Which is more important: the father's life or the continuation of the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans?
The Deadeye Family's prophetic abilities have always inspired the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans. The Warriors believe in the prophecies and that the Warchief will not die, which is why they fight with their lives on the line.
That is why the Nantrog father and son seized the position of Warchief, and although they tortured the Kilrogg father and son in every way, they could not kill them.
The Clans must have a prophet who sacrifices his left eye; the Deadeye Prophecy is paramount.
Kilrogg's father prophesied that he would be killed by his son, and Kilrogg had to kill his father to make the prophecy true.
If the prophecy is wrong, the tribe will become doubtful and lose its cohesion.
"For the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans."
Without hesitation, Kilrogg made his choice, gripped the dagger tightly, and went into his father's room.
In the dilapidated room, on the stinking thatch, lay an old Orcs covered in festering wounds, emitting a foul stench.
Kilrogg's father opened his blurry eyes and immediately saw the dagger in Kilrogg's hand.
"My days are numbered; it is time for the prophecy to be fulfilled." The old Orcs coughed violently, spitting out several mouthfuls of black blood.
"My poor child!"
The gaunt old Orcs raised his hand, wanting to stroke Kilrogg's face, but even this simple gesture was impossible.
Kilrogg's hands trembled. Since his father lost his left eye, the two had relied on each other for survival. Although they lived a life of unbearable hardship, they had a deep bond with each other.
How could I bring myself to do it?
Nantrog, standing at the door, urged, "I don't want to waste time here, Kilrogg. You'd better do what you want. Either your father dies, or you all die."
Having said that, an impatient Nantrog left, leaving only Kilrogg and his son behind.
The old Orcs's eyes were brimming with tears, which welled up in his single eye.
"My child, after I die you will inherit the title of Prophet of the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans. They spared your life for this very reason. Times have changed, people's hearts have turned bad. No one from the Deadeye Family is willing to offer their left eye. Before, it was the chief who offered his left eye, but now it's just a useless prophet who foretold that the chief will not die."
"Father, the father of the old chief Nantrog, is he really still alive?" Kilrogg asked the question that had been lingering in his mind.
After Nantrog's father seized the position of Warchief, he received a prophecy from Kilrogg's father, which foretold that he would die of illness at the age of eighty.
Strangely, Nantrog's father had only been the Warchief for a few years when he was ambushed by the Arakkoa during an outing. He was cut into pieces by a group of Arakkoa, and although his people managed to salvage most of his body, they were unable to bring him back to life.
Kilrogg's father stepped forward, pieced the body parts together, and sent them to the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans's forbidden area for treatment. It is said that he has regained his breathing and will recover soon.
The old Orcs murmured, "My child, remember this: there is no such thing as a prophecy; it's just a deceptive trick."
"No, it can't be, Father, you must be lying to me."
Kilrogg was deeply shaken; his long-held worldview was beginning to crumble.
The old Orcs smiled bitterly:
"I lost my left eye back then, but I couldn't see anything. However, I must make a prophecy, otherwise you and I will both die. I prophesy that you will kill me, so that my son and I can both live."
"No, you must be getting senile."
Kilrogg roared angrily, his belief in the prophecy unwavering; it was a sacred place in his heart, one that could not be desecrated, even more so than the bond between father and son.
Enraged, Kilrogg raised his dagger and plunged it into the old Orcs's chest.
The old Orcs gripped the dagger, watching the gushing blood, and murmured:
"Remember, only by making predictions that benefit yourself can you survive. Living is the most important thing, more important than anything else."
The old Orcs tilted his head to the side and breathed his last.
Kilrogg roared in defiance, "I will prove that the Deadeye Family's prophecy truly exists!"
Nantrog heard the commotion, saw the old Orcs lying dead in a pool of blood, smiled with satisfaction, and patted Kilrogg on the shoulder, saying:
"The ceremony is ready. It is your turn to become the prophet. Behold, the glorious legacy of the Deadeye Family rests squarely on your shoulders."
The prophecy ritual must be performed in a deep and eerie cave. The ritual is originally very complicated, requiring the eye of an adult Gronn, along with various precious herbs and minerals, a series of strict sacrifices, and finally the left eye is gouged out to obtain the ability to prophesy.
Unfortunately, the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans declined, and most of the materials needed for the ritual could not be obtained. Since an elder used a Talbuk's eye to complete the ritual, everything has been simplified.
Nantrog prepared a Clefthoof eye for Kilrogg.
Indescribable pain.
Kilrogg collapsed to the ground, clutching his head and howling in agony, blood streaming from his left eye.
Darkness enveloped him, and Kilrogg saw nothing but unbearable pain.
"I am not reconciled. I must obtain the prophecy, for the sake of the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans."
Kilrogg grabbed the Clefthoof's eyeballs and held them tightly, struggling to keep himself from losing consciousness.
However, he still saw nothing. The pain drove him almost insane, but unfortunately, he did not experience any hallucinations.
Nantrog grabbed Kilrogg's head from behind and said viciously:
"You saw it, didn't you? Mountains of corpses, seas of blood, piles of white bones—those were all enemies of the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans. Our warriors swept them all away, invincible."
"But"
"There are no 'buts'. You see a glorious future for the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans."
Nantrog grinned maliciously and threatened:
"Or perhaps your prophetic abilities are inferior to your useless father's? Do you really need to lose both your eyes?"
Kilrogg was terrified.
"If losing your right eye isn't enough, then your nose and ears, your hands and feet—don't worry, I'll leave your tongue until you speak the prophecy yourself."
Nantrog drew a sharp dagger, its blade gleaming coldly.
There was no prophecy at all.
"Remember, make predictions that are in your own favor!"
His father's words echoed in his ears, Kilrogg finally understood his predicament.
He has always lived in deception, deceiving himself, and now he needs to deceive his people.
"I saw it."
Kilrogg stammered, "Mountains of corpses and seas of blood, piles of white bones—those are the bodies of the Arakkoa. The warriors of the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans are singing victory songs."
"Very good!"
Nantrog smiled with satisfaction:
"Then, as the chieftain of the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans, you must have foreseen my death, right?"
Kilrogg stared intently in one direction with his single eye, as if he were truly seeing an illusion:
"A very clear vision: the Bleeding Hollow Clan Clans's power has expanded, bursting out of the Tanaan Jungle, and you and I are both old and frail, perishing together with Dragon Slayer Gruul."
Wow, wow! That's a great ending.
Nantrog was overjoyed; dying on the battlefield was an honor for Orcs, and it would be even more perfect if he could choose a powerful opponent.
"You are an excellent prophet," Nantrog said kindly.
"From now on, you may eat my leftovers with the servants."
Compared to picking up leftovers under the table before, this treatment was like a meteoric rise.
Kilrogg covered his left eye and followed Nantrog out of the cave.
Just as he stepped out of the cave, right in front of Kilrogg, a spiked wooden stick whistled through the air and smashed Nantrog's head.