Emeriss remained completely unfazed. She knew Arthas all too well. This man would never put himself in a dangerous situation, and even if it was dangerous, it was only relative. With her here, what danger could there possibly be?
Clang! The Gronn swung its fist, the size of a car tire, down with immense force. Arthas raised his shield to defend, and a burst of Holy Light erupted from his body.
The crushing pressure nearly flattened him, but he held on. He had withstood the Gronn's attack. Though a mouthful of blood was already rising in his throat, he still held on. The burst of Holy Light reflected the Gronn's attack back at it, knocking it back a few steps and leaving a slight wound on its body.
The pain sent the Gronn into a greater frenzy. It swung its fists at Arthas in a rage. It was injured, and it was furious. With its thick hide, it maintained considerable combat effectiveness even after taking reflected damage.
Thud, thud, thud! A series of frenzied blows rained down. Arthas activated Ardent Defender, reducing the damage further as he continued to charge forward against the towering Gronn's assault. Faced with a monstrous giant that stood five meters tall, any other High Elf warrior would have been turned into meat paste by this point.
"Roar!" The Gronn let out a furious roar, its voice carrying an incomparably shrill cry, before it fell backward, stiff as a board. Dead! It had been annoyed to death! Taking reflected damage once was acceptable. Twice, three times, also acceptable. But after five or six times, it couldn't take it anymore and was naturally reflected to death!
Sylvanas's small mouth fell open in astonishment, her face a mask of disbelief. "What kind of tactic is this?"
"He is tempering himself. Strength is built step by step; there are no shortcuts." Emeriss's half-lidded, beautiful eyes always looked half-asleep. Aside from matters concerning Arthas, she was indifferent to everything else. When you live long enough, it's truly difficult to find interest in anything. But once you do, you become truly captivated.
Arthas was indeed training himself. His level was still a bit low. With a bodyguard watching his back, and being a Paladin who could fight, tank, heal, and mitigate damage, he was almost the perfect class, aside from not being able to output burst damage like a warrior.
"Kill him!" the leader of the Orc squad roared. They had never feared even the massive Primordial Aberrations, so there was no reason to fear a single human!
Thud! Thud! Clang! Splat! Arthas didn't know how many slashes he had tanked or how many stray arrows he had reflected. Each time, he activated his damage reduction and healed himself promptly to maintain his health. He relied on his monstrous abilities to tank hits and fight multiple opponents, taking on an entire squad by himself. Even in the face of a thousand-strong army, he wouldn't flinch in the slightest!
Hum! A golden light descended, completely healing Arthas's wounds and making his aura even more profound. With a savage grin, he thrust his sword into a Dire Wolf's gaping maw, blocked the Wolf Rider's great cleaver with his shield, and sent the rider flying from the reflected force.
"Ding! Current Level: 38."
How does one level up? By killing monsters, of course. The more you kill, the faster you level up. Arthas's frenzied appearance, covered in blood and wearing a ferocious smile, was eerily reminiscent of his smile as a Death Knight, sending shivers down one's spine. With a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, he charged straight into the throng of Orcs. Whether he could win or not didn't matter; he would charge in first and ask questions later!
Splat! Splat! The sound of spitting blood was incessant. The harder the enraged Orcs struck, the more damage was reflected back at them. One by one, the Orc footmen fell, while the Trolls, in contrast, suffered little damage. Their powerful self-healing meant that as long as they weren't hit in a vital spot, they were basically unkillable.
Just as Arthas was about to make a move, a Troll lunged at his feet, hugging his right leg with a death grip. No matter how many times Arthas hacked at him, the Troll clung on for dear life, seemingly intending to sacrifice himself to delay Arthas and create an opportunity for his comrades.
Beep, beep, beep! A bomb was thrown. Arthas immediately dove onto the Troll, pinning him down.
Boom! A pillar of fire shot into the sky. The Troll was blown into the air, his body torn to pieces! Arthas was thrown up with him. In mid-air, he activated all his damage reduction skills and crashed down like a cannonball into the formation of Troll Witch Doctors. After landing, he cut down the Orc in front of him, fighting back the nauseating feeling of his internal organs shifting. He viciously bit down on a Troll Witch Doctor's ear and tore it off with all his might!
His face, smeared with blood, held none of the righteous dignity of a Paladin. Instead, he looked like a demon that had crawled out of hell, roaring as it devoured everything in its path!
Even the battle-hardened Orcs and Trolls felt a pang of fear and couldn't help but take a few steps back. Their courage was beginning to fail them. An opponent who couldn't be killed and was utterly insane—this was a nightmare!
"Stand aside! I'll deal with him!" A whirlwind tore through the Orcs, sending those in its path flying. Arthas raised his shield at just the right moment, but the immense force still sent him flying back!
The attacker also spat out a mouthful of blood. A one-armed Orc was crouched on the ground, his severed arm replaced with a blade. This look was strongly reminiscent of a certain type of Orc! The Bleeding Hollow Clan!
Arthas saw that the attacker was none other than Kargath, one of Draenor's Seven Champions! The chieftain of the Bleeding Hollow Clan! An extremist Orc who was ruthless even to himself!
Kargath was originally a slave in the Ogre Empire's Highmaul, a gladiator slave. He had honed his ferocious fighting skills in countless gladiatorial matches, winning every single one and making a name for himself. The ultimate prize for a slave was to defeat one hundred opponents, after which they would be granted their freedom.
But the Ogres went back on their word. After Kargath killed a hundred opponents, he was still not freed. His reward as champion was simply to be locked in the arena's dungeons to rot. In his despair, his anger festered, and Kargath cut off his own shackled hand.
The other imprisoned Orc slaves, seeing his determination, followed his example. Together, they formed the Bleeding Hollow Clan, taking pleasure and purpose in hunting Ogres, to the point where even the Ogre Empire grew fearful and began to crumble! Such a formidable foe should not have been here, yet here he was!