Chapter 5: Cromie's Espionage

Inside the stone hut, a sulfurous acid solution shimmered with a pale yellow glow within a glass flask. Dren carefully introduced air into the liquid through a thin glass tube; the bubbles roiled with a gurgling sound, each burst releasing a pungent odor.

Onyxia stood to the side, her fingertips tapping rhythmically against the table, appearing somewhat bored.

"How long is this going to take?" she asked impatiently.

"Patience," Dren replied, his eyes fixed on the liquid. "The oxidation reaction requires time."

The Black Dragon Princess curled her lip, a small flame igniting at her fingertip, which she toyed with listlessly.

"How about... I just heat it?" she suggested, a flash of mischievous intent in her eyes.

"Absolutely not!" Dren nearly knocked over the flask in his alarm. "Heating strong acid will cause it to vaporize; the entire room will be filled with corrosive gas!"

Onyxia raised an eyebrow, seemingly unbothered by that outcome, but eventually hummed and extinguished the flame.

Several hours later, the sulfurous acid had finally oxidized into dilute sulfuric acid. Dren carefully transferred the liquid into a ceramic evaporating dish and began to heat it slowly to evaporate the water.

As the moisture diminished, the viscosity of the liquid increased, and a disturbing, acrid sensation filled the air. Onyxia’s dragon-like pupils constricted slightly, and she instinctively took half a step back.

"This smell..." she frowned, "it’s even making my scales tingle."

Dren did not look up, focusing on adjusting the flame. "That means it’s working." Fortunately, thanks to Onyxia’s magical ventilation, he hadn't already fainted from toxic fumes.

When the last drop of water vapor dissipated, only a thick, nearly colorless liquid remained in the dish—concentrated sulfuric acid.

Onyxia stared at it, revealing a rare trace of apprehension.

"This thing... can it hurt me?" she asked in a low voice, her tone a mix of suspicion and vigilance.

Dren nodded gently. "If there is direct contact, even dragon scales will be corroded."

The Black Dragon Princess remained silent for a moment, then suddenly reached out—

"Wait! Don't touch—!" Dren exclaimed.

But Onyxia’s fingertip was already hovering above the liquid, a wisp of shadow energy wrapping around her skin to form an ultra-thin protective film. She dipped her finger into the acid and immediately pulled back.

"Hisss—"

Despite the magical protection, a thin wisp of white smoke rose from her fingertip. The illusion of her scales distorted slightly, revealing the true black armored scales beneath.

"Interesting." She stared at her slightly reddened fingertip, not with anger, but with a dangerous smile. "A mortal can actually create something that wounds a dragon..."

Dren breathed a sigh of relief, but immediately tensed again as Onyxia’s gaze turned toward him, her dragon eyes flickering with a disturbing interest.

"Now..." she said slowly, "tell me, what do you plan to do with this stuff?"

Dren took a deep breath and pointed to the saltpeter in the corner.

"The next step is to react the sulfuric acid with saltpeter to create nitric acid." He paused. "Then... we can synthesize fertilizer."

"Fertilizer?"

"A type of explosive." A spark of madness flashed in Dren's eyes. "Stronger than black powder, but more stable and harder to guard against—because it is not magic, and your father won't be able to sense it."

Onyxia’s pupils dilated slightly.

"You really are a dangerous little madman," she said softly, though her tone carried a hint of admiration.

Dren grinned. "So, shall we continue?"

The Black Dragon Princess ignited a flame at her fingertip once more, but this time, her smile was more scorching than dragonfire.

"Of course."

***

Two days later, Dren poured the purified potassium nitrate powder into the concentrated sulfuric acid. The flask immediately surged with pale yellow fumes; the pungent odor felt like thousands of needles stabbing into his nasal cavity, and even the air grew scorching hot.

Onyxia stood three steps away, her dragon eyes narrowed, her nostrils twitching slightly beneath her illusion.

"This smell..." she said in a low, husky voice, showing rare discomfort, "is more disgusting than rotting troll entrails."

Dren covered his nose and mouth with a damp cloth, his eyes red and streaming, yet he remained focused on the reaction. Nitric acid vapor gradually liquefied in the condenser, dripping into the receiving flask—clear and dangerous.

"It’s done," he rasped, his voice hoarse from coughing.

Onyxia stared at the bottle of colorless liquid. Her draconic instincts caused the muscles under her scales to tense—this substance had no magical fluctuations, yet it posed an instinctive threat.

Dren felt a sense of triumph; he had taken a giant step toward becoming a mad bomber. However, the next step involved ammonia, and just thinking about that smell made him feel physically ill. Onyxia watched Dren’s silence, assuming he had run into trouble, unaware of the ordeal that awaited them.

If the preparation of nitric acid was merely unpleasant, the production of ammonia water was nothing short of a catastrophe.

Dren sealed hair, excrement, and lime in a distiller and heated it at high temperatures. Soon, an indescribable, putrid stench erupted from the tube, smelling like a thousand-year-old sweaty sock mixed with rotting fish guts.

"Blegh—"

Onyxia retreated to the wall instantly. Her illusion nearly failed, and the texture of black dragon scales shimmered faintly between her silver hair. Her vertical pupils constricted violently, and a low, guttural dragon roar rumbled in her throat: "You... you insect... how dare you create this... blasphemy..."

Dren was nearly gassed into unconsciousness himself, tears streaming down his face, yet he stubbornly adjusted the condensation apparatus to dissolve the ammonia gas into pungent ammonia water.

"This is called... a strategic sacrifice..." he said, dry-heaving.

Just then—

"Pfft!"

A stifled laugh erupted from mid-air, and a moment later, Chromie tumbled out of a temporal rift. She clutched her nose, laughing so hard she could barely stand, unable to even hold her hourglass staff steady.

