Make Azeroth breathtaking

Of course, Logosh, who was training, was unaware of the discussion taking place in Theramore. Right now, he was going to great lengths to learn Rhaegar's technique, which involved infusing his emotions into his power and then releasing it as a combat skill. However, after wasting almost two hours, he had gained nothing but an increasingly anxious mind, a body covered in sweat, and aching muscles.

"hateful!!!"

Completely unable to grasp the key points, Logos slammed his training sword heavily against the rock. The force of his blow sent shards of stone flying, and the training sword, subjected to the excessive force, chipped a small hole.

“Although these training equipment are the teacher’s private property, that doesn’t mean you can waste them at will, Logos. Don’t forget you still owe us money.”

A crisp sound reached Logos's ears. He turned around and saw Valera leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed, her pale blue eyes looking at him with displeasure.

"I...I just..."

Logos felt embarrassed as he realized how foolish his actions had been.

"Mastering anger and being mastered by anger are two different concepts for a warrior. The former can make one person fight ten or even a hundred in the right battlefield, while the latter is used to play the role of the villain who is one person fighting ten or a hundred."

Valera walked over to Logos, picked up the training sword with a small chip, put it back on the weapon rack, and then looked at Logos.

"Go take a shower, rest for a bit, change into some casual clothes, and come with me."

"Is something wrong?"

"Yes, that druid has agreed to join our team. The teacher has arranged for you and me to meet him so we can get to know each other first."

—————————————— Washing up/drinking section——————————————————

When Logos finished washing up and changed into the casual clothes Rhaegar had provided him, Valera was already waiting by a car.

"This is?"

Logosh, who had been following Rega since arriving in Ratchet and hadn't yet experienced the various features of the arena, asked in confusion.

"Gasoline locomotives—the most common mode of transportation in Ratchet, similar to horse-drawn carriages, but much more comfortable and faster, and requiring less maintenance—don't touch them, I still have loans to pay off!"

After stopping Logos's curious attempt to pull something off her car to look at it, Valera took the driver's seat, arranged for Logos to sit in the passenger seat, and instructed him to fasten himself securely with his seatbelt.

"Are you seated?"

Logos nodded.

"Alright then..."

Valera started the engine and slammed the accelerator to the floor, her cheers mingling with Logos's exclamations.

"Set off!!!"

——————————————Oak Seed Bar——————————————————

"Rumble—squeak—"

Accompanied by the approaching sound of engines and screeching brakes, Valera skillfully maneuvered her car, executing a beautiful drift in front of the bar before pulling over to the side of the road. Logos scrambled out of the car, leaning against the wall and retching.

"...I...I think riding a horse is probably more suitable...I...ugh..."

"I don't know about other cities, but in Ratchet, riding a horse costs much more than driving. I think you should get used to vehicles."

Valera, who had no idea that Logos's current state was the result of her speeding and drifting, righteously refuted his idea of ​​riding a horse. She walked to the door, handed a piece of paper to the waiter, who took the paper, glanced at it, and called over another waiter.

"Please come in, gentlemen, your guests have arrived."

———————————————Inside the private room——————————————————

Broll Bearskin sat on a soft sofa, leisurely munching on nuts. As a well-educated night elf druid, his expression was always calm and composed.

"please."

Just as Bloor had finished off half of a plate of nuts, the door to the private room opened, and the waiter gestured for them to enter. Valera and Logosh, who had almost recovered, entered.

Strong, very strong.

This was Valeera's first impression of Blor. Due to historical reasons, night elves are generally larger than blood elves, but Blor was even more robust than the average night elf. He wore shoulder pads made of bearskin, painted with mystical druidic symbols, with claw-like appendages protruding from the edges. His hands were also adorned with furry bear paw-like gloves, vividly decorated with wild symbols. Most striking were Blor's tree-green hair, from which antlers sprouted—green hair was not uncommon among night elves, but Blor's hair color was incredibly natural, not to mention that antlers were a symbol of the night elves' close relationship with nature.

"Hello, Broll Bear Pidrui, I am Valeera Sangunar, and I have been training as an assassin under the guidance of Ragnar the Wrath of the Earth."

Valera sat down next to Bloor with an air of familiarity, scrutinizing the druid who, for some reason, wanted to participate in the arena.

Blore nodded slightly to indicate that he understood, and then looked Valeira over. For some reason, Valeira felt that Blore's gaze was a little strange...

“You look a lot like my daughter.”

Just as Valera was seriously considering whether to use some underhanded tactics to give Bloor a 'show of force', Bloor suddenly spoke up.

"...I am a blood elf."

Completely unprepared for this turn of events, Valera broke into a dry, unresponsive voice.

"If you are a night elf, then you and Aina are exactly alike..."

Seeing that Bloor seemed to be recalling something, Valera hesitated for a moment before cautiously asking a question.

"Excuse me, is your daughter...?"

"During the Battle of Mount Hyjal, both she and I fought, but due to the Pit Lord's fel flames, Aina's legs were completely burned off. Now she can only move around in a wheelchair provided by Ratchet. I, her irresponsible father, failed to take good care of her on the battlefield..."

When he said those words, Blore's tone was filled with deep regret.

"...I'm so sorry."

“It’s nothing, she’s already let it go. I was kicked out by her this time—hey, she said she has her sisters to take care of her, and let me go out and find my own path.”

Bloor's words drew curious attention from Logos, who was silently drinking a low-alcohol beer nearby, and he came over to investigate.

"the way?"

Bloor pointed to the horn on the top of his head.

"In our night elf legends, night elves born with horns are destined to accomplish great things. Of course, this may just be a beautiful legend... But my daughter believes it. She feels that she is holding me back from becoming great, so she insists that I stop spending so much time taking care of her."

