The sky cracked.

Something bright and blazing rushed into the ground in front of Gul'dan and Naozu, and the impact was so great that it shook Gul'dan down. After a long time, he was overwhelmed with fear. He just lay on the ground, breathing like a fish out of water, and finally his lungs remembered how to function, and he took a deep breath.

He stood up, his body shaking involuntarily, and then held his breath for what he saw.

It stood in front of him, dusty as it shook its four hoofed feet and flapped its massive leather wings. Its hair, more like a mane, is green and curly, stretching from its neck to its back. The green eyes twinkled like blazing stars, and when it opened its mouth, its huge fangs reflected a faint light, as if there were rows of sharp teeth, and its roar made Gul'dan want to fall to the ground and cry in fear. But he managed to keep himself still standing, calm in front of the behemoth. It raised its clenched fist and swung it around in a brutal motion, then looked down at the two orcs, huddled in a trembling mass.

What's that?, Gul'dan screamed inwardly.

Suddenly, Kil'Gardan appeared, looked at Gul'dan and opened his mouth and laughed wildly.

"Look at my lieutenant, Manolos. He has served me well and will continue to serve me well. In other worlds, everyone called him the Saboteur. But here he will be the savior. Guldan," said Kilga≈ ww◇W. Dan whispered, and Guldan suddenly felt weak and unwell. "You know what I'm going to give to your people. ”

Gul'dan swallowed hard. He didn't dare look at Naozu, he felt his gaze piercing his back.

Yes, he knows exactly what Kilgardan is going to give. The power of the unimagined... and eternal servitude. Kilgardan had given Naozu the former in exchange for the latter. And Naozu. This coward. Flinched. He did not want to bring eternal doom to his people.

Gul'dan had no such scruples, he only thought about the reward that Kil'Gardan had promised. "I know, Great Lord," said Gul'dan, amazed at how steady and powerful his voice was. "I know, and I have accepted your most generous offer, master. ”

Kilgardan smiled. "Good," he said. "You're smarter than your forerunners. ”

Gul'dan gloated and turned to look at Naozu, his eyes full of confidence and pride. The old shaman looked at his former apprentice with pleading eyes. Of course he didn't dare to say it. Needless to say. Even in the dim starlight, his expression was clearly recognizable.

Gul'dan rolled his fang-side lips and turned to look at Manolos. It was still terrifying, but Gul'dan's fear was replaced by a thirst for power on his face. He looked at the creature and knew that it was valued by their common master as much as he was. They are comrades-in-arms.

"Only a special blade can do what I told you to do, Gul'dan," Kiljadan said. He spread his hand, and a knife lay in his huge palm, which looked tiny, but when Gul'dan held it, he felt that it was actually large.

"This thing was cast in the mountains over there. Kilgardan said, pointing to the smoking mountain. "My servant worked hard for a long time to forge it. You know what to do. Manolos. ”

The behemoth nodded at his huge head. Its tail maintains the balance of its massive body, and it kneels on its front legs, stretches out its arms, and bends its hands upwards to expose the relatively soft parts of its wrists.

Gul'dan hesitated for a moment, what if it was all a ruse, or a test, what if Kil'Gardan really didn't want him to do it, what if he failed?

What if Naozu is right?

"Gul'dan," said Kilgardan, "Manolos is good in many ways, but not patient. ”

Manolos roared softly and blinked his green eyes. "I can't wait to see what happens. All of you... Come on. ”

Gul'dan swallowed hard, raised his knife, aimed its blade at Manolos' exposed wrist, and slashed as hard as he could.

The force of Manolos' painful roar sent him flying backwards. He lifted his vertigo head and blinked, trying to see what was in front of him.

Flames of liquid flowed from the wound, glowing a disgusting yellow-green color, slowly filling the pool of Draenei's sacrifice. The wound was small for Manolos' sheer size, but the blood flowed out like a waterfall. Gul'dan could vaguely feel that Naozu's weak thing was crying. Gul'dan couldn't take his eyes off the sight in front of him, evil blood was pouring out, gushing out without stopping, pouring out of a creature that was roaring and jumping incessantly from pain. He stood up and walked to the edge of the pool, very careful not to touch the liquid that had come out of the wound he had cut. "Look at the blood of this destroyer," Kilgardan looked at with satisfaction, "and it will burn up a single qiē that disobeys you, Gul'dan." It washes away all hesitation, confusion, or uncertainty. It creates a hunger that can be channeled by any way you choose. Your little puppet thinks he's firmly in control of the tribe, and he's wrong. The Shadow Council thought they ruled the tribe and they were all wrong. ”

Gul'dan looked away from the pool of glowing green fluid gushing from Manolos' wrist wound and looked intently at Kil'Gardan.

"Gul'dan... Soon it will be you who will rule the tribe. They are all ready, and they are hungry for what you are going to give them. ”

Gul'dan looked back at the surging liquid.

"Call them unto thee, and give them what they desire..."

The familiar trumpet woke the whole tribe and summoned them to gather before dawn. Durotan didn't sleep, he didn't sleep much anymore. Without saying a word, he and Draka got up and dressed.

Suddenly, he heard her inhale rapidly. He immediately turned around and saw her staring at him with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"You... Your skin," she whispered. He looked down at his bare chest. His skin was dry and flaky, he scratched it twice, and the skin underneath looked like... Green. He remembered seeing the same color on Gunn's skin not long ago.

"It's just the lights," he said, trying to convince himself and Drakar. But she is not so easily appeased. Drakar raised his arm and grabbed it a few times. Her skin has also turned green. She looked at him with dark eyes. They all saw it, and it wasn't the lights that were doing the trick.

"What happened to us?" Draka asked.

Durotan didn't know the answer. They continued to dress quietly. As he walked out into the courtyard and waited, he kept looking at his arm, a strange green hue hidden beneath the scarred metal armor.

The announcement of the assembly was made yesterday afternoon by a few young orcs during training. Durotan was still not used to seeing children who had only been able to walk a few months ago now wielding knives and axes with surprising force. They seem satisfied, even happy, with their state. But Durotan had to resist the urge to shake his head every time he saw them.

Durotan discovers that he is not even curious about their next target. Always the same killing, destroying, and then insulting the corpse as before. Recently, even the corpses of the tribe have been left in place, and only their weapons and armor have been used to continue to use. Sometimes friends or family members of the deceased would bend over the body for a moment of silence, but this is becoming less and less common. In the past, the bodies of those who had died in battle would be brought home, and the corpses would be lit on the firewood during a solemn ceremony, and their souls would officially join the ranks of the souls of the ancestors, and those days would never return. And now, there is no time for ceremonies, firewood, or ancestors. There is no time to care about the dead. There's no time left for anything, except to kill the draenei, and tinker with weapons and armor so that the horde can continue to kill.

He stood numbly looking at the courtyard, waiting for orders. Blackhan rode his mount to the gates of the fort, where he was clearly visible. It was very windy today, and there was nothing to stop the wind from blowing into this desolate place, blowing the flags of the clans to the gall