"Hahaha—the dignified Black Dragon Princess—actually boiling poop!!!" She slapped her thigh, tears (whether from the smell or the laughter, it was unclear) streaming down her face. "I’m going to write this into the 'Compendium of Dragon Blunders'!!"

Onyxia’s dragon eyes ignited with murderous intent, but as she took a step forward, she was driven back by a fresh wave of stench. She could only grit her teeth and growl: "Bronze dragon... you’re asking for death..."

Chromie pulled a face, pinched her nose, and leaned cheekily toward the bottle of ammonia water. "Wow~ such purity~ are you planning to stink Deathwing to death?" She suddenly turned serious. "But seriously, these chemical things are causing larger ripples in the timeline than I expected... none of this has ever appeared on Azeroth. Haha, made of poop!"

Dren raised his hand weakly. "So... you’re not going to stop us?"

Chromie blinked. "Why would I? I want to see what other novel things you can come up with~ I’ve been recording it all."

"You dare!!" Onyxia’s roar and Dren’s scream rang out simultaneously.

But the Bronze Dragon had already slipped away, leaving behind only a trail of gloating laughter.

Inside the stone hut, the pungent chlorine gas and the acidic fog of nitric acid were intertwined. Dren endured the burning sensation in his throat, carefully controlling the mixing ratio of the two liquids. Onyxia stood to the side, her dragon eyes fixed on the white crystals gradually precipitating at the bottom of the beaker, her brow furrowed.

"This is what you call... fertilizer?" Her tone carried obvious skepticism.

"Yes, ammonium nitrate." Dren stirred it gently with a glass rod; the crystals grew more numerous, settling at the bottom like fine snow. "Theoretically, it can make crops grow faster and stronger."

Onyxia remained silent for a moment, then suddenly reached out to pinch a crystal, rubbing it between her fingertips.

"It looks plain," she evaluated.

Dren smiled, not offering much explanation.

"Wait." Onyxia suddenly narrowed her eyes. "You went through all this trouble, just to farm?"

Dren’s smile deepened. "Of course not."

He set down the glass rod, placed some powder on the table, sprinkled a bit of gunpowder on it, and struck it with an iron hammer, resulting in a muffled, explosive pop.

"Ammonium nitrate is indeed fertilizer..." Dren lowered his voice, "but if mixed with fuel, such as sawdust or oil, and equipped with a proper detonator..."

***

Onyxia’s pupils dilated slightly.

"—it becomes an explosive more terrifying than black powder." Dren patted the ceramic jar lightly. "And it looks harmless, is easy to transport, and can even be disguised as agricultural supplies."

The Black Dragon Princess stared at the ceramic jars, the corners of her mouth slowly curling into a dangerous arc.

"You little madman..." she whispered, her tone carrying a touch of genuine admiration. "I like this plan."

As the two discussed in low voices, a bronze ripple suddenly appeared in the air. Chromie’s head poked out from a temporal rift, her nose still red—evidently having been thoroughly assaulted by the previous stench.

"What are you two up to agai—" Her gaze landed on the white crystals, and she suddenly choked.

"Fertilizer," Dren and Onyxia said in unison, their expressions appearing perfectly sincere.

Chromie squinted suspiciously. "Really?"

"Absolutely," Dren raised his hands, looking innocent. "We just want to improve the agricultural standards of Azeroth."

Onyxia nodded in agreement, even offering a (slightly stiff) friendly smile.

Chromie looked at Dren, then at Onyxia, and finally stared at the pile of ceramic jars, suddenly shivering.

"I don't know why..." she muttered, "but I feel like you two are more dangerous than the Old Gods..."

With that, she zipped back into the temporal rift and vanished without a trace.

Onyxia stared at the spot where Chromie had disappeared, dark flames roiling in her dragon eyes, the scales on her fingertips flickering in and out of existence. She slammed a fist onto the table, causing the ammonium nitrate powder in the jars to tremble.

"That damned bronze whelp!" Her voice was as low as thunder, carrying the unique vibration of a dragon. "Next time she dares to pop up, I’ll shove her into a temporal rift and let her taste the sensation of being torn apart by the chaos of time!"

Dren shrank back, wisely choosing not to respond.

Onyxia’s anger had not dissipated; she paced the room restlessly, her long boots thumping heavily against the floor.

"How dare she—how dare she watch us like we’re a joke?!" She turned abruptly, her dragon aura spreading uncontrollably, causing the glassware on the table to crack with a "clink." "Are we ants? Are we clowns here for her amusement?!"

Dren carefully raised a hand. "Uh... calm down? She was just—"

"Just what?!" Onyxia’s illusion nearly failed, black scales shimmering between her silver hair. "She mocked me! A black dragon! The bloodline of Deathwing!!"

Dren swallowed hard, deciding to change his strategy.

"Actually..." he said slowly, "have you considered that the reason she keeps coming to interfere is because she’s afraid of us?"

Onyxia’s rage stopped abruptly, her vertical pupils constricting slightly. "...What?"

Dren shrugged. "Bronze dragons guard the timeline, and we are creating things that don't exist on the timeline. The more nervous she is, the more it proves our plan is working."

Onyxia was silent for a moment, then suddenly let out a cold laugh. "That makes sense."

Her anger gradually subsided, replaced by a dangerous sense of pleasure.

"Very well," she said softly. "Then let her continue to be nervous."

Dren breathed a sigh of relief and was about to resume his work, only to hear Onyxia add—

"Once we succeed, I’m going to personally shove Chromie’s hourglass down her throat."

Dren: "..."

He decided it would be best to stop mentioning Bronze Dragons from now on.