Make Azeroth breathtaking

"Although it's a mutated creature, it's still a beast—but I'm very curious about why it became so big."

Brol calmly cast spells to restrain Hrdum's movements, while watching with great interest the giant spider crawling around in front of him. As a druid, he was extremely interested in this naturally mutated creature, especially since it originated in Blackrock Mountain, a place yet to be set foot in by the Cenarion Circle.

"How about we cut off all its legs, blow out all its compound eyes, pull out its fangs, and then give them to you to study?"

Valera, who had dislocated another leg of Hadum using a circling tactic, offered a very unreliable suggestion.

There's no need to torture it.

Bloor briefly stated his position, then spread his arms and transformed into a giant bear, slapping a third of Hrdum's head as it tried to shoot out spider silk. The severely injured Hrdum let out a sharp screech and desperately slid its remaining legs, trying to escape back to the arena exit.

However, before Duhem's foot could slide even twice, a tremendous force grabbed its hind limb. Overwhelmed by the instinctive fear of death, the giant spider twisted hard, directly abandoning the limb that had been grabbed, and in doing so,... lost its balance.

"squeak!!!"

As if seeing the Grim Reaper's scythe already waving in front of him, Duhem let out another mournful scream. The Dark Iron dwarves in the stands stared wide-eyed, not daring to breathe, for fear of missing the exciting spectacle to come!

"This is the final blow! Beast!!!"

With a roar from Logosh, his two-handed greatsword, trailing a trail of cold light, slashed fiercely down at Duhrum. Duhrum struggled in its death throes, but under the combined suppression of Brol and Valeera, its struggles were laughable and powerless.

With a flash of sword light, the beast was torn apart. The crawler Duhem, whom the Darkforge commentator claimed could fight against an elite army, was reduced to a corpse that was still twitching slightly.

"Roar!!!!"

Logos raised his two-handed sword high into the air, and after a few seconds of deathly silence, the arena erupted in a deafening roar of cheers.

"Logosh! Logosh! Logosh!!!"

————————————Dark Furnace City Inn————————————————

Freed, Windsor sat in his chair, still replaying in his mind the heroic figure of Logos in the Arena of Order. The cheers of the arena audience after the giant spider was cut in half still echoed in his ears.

Although the king's opponents were all beasts, Windsor, as a veteran soldier, knew very well that in terms of pure martial arts skills, even the fallen Marshal Lothar might not be half as strong as Varian—Varian in the arena had clearly shown the potential to be able to fight ten men... or even more exaggeratedly!

'When King Varian was young, due to the orc invasion, he learned some martial arts for self-defense from martial arts instructors of various families, but he was only a jack-of-all-trades and master of none. What great upheaval did he experience that caused this half of himself—according to him, representing Varian's warlike personality—to be honed into such a sharp sword?'

The sound of the door opening broke Windsor's reverie. He looked up and saw Logosh enter the room with his two companions and Tannis, the great tinker of Ratchet.

"Marshal Windsor, Tannis the Great Tinker has arranged an evacuation route for us that will bypass the Black Dragon's eyes and ears. We'll set off tonight, and we must reach the rendezvous point within fifteen days."

"Yes, my king."

——————————————Dark Furnace City, Royal Palace——————————————————

“Darling, they’re gone.”

Moira wrapped her arms around her husband, the current Dark Iron Dwarf King Dagran Thaurissan, and naturally rested her head on his shoulder. Dagran also wrapped his arms around his wife's waist, silently watching the bright light of the churning lava in the center of Darkforge in the distance.

After a long while, Dagran finally spoke in a hoarse voice.

“My dear, can they really help us? I know the reputation of us Dark Iron dwarves.”

A smile appeared on Moira's face, a smile tinged with helplessness and heartache.

“I don’t know, Dagran, but for our children, I have to take this gamble.”

"A child? A child!! Moira! You said a child?"

Dagran's voice rose an octave, filled with joy and disbelief. He hadn't been with Moira for very long, and dwarves, being a long-lived race, actually had a remarkably low success rate in getting pregnant...

“Yes, Dagran, I have confirmed with the priest. Perhaps this is a divine revelation, telling me that I will surely be with you.”

Moira's words made Dagran temporarily forget his worries. He stroked his wife's belly, trying his best to feel the pulse of his child.

"It's still early!"

Moira slapped away Dagran's mischievous hand, which was kneeling in front of her.

"Haha, yes, it's still early, still early..."

Dagran straightened up with a silly grin, his aura gradually settling in. This change made Moira's eyes widen; it was the first time she had ever seen her husband so confident!

"Therefore, as a father, I must find a way to create a good future for our child—a future that allows him to walk with his head held high under the sun!!"

26. The Western Wilderness

Westfall.

This is a land whose name is completely at odds with its reality. Although it is called the Wildlands, the Westfall is undoubtedly the most important granary of the Stormwind Kingdom. Hundreds of farms of varying sizes are scattered across this vast plain. The farmhands work hard to cultivate the crops in the fields, hoping that they will bring a more abundant reward to mankind in the autumn. Every now and then, horse-drawn carriages or, more advanced, steam-powered vehicles pass by on the compacted dirt roads, transporting ore from the mines to the kingdom's warehouses.

Originally... it should have been like this.

"Destroyed, all destroyed..."

