The endless expanse of space was shrouded in a dim and gloomy light, red, brownish, and disgustingly rich colors that surrounded this twisted plane, and countless planetary fragments floated slowly but long in it, lifeless.

In the depths of this chaotic space, a planet that could barely be seen in its original appearance emerged from behind countless meteorites. The green glow almost completely submerged him, exuding an aura of ominous and destructive at all times, and the most terrifying thing was that a corner of the planet seemed to be torn apart by some incomparably powerful force, forming a huge wound that was difficult to ignore.

In the orbit of this perishing planet, dark starships slowly wander in the void.

The most striking of these is a demonic starship that resembles the Mallet of Evil but is much larger than that.

If the Mallet of Evil Energy is a battleship, then it is, an aircraft carrier!

Zooming in, on the bridge that was unimaginably large, a monster in dark armor came into view. The reason why he is said to be a monster is only because his skin is as scarlet as blood.

He has a name that has been feared by all worlds, the first favorite of Sargeras, the second in command of the Burning Legion, Kilgardan......

"Talgas, what's the matter?" Without looking back, the Demon Lord stared out the porthole at the twisted void with his hands on his chest, his hoarse voice low but unusually loud.

Almost as soon as he spoke, a heavily armed Ereda hurriedly walked in: "Master, I have found it, Viren's trace!"

His eyes, as red as flames, suddenly trembled violently, and the Demon Lord turned around violently, and at this moment, it was as if the hot magma had completely engulfed Talgas.

"Are you sure about the traitor?"

As Kil'Gardan's right-hand man, Talgas knew very well why he was so excited, but he still couldn't resist the might of the Demon Lord. Swallowing hard, he responded, "It's true, I followed the trajectory of Genidal all the way, and finally found its final landing place. ”

After a pause, Targas added: "Crash, to be exact. ”

With a sinister smile, the Demon Lord once again cast his gaze out of the porthole, but this time, instead of looking out into the endless void, he turned his gaze to the planet that had been completely corrupted by evil energy and chaos, the home he and Viren shared.

Argus......

Countless years have passed, and finally, I can finally wash away the shame I had at the beginning. Viren, you traitor......

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"Huh?" Suddenly opening his eyes, Durotan rose like a spring from the blanket made of Split-Hoofed cowhide. This sudden action caused the coolly dressed woman beside him to open her hazy eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"No, it's just a nightmare. Shaking his head, Durotan did not expose the tiredness and sadness on his face to the other party, and quickly adjusted his emotions, carefully stroking the other party's hair with a large hand that was comparable to the other party's entire head.

As the other party's wife, Drakar's understanding of Durotan can be said to be intimate, how can it be a nightmare for his own man to be so embarrassed?

"Is it Garrad?"

The murmur that seemed to be talking to himself reached his ears so clearly, and after a while, Durotan nodded lightly. For Dracca, he doesn't need to hide anything.

Garrad, the previous chief of the Frostwolf Clan, is Durontan's father, but the current chieftain is Durontan. Yes, Garrard, the legendary leader who led the Frostwolf Clan to victory over the Dota Ogre, is dead.

It all started with Koshhag a few months ago.

There was almost no civil war between the orcs, and more of a seclusion between the various clans was due to the fact that ogres, gorons, and a few other foreign enemies were invading them.

Each clan has its own traditions, customs, costumes, stories, and, of course, its own shaman. There were several clans whose dialect differences were so great that they could not understand each other, and when they met with each other, they had to speak the common language of the orcs.

In order to prevent this discrepancy from leading to undesirable consequences, the shamans of the various clans jointly hold a celebration called Koshhag, which is held twice a year, once in spring and once in autumn.

At this time, clans gather in Nagrand, the land known as the 'Land of the Winds', to celebrate the day when day and night are equal at the foot of Voshugu, the 'Mountain of Souls'.

Orcs are not quiet gentlemen and ladies, and challenges and duels are nothing new during the holidays, but truly angry brawls never happen. If someone does lose their temper, then the shamans will persuade the person concerned to settle it peacefully, and if that fails, order them to leave.

Voshugu is a sacred place for orcs, a place with a mystical power that allows orcs to speak to their dead ancestors. Some people say that this mountain fell from the sky many years ago and was a gift from the gods. Although this seems to Durotan to be a legend of deceiving children, it cannot be denied, because there is such a peaceful holy place, and the orcs have an increased desire for peace.

The Frostwolf Clan's philosophy of survival is different from that of most clans, perhaps due to the harsh living environment of Frostfire Ridge, the previous chieftain Garrad promoted the noble concept of family and community among his own people, believing that only by helping each other and uniting together can they survive the harsh test.

Therefore, Dulongtan's impression of Koshhag is very good.

Unfortunately, since the end of the last festival, a massive plague has swept through all the orc clans participating in the festival. In this red catastrophe that talks about the tiger's discoloration, the leader of the frost wolf, Garrard, was not spared.

In order to prevent the plague from spreading to others, the chief of the Shadowmoon Clan, and the wisest and most prestigious shaman among the orcs, Neozu urged Garrad and the others to stay in Nagrand.

Garrard was deeply saddened by the fact that he was unable to return home, but he agreed with Naozu's decision, and the last thing he wanted was to bring a natural disaster to his family and people. Garad stayed in Nagrand and took on the responsibility of managing the patients.

However, a few weeks later, Garad was killed by the Red Scourge. Despite the short time he spent leading the patients, he earned their respect and named the land Galadar in honor of the chief.

Garrard has three children, and the eldest son, Fenris, who disagrees with his so-called family philosophy, defected to the Frostwolf's survival rival in this icy mountain, the Thor Clan, in the early years. The second son, Jarnar, died a heroic death in the battle against the Dota Ogre.

Thus, Durotan has rightfully become the new wolf head.

But this did not give him the slightest consolation, and as the most supportive of family and tradition among the sons of Garrard, he was now in such a fate...... The only thing that could bring him warmth in the cold wind was the woman beside him.

Seeing that the other party showed such a gentle look, Draka smiled and gently grabbed the other party's rough and strong fingers.

"Chief, are you awake?"

Seeing that sparks were about to burst out between the two, a tired and worried voice came from outside the door curtain.

Though he tried to pretend he didn't hear, he felt Drakar's palm pressing against his chest harder and harder, and Durotan sighed softly and regretfully, and got up to leave the warm blanket under his partner's approving gaze.

"Drektar, what's the matter so early?"

The curtain opened, and with the cold wind howling, even a muscular body like Durotan, which was comparable to two or three adult humans, trembled slightly.

Outside the curtain was a middle-aged orc wrapped in thick beast fur, his brown skin darker than Durontan's, and even more striking was that on his face, a dark blindfold extended from his ears to the bridge of his nose.

Mornings in Frostfire Ridge weren't so friendly, and although they had only been out for a short time, Drektar's body was already covered in a thick layer of snowflakes. Luckily, this didn't bother him much for the frostwolf's first shaman. At the very least, you shouldn't look so anxious.

Realizing the seriousness of the matter, Durotan hurriedly straightened up, grabbed the animal skin on the side, draped it on his body, and walked out.

Looking at the wind and snow sneaking in through the crack in the curtain, Drakar's brow slowly moved towards the middle.