American comics: From Hogwarts to God on Earth

Chapter 570 For the sake of your world, kill us!

The Parademons were thrown into chaos. Even with reinforcements arriving steadily from the rear, it would take at least a minute for them to regroup and stabilize their lines again.

That's exactly what Nazgrell wanted – those few minutes.

The moment Kane began to pray, he had already shot up the hillside like an arrow. Four Kor'kron Guardians followed closely behind, shielding him from stray bullets and the occasional Parademons that charged at him.

The moment the war trampling broke out, Nazgrell did not slow down. Instead, he slapped the giant wolf's rump hard, urging it to run faster. The magical creature, which resembled his old friend, resolutely accelerated.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!" Nazgrell roared as he sprinted across the violently undulating, cracked, and collapsed ground, relying on muscle memory and the instincts of an orc warrior.

A flying rock struck his left shoulder, denting his armor and cracking his bones, but the valiant orc didn't utter a sound; instead, it fueled his fighting spirit even more.

In just five seconds, he reached the halfway point of the mountain.

Two Parademons, one created by Cyclops and the other by Magneto, tried to stop him, but how could these soulless creatures possibly stop Nazgrell in his rage?

The laser-eyed demon's eyes had just begun to glow red when the orc warrior's battle axe slashed through the air in a bloody arc.

One head flew into the air, while the other was severed in half at the waist, its intestines spilling out onto the ground.

The other Parademons who tried to stop Nazgrell's charge were held back by the Kor'kron Guards, these taciturn warriors who were now bloodthirsty.

Three more seconds passed, and he was only thirty meters away from where the five Professors X were. At this moment, a clone Parademon crashed into him from the side. Nazgrell did not dodge or avoid it, but went straight to meet it. However, he was knocked away by the force the next moment.

He looked down at his chest, where the armor was completely deformed. Although he could not feel any pain, the foreign object in his side made this experienced soldier realize that he probably had several broken ribs.

However, the Parademon that blocked his way was also severely injured; its head was gaping open, but it was still able to roar loudly.

It was clearly furious.

"Come on, you beast!" Nazgrell bared his fangs. He had experienced no less war than the Parademons who fought in other universes. In fact, because the enemies the orcs faced were powerful forces even in the multiverse, every surviving orc veteran was an elite among elites.

Nazgrel was one of the best among them. Although he was not the strongest warrior like Broxigar, who faced the Dark Titan head-on and injured him, nor was he Grommash, who cut down the demigod Mannoroth with a single slash of the Elimination Blade, he was still a legendary warrior.

The Parademon roared and charged at Nazgrell, who swung his battle axe. Using the momentum of the giant wolf he was riding, he swung the axe again, tearing the Parademon's head apart completely. Pink, white, and red debris scattered all over the ground.

The other four Kor'kron Guardians were not idle either; they were constantly clearing away the Parademons rushing in from all sides.

During this time, the surviving Parademons reacted and attacked them like madmen. Fortunately, with the help of Rune's magical artifacts, the four Kor'kron Guardians were able to hold on.

However, the siege by the Parademons only strengthened their resolve. The enemy's attack proved they were right.

Nazgrell, having slain the Parademon, leaped to the top of the hill, only a dozen seconds after the horrific war ravages.

The orc warrior was finally able to see what the five Parademons looked like.

They were still wearing well-fitting dark blue armor, but without helmets, revealing one of the inhumane modifications these five Parademons had undergone. Parts of their heads had been removed, exposing the luminous cerebral cortex, with countless fine wires extending from the brain and connecting to the seats beneath them.

Moreover, the faces of these clones are exactly the same person at different age stages, including childhood, adolescence, youth, middle age, and old age.

Before Nazgrell could even be shocked, he saw them all simultaneously lock their gazes on him. Without any warning, Nazgrell's world suddenly collapsed.

He found himself standing atop a fortress, not at the foot of Mount Hyjal, but on the burning Orgrimmar.

Thick smoke billowed and shouts of battle filled the air. He saw Thrall nailed to the monument in the Valley of Honor, saw Cairne's totem pole broken, and saw the corpses of the Kor'kron Guards piled up in the streets.

"This is your predetermined future," five voices overlapped in his mind, some sad, some angry, some resentful, but some quite proud, "Surrender, it's not too late before you witness the supreme power of that one."

"Never!" Nazgrell roared, wildly swinging his giant axe, though he only struck air, his will as firm as a rock. "Orcs never yield!"

"But didn't you already submit?" one of the older voices asked.

As he spoke, Nazgrel returned to Draenor in his childhood, a time before it had completely fallen into hell and was thoroughly corrupted by green fel energy.

He saw his father—the orc warrior whose face he could barely remember—drink demon blood under the influence of a short, hunchbacked orc with a tumor on one leg.

Subsequently, Nazgrel had to watch as his father, under the influence of demon blood, killed his mother with his own hands, then turned to the young Nazgrel with a mad burning in his eyes.

"No—" The orc's will finally wavered.

"You have the same blood as your father flowing in your veins," the voice rang out again, but this time the tone was more like that of a boy, with a malicious sarcasm. "The seeds of violence, savagery, and destruction were planted within you long ago, but Thrall locked you in with the shackles called honor, and locked up the entire Horde as well."

Nazgrel felt a heart-wrenching pain, a wound from the depths of his memory that had been deliberately buried, the original sin of the orcs. Driven by demon blood, they had lost the glory that orcs should have had and willingly become the minions of the Burning Legion.

But the next second, he remembered Sal's eyes—

The young chieftain who brought him out of the arena and told him that "the orcs' power comes from themselves, not from demons."

"My path is my own choice!" he roared, but soon Nazgrell suddenly found that his left leg was starting to give way, his right arm muscles were spasming, and he almost dropped his battle axe.

At the same time, his heart suddenly raced, his vision went black due to lack of oxygen, and a sharp ringing sounded in his ears.

"Your body is just a bunch of chemical reactions and electrical signals." A cold voice rang out, this time the tone—it was that of the middle-aged man. "We can make you stop breathing, make your heart burst, make your brain overload. In other words, we can manipulate your death."

But Nazgrell bit his tongue, the salty taste of blood and the excruciating pain keeping him conscious for the last moment. With his still-movable right hand, he plunged the battle axe deep into his left thigh, trying to bring himself back to full consciousness.

"The will of the orcs is not in the electrical signals and chemical reactions you speak of—" he roared, his mouth full of blood, "It is in our bones, it is in our blood, it is in the heart of every orc!"

Applause broke out, and this time it was Rune who spoke.

"That's a great statement. Don't worry, with me here, their telepathic abilities won't affect you."

The next moment, he regained control of his body, and the illusion dissipated automatically. The first thing he saw was the calm, yet blood-stained faces of the five demonoids.

One of the older men said softly, "Kill us for the sake of your world."

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