Logos bent down and silently dug a handful of soil from the field beneath his feet, which was clearly affected by the struggle. He gripped it tightly, feeling the fertility of the soil and imagining how happily the crops planted in such soil would grow. But now, they could only lie silently on the ground, waiting to be washed away by the torrential rain.

“Defias…”

Marshal Windsor stroked a wagon that was already falling apart, with its axles showing signs of mold and rot. A hint of anger appeared in his voice. He could easily imagine how the bandits of Defias had swept across this land, burned the crops, and killed people!

"They have reached the rendezvous point."

Tannis's words broke Logos and Windsor's thoughts. She activated the mechanical assistant's projection map function and marked a location by the sea.

"Let's go over there."

———————————————Heading to the rendezvous point——————————————

When they arrived at the rendezvous point, Lo'Gosh's face was so dark it could drip water. Everything he saw along the way confirmed that Westfall had become a true wasteland. Even though he had solved the black dragon problem, Stormwind Kingdom's harvest for the year was ruined...

"Your Majesty, without a doubt, if you intend to launch an attack from the Westfall, Defias is a problem we will have to confront. Although the Stonemasons' Guild initially sought their due compensation, they have undoubtedly strayed from their original intentions."

"I know."

Logos climbed a hill and waved into the distance. Several flags stretched out from the empty space in the distance, a fantastical scene that made Windsor's eyes widen.

"Your Majesty, are there spellcasters in the army you mentioned?"

Yes, quite a few.

Logos's face lit up with a happy smile, and he patted Windsor on the shoulder.

"Come on, let me show you the troops I've brought in!"

————————————Barracks——————————————————

Blood Elf.

Goblin.

dwarf.

Humanity.

There were even orcs.

Upon entering this area, so well concealed by engineering and magic, Windsor felt his worldview being challenged. The reason was simple: the sheer number of races mixed together here was far too many for any army!

“Daelin lent me one of his personal guards, equipped with the light combat armor of Ratchet. The Ancient Literature Society sent a small team of sorcerers to assist us in the battle, and I hired their engineering corps in Ratchet. This solved most of our logistical problems. In addition, Rega insisted on sending my nominal fellow disciples to help me, and I couldn’t refuse.”

"...Rega, that name... he's an orc?"

Windsor, having considered a possibility, began to speak dryly.

"During the time I lost my memory, I was able to survive entirely thanks to Rega's help, and he also taught me these martial arts..."

Seeing Windsor's completely distorted expression, Logos reluctantly pushed up his wolf mask.

“I know what you’re thinking, Windsor. I’m starting to understand what Archpatriarch Tirion Fordring was thinking back then… Perhaps my son is right. Unlike the old Horde that destroyed Stormwind, the new Horde is at least a negotiable partner.”

"..."

Logos's answer left Windsor's mind in a complete mess, and it took him a long time to finally grit his teeth and speak.

“Your Majesty… I can accept having these orcs help us eliminate our enemies, after all, the black dragon wants to destroy our very foundations. However, I… personally cannot, at least not now, personally cannot accept orcs setting foot on Stormwind’s territory! No! It should be said that the vast majority of Stormwind’s residents do not want to see orcs! Your Majesty! If you lead them to attack Stormwind, you may lose the hearts and minds of the people!”

"If the residents of Stormwind are afraid to see us, then we can just stay outside the city as reserves."

Before Logos could answer, Wild Axe spoke in a gruff voice, his unfamiliar Common language drawing Windsor's attention.

"You, the reserve force? I remember you orcs take pleasure in fighting, don't you?"

"Chief Thrall instructed us that this is your territory."

The answer from the barbarian axe surprised Windsor for a moment, then he nodded.

“That’s right, this is our territory.”

————————————————A few minutes later————————————————

“One hundred and thirty-three, one hundred and thirty-four... There are too few people. Although His Majesty the King has found elite soldiers who can fight five or even ten men at a time, even if I persuade some of the guards, it is still an impossible task to break into Stormwind with this number of people.”

Windsor sat on a rock, looking at the Stormwind defense line diagram he had hastily drawn on paper, feeling troubled. Undoubtedly, the soldiers gathered here were elite troops who could change the course of the battle if they were deployed at the right time. The problem was, elite troops alone could not accomplish anything!

“Come with me, Windsor.”

Just as he was pondering how to attack Stormwind, Lo'Gosh led Tannis, Valeera, and Brol into his tent and tossed him a sword.

"Your Majesty? This is..."

“There are many spontaneous militia groups in the western wilderness. By integrating them, we can obtain a decent number of troops.”

Logos's answer made Windsor frown, and he reminded him in a deep voice.

“Your Majesty, I need to remind you that those troops were formed by the people of the Western Wilderness to defend against the Defias. In their eyes, eliminating the Defias is the most important thing.”

"So, let's go and destroy Defias now."

"...Your Majesty, do you know where Defias's stronghold is?"

"I know."

Tannis tapped the mechanical assistant, and the map was projected again, with a very conspicuous yellow dot on it.

"The Defias Brotherhood bought a bunch of Ratchet components to counterfeit and ruin Ratchet's product reputation. Do they really think Ratchet's anti-counterfeiting system is useless?"

27. The Deadly Mine

"Whoosh—whoosh—"