Chapter 555: The Unexpected Boss
Rexxar, a hybrid of ogre and orc lineage, had never been accepted by his kin. However, everything changed when he reluctantly embarked on this interdimensional expedition.
At the very least, he found respect in the eyes of Warchief Orgrim Doomhammer.
In the language of humans, it would be said, "A knight would die for his liege."
For Doomhammer, Rexxar would not hesitate to stand against the mighty abilities of Duke Marcus in Grim Batol.
What did grave injuries matter?
What did countless scars signify?
If it was a battle for the Horde's future, then every sacrifice was worthwhile.
Now, as victory's dawn seemed within grasp, Rexxar's heart swelled with emotion.
When his whirlwind axe strike cut down a row of human soldiers before him, he suddenly realized that they had broken through the frontline of the central formation.
Within a radius of a hundred meters, not a single human stood.
Was victory truly at hand?
Suddenly, every orc heard an ancient, distant howl echoing through the valley — the cry of dragons.
Once enslaved as mounts for orcs, the red dragons had broken free and become the very nightmares of the Horde. New members of the Horde looked on with blank expressions, while veterans who had retreated from the frontline went pale.
They remembered all too well how these ancient beasts, once allies, had reduced the Horde army outside Grim Batol to ashes, and how they had effortlessly destroyed the human fortresses in Dun Morogh, despite heavy human losses.
The triumphant roars of the orcs were instantly silenced.
In contrast, the human side erupted in the most fervent cheers since the beginning of the war.
"Ha! The dragons come! Prepare to meet your end, vile greenskins!"
"Repent in the flames of hell, green monsters!"
"The Red Dragonflight stands with the Alliance! As long as they soar, you shall never claim our lands!"
Every land-bound race inherently yearns to break free from gravity's pull and soar across the skies. Duke Marcus remembered, from a World War II film he watched before his journey, how every soldier would cheer for their aircraft as they descended from the heavens.
The exhilaration of witnessing one's guardian angels descending never grew old. Especially when those guardians were dragons, revered by the humans of Azeroth for countless eons.
As every orc stood frozen, gripped by panic and despair, Doomhammer — the orc who always led the charge, the embodiment of orcish honor, fighting valiantly with blood and sweat — once again took a stand. He raised the mighty [Doomhammer], which now seemed to pulse with molten fury.
The Warchief's booming voice echoed far and wide.
"Foolish humans, do you believe dragons are the only rulers of this world? Ha! Pathetic! Now, you wretched lizards will pay in blood for your arrogance!"
Doomhammer's proclamation was made twice — first in Orcish and then in Common.
As his words resonated, a shadow of doubt crept into the minds of the human commanders.
Did Doomhammer have another card up his sleeve?
Not just Lordaeron's leaders like Lothar, Mograine, and King Terenas, but even Duke Marcus, the one who had journeyed across dimensions, felt baffled. He thought, "By history, the orcs should've been defeated at Blackrock Mountain. Aside from Doomhammer defeating Lothar, the orcs had no chance of a comeback. What happened? Is it the 21% divergence from the original timeline?"
It seemed as if in response to Duke Marcus's internal monologue, Doomhammer slammed the [Doomhammer] onto the ground of the Searing Gorge.
"Boom!"
In the next moment, every being in the gorge felt a subtle tremor, distinct from the rumble of a charging cavalry or the impact of Doomhammer's strike. It emanated from deep within the earth, causing the entire gorge to sway.
Everyone, except the stout-hearted dwarves, lost their footing, be they human or orc.
Caught off-guard, the charging knights of Stormwind and the Silver Hand Paladin Order were thrown off their steeds, some sustaining severe injuries.
Amidst the chaos, Doomhammer seized the opportunity to penetrate the disarrayed human ranks.
However, the attention of almost every leader was now directed elsewhere.
In comparison to the creatures of this world, it was the beings transcending the mundane that instilled true terror.
The Searing Gorge, stretching from southwest to northeast, was split by a vast chasm filled with bubbling lava.
Now, a terrifying rumble emanated from beneath the lava river. All eyes turned to the chasm as they felt the ground shake. Fragments the size of wagons fell into the gorge, and the lava below surged upwards.
"Roar!"
It was as if the dwarves on the right flank heard the distant roar of an ancient behemoth from beneath the molten rock.
"Did you hear that? It sounded like a monster from the chasm."
"You heard it too?"
The dwarves murmured amongst themselves.
"What is that?" Princess Taria whispered, tugging at Duke Marcus's robe, a mix of excitement and anxiety on her face.
"Duke, any idea?" Alleria asked, noticing the Duke's perplexed expression.
"I... I wish I didn't," Duke Marcus replied bitterly.
"Roar!"
This time, there was no doubt.
The source of the roar was rapidly approaching from beneath the lava.
In that moment, nearly all ceased fighting, be it a human soldier raising his shield or an orc warrior swinging his axe. They turned their heads in shock, looking up at the terrifying geyser of lava shooting into the sky, directly at the incoming red dragon squadron!
***translator note: hello everyone, i'm honestly not sure who Princess Taria is supposed to be, any comments on who you might think it could be would be appreciated.***