Chapter 201: Warchief Orgrim - Part 2

The clamor among the crowd had already reached its peak, or so they thought. After Orgrim's words, behind that seemingly insurmountable summit, another higher mountain peak seemed to emerge out of the clouds and mist.

The noise reverberated thousands of times in the sky, and the entire Horde camp, even the whole earth, was shaking violently.

What a heroic spirit!

Life goes on, and the battle never ceases!

There was a time when no one believed in Orgrim, the second in command of the Blackhand. But now, every orc had changed their views. Their admiration was so strong it couldn't be dissolved; no, it was no longer admiration, but worship.

"Orgrim—Orgrim—" Thousands of orcs roared, stirring the emotions of every orc in the Horde camp.

Orcs in the distance couldn't see what was happening, but hearing the voice of their leader, they knew that perhaps a new Warchief was about to be born.

Karnad charged forward.

Orgrim appeared to look down on Karnad, but in his heart, he was fully focused.

Not a single one from the Shattered Hand clan was easy to deal with.

The Shattered Hand clan originally came from orcs enslaved by ogres. These orcs were imprisoned in a huge, crude, and incredibly sturdy circular arena, serving as gladiators. Their only purpose was to fight endlessly, entertaining ogres and other 'superior races.'

The ogres promised that any orc slave who killed a hundred orcs in the arena would earn their freedom. Kargath Bladefist, Karnad's brother, achieved this.

However, the ogres did not grant Kargath freedom but instead imprisoned him in a dungeon with no hope of seeing daylight. Kargath was shackled to a prison pillar, his left hand bound by an iron handcuff. To free himself, he chose to destroy his own left hand.

Kargath led a group of orc slaves who, like himself, had chosen to replace their left hands with razor-sharp fist blades, fighting like Spartacus of old against the Roman Empire. They killed the ogres who enslaved them and, with the head of the ogre leader in hand, Kargath declared the formation of a new clan—a clan that longed for freedom and fought for it—the Shattered Hand clan.

So, every orc from this generation of the Shattered Hand clan was an elite who had fought their way through mountains of corpses and rivers of blood.

With just one charge, Orgrim realized that Karnad was not an opponent he could easily defeat without injury.

Out of the corner of his eye, Orgrim caught sight of several renowned chieftains and heroes who had been watching the scene with cold eyes: Grom Hellscream, Kilrogg Deadeye, Saurfang...

Orgrim couldn't be sure whether the strongest fighters in the Horde had any intention of stepping in, but he had to prepare for the worst.

The battle had to be decided!

Karnad's right hand also held a warhammer, slightly smaller but still not to be underestimated.

With the same hammer strike, Karnad's movements demonstrated a solid sense of refinement gained through countless battles.

Stepping forward, raising his left arm, swinging his right arm, and suddenly striking with great force, it didn't seem astonishing at first glance. Only a battle-hardened warrior would notice that Karnad had no unnecessary movements.

The angle, force, and speed were all marvelously precise, and he had also left room for Orgrim's counterattack.

Having no choice, Orgrim also swung his hammer and clashed with Karnad's.

"Clang!" The resounding sound of the two colossal hammers colliding nearly shattered the eardrums of the surrounding Horde spectators.

The metallic hum forced many of the orcs to cover their ears.

Unexpectedly, Karnad suddenly abandoned his hammer, thrusting out his left hand instead. His left arm was his trump card. After closing the distance, the curved blade, equal in length to a human arm, proved to be unexpectedly agile.

Orgrim's hammer was indeed formidable, but such a massive weapon was never ideal for defense.

Just as the distinctive curved blade of the Shattered Hand clan was about to pierce Orgrim's chest, a giant hand the size of a fan suddenly appeared in front of the blade...

"Splurt!"

Blood splattered everywhere.

The sharp blade effortlessly pierced through Orgrim's left palm and reached his chest muscles, but it couldn't penetrate the most fatal spot, his heart. Orgrim clenched his left hand, even as it was impaled, gripping the base of the curved blade tightly.

"Got you," Orgrim's voice carried an indescribable chill.

Karnad tried to withdraw, but the giant hand held his arm firmly in place.

At such close range, using the hammer would be laughable. There simply wasn't enough room to strike.

Too close!

Orgrim had a more direct approach. Just as Karnad had done with his right hand, Orgrim discarded his own hammer, transforming his right fingers into a spike and aiming straight for Karnad's throat.

"Cough..." Karnad's muffled, unintelligible sound from his throat was his last in this world.

In the next instant, Orgrim turned his fingers into a hook, shredding Karnad's entire throat.

Simple! Violent!

Full of savage beauty!

This was the orcs' favorite, this was their adoration!

"Ohhhhh!" The tumultuous roar soared into the sky, as if crossing countless light-years, traversing the endless void, and reaching the planet of Draenor.

Pulling his left hand out of the curved blade, Orgrim kicked away Karnad's lifeless body.

Orgrim raised both fists, letting out a seventh resounding and awe-inspiring roar.

"Who? Who's next!?"

Orgrim cast his gaze upon the faces of the Horde's strongest—Grom, Kilrogg, Saurfang... In his battered state, Orgrim dared to say that he wouldn't have more than a fifty percent chance of victory against any of them.

But he couldn't, and wouldn't, back down!

This wasn't just about his life or his honor, but also the responsibility he felt towards his best friend Durotan's final wishes, and the burden of leading the Horde to forge a path of survival in this strange and hostile world.

His eyes were filled with determination, and they were crystal clear!

Orgrim's gaze, like that of a divine being, swept over the faces of the Horde's strongest, one by one.

No provocation. All he saw was submission.

One powerful figure bowed their head.

Two bowed.

Three...

Ten!

When Orgrim looked upon Saurfang's face, Saurfang clenched his fist and thumped his chest, a gesture of respect for the Warchief.

Kilrogg and Grom exchanged glances.

Kilrogg: "My 'Dead Eye' sees that Orgrim shouldn't die here. I won't risk my life to defy an inescapable destiny." With that, Kilrogg paid his respects as well.

Grom: "I am content with my position as chieftain of the Warsong clan." Grom follows suit and bows.

Thus, the second Warchief of the Horde is born!"