"I'll bet ten gold coins, and Garrosh will win today."

Blade Mountain, Blood Arena. At least fifty orcs sat in the makeshift arena stands, watching the bloody and violent gladiatorial battles. Ever since the tribe settled in the land, this simple and crude form of entertainment has become the orc's main pastime. Sometimes, even the Great Chieftain Sal would go down and bounce in a circle to stretch his muscles. This kind of competition is not like a formal gladiatorial match, where there is no referee, but they beat each other at will until the opponent is lying down. And those sent to the arena to practice for the orcs are often cowardly deserters, or prisoners of the enemy. Since it was a death sentence, just before dying, let the orcs feast their eyes with blood gushing out.

At this moment, the orc standing in the arena is none other than the deceased orc hero Grom. Sons of Hell's Roar – Garrosh. Hell roars. Ever since Thrall brought the young orc out of Nagrand, Garrosh had been trying to assimilate into the new tribe. Now, he has found another way to quickly integrate into the new tribe, and that is gladiatorial fighting. Through his fists and battle axes, he shows his bravery and good fighting skills to quickly win the approval of other clansmen.

Standing in hell and roaring at the other side is a deserter. He fled the battlefield during the battle against the ogres and was thrown into the arena. The orcs do not entertain such cowards, they no longer even consider them to be of the same kind. Several orc veterans sat in the arena stands, betting on whether Garrosh would win this game. He's already defeated three opponents in a row here, an ogre, a grizzly bear, and a troll deserter, and now this equally muscular orc deserter is the fourth.

But judging by Garrosh's performance, he didn't seem to care about his loss of stamina at all, even though he had multiple scars on his body in the previous battle, and thick blood scabs solidified on his skin, attracting a few flies.

Garrosh waved his hand to chase the mosquitoes away from the wound. He looked at his opponent, simply threw the weapon in his hand aside, and walked to the center of the field with his bare hands.

"That idiot, what is he doing? The opponent has an axe! ”

Seeing Hell roaring so arrogantly, an orc veteran couldn't stand it anymore. He muttered to his companions in the stands.

And just as they were grinning and talking, the off-field game had already begun. I saw the desperate orc deserter roar and grab his weapon, and head towards Garrosh. Hell's Roar ran in the direction of it.

A puff of sand and dust rose from the ground.

However, in the face of a menacing opponent, Hellroar only smiled contemptuously, and he spread his arms and stood in place waiting for his opponent to rush up on his own.

The arena wasn't huge, and the orc deserter rushed in front of Hellroar in less than a few seconds. The orc veterans' eyes widened as they saw the legendary hero Grom. The Son of Hell's Roar is now dealing with an orc deserter trapped in a beast fight with his bare hands.

In front of everyone's eyes, the orc deserter roared in anger and slashed at Hellroar's head with an axe. However, at the moment when the axe light flashed, Garrosh. Hellroar took a half-step back, dodging a blow from his opponent with all his might. The blade of the axe fell only a few centimeters from the chest of Hellroar, and the eyes of the audience straightened, and at the moment before the opponent's tomahawk could completely fall, Hellroar roared, grabbed the opponent's head, and threw the orc deserter directly to the ground with a grizzly bear-like hug.

The rough iron tomahawk hit the ground, making a muffled sound of metal clashing. The orc deserter was slammed by Hellroar, his head hit the ground, and for a moment his eyes were full of stars, and when he tried to reach for his weapon, the rough axe had already been kicked far away by Hellroar.

In the midst of the other man's heavy gasps, Hell Roar stomped on his head, and almost all the weight of his body fell on the soles of his feet.

In just one moment, one fell on the next orc deserter. The tribal veterans in the audience let out a cheer of satisfaction, but alas, they could not feast their eyes any more. This came down too quickly, and before they could appreciate the violent aesthetics of the orcs, they were hurried to end the gladiatorial fight by the roar of hell.

"Coward, admit defeat."

A foot stomped on the head of the orc deserter, and the hell roared into a low roar.

"Throw in the towel, you'll die a happy death."

Seeing that the deserter did not speak, the Hellroar continued to threaten.

After a moment of silence, the deserter remained silent, and Hellroar didn't bother to pay any more attention to him, let go of his foot, and strode to leave. He had already won glory for himself, and the deserter who had fallen to the ground, let the guards drag him to the guillotine, he would not bother to get any more blood.

However, just as Hell Roar had not taken a few steps to turn, the bleeding orc deserter suddenly roared and attacked Garrosh from behind. Hell roars. For the orc deserter, as long as he can defeat his opponent, he can get out of here alive, and it is good to do hard labor, at least he can save his own life, not every orc regards honor so highly, and there are also reluctant people among the orcs who are greedy for life and afraid of death. This deserter is like that.

The tribal veterans in the audience let out a disgruntled taunt, pretending to be dead, and sneaking up on the back, which is not what orcs should do. However, Garrosh was prepared. As the other man roared and rushed up, ready to throw himself from behind, Garrosh. Hell Roar made a quick turn, and his right hand clenched into a stone-like fist, facing the direction in which the deserter pounced, it was a right hook.

In the next second, there was the sound of bones breaking in the sand of the arena. Savage and mighty Garrosh. With just one punch, Hellroar knocked the orc deserter who had snuck up on him to the ground. His jawbone felt as if it had been shattered, and blood kept pouring out of his mouth. But the desire to survive caused the orc deserter to stand up again, only to be punched in the cheek by the roar of hell. The bridge of his nose snapped in an instant, and blood gushed out, staining the orc deserter's face blood-red.

At this moment, the tribal veterans in the audience let out a roar of satisfaction. This is like a battle between orcs, and a bloodless fight is not called a battle in the eyes of an orc warrior.

The tribal deserter who had been knocked down by the two punches gave up his resistance completely, and he knew that with his own strength, it was impossible to defeat the young orc in front of him, who was as strong as an ox. Waiting for oneself, there is only a dead end. Either they will be killed here, or they will be dragged to the guillotine tomorrow and their necks will be cut off with an axe.

There was a long-lost roar in the arena. However, not long after this roar, the thick sound of horns in the camp made everyone's eyes nervous.

It was the sound of the trumpets of the enemy's raid on the camp.

"The devil is coming."

An orc veteran growled.

In the arena, Hellroar walked over to the wall and picked up his tomahawk......