, tracing a shipping route with his finger. “All supplies go first to Jaina’s territory, then somehow into the marsh.” He looked at Chromie. “That’s where our ‘financial manager’ comes in.”

Chromie pouted. “Why do I have to deal with those stinky goblin merchants?”

“Because you can open time rifts and run anytime. Plus, Theramore has Lady Jaina, the favored daughter of the heavens. She’s unfriendly to black dragons. And she looks down on vagrants like me.” Duren smiled. “Also—” He pulled out a bag of gold coins and jingled them. “Official expense account. Full reimbursement.”

Chromie’s ears perked up.

Ten minutes later, “Ms. Chromie” emerged, freshly dressed in a finely tailored gnome suit with round glasses. She awkwardly tugged at her collar. “This outfit is suffocating…”

Onyxia circled her once, then pinched her cheek. “Add a fake smile, and you’ll look like a true shrewd merchant.”

“Hey! Let go!” Chromie slapped her claw away, huffing as she pulled out an accounting ledger. “I’m a real financial manager!” She pushed up her glasses and switched to a saccharine business smile. “Dear Mister Goblin, regarding last month’s payment…”

Duren and Onyxia both took a step back. The act was so convincing it sent chills down their spines.