"What have you done to Grommash?!"
Thrall's fingers tightened around Doomhammer, veins bulging on his muscular arms. Everything before him made it difficult for the Warchief to believe that his former friend had done this.
The corpses of orcs and Elves were scattered throughout the forest, with Cenarius's long-dead body lying beside Grommash. What angered Thrall even more was the hideous monster standing behind Grommash.
"Ahahaha, what, is the Horde's Warchief also going to join my ranks?" The Pit Lord Mannoroth laughed incessantly. The Warsong Orcs had done well; that damned demigod was finally dead.
He had observed that the War of the Ancients had inflicted significant wounds on the native demigods of Azeroth. Most of them were no longer active. Getting rid of the troublesome Cenarius would make the Legion's arrival smoother.
Grommash and the Warsong Clan, who had drunk his blood, had been enslaved by the Pit Lord's power. They had now lost their self-awareness, retaining only their killing instincts.
"Monster, you will pay for everything you've done!"
Thrall raised Doomhammer high, shouting, "Warriors of the Horde, we will never again be slaves to demons!"
"Hah! How disappointing. There are always a few annoying fellows among you orcs. That Ogrim was one, and so are you." Mannoroth heard Thrall's battle cry and was utterly contemptuous; he didn't even put this young Orc in his eyes.
The Warsong Chieftain, with deep red light flickering in his eyes, stood beside Mannoroth, having lost his sanity. But when he heard Thrall's cry, he still showed a slight reaction.
However, this slight ripple couldn't break Mannoroth's control. Although he had slain the demigod, he was also powerless against the strength the Pit Lord "bestowed" upon him.
"I don't want to waste any more words on these crawling insects, Grommash. Kill them all, or bring back those who are willing to rejoin us."
With that, Mannoroth's figure vanished before everyone's eyes. It was then that Thrall realized that the Pit Lord's presence here was merely a projection.
Beside the corpse of the Forest God Cenarius, Grommash lifted his battle-axe, Gorehowl, and walked step by step towards the orcs. Under the stimulation of the demon blood, his physique was even more massive and robust than usual, like a giant.
What was even more oppressive was the aura emanating from him, an aura that had passed through mountains of corpses and seas of blood. That bloody and savage feeling made all the Orc warriors present feel a chill.
The remaining members of the Warsong Clan also gathered, forming a force like the Old Horde orcs who had crossed the Dark Portal more than a decade ago, now appearing before Thrall.
The young Chieftain looked at his old friend, who had lost his sanity, his hand, wanting to charge with his warhammer, repeatedly rising and falling.
Finally, Thrall hardened his heart and issued the command to the orcs: "Prepare for battle."
The red and green tides collided fiercely with this command, and Grommash and Thrall's gazes met. Thrall roared, "Can you still hear me?! Grommash! Do not become a demon's pawn!"
"Roar!"
However, Thrall was met only by Grommash's furious roar. The demon blood surged within his body, and he could no longer control his actions!
Gorehowl cut a clear red arc through the dim sky. The wind passed through the small hole at the end of the axe handle, emitting a mournful roar that pierced through the noisy battlefield and directly into Thrall's soul.
This was the origin of the name "Gorehowl." But Thrall was no greenhorn to be intimidated by Grommash's might. He calmly wielded Doomhammer, steadily parrying Grommash's powerful downward slash.
The Warchief lifted his arm, the hammer handle bracing the end of Gorehowl's axe blade. The sharp blade was just a few centimeters from Thrall's forehead, but Thrall's expression remained calm.
"Are you truly controlled?! Grommash!"
He let out a deafening roar, but Grommash ignored him, still trying to press the axe blade down.
Grommash's strength, having drunk the demon blood, was indeed much greater than before. Even the young and strong Thrall felt immense pressure.
But Thrall was not merely a warrior; he could also use the power of the elements.
Thrall tried to communicate with the elements while simultaneously kicking out at Grommash. The Warsong Chieftain was kicked back two steps, and at the same time, Doomhammer, wreathed in lightning, swung towards Grommash.
Grommash raised Gorehowl to block, but Doomhammer, blessed by the storm, became incredibly swift. Grommash was struck squarely in the face by the hammer.
A dull thud sounded, and Grommash's head tilted slightly from Thrall's blow.
"Weak!"
Gorehowl's sharp edge glowed again, and Thrall's heart tightened as he quickly retreated two steps. But Gorehowl's tip still grazed Thrall's chest plate; the hard Black Iron armor was actually left with a deep gash.
Touching the mark on his chest armor, Thrall even felt a phantom sting. He looked at Grommash with slight astonishment. Although he knew that Grommash, enhanced by demon blood, would be much stronger than before, and he had indeed held back in his previous attack, Grommash, who was hit directly on the side of the face and acted as if nothing had happened, utterly shocked him.
He had underestimated the enhancing effect of the demon blood. It seemed this terrifying power was overdrawing a person's life force. As one of the most powerful warriors in the entire Horde, this overdrawing brought an advantage that made Grommash unstoppable on the battlefield.
Grommash swung his axe back, knocking another Orc who charged him to the ground, and strode quickly towards Thrall.
"Storm, grant me strength!"
Thrall's prayer echoed through the Ashenvale forest. The Shaman sensed that the natural power in the forest seemed to be weakening, but now was not the time to ponder such issues; he had to focus on his opponent.
The nightmares Grommash brought to the Horde's enemies were equal to the pressure he brought to Thrall. Facing him, Thrall was not confident of victory.
Dazzling lightning danced on Doomhammer, and thick bolts of electricity flashed from the hammerhead, the blue electric light passing through the crowd and directly striking Grommash's chest.
Grommash's fur stood on end from the electric current, and a pained expression flashed across his face, replaced by a mad ferocity.
The Warsong Chieftain roared, his powerful muscles actually shaking off the lightning Thrall had summoned. The deep red light in his eyes shone even brighter, and with a bend and straighten of his legs, he shot forward like a cannonball.
A flash of red light appeared, and Thrall had no time to react further. Instinct drove him to swing Doomhammer, attempting to block Grommash's fatal blow.
"Bang!"