Barthilas nodded, unusually calm, his face as cold as Frost, almost like a statue in a church.
"What the hell? Is this his goal? To find evidence of my collusion with the Orcs and ruin my reputation?"
Tirion Fordring's heart was in turmoil. If the people of Hearthglen were to find out about this clandestine deal, the consequences would be unimaginable.
No, it doesn't matter. How could the people believe him? After all, I am the lord of Hearthglen.
Tirion Fordring's mind raced as he pondered how to turn the tide, instantly devising countless schemes and plots.
"What exactly do you want, Barthilas?"
Tirion Fordring felt confident in controlling the situation. In terms of prestige among the people, how could Barthilas compare to Tirion Fordring, who had been a lord for decades? His voice instantly rose, now carrying an element of questioning.
Barthilas remained expressionless and replied calmly:
"Sir, I'm just doing what you want to do, but you don't dare to do."
"I want to do it, but I don't dare to?"
"Not good!"
That was exactly what Tirion Fordring feared most.
"So this is the little knight who gives you so much trouble, Tirion Fordring?"
Eitrigg appeared behind Barthilas without anyone noticing. While Tirion Fordring was plotting something, the old Orcs secretly picked up his Battle Axe, found the right spot, and with a ferocious look on his face, slashed fiercely at Barthilas.
"Perfect sneak attack, excellent," Tirion Fordring couldn't help but praise in his heart.
Barthilas turned around, his speed not fast, but his rhythm just right. As soon as he turned around, the Orcs's heavy axe whistled through the air and came crashing down on him.
Barthilas raised his hand, grabbed the edge of the axe, and easily snatched the Orcs's Battle Axe.
"This is impossible!" Tirion Fordring and Eitrigg exclaimed simultaneously.
Barthilas displayed incredible strength, as if his arms were not made of flesh and blood. The strength of the Orcs was like that of an infant in front of him. With a light wave of his hand, he threw his Battle Axe a great distance away, where it was deeply embedded in the ground.
"My lord!" Barthilas took a deep breath. "You know, I hate Orcs the most."
Barthilas placed his hand on his heart, as devout as a martyr in a temple:
"Hatred for the Orcs fills my chest, suffocating me. I hate my powerlessness, my weakness. Whenever this hatred deepens, I crave power, but the Holy Light has not smiled upon me. I can only vent my hatred in my imagination. Thank you, Azeroth, thank you to those who have helped me. Now, my dream has finally come true. Thank you, Lord, for giving me the opportunity to fulfill this wish."
Before Barthilas could finish speaking, his fist lightly struck Eitrigg.
The old Orcs frantically tried to dodge, but couldn't. The fist seemed slow, but it was as if it were locked on, slamming hard into his face. A noticeable dent appeared on the Orcs's face, and all his teeth fell out.
Almost instantly, Barthilas appeared beside Eitrigg like a ghost, easily tearing his shirt apart. His hands, like sharp blades, sliced through the skin on Eitrigg's shoulders, revealing strips of red muscle.
Barthilas grinned, biting down on the bloodied wound and tearing at the Orcs's flesh. His teeth were like sharp scissors, easily crushing the tough muscle.
Eitrigg let out a blood-curdling scream.
"No!"
Tirion Fordring let out a scream as if his own flesh was being torn apart.
"It's over. Barthilas has completely gone mad. He's my nightmare. He's a terrifying Demons. Hearthglen is finished. There's no hope left. What will happen to my wife and children? Do we really have to flee?"
Tirion Fordring gripped his hair tightly, feeling a dizzying sensation, as if the world was ending.
Barthilas ate the meat bite by bite, his voice still clear and crisp:
"Sir, you probably don't know, but when I was little, I ate anything to fill my stomach. For a while, my friends called me Anteater because I wouldn't even spare an ant. Orcs eat our flesh, so why can't we eat Orcs? This is my dream. It tastes delicious, sir, would you like a piece?"
Barthilas tore off a piece of Orcs flesh and handed it to him. Tirion Fordring was terrified and retreated repeatedly.
He longed to retrieve his warhammer from the saddle, but his remaining sanity told him not to. Barthilas was now invincible; he was no longer human.
Eitrigg screamed repeatedly, the intense pain causing his pupils to gradually dim, showing signs of dementia. Having probably eaten his fill, Barthilas released his grip, Eitrigg collapsed to the ground. Tirion Fordring knew that the old Orcs was finished; he would probably never be able to lift Battle Axe again.
Barthilas took out a handkerchief and gently wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with elegant and composed movements, like a nobleman who had just enjoyed a delicious meal. He burped contentedly, his eyes filled with a broad smile.
"Actually, we are the same kind of people, sir. You value your wife and children, your family, and you would give anything for them. I value the people of Hearthglen. They lent a helping hand when I was in my most difficult time. They are all my family, and everything I do is to protect them."
"I'm different from you. I won't harm the interests of any innocent people to protect my family. I'm willing to give my life for my family, sir. It's no big deal."
"Do you know what you've done?" Tirion Fordring's voice trembled. "The Orcs won't let this go. Do you think you can do whatever you want just because you've gained some power? You have no idea what kind of enemy you're facing. Do you even know that the Guardian Medivh is on the Orcs' side?"
"I know, that's why I'm doing this."
Barthilas smiled warmly, like springtime.
"My lord, if you wish to save your wife and children, there is now an opportunity. Speak to Thrall and Uther. Tell them that in three days I will be hosting a public feast of animal meat. Look, I've only eaten a few pounds of Eitrigg's flesh; I never waste food. Perhaps, in recognition of your contribution, they will spare your wife and children."
Tirion Fordring was taken aback; this was indeed a good idea.
Since things have already reached a point of no return, taking the right side is the only way out. Although Barthilas has demonstrated power beyond reason, it is still far from enough in the face of the Invincible Guardian.
"Since you cannot protect Hearthglen, you are no longer the lord, Lord Tirion Fordring. Now you may leave. Mount your horse and, it is best, never return."
"The day you approach Hearthglen will be the day your beloved son falls."
"Are you going to exile me? Exile the lord of Hearthglen? Barthilas?" Tirion Fordring retorted.
Barthilas laughed, "If you're willing to perish with Hearthglen, you're welcome, sir."
"I'll die with you, my ghost." Tirion Fordring quickly mounted his horse, afraid that Barthilas might change his mind. He didn't dare to look back until the horse had run quite a distance, only to see Barthilas still standing there, waving goodbye to Tirion Fordring.
I've finally witnessed humanity, more terrifying than the most cruel Demons.
In the days that followed, Tirion Fordring would tremble whenever he recalled what he had witnessed that day.
Tirion Fordring abandoned his wife and children, speeding away in all directions.