"So you came to Ratchet, and after speaking with my teacher, decided to participate in the arena. But what does this have to do with your path?"

Valera began to feel confused. Although she didn't understand the Druidic path, she couldn't figure out what becoming great had to do with competitive matches.

"Because..."

Bloor poured himself a beer and began to explain.

"One of the characteristics of the Way of Nature is to follow the natural course. After seeing the advertisement for the competition, I felt that I should participate, so I did."

IV. Regarding the safety level of the Ratchet City Tournament...

"A practice match?"

After meeting with the bearskin, Valera and Logos returned to Rhaegar's room, where they received some slightly unexpected news from him.

“I didn’t leave yesterday; I was observing Logos’s self-training—Logos, many of your actions yesterday were reckless and useless, and your emotions were volatile. If this continues, you might not be able to control your anger even in half a month, let alone half a month.”

Logos did not refute Rega's blunt criticism; he knew Rega was right.

"Therefore, I have hired a band of orc gladiators and rented part of the Ratchet Arena for a week-long simulated combat training exercise with you. If you cannot control your rage within this week, then it can only mean that I, Rega, have misjudged you."

After saying this, Rhaegar went upstairs to his room, leaving Logos and Valera looking at each other in bewilderment.

After a long pause, Valera tilted her head slightly and spoke.

"Hey Logosh, do you have some special background? Why is your teacher so sure you'll amount to something?"

"I do not know."

Logosh looked puzzled. In fact, he had noticed this ever since he woke up. Both the human man who fought him at the beginning and the man who took him in, Rhaegar, seemed to value him inexplicably.

"My teacher is a veteran who survived the Second War. He made a name for himself in the Dire Maul arena and then participated in the Battle of Hyjal. Not only did he survive, but he also beheaded several demons. Such an experience means that even if a fellow orc asks him for guidance, if the orc's potential or understanding is insufficient, he is very likely to kick that person out—but why does he value you, a human, so much?"

Valera rested her chin on her hand, lost in deep confusion.

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

Logos got up early in the morning, quickly washed up, ate a simple but nutritious breakfast, and went to the training room as usual to do some warm-up exercises.

As soon as Bu entered the training room, Rega, who had already finished a set of punches, tossed him a badge-like object. Logos took the badge and saw that it was a small gear-like object with abstract sword-shaped cloud patterns on both sides.

"This is?"

"This is your ticket to the Ratchet Arena, and it's a crucial item. Losing it could cost you your life in the arena—no, you might even die in the simulation battle later."

"What's the meaning?"

Seeing Logos's somewhat confused look, Rega knew he hadn't read any of the Ratchet Tournament brochures and had no choice but to patiently explain.

"The first Ratchet Arena you're about to participate in is, strictly speaking, a gladiatorial competition, which I believe you understand. However, due to the Ratchet authorities... well, mainly Lady Tanis's opinion, while it may seem heroic and glorious for warriors to die in a gladiatorial arena, it's actually worthless. Many evil forces in Azeroth are still lurking, and there's no need to shed warriors' blood in such a place. Therefore, she overruled objections and personally funded the establishment of a relatively comprehensive near-death resuscitation system in the Ratchet Grand Arena—of course, this only applies to participants within the Ratchet Grand Arena."

After saying this, Rega held up three fingers and closed them one by one.

"Participants in the Ratchet Arena have three ways to acknowledge defeat: First, discard your weapon, point your right index finger to the sky, and place your left hand on the ground!"

"Surrender is a disgrace to a soldier."

Logos answered in a deep voice.

“That’s right, so I don’t want to see you make that gesture—of course, I believe that aside from thugs trying their luck, most participants wouldn’t leave the battlefield that way. Then there are the second and third… those are all passive.”

Rega closed his second finger.

"On the field, professional referees watch from both sides. They can decide whether certain participants who are suppressed or have suffered special injuries can continue fighting. The referee team consists of one night elf, one orc, one goblin, one troll, and one human, which can minimize misjudgments due to racial issues. If a person who is eliminated feels that they have been wrongly judged, they can request a video recording so that another group of referees can make a second judgment. If the misjudgment is found to be wrong, then all the referees present at the time will be punished, and the team that was wrongly eliminated will receive compensation and a chance to revive."

"Many life and death events happen in an instant, and the referee has no time to stop them."

“That’s right, Logosh. So there’s a third way—the insignia you’re wearing. The entire Ratchet Arena is contained within a massive magical barrier, and this insignia is the key to enter that barrier. Once the insignia senses a fatal blow to your heart or other vital organs, it will connect to the barrier and release its power to save your life, while simultaneously teleporting you to the nearby Ratchet Medical Center for treatment—and naturally, you’re out of the game.”

Is it reliable?

Rega's words surprised Logos. If this protective measure was real, then the Ratchet Arena was indeed the kind of arena where it was difficult for anyone to die, which was completely different from the 'gladiator' he knew from his fragmented memories.

"To ensure its reliability, the tournament organizing committee has already tested it on death row prisoners such as pirates, boarmen, and centaurs. From stabbing to decapitation to excessive bleeding to poisoning, it has performed well against all kinds of common arena lethal methods. According to Ms. Tanis, it can prevent at least 99% of the participants from dying in battle."

"99 percent, that's really not enough to ask for any more."

Logos nodded. He walked to the wall and looked at the weapon rack.

"So, should we use these training weapons for this week's simulation matches, or something better?"

"Of course, that would be better. You also have a task this week: to find the weapon that best suits you."

Rhaegar pointed outside the door, and Logos noticed that Valera was leaning against the doorframe again, sometime during the night.