Chapter 523: Spectators at the Show

Orgrim dreamt a dream, one filled with overwhelming darkness.

It was a void so profound that not even the flames from torches, nor the luminous spells of shamans, could pierce through. This chilling obscurity caused his fingers to stiffen rapidly, and even the warm breath from his mouth swiftly turned into ice crystals, falling to the ground.

Yet, in front of him, the shadows began to subtly, silently, take on a humanoid form. As the eyes of this dark silhouette opened, emitting a fierce light, the world seemed to plunge into an even deeper abyss.

Gazing into those eyes, which seemed simultaneously serene and yet menacingly fierce, Orgrim cried out in astonishment, "You're Duke!?"

Duke smirked maliciously, "Orgrim! You and your Horde will pay for the bloody carnage you wreaked upon Azeroth! I decree that you shall face eternal imprisonment!"

"No—we did no wrong! The demons are to blame! They seduced us into drinking that accursed blood!"

Ignoring Orgrim's plea, the world sank further into the abyss.

Innumerable shadowy arms reached out from every direction, overpowering Orgrim's resistance. As they drew near, mocking him with their eerie laughter, they seized him and cast him into an eternal prison crafted by divine might...

"HAHAHA! As long as I, Duke, stand, the Horde shall never dominate this world! HAHAHA!" Duke's wicked laughter echoed endlessly within Orgrim's psyche.

"AHHH!" Orgrim jolted awake, his scream startling the orcs around him.

Only upon opening his eyes did he realize it was just a nightmare.

"Chieftain, you've awakened?" Zuluhed, his face scarred and two of his tusks broken, greeted him with a warm smile.

"Zuluhed, you..."

"Just got played by a rebellious dragon whelp. No worries; I'll get my revenge by turning it into a stew."

Only now did Orgrim notice the battered condition of the orcs surrounding him. He was being carried on a makeshift stretcher, and judging by the roaring sound of rushing water nearby, they seemed to be near the Stonewrought Dam.

Despite his immediate sense of foreboding, Orgrim still asked, "How fares the battle?"

Without sugarcoating, Zuluhed replied, "Disastrously. The moment the Dragon Queen was freed, the mounted troops of the Dragonmaw Clan became dragon snacks. The dragons then converged and launched an attack on the orcs amassed outside Grim Batol. Of the hundreds of thousands, perhaps not even half a clan survived. We were utterly routed."

Hearing this, Orgrim felt a pang of despair.

It's all over!

All is lost!

Had the Red Dragonflight not been freed, they might've held the southern continent using their home advantage. But now, even if the rumors were true that the Red Dragonflight was reluctant to interfere in mortal wars, the loss in the Wetlands alone could heavily tilt the balance of the war against them.

Glancing at the sky, he spotted several dragons engaged in fierce combat.

Once, upon receiving news that the 'Black Dragon Aspect might partake in the battle to liberate the Red Dragon Queen', Orgrim and Zuluhed cursed Deathwing for his interference.

While it remained unclear what role Deathwing played in this event, given that Alexstrasza and her Red Dragonflight were now firmly allied with the Alliance, Orgrim found himself strangely hoping that Deathwing would emerge victorious from the ongoing aerial skirmish.

Meanwhile, atop Grim Batol, Gavinrad and the others stared in disbelief.

After the skirmish with the Horde, instead of overseeing the aftermath, Duke, the Alliance's deputy commander, had the audacity to come and spectate.

And what's with all the stuff he's taken out?

Duke, with enthusiasm, ushered everyone to a table he'd set up from his inventory—a round table large enough for two to embrace, draped with a white cloth and adorned with four ornate gold goblets filled with red wine. Plates piled with... various snacks.

Sadly, his inventory couldn't store fresh fruits, or it'd have been a perfect picnic.

Duke invited everyone to join in, "Come, come, sit! I've put up a Phantasmal Mist; Deathwing won't see us."

"Duke, this... seems inappropriate?"

"What's wrong with it? I'm being courteous by not bringing out popcorn and soda."

None of the Azeroth natives knew what popcorn and soda were, but given Duke's swagger, they took their seats, albeit with a touch of skepticism.

Vereesa, ever curious, was the quickest to adapt. Taking a sip of wine, she began munching on biscuits, "Duke? We're just here for the show?"

"Of course, it's a show! A once-in-ten-thousand-years spectacle of the five Dragon Aspects at war. If you miss it, you'll regret it for life. Moreover, given that Deathwing tried to brainwash me into servitude, even if I can't partake in this epic battle, watching him get beaten to pulp will soothe my heart! Now, let's place bets. How long can Deathwing last? Winner gets double the stakes."

Deathwing, despite being the Black Dragon Aspect, surely can't last more than ten minutes. I'll bet a copper coin," Gavinrad, having been influenced by Duke's ways, had tendencies that were a disgrace to paladins.

Rhonin pondered for a moment, "A mana jade, I bet fifteen minutes."

Duke rolled his eyes; after all, the mana jade was a gift from him.

But Vereesa was the most audacious, "I bet all my lands that Deathwing won't last five minutes."

Duke nearly choked, "Whoa! Hold on there!"

Unfazed, Vereesa continued, "Firstly, my legendary lands are currently in orc hands. Secondly, if I do lose all my lands, I'll just move into Karazhan."

Duke's face twitched uncontrollably. Vereesa was clearly planning to win-win either way.

At this moment, in the sky, the fierce battle between the five dragons intensified. Initially, Deathwing had the upper hand, much like Lu Bu in his prime.

But after Duke destroyed the Demon Soul...