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"I'm sorry... I lost my composure."

"No, I can understand. After all, the pain you've endured is more than many people have combined in ten lifetimes."

Tanis, who had learned more about Jaina's past experiences from fragments of memory, turned slightly to the side.

"Let's go, we can talk about some things after dinner."

——————————————Half an hour later——————————————————

In the VIP room of Ratchet, Jaina, who had regained her usual elegance, sat in a chair, sipping tea leisurely in her right hand, while Gazlowe and Tannis frowned as they pondered her request.

"Where to live...it's a bit of a problem..."

"Didn't the Gadgetzan Consortium say they'd do anything for money? Kalimdor is such a large area, finding housing for over a thousand people shouldn't be a problem, right?"

Jaina placed the teacup on the tray, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Simply living here is easy... the main thing is how harsh the natural environment you can tolerate..."

Tannis unfolded a map in front of her, which was covered with various symbols.

"Although Kalimdor is very large, most of the area is already occupied. This place, this place, and this place are all the territory of the elusive Night Elves. If you enter rashly, the best outcome will be that you are driven out, and the worst outcome will be that you are all killed."

"...So big?"

Although she had learned some things about the night elves in Dalaran, Jaina was still somewhat taken aback when she learned that most of Kalimdor was night elf territory.

"After all, they are the natives of this place... and the origin of magical civilization, so it's not surprising that they control a large area."

"And what about here?"

Jaina pointed to a green area that had no sign of the night elves.

"Ah, that's the territory of the Tauren. They moved there from the Desolace about three years ago with the help of Ratchet."

"......"

Jaina twitched her lips and pointed to the long, narrow peninsula next to Ratchet.

"This is a good place to land."

"Yes, but the orcs have already made their home here."

"Orcs???"

Tanya's answer made Jaina's voice rise an octave.

"Yes, they are the orcs who raided the internment camp in Lordaeron a while ago. Their Warchief Thrall received a warning from the prophet, so he brought his tribe to Kalimdor to prepare for the future."

Tanis answered calmly.

"The prophet...could it be that the prophet told my allies that they are orcs?"

Jaina frowned, weighing the pros and cons, and after a long while, she made a decision.

"Tannis, does your Ratchet have any connection with those orcs?"

"Of course, they haven't paid their fare yet."

Jaina, who selectively ignored the fact that the orcs were sent to Kalimdor from Ratchet, slammed her hands on the table.

"Could you arrange a meeting between me and their chieftain in a safe place? I want to know... what exactly does the prophet want to tell us? Why did he exclude us and lead the orcs to this continent?"

-----------------the next day----------------

On a small island controlled by Ratchet, a manned helicopter slowly landed on the landing pad. Thrall and Grom Hellscream stepped off the helicopter and greeted Jaina, who was already waiting on the island, along with Tanias, who was providing security with a team of Tinkers.

Thrall and Grom stopped about four meters away.

"Humans, were you also summoned here by the prophet?"

"This question is returned to you, orcs. Were all your actions in the Eastern Kingdom guided by the prophet?"

Jaina's tone was unfriendly.

"The prophet only guided us to this land to face the true fate of the orcs. What about you, humans?"

"The prophet told me that only by coming to this land can I avenge Lordaeron and Dalaran, and defeat the mastermind behind everything."

"...Lordaeron and Dalaran were destroyed?"

Thrall paused slightly. He had been busy establishing an initial base for the orc tribe recently and hadn't been aware of any world events. However, before he could ask for details, Grom's soft hum reached their ears.

"Good riddance! I only regret that I couldn't do it myself."

"Grom!"

Thrall turned his head, his expression somewhat displeased. He had already realized that his old friend was starting to lose control of the orcs' bloodlust.

“I am telling the truth, Great Chief.”

"Alright, Grom, if you can't control your fighting spirit, it proves that you're not fit for combat in the short term. In that case, you'll have to switch positions with Broxigar."

Another familiar name in Sal's warning made Tannis prick up her ears.

"What is Brox doing?"

“I arranged for him to collect timber for the tribe to prepare for our new home. I reckon he’s already started logging.”

"...Which direction did he go?"

"Due north, the elemental spirits told me there's plenty of wood over there... What's with that expression, Miss Tannis?"

