Inside the Stormwind Keep's war room, facing a sand table depicting the Draenor World, the atmosphere became subtle.
The matter of Ner'zhul is not yet resolved. No one is a match for Ner'zhul, not even Medivh. If they were to fight the Iron Horde, everyone would die.
But that's not a reason to refuse.
Varian was pale, Khadgar seemed lost in thought, while Maraad continued to talk at length.
"Next, I will speak of Kilrogg Deadeye, chieftain of the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans. As everyone knows, Prophet Velen is skilled in prophecy, though it has never been of any use. Compared to Kilrogg Deadeye's prophetic abilities, Prophet Velen is utterly useless; the prophecies of the Holy Light are nothing before the Orcs."
Maraad's tone was somber and subdued, carrying an unquenchable fear:
"The Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans has an ancient and mysterious tradition: they can foresee their own death by sacrificing their left eye. Aside from their predetermined demise, they are Invincible and immortal; even Sargeras cannot kill them. Kilrogg can also foresee the future; they know how to properly defeat their enemies and achieve final victory. Before Kilrogg, our plans are meaningless, easily seen through, and what awaits us is inevitably a trap."
Khadgar frowned slightly and asked suspiciously:
"The ability to prophesy is extremely mysterious. I once tried to peek into it, but unfortunately I couldn't see anything. Orcs can understand prophecy? What evidence do you have?"
"My evidence is overwhelming; it was a tragedy I personally witnessed."
Maraad almost shouted it out, then sighed and said:
"I participated in the Guards of Shattrath City. The Orcs came with overwhelming force, and Prophet Velen passive resistance. We all knew that Shattrath City was destined to fall. Before the Orcs surrounded the city, I arranged seven escape routes for refugees. These were all extremely secretive routes, and the Orcs could not possibly know about them all. To maintain secrecy, I did not tell anyone except Prophet Velen."
Maraad lowered his head in anguish. "But I failed. All the refugees were killed by the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans Orcs lying in ambush. They knew everything, and I can't find any reason other than the prophecy."
Upon hearing Maraad recount the past tragedies, Khadgar gasped in horror.
"Now I understand a little why the Draenei were nearly wiped out by the Orcs. Such a terrifying enemy, if Garrosh's forces are added to them, who can defeat them?"
Varian, "This was a misguided war; they couldn't get through as long as we refused to open the Dark Portal."
Khadgar said in a low, restrained voice, "No, we must open the Dark Portal and confront the Iron Horde."
Varian looked at Khadgar with disbelief. "Are you crazy? We're all going to die."
"Everyone dies." Khadgar's attitude was unwavering. "We must face death head-on, let Kingdom of Stormwind shine one last time, and let the torch of human civilization be extinguished in your hands."
Varian clenched his fists tightly. "I don't understand, what's the point of such a sacrifice?"
Khadgar said fiercely, "Your King, you don't need to think for yourself. You just need to remember, this is Medivh's will."
Varian gave a bitter smile. "Because of Medivh, we all have to die."
Khadgar nodded:
"That's right. Medivh's will is above everything—above the safety of Kingdom of Stormwind, above the continuation of human civilization, above all of Azeroth. Compared to the great Medivh, humanity is nothing. The only purpose for humanity's continued existence to this day is for the great Medivh."
Varian felt an overwhelming sense of oppression in his chest, as if a mountain were pressing down on him, making it increasingly difficult to breathe and rendering him unable to make a sound.
Khadgar coldly replied, "Varian, you are not the only option. Countless others are willing to take your place and lead humanity to their deaths. If you do well, perhaps Medivh can save your life."
Varian then realized his mistake; his stubbornness had left him with no choice but to accept Medivh's coercion.
"For Medivh, I am willing to lead the Kingdom of Stormwind in a final battle, like a moth drawn to a flame." Varian finally surrendered.
"Every Orcs must fight to the death for the safety of their race."
The emaciated Kilrogg clutched the wound in his abdomen, Steadfast in his belief.
A bone was tossed in front of Kilrogg, the remaining bits of meat tempting him. Kilrogg pounced on it like a wild dog, just as he grabbed the bone, when a foot stepped on the back of his hand, the spiked sole of the boot grinding down hard.
Kilrogg cried out in pain, but he couldn't let go; without that bone, he would starve.
Right above Kilrogg's head, a greasy long wooden table was piled high with large chunks of sizzling roasted meat, and wooden cups were filled with amber-colored liquor. A dozen strong Orcs were eating meat and drinking wine heartily, their faces all glistening with oil.
The Orcs stepping on Kilrogg was very young, with a cunning look on his youthful face. By seniority, he was his nephew, Filtis Deadeye.
"I think I stepped on something," Fel'this said, winking deliberately.
Seated in the very center seat was a muscular, strong Orcs, the current chieftain of the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans, Nantrog Deadeye, Kilrogg's cousin.
Nantrog said solemnly, "Fel'this, you must learn manners."
Fel'this blushed and lowered his head in apology.
"Stepping on trash will dirty your feet," Nantrog laughed heartily, and everyone joined in with unrestrained laughter.
Kilrogg finally got the meat bone, which he wolfed down, chewing and swallowing it.
After picking up some leftover food scraps, Kilrogg's hunger lessened slightly, and his wounds didn't hurt as much. Leaning against the wooden table leg, he fell into deep thought, looking worried.
The Tanaan Jungle is home to a large number of Wood Spirits, ferocious primal thorn beasts, Ogres, and vicious Arakkoa, constantly threatening the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans. The Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans survives only in the cracks, always facing the crisis of extinction. As a member of the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans, one must fight for the Clans.
Kilrogg's face was filled with sorrow, worried about the future of the Clans.
The Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans has an ancient tradition that grants the ability to prophesy by offering up one's left eye and performing a corresponding ritual.
At that time, the strongest Orcs in the Deadeye Family was Kilrogg's father, who was the obvious choice for chieftain.
Someone had to step forward for the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans, Kilrogg's father sacrificed his left eye, successfully foretelling his own death.
After losing an eye, his strength inevitably declined, Nantrog's father seized the opportunity to take his place.
Thus, Kilrogg and his son became lowly slaves, surviving by scavenging food scraps under the dining table.
Kilrogg's father foresaw his own death, but not his own tragic fate.
Despite this, Kilrogg remained steadfast in his concern for the safety of his people.
The banquet ended quickly. Nantrog grabbed Kilrogg's arm, dragged him out from under the table, handed him a dagger, and mocked him ruthlessly:
"You filthy trash, your father is dying. Fulfill his prophecy and end his life."
Kilrogg's hand holding the dagger trembled slightly as he struggled internally.
Nantrog chuckled coldly:
"Your father's worthless life is insignificant; the ancient heritage of the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans is far more important."