The portly Grimak sat in the stands, constantly tossing Tough Jerky into his mouth.
That was Orcs meat. Garrosh could tell just by the smell. When he was Warchief, he used it a lot as military rations.
The area was filled with Ogres, each dressed in fine clothes, with ferocious faces, emitting excited screams.
An exciting final battle, a contest of one against a hundred, the jester gladiator Kargath Weakfist challenges one hundred Orcs.
One hundred battle-hardened Orcs have entered the Arena, Grimak said excitedly.
"People always believe what they hear by word of mouth and don't care about the truth. I want to create a hero for the Orcs, so that those Orcs without a race, those who wander around, can continue to contribute. They were originally a bunch of useless trash, destined to die like garbage in a corner sooner or later. Now they will fight for me, to be trampled and killed on the Battlefield."
Garrosh was speechless at that moment. As the only Orcs in the stands, he endured the greedy gazes of the Ogres around him, and could be devoured at any moment.
Hypocrisy, treachery, and lies constitute the Orcs' sordid history, and Garrosh begins to doubt what is truly real in this world.
As the thunderous war drums sounded, the host began to announce today's competition events:
"Distinguished guests, I believe you all know Kargath Weakfist, the cowardly Orcs who has brought us countless laughs. Who would have thought that a fire burns within him, a desire for revenge against the people who insulted and tormented him? One of our Ogre Archmage Mercy on him and infused him with the mystical power of the ancient Arakkoa. Behold, before the powerful magic of the Ogres, how utterly vulnerable the insignificant Orcs is! Today, blood will flow throughout the Arena."
The war drums sounded again, and Kargath, shirtless, entered the Arena. His skin was an ominous grayish-white due to the infusion of dark magic. His severed left hand was inlaid with a huge fist blade, which looked like the outstretched wings of Arakkoa. His right hand held a hook with a chain.
Kargath raised his arms in celebration, and the host asked loudly:
"Kargath Weakfist, how does that feel?"
Kargath's face was contorted with rage as he boomed, "I feel a terrifying power within me, ready to erupt at any moment. Today, I will make blood flow and corpses pile up like mountains."
The hundred Orcs opposite roared in unwilling fury:
"Coward, I'll tear you to pieces."
"You're just a piece of trash, we'll torture you like we always have."
"Don't think you can win just because you have the Ogre protecting you. I'm going to eat you."
The atmosphere was electric; the Ogre shouted and cursed, spewing out all sorts of filthy words.
The announcer's voice rang out again. "Come on, distinguished guests, who will emerge victorious? Will it be the magically enhanced Kargath Weakfist, or these hundred battle-hardened gladiators? Place your bets for the winner in your hearts."
Gambling has always been a part of the Arena.
Kargath displayed terrifying power, but Garrosh doubted whether he could defeat a hundred Orcs.
Grimak's gaze was profound. "All heroes are from pre-written scripts; there are no surprises in my script."
The match officially began, Kargath strode towards his hundred opponents. His powerful body spun around like a dancing bird, his massive fist blades drawing famously graceful arcs. An Orcs's head flew off, and the first victim appeared.
Blood gushed out, splattering Kargath's face. This was a sign of inexperience; blood can blind the eyes and obscure vision. If it were Garrosh, he would have been able to nimbly dodge it.
However, the stench of blood drove Kargath into a frenzy, and an Orcs raised his cleaver, attempting to ambush Kargath from behind.
Kargath did not dodge, letting the blade strike his back; the powerful blow only left a white mark on his body.
The skin is as hard as rock.
Kargath turned around, and to the Orcs's horrified gaze, his fist blade swept down, cleaving the Orcs in two.
"Do not be afraid of pain. As long as you can enjoy your pain, no one can stand against you."
Kargath let out a deafening roar and charged into the crowd like a meat grinder.
His body spun rapidly, creating a whirlwind of death. Wherever he went, Orcs littered the ground, and none could withstand a single blow from him.
Faced with such unparalleled killing skills, the Orcs gladiators collectively collapsed, weeping and fleeing in all directions.
Garrosh frowned slightly. Kargath seemed brave, but he was not without weaknesses, such as the fact that Orcs did not have unlimited stamina.
Unless
Garrosh noticed the Bladefist on Kargath's left hand, which was gleaming with a faint red light.
Grimak watched Kargath slaughter with an appreciative gaze.
"Garrosh, never underestimate anyone. Kargath may be weak, but the hatred in his heart is more terrifying than any Orcs's. Look, he's already enjoying the pleasure of killing."
Admittedly, Kargath's fighting style makes it easy to take the lives of ordinary Orcs, but he can also find himself in a tough fight if he encounters a difficult opponent.
Clearly, this was a meticulously planned competition, and there were no truly outstanding gladiators among the fighters.
But Kargath's ability to kill a hundred gladiators single-handedly was enough to make Kargath famous.
Amidst the loud cheers of the Ogres in the stands, Kargath slaughtered his terrified opponents. He grew stronger with each battle, the power drawn from his Bladefist keeping him in a constant state of frenzy, tireless and painless, a never-ending killing machine.
Finally, Kargath was left alone in the Arena, standing amidst a pile of severed limbs.
A wonderful visual feast, terrifying killing techniques— the Ogres cheered once again for their new Arena champion Kargath.
Amidst the deafening cheers, Grimak calmly stated:
"The script is more than half complete now. Next, I'll have Kargath escape the Arena. His cruelty and ruthlessness will attract some gladiators to follow him. Under my guidance, they will forcibly recruit the wandering Orcs in the wilderness. A new hero will be born, and a new Clans is about to rise."
Grimak stood up, and as his gaze swept across the stands, the Ogre's heightened emotions gradually subsided, replaced by fear in his eyes as he awaited the important figure's speech.
"Kargath, come here."
Kargath took a few steps forward and knelt on the ground without hesitation.
Grimak announced loudly, "From this day forward, I bestow upon you a new surname: Bladefist, Kargath Bladefist. Are you satisfied with this surname?"
Kargath replied respectfully, "Thank you for bestowing a name upon me, sir."
Come on, let's cheer for your new name!
The Ogre's emotions were reignited, but in Garrosh's eyes, the strong and ruthless Kargath Bladefist was still a clown.
This world is always ruled by the despicable. Garrosh recalled those infamous Orcs Warchiefs, including himself, none of them were without shamelessness, filth, and cruelty.
Thinking about it this way, Garrosh felt relieved. This world is inherently dirty, so why demand that others be pure and flawless?
Stormwind City.
Facing the visibly frightened King Varian, Maraad shouted:
"I know you're hesitant, Your King. Fighting the Iron Horde requires immense resolve, and casualties are inevitable. I'd like to speak with you about their leader."