"High Warchief Thrall... I forgot to remind you... most of the forests in Kalimdor... under normal circumstances... cannot be cut down..."

————————————————Ashe Valley——————————————————————

“General Brox, someone is interfering with our laborers’ logging operations. These are their weapons.”

An orc warrior entered Broxigar's tent and handed him an arrow.

"Were any laborers injured or killed?"

Brox picked up the arrow and examined it.

"Not yet, but the laborers are terrified and refuse to continue working until the danger is over."

"It seems this forest has an owner..."

Brox stood up, picked up his axe, and walked out of the tent.

"Should we prepare for battle, General Brox?"

"Prepare for battle, but do not attack until you receive my order."

"Where are you going, General?"

Brox stopped and uttered a single word.

"negotiation."

43. Conversations in Ash Valley

"Shh, shh, shh..."

Brox carried his battle axe and walked steadily through the deep forest. The creeping grass swayed gently beneath his feet, making a sound in the wind, and sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

Gradually, Brox felt like he was being watched. From this feeling, he sensed a warning, a rejection, and a faint hint of murderous intent.

"ha."

Brox slammed his two-handed axe into the soil in front of him, spread his arms to show he meant no harm, then cleared his throat and began to pronounce each word in his not-so-fluent Common Tongue.

"I am Broxigar, the personal bodyguard of Thrall, the Warchief of the Orcish Horde, and a general of the Horde. I wish to speak with the master of this forest. Could you please introduce me?"

The moment Brox finished speaking, he felt the hostile gaze suddenly disappear, but apart from the sounds of the wind, insects, and birds in the forest, Brox received no response.

Just as Brox was wondering what kind of medicine the forest's owner was selling, a vast feeling silently enveloped his illness. For a fleeting moment, Brox even thought that the forest had 'come alive'.

Then, a majestic voice resounded in Brox's ears.

"Brox, do you realize that your actions will leave wounds on this forest that will never heal?"

"Master of the Forest, we have no choice but to do this, for our orcish tribe has fled here and resources are scarce. Our old, weak, and disabled members desperately need roofs to shelter them from the intense sunlight and intermittent downpours of Durotar. It is difficult to build suitable houses using only stone and animal hides. Therefore, I hope that in exchange for completing some tasks for you or offering some trade, we may obtain your permission to harvest some usable timber in the forest to build our village—I swear in the name of my ancestors, the tribe will never indiscriminately cut down trees."

Brox, realizing that he might be speaking to some kind of natural spirit, responded neither humbly nor arrogantly.

Why have you fled here?

“A prophet instructed us that on this land we can break the curse we bear and reclaim our true destiny as orcs.”

"The forest does not welcome you until you sever your curse... and I have no task for you to complete..."

The voice's reply made Brox narrow his eyes slightly and reach for the axe, but the voice's next words made him stop.

"I will make one hundred pieces of wood that can be used as main beams, as well as a suitable number of pieces of wood suitable for main beams. They will appear near your camp in half a day. Take them with you and leave my forest."

"The tribe thanks you for your generosity! I owe you a debt of gratitude! Spirit of Nature!"

Completely caught off guard by this unexpected turn of events, Broxigar was overjoyed and punched his chest hard before turning and leaving. Meanwhile, on a mountaintop in Ashenvale, the demigod Cenarius slowly lowered his hand, which was imbued with the power of nature, and closed his eyes.

A few seconds later, a pure white owl silently landed in front of him.

Are you calling me, Cenarius?

"I have already spoken with the 'barbarians' who destroyed the forest in Ashenvale, as discovered by your sentries. Although they all reek of demons, they are orcs."

"Orcs?"

Tyrande's voice paused slightly.

"The orc leading this force is named Broxigar."

"Broximately? Could it be???"

Taland's tone became somewhat out of control, and the scene from ten thousand years ago vividly reappeared before her eyes.

A fearless warrior, a charge with no return, an insurmountable strike, a scar that saved the world.

"Broxshiga, this is the era he lived in... But when we met him, he didn't have any demonic aura about him. Then, he told me that the orcs entered this ancient land to break the curse and reclaim their destiny."

"The curse the orcs bear... is it because of the Burning Legion?"

Tyrande wasn't stupid; she instantly understood what Cenarius was trying to say.