Gul'dan beckoned him to come forward. "Mighty Durotan, Hero of Temor!" Durotan forced himself to remain quiet. "Come up with the other chiefs, come and have a drink!"

"No, Gul'dan, I wouldn't do that. ”

Under the light of the torch, Durotan saw the muscles near Guldan's right eye twitch, "You refuse? Do you think you are stronger than the others? Do you think you don't need a blessing?"

The other chiefs now had their faces composed, their breathing heavy as if they had just run a long way, their brows drenched with sweat.

Durotan didn't take the bait, "It's my choice." ”

"Maybe the rest of your clan doesn't think so," Gul'dan said, sweeping his hands as if they were going to sweep the entire Frostwolf Clan. "And will you let them drink?"

"No, I'm the chief of the Frostwolf Clan, it's my choice. ”

Gul'dan stepped down from the obsidian block and strode towards Dulongtan. He approached Durotan and whispered in his ear, "What do you know, how do you know?"

It was clearly an intimidation, but Durotan felt hopeful instead. Gul'dan sensed threatened, but instead of sending his killers out of trouble at night, he tried to intimidate Durotan into compromise. He had just confirmed the contents of the mysterious letter for Durotan, and revealed that he had no idea who wrote it. Durotan realizes that he can survive and continues to protect his clan.

He also whispered, "I know enough." And you'll never find out how I know. ”

Gul'dan took a few steps back, barely squeezing out a smile. "This is indeed your choice, Durotan, son of Garrard. Since you choose to decline this blessing. Then you have to live with the consequences. ”

There are words in the words. But Durotan didn't care. Other times. He may be worried about what Gul'dan is planning to do to him.

But not tonight.

Gul'dan returned to his place and shouted to the crowd, "Those who want the blessings of the great Kil'gardan have received it." This is a sacred land, because here the orcs have taken an important step to become far stronger than we used to be. Think of this great mountain as the throne of Kil'Gardan, who watches and blesses us to purify ourselves and keep us away from being beyond our limits. ”

He took a few steps back and nodded to Blackhan. Blackhan's eyes glowed red. His armor also reflected the flickering light of the torches. Blackham raised his arms and shouted, "Tonight we made history." Tonight we are attacking the enemy's last stronghold. We're going to tear off our limbs, we're going to bathe in blood. We swept through the streets of their capital like their worst nightmare. Victory will belong to the Horde!"

Durotan froze. There was no tactical discussion tonight, and Blackham wasn't talking about a small village or town, but the capital of the Draenei. It was their last refuge, and he was sure they would resist more fiercely than ever, like animals cornered. He remembered the huge war machines he had built, and knew that Blackham had ordered them to be removed—to places that Durotan and the others didn't know.

Crazy, this is crazy.

He looked at the roaring people around him, their eyes glowing crimson. He realized that the word "crazy" couldn't be more appropriate.

The orcs who drank the contents of that filthy cup were indeed insane. Grom Hell roared and danced around the fire, waving his arms that had just become stronger. Tilting his head, the firelight that jumped on the once brown skin was now green. Durotan was horrified and disgusted by this, and saw that the glittering red eyes resembled the creatures enslaved by the Warlocks, and that the green hue that had already appeared on the Warlocks, like Gunn, even began to stain the skin of Durotan himself and those he loved with all his heart.

He remembered the contents of the letters, written in an ancient language, a language that few people understood, but that all the highly educated - shamans and clan chiefs - understood.

You will be asked to drink something. To refuse. It's soul-twisting blood, and it's also distorting the souls of you and others who drink it. That will enslave you forever. Out of our love for those we once cherished, we must say no.

There is a separate word in the ancient language for "twisted soul". It was something controlled by the will of the warlock, only more pure. The liquid that flowed through the lips of Durontan's friends and foes was the blood of one of them. Durotan watched as the twisted soul bound to the orcs was dancing wildly in the firelight, ready to rush down the hill, running with unnatural rage and energy to attack the strongest city in the world.

Twisted souls.

The orcs rushed down the hill along the path, burning with the ruined wildness. Some even frantically tapped the stones along the way, letting the sound of the crash call out their fury, while others kept a tight, deathly silence, gathering all the energy to explode at the right moment.

On the run, Durotan began to fear his own people—those whom he had once called friends—more than club-wielding ogres, more than any tarbu flock... Terrifying than any enraged draenei. Durotan was covered in cold sweat and restless, he was not worried about himself, he was worried about what was going to happen next—not for the fate of the Draenei, but for the orcs themselves. At this moment, they were running towards Shattrath, but he could no longer call them tribes.

At this moment, a terrible shock caused them all to fall to the ground. After struggling to get up, they looked back at where they had just left. The mountain looked like it had exploded, lava spurting into the night sky and then splattering around the jagged peak, spewing and roaring, like the demonic blood that the orcs had just drunk, except for the orange instead of the evil green. More and more molten stones are spewing out, and it's a spectacular, mesmerizing, terrifying sight.

There was a burst of cheers in the ranks, and the orcs saw this as a sign that the mountain now known as the Throne of Kil'Gardan was blessing their efforts, and they celebrated it, then turned and continued to kill.

