With everything settled, Noah knew he would be setting out tomorrow.
Before leaving, he learned something unexpected.
For this campaign, Lothar had accepted King Llane's proposal.
Only half the army would be sent to deal with the orcs.
The other half would remain in Stormwind to guard against a surprise attack.
This was a clear deviation from the original story.
At this point, Lothar's hatred for the orcs had not yet deepened.
In the original timeline, he had watched his son die while being powerless to stop it.
That grief drove him to mobilize every soldier to exterminate the orcs.
Humans were emotional creatures.
Logically, committing the full army might have led to better battlefield results.
But no one could guarantee the orcs wouldn't strike Stormwind in the meantime.
In the original events, Lothar nearly lost his mind.
King Llane had even thrown him into a dungeon to force him to calm down.
Combined with the false information fed to them by Sargeras-who had already possessed Medivh-it led directly to Llane Wrynn marching half his army into an orcish trap.
"It hasn't changed that much," Noah thought, rubbing his chin.
"But this outcome makes sense."
"If they really sent every soldier, that would be suicide."
"With Medivh acting as an inside man, Stormwind would be completely exposed."
Noah sighed.
There was nothing he could do about military decisions.
He wasn't a strategist.
From a mage's perspective, things were simple.
Tell me where the enemy is.
Tell me if they have powerful figures.
If the powerful ones are too strong, lure them away.
Then I'll deal with the rest.
If they're average?
Then there's no need for complications.
Send them all to hell.
As for the orcs, Noah found himself thinking about Durotan.
He had saved a large part of Durotan's clan before.
Blackhand and Orgrim Doomhammer had also been returned by Llane.
Noah didn't know what had happened to Orgrim since then.
But given his bond with Durotan, he was probably released.
Blackhand, on the other hand, was uncertain.
Still, no matter how one looked at it, Blackhand was a valuable piece.
If used properly...
Maybe Thrall wouldn't have to grow up as a slave.
"Wait."
"If the kid doesn't become a slave, how does he grow?"
"Raised the orcish way?"
"Wouldn't that mean the orcs lose their future Warchief?"
With those idle thoughts, Noah entered the System Space.
The System was still self-isolated.
He didn't disturb it.
As long as it continued collecting Holy Light data, that was enough.
The nine-to-one time dilation gave him plenty of time.
Even though he couldn't meditate for now, he could still calm himself and read.
Time passed.
The next morning, Noah woke up.
After washing up, he prepared to leave.
King Llane had already departed, personally leading the army.
This role should have fallen to Lothar.
But Lothar had vanished midway, running off to the Kirin Tor with Khadgar.
So Llane took the field himself.
Stormwind needed a victory to boost morale.
Even failure wouldn't be unacceptable.
Llane had already prepared for that.
Defeat wasn't shameful.
Even death could be used to show the other kingdoms of Azeroth how terrifying the orcs truly were.
Llane Wrynn was undeniably a great king.
A qualified leader of humanity.
As for whether his choices were right...
Noah didn't understand the local culture well enough to judge.
Those were just his own thoughts.
After straightening his clothes, Noah opened a portal.
He had already been to the orcish camp.
There was no need to travel thousands of miles again.
Stepping through, he appeared at the place where he had last met Durotan.
What he saw made him pause.
The orcish clans were gathered in a massive circle.
That was unusual.
Dropping a fire dragon on them would have been the "correct" move.
But Noah didn't plan to do that.
"Did Durotan challenge Gul'dan again?" he thought.
He hid himself in the Mirror Dimension and moved closer.
His guess was correct.
By linking directly to an orc's mind, Noah quickly understood the situation.
Durotan and the clan members he had led away had escaped disaster.
They even had Blackhand as a bargaining chip.
But both Noah and Durotan had underestimated Gul'dan's resolve.
The warlock didn't wait for them to return.
He launched a direct raid on the Frostwolf camp.
Almost everyone left behind was slaughtered.
Only Durotan's wife and son were missing.
Their bodies were never found.
Durotan was consumed by grief and rage.
He gathered the remaining clan members.
Recovered Orgrim.
Convinced Blackhand.
And today, at the agreed time, he issued a Mak'gora.
A duel of honor.
After grasping the situation, Noah could only smile bitterly.
He hadn't expected Gul'dan to be this ruthless.
Stabbing them in the back the moment they left.
Shaking his head, Noah felt Thrall was probably still alive.
Likely placed in a cradle and set adrift in a river.
Just like the original story.
If Noah didn't intervene, things might still follow that path.
But whether Durotan could survive Gul'dan was another matter.
As Noah watched, Gul'dan was forced to accept the Mak'gora.
Despite the slaughter of his clan, Durotan still had many followers.
Thanks to Noah.
With the clan pressuring him, Gul'dan had no choice.
Even unwilling, he entered the duel.
The warlock didn't even hide his methods.
He used Fel energy during the Mak'gora, draining Durotan's life.
"That's brutal," Noah muttered.
He watched the two massive figures exchange blows.
He had to admit it.
Orcish physiques were terrifying.
Setting everything else aside, those muscles alone were frightening.
Add their height.
They were natural war machines.
Then something changed.
Noah felt a strange spatial fluctuation.
It came from the massive stone gate.
He turned his head.
The gate was glowing green.
Solid Fel energy was shaping itself into a gateway.
"It's starting," Noah thought.
Gul'dan noticed it too.
He immediately planned to summon his followers and wipe out the Frostwolves.
But his impatience led to a mistake.
These orcs still respected tradition.
Even without Blackhand present, they demanded that Gul'dan finish the Mak'gora.
That demand enraged him.
In his fury, Gul'dan abandoned restraint.
He grabbed the severely weakened Durotan.
Ignoring the curses and shouts of the other orcs, he drained every last drop of his life.
Before everyone's eyes, Durotan withered.
From a powerful warrior to a dried husk.
If not for orcish resilience, he would have died instantly.
Noah frowned.
Watching it, he felt a strange familiarity.
"Life Drain..."
"It really does resemble that spell," he thought, rubbing his chin.
The technique created by that Chinese master suddenly felt unsettling.
Noah had learned it.
Even used it.
Thankfully, it remained restricted.
A Forbidden Curse.
Even without an "evil" label.
Seeing Gul'dan like this, Noah felt the restrictions should be even stricter.
Some knowledge shouldn't be widespread.
Glancing at the dying Durotan.
At the nearly completed Dark Portal.
Noah made his decision.
He had already considered the consequences.
This was Warcraft.
Bronze Dragons might exist.
So what?
If I can't win, I can leave.
Besides, he'd been here for a while.
No one had come looking for trouble.
A faint, disdainful smile appeared.
Pale gold light bloomed around Noah.
The space around him shattered like glass.
The gathered orcs didn't even have time to react.
In an instant, the area was cleared.
Noah stepped forward.
Straight toward Durotan.
The orc was barely alive.
If not for the faint, struggling heartbeat, he would've been mistaken for dead.
With a wave of his hand, a pure gemstone appeared.
Powerful life energy erupted.
It condensed into a golden beam.
The light poured into Durotan's body.
As if time reversed.
His shriveled form rapidly recovered.
His breathing stabilized.
Strength returned.
Durotan opened his eyes.
He stared at the human before him.
Disbelief filled his gaze.
At that moment, it was as if he were looking at a god.
And that god had no intention of speaking.
After finishing, Noah turned.
He walked calmly toward Gul'dan.
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