"By the Holy Light, what have I heard?"
The crowd's enthusiasm was reignited.
The referee dared not make a decision on his own, so he sent someone to ask Blackmoore to decide, and Blackmoore then sought the opinion of his butler, Moroes.
Moroes hesitated for a moment, then nodded and said, "Ashkandi is in high spirits and can easily take on three opponents at once, which would bring a perfect ending to this gladiatorial contest."
Blackmoore waved his hand and said, "In that case, let them all come out."
A large group of people appeared in the arena. The opponent in the eighth match was Nerubians lord from Northrend, and the opponent in the ninth match was an adult Gronn from Outland.
The tenth opponent was ten Orcs gladiators, all armed with heavy chains, plus a mysterious figure shrouded in a black robe.
Blackmoore explained, "The final match is the grand finale, featuring ten meticulously trained Orcs gladiators. I only have about thirty of these gladiators. To kill a gladiator, you must hang his chain around his neck, and each chain weighs the equivalent of an Orcs."
Moroes said coldly, "How could you come up with such a method? Defeating your ten gladiators is equivalent to fighting ten Orcs."
"Indeed, only such an ultimate challenge can be convincing," Blackmoore said. "The final battle is fighting Black-Robed Man while carrying ten chains, and this man's origins are extraordinary."
"That's what makes it interesting. I'm really looking forward to the final performance." Moroes asked, "Have you prepared the next steps?"
"Twelve orcish Orcs Death Squad are ready," Blackmoore said solemnly. "After today, Ashkandi, son of Durotan, will be renowned throughout Azeroth."
After the referee explained the rules to Ashkandi, the final gladiatorial match began. Due to the large number of participants, the cage was abandoned, and the fight was held inside the Arena.
The Nerubians Lord spewed webs and pounced on Ashkandi from the left and right, alongside Gronn.
A swathe of spiderwebs fell, covering Ashkandi's body. His upper body broke free at top speed; the Nerubians Lord and Gronn had already arrived.
The Nerubians Lord's sharp, long legs pierced Ashkandi's chest, while Gronn raised his fists and slammed them down from above.
Ashkandi caught a glimpse of the green glow at the tip of the long legs, clearly indicating a deadly poison. However, he was not afraid at all. He grabbed the Nerubians lord's foot and lifted her heavy body above his head.
The Nerubians Lord screamed as he watched Gronn's fist come crashing down. He quickly abandoned one of his long legs and dodged to the side, simultaneously spraying spider silk to entangle Ashkandi's lower body.
Ashkandi's legs were entangled in spider webs, rendering him unable to move. He met Gronn's fists with both fists.
Adult Gronn are enormous; their fists are almost half the size of Orcs's. The two are not even in the same weight class.
Amazingly, Ashkandi managed to withstand Gronn's punch with his own strength.
A strange gasp arose from the crowd, followed by enthusiastic cheers.
Ashkandi's legs sank into the hard ground of the Arena below the knees. Blood Magic erupted, burning away the spider webs. Ashkandi was free. He took a deep breath and charged towards the Nerubians Lord.
He was too fast; before Gronn could even turn around, Ashkandi had already rushed in front of the Nerubians lord who had lost a leg.
The Nerubians Lord spewed out a large amount of spider webs, and Ashkandi's body was covered in a layer of blood, burning all the spider webs away. He reached into the Nerubians Lord's mouth with both arms and tore them apart forcefully.
A scream.
The Nerubians lord's head was torn apart, revealing grayish-white brain matter, which was smashed to pieces.
The powerful Nerubians Lord fell in a single exchange, and Ashkandi turned and lunged at Gronn.
"Ah!"
Ashkandi opened his arms and hugged Gronn's thick legs, actually lifting him up before slamming him to the ground.
Gronn's body was heavy, like a large rock, and it was difficult for him to get up after falling.
Ashkandi landed on Gronn's head and punched him repeatedly until his skull cracked and he was unable to move.
Next came ten Orcs gladiators, dragging heavy chains. Ashkandi them one by one with a single punch, and none of them could withstand a single blow from him.
With ten heavy chains strapped to his shoulders, Ashkandi remained composed as he sized up his final opponent.
The Black-Robed Man removed his cloak, revealing two sharp fangs. He was an elderly Orcs, and someone handed him a longsword.
As soon as the longsword was in hand, Flames burst forth, engulfing the blade.
"A two-handed sword infused with the power of Flame!" Moroes exclaimed. "He's the Sword Saint of the Burning Blade Clan!"
Blackmoore said solemnly, "The Burning Blade Clan disappeared after the Battle of Lordaeron. This Clans was renowned for its exquisite skills. Ashkandi is bound by chains; it will surely be a tough battle."
Moroes shook his head. "That's not necessarily true. No Orcs is a match for Ashkandi."
"But this old swordsman is no ordinary man. I have the utmost respect for him. He volunteered to join the battle, supposedly because he saw something," Blackmoore said regretfully. "He trained all my Orcs gladiators, and I really don't want anything to happen to him."
Moroes's gaze narrowed slightly. "You mean prophecy? Orcs are used to talking about mystical things, but most of it is unreliable."
The Burning Blade Blademaster asked indifferently, "Young man, where is your weapon?"
Ashkandi glanced at Aiguleiya behind him, the heavy Greatsword of the Brotherhood still in his arms, and shrugged:
My fists are my weapons.
The Burning Blade Blademaster wielded a longsword.
"You are too arrogant. Without weapons, how can you be my match?"
The Burning Blade Blademaster swayed, and Ashkandi only felt a blur before three figures appeared, wielding longswords and rushing towards him.
Ashkandi looked puzzled, then suddenly shouted, "Oh no!"
Ignoring the three sword saints rushing towards him, Ashkandi carried ten heavy chains and ran towards Aiguleiya.
Aiguleiya was confused when the figure of the Old Burning Blade Blademaster appeared behind him and slashed down with his sword.
Ashkandi was too fast; his Blood Magic was unleashed to its fullest extent, and he raised his chains to block the Burning Blade Blademaster's seemingly inevitable attack.
The Burning Blade Blademaster's aged face darkened rapidly, his teeth clenched, his eyes blazing with fury, as he pleaded desperately:
"You shouldn't stop me. If you were the leader of the Orcs, you would bring Orcs glory and honor, and all the races of Azeroth would live in peace. But he can't. He will cause countless bloodshed and sacrifice, countless Orcs howling and screaming, struggling to survive in agony, powerless to resist, lying in the blood and singing false hymns. For the sake of the Orcs, for the sake of Azeroth, let go."
"I can't let go, he's my brother." Ashkandi looked at the Burning Blade Blademaster with incomprehension.
Throughout the ten gladiatorial matches, Aiguleiya stood at the back, clutching the Greatsword of the Brotherhood, and no opponent took him seriously.
Why is this Burning Blade Blademaster so determined to make things difficult for Aiguleiya?
The Burning Blade Blademaster refused to give up. "Listen to me, you are very strong, but too naive. Killing with weapons is limited, but killing with your mind will create a hellish world. You don't understand your brothers. I saw a future scene in the Flames: mountains of corpses, seas of blood, and suffering covering the earth, but you weren't there."
Aiguleiya then realized what had happened, sweat streaming down her face, and she let out a timid cry:
"Elder brother!"
"Don't worry, with me here, no one can hurt you." Ashkandi's gaze Steadfast.
"Hypocritical, treacherous, and heartless, I will kill this fiend for Azeroth."
The Burning Blade Blademaster gripped his longsword tightly with both hands, his body spinning rapidly.