Chapter 192: Hell of Red Flames

The area set ablaze grew increasingly vast, and from the black sky above, it seemed as if the entire city was submerged in a flood.

A flood of flames!

"Crackle and pop."

Small houses, towering mansions, and enormous warehouses—one after another, countless buildings were reduced to ashes, collapsing with a continuous rumble. Many orcs, unable to dodge in time, were crushed by the brick and wood structures in the narrow streets.

"Ah! Fire! Run!"

Streets and roads were blocked by raging flames. At nearly every crucial intersection, two large buildings had conveniently collapsed, with massive burning fire towers obstructing every escape route.

Orcs who had reached safety shuddered in fear, soaked in cold sweat. They could only watch helplessly as their kin were swallowed by the inferno. Even covering their ears couldn't block out the cries and screams of their brethren amidst the roaring blaze.

And there were the laughter of the human suicide squads, who reveled in their enemies' demise.

"Ha ha ha ha!" No regrets, no remorse—only the triumphant laughter that came when foes were defeated.

At this moment, the orcs realized they were trapped in a shared nightmare.

A nightmare called Duke Marcus!

Once again, he had incinerated countless orcs with his fierce flames.

Orgrim also jumped into the city's canal. The water, even a bit warm during the blazing summer days, couldn't elevate the icy coldness in his heart.

It was a devastating trap that had cost him more than half his forces. If it weren't for the fire, perhaps even the remaining half would have been slaughtered by the relentless counterattack of the Blackhand guards.

He had lost count of how many Blackhand guards he had slain with his Doomhammer. Once a weapon he took immense pride in, he had used it to kill countless ogres and ferocious beasts numbering in the hundreds in their world.

Yet now, under the moonlight, the bloodstained Doomhammer dissolved into the canal water.

It was the blood of the Blackrock clan, the blood of his orc brethren.

Still, a heavy sense of doubt and foreboding lingered in Orgrim's heart.

He felt that Duke Marcus, more demonic than demons themselves, had more tricks up his sleeve.

Unbeknownst to them, the moon slipped back under the veil of clouds. In the shimmering water, a series of golden runes extended along the riverbank like spreading flames.

"It can't be!?" Orgrim couldn't help but cry out, "Get to the shore! Hurry! We're running out of time!"

Orgrim frantically called out to his subordinates, his brethren.

His subordinates obeyed. Although somewhat reluctant, they climbed onto the riverbank. Not far from the cobblestone path that ran along the river's edge were the city walls, baked red-hot by the inferno. These walls, standing three meters tall, divided Stormwind City into six districts, along with the canal that could serve as a moat when necessary.

Even sitting on the cobblestones by the shore, they could feel the intense heat. If it weren't for Orgrim's furious roars urging them on, they might have preferred to immerse themselves back into the relatively cooler water.

In fact, many orcs not under Orgrim's direct command had done just that.

They returned to the water, crossing the boundary between life and death drawn by the Reaper's scythe...

It was as if a sun of raging flames resided beneath Stormwind City, threatening to burst forth from the depths at any moment.

Countless golden runes, glowing brightly, emerged from the dark soil beneath the canal. Orcs in the water discovered they could clearly see their own toes through the water's surface...

"Rumble, rumble, rumble" The entire Stormwind City began to shake.

From the King's Valley in the south to the Stormwind Keep in the north, from the western Mage Quarter to the eastern Old Town, every district trembled. The statue of Medivh in King's Valley began to sway violently, and soon, the statue symbolizing the guardian deity of the old era crumbled inch by inch.

Every brick on the ground, along with the sand beneath them, undulated like waves, growing more turbulent. The orcs lying on the ground to avoid the flames were tossed into the air, then fell, only to be tossed again.

Those wooden beams and columns that had already started burning through due to the flames, emitted further creaking noises, bursting and accelerating the collapse of each building that had not yet fallen.

Then, golden light shot up from the ground and the riverbed.

Streets and roads that were previously free of flames became paths of fire.

The canals, which should have been sanctuaries, saw every drop of water evaporate due to the high temperature.

Orcs still in the water were scalded to death in the blink of an eye.

And water turned into steam.

The scorching steam possessed a more terrifying destructive power than the flames. Orcs couldn't suppress their breathing and inhaled a large amount of burning hot vapor. This steam wreaked havoc on the alveoli inside their lungs, making them feel as though they were breathing fire instead of air.

Even the orcs who had climbed onto the banks couldn't escape their fate. They only prolonged their agony for a moment before following in the footsteps of their brethren in the water.

The orcs throughout Stormwind City let out agonizing screams, and then, everything began to fall silent.

Within the city, only the crackling sound of the rampaging flames and the crashing of columns, bricks, and glass remained.

Beyond that, the entire city fell into a deathly silence.

How many orcs survived?

Less than one in a hundred!

Orcs who had just escaped to the streets or jumped into the canals were nearly wiped out. Only a few orcs trapped in the fiery districts escaped the Grim Reaper's scythe.

Orgrim Doomhammer didn't die! With his incredible resistance to flames, he managed to withstand the inferno, although much of his hair had been burned off.

Climbing out from the not-so-blazing firestorm, Orgrim saw the charred corpses that filled the streets and the riverbed.

"Aaaaahhhhhh! Duke Markus!" Never before had he hated someone so much.

Even when he received news of the death of his closest friend, Durotan, Orgrim managed to control his emotions.

But this time.

This one time!

Orgrim was filled with hatred for a human, the new guardian of Stormwind, Duke Markus!

"Aaaaahhhhhh! I will kill you! I swear, even if I have to chase you to the ends of Hell, I will kill you! I will peel off every inch of your flesh and devour it alive! I will tear off each of your bones and grind them to dust! I will—"

On the scorched, blackened earth, Orgrim collapsed to his knees.

It was over! The Blackrock Clan's elite had been reduced to ashes in one fell swoop!

Although there were still many members of the Blackrock Clan at the main camp, they would no longer be the number one clan within the Horde!