A mile away from the city, they slowed down. There's a recently cleared vacant lot. The orcs who arrived first looked at each other. This is where they meet. It was also the place where they had placed their war machinery, but now it was empty.

At this moment, without warning, something gradually turned from nothingness into a substance before their eyes. The orcs hissed back, and then, instinctively, they began to howl hostilely at the massive thing. It stood before them, three times as tall as the tallest ogre, from its even-toed hooves to the end of its whipped tail. From its protruding horns to its sharp nails, it's red all over. It was so big they'd never seen before, but what it looked like... Durotan stared at it, and he couldn't think of anything other than what looked like a huge, crimson-skinned draenei. He realized that the orcs had been embroiled in a personal conflict, a conflict that shouldn't have been about them, and the sudden thought overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.

"You who have sworn loyalty to me need not be afraid, but only rejoice," it cried. Its voice went deep into the marrow, "I am Kilgardan." The beautiful Cunzài has been with you from the beginning. And now you are on your way to the most glorious battle, and I am with you. Once upon a time, the evil Draenei conspired against you, hiding the entire city before your eyes. But you destroyed that city, and other cities, and conquered their temples. Now all that's left is this final battle, and the threat will be over.

"The emeralds that once hid the city of Tymor from you, now hide their doom. ”

All illusions were dispelled. In front of them were dozens of ballistas, trebuchets, and a variety of siege weapons. Standing next to the apparatus were the ogres, still silent, their silly faces full of determination. They were armed with weapons suited to their size, and Durotan found them at least thirty of them. They make those huge weapons look like toys.

"There's more," Kilgardan said, waving his hands at the same time. The warlocks covered their heads with a scream, and after a moment they blinked and grinned again. "New magic is pouring into your minds. Make good use of it. Now, go deal with the Draenei!"

It was as if he had opened a door, and all the bloodthirsty orcs moved. Some of them rushed to the machines that could breach the walls, propelling them with a force that Durotan had never seen before. The ogres immediately walked over to the other equipment, briskly propelling the large, heavy weapons. The other orcs were also deeply immersed in bloodlust and charged directly in the direction of the city. Durotan didn't know what they would do when they arrived, but he and his clan could only follow as best they could.

The weapons of war propelled by ogres and orcs rumbled smoothly. But before they could reach the attacking position, the walls that protected the city were already under attack. Huge, glowing green stones rained down from the sky and crashed into the city, shattering the watchtowers and bunkers erected on the walls, and cracking the walls in many places. But it's not just boulders that fall from the sky that pose a threat, it's something that rises from boulders that fall to the ground. What appeared to be the same glowing green stone creatures stood up and moved calmly at frightening speed to attack, striking at the walls along with the normal stones thrown by the catapults. The thick trunk of the tree slammed against the massive gate, and the two ogres slammed on it with their sticks, the wooden gate trembling. Durotan heard cries of anger and fear inside, and the Draenei were wrestling with the boulders, "Hellfire," as he heard a warlock call it. Most warlocks are taking advantage of this new minion, while some are still using small, familiar creatures.

Under such an attack, the city could not hold out for long. With a loud bang, an entire stone wall collapsed. A tide of frenzied orcs and roaring ogres swarmed into the gap, brandishing their weapons. Durotan stood in place, as if rooted under his feet, watching the orcs fight, kill, and be killed.

The fury he had seen before in the heat of battle was nothing compared to what he had seen in front of him. There are no tactics, no defense, no retreat when it's time to retreat. It's just killing, sowing death and accepting it, stupidly rushing into the dead end where the trap is set. This was the way the ogres should have been, they fell hard, blood pouring out of them, and Durotan was not grieving about it. But the orcs... They no longer paid attention to anything, only the rush that screeched in their veins, and the roar of battle that welled up in their throats.

Dozens... No, no, hundreds of people will die tonight. The number of casualties would make the city unlivable. At sunrise, blue and green corpses will fill the streets. And now, there is only carnage and chaos, and endless madness. Durotan wields an axe because if he doesn't fight, he will die, and even now, he doesn't want to die, even though he knows that his people are walking on a dark path.

Kilgardan and Manolos stood together, watching the green meteor with Hellfire hit the ground. "Like a swarm of bees," Manolos muttered. Kilgardan nodded, satisfied. "Indeed, it's beautiful, I'm satisfied. ”

"What's next?"

Kilgardan looked at his lieutenant with a slight dismay. "What's next? There's no next step, at least not here. The orcs achieved my goal. They burn your blood, friend. Unless they find a place to release their vent, your blood will eventually consume them. And the only way to release and vent is to slaughter every remaining draenei in this world. ”

He looked at the fire burning in the green in the distance.

"You're done here, that's good," Manolos said. "Akmund always complains that you are wasting time and that our host wants us to go elsewhere. ”

Kilgardan sighed. "You're right. Sargeras was hungry, but he was patient with me. I regret only one thing - I didn't get to see them ruin Miè Vilen with my own eyes. Ah well, it's enough to know that that's already a reality. Let's go. ”

He made a gesture, and then both he and his lieutenant disappeared. (To be continued......)