As an Archmage, Antonidas hated gambling.
Gambling represents uncertainty and goes against magic.
But Blackmoore's confident expression infuriated him, and he angrily said:
What do you want to bet?
"The lives of a thousand guards inside the Internment Camp," Blackmoore said calmly. "I knew you wouldn't leave any alive, so you ordered them all back to the barracks and they don't know what happened today."
To reassure Antonidas, Blackmoore added, "My life is not included."
"Okay, I'll bet with you," Antonidas readily agreed.
Blackmoore said, "I need you to use magic so that all the Orcs can see us and hear our voices. Can you do that?"
Antonidas waved the Book of Medivh in his hand. "Absolutely no problem."
"I'm older, so let this young Orcs go first," Blackmoore said politely.
Thrall grinned, recalling reading some biographies of famous figures in the Karazhan library.
They are usually very good at public speaking and have a persuasive style.
Thrall had long wanted to experience this feeling firsthand, so he straightened his collar and adopted a serious expression.
A strange phenomenon appeared in Durnholde; the constantly swirling dark clouds attracted all the Orcs inside the Internment Camp.
Suddenly, a clear view appeared in the sky: a young Orcs had materialized.
"I am Thrall, son of Durotan, chieftain of the Frostwolf Clan, a Shaman apprenticed under Drek'Thar. When I was born, the forests of Lordaeron whispered my name. I grew day by day, becoming an embodiment of Justice. I always remember that my father led the Frostwolf Clan with wisdom and strength, and I will use my great power prudently to inspire the fighting spirit in the hearts of my people. Now I declare, my brethren, you are free! Step out of the Internment Camp, and we will all be crowned kings."
There was much discussion inside the Internment Camp.
The young Orcs, yearning for freedom, excitedly shouted Thrall's name.
Some Veterans, however, were more thoughtful and showed signs of doubt, leading to much discussion.
"Thrall, never heard of him. Durotan, isn't he the chieftain who was killed? Did he have a son?"
"The Frostwolf Clan lives in Frostfire Ridge and has never been a powerful Clans. I, the son of Durotan, am not convinced."
"Is it going to be war again? Are they going to use us as cannon fodder? Freedom? Hmph, Orcs have never had it."
Thrall, unaware of the Orcs' discussions inside the Internment Camp, finished his speech with a smug grin.
Blackmoore clapped his hands and exclaimed, "Great speech! Now it's my turn!"
When Blackmoore's image appeared in the sky, a chorus of curses erupted below. In the minds of the Orcs in the Internment Camp, he was synonymous with Demons.
"I am Blackmoore, the Demons in your hearts. I think every one of you has cursed me countless times, hoping I would soon enter the Shadowlands. Thank you for your curses, I have lived well all along. You are free now, a young Orcs, Thrall, who will lead you out of the Internment Camp. Haha, I am very pleased, finally rid of you big troublemakers."
The Orcs hurled insults at Blackmoore's image.
"Die, you Demons!"
"Once I get out of here, I'm going to kill your whole family."
"Blackmoore, may your soul never find peace."
Blackmoore seemed to have anticipated this. "Go ahead and curse. You just saw that young Orcs; he will be your new leader. As for what kind of person he is, whether he is a wise leader or not, you'll see for yourselves."
A Magic Crystal appeared in Blackmoore's hand. Before Antonidas could react, the images and sounds within the crystal had already reached the skies above Durnholde.
In the video, Drek'Thar screams in agony as Thrall gouges out his eyes and subjectes him to various forms of torture and torment.
The Frostwolf Clan's village was brutally massacred by Thrall, and many Orcs were impaled on wooden poles, howling in agony.
The few surviving Orcs, adults and children alike, knelt on the ground, kowtowing to Thrall, their blood flowing freely.
Veteran Bukelain was suffocated to death with a pillow by Thrall, dying with his eyes wide open in disbelief.
"My God, Thrall, he's a Demons."
"He's going to kill us all, I don't want to die."
"Doesn't Durnholde have a cemetery? We'd rather be Servants of mankind."
Inside the Internment Camp, all the Orcs screamed in terror, trembling with fear.
Inside the Castle, Thrall also witnessed the scene in the sky. He glared angrily at Blackmoore, while also secretly marveling at how Blackmore had managed to record everything using the Magic Crystal.
Blackmoore's image reappears:
"This is your wise leader, Thrall. Soon, a mage will open Portal for you. I will not stop anyone who wants to leave."
Blackmoore smiled at the ashen-faced Antonidas: "It's time for the Orcs to make their choice."
Antonidas gritted his teeth and used the Book of Medivh to cast a spell, creating Portals in every living area of Internment Camp.
As if they had encountered Plague, the Orcs scattered and fled, avoiding it at all costs.
Only a few Orcs, hoping for the best, chose to leave; fewer than one hundred of them.
"Looks like I won," Blackmoore said with a chuckle, having already guessed the outcome.
Antonidas snorted coldly and whispered to Thrall, "We opened the Portal, but the Orcs are unwilling to leave."
Thrall's head was buzzing, and his thoughts were in turmoil.
Rescuing the Orcs from the Durnholde internment camp is the first step in his rise to power. If successful, his fame will soon spread throughout the Eastern Kingdoms, bringing him glory and status.
The first step hadn't even been taken, and it was already aborted. How could Thrall be willing to accept this?
A wave of sorrow and pain washed over Thrall. Thrall had not forgotten Orgrim's torment, Grommash Hellscream had treated him like a dog.
"I'm not reconciled!"
To rise above others, one must do inhuman things.
Abandon all conscience and emotion, and become a heartless and ruthless person.
At this moment, Thrall matured and grinned, saying:
"I haven't lost yet, Antonidas. Unleash a wide-area spell on the Internment Camp, preferably Meteor Shower or something similar."
Antonidas was stunned; he hadn't expected Thrall to come up with such an idea.
"Thrall, you need to think this through. They are all Orcs, your own people."
Thrall grinned maliciously, "If you were in my shoes, facing humans, what choice would you make?"
Antonidas was speechless; he chose silence in the face of the Orcs invasion.
Thrall said viciously, "Thrall Orcs don't want to be my slaves are useless. They're not Orcs at all. They might as well all die."
Antonidas gritted his teeth and said to his disciples:
"Join me in casting a spell, and with the power of the Book of Medivh, unleash a massive Blizzard that will cover the entire Internment Camp."
A cold wind swept through the sky.
Dark clouds gathered above the Internment Camp, and countless Ice Lance rained down from the sky.
The sharp Ice Lance, carrying terrifyingly low temperatures, could easily pierce the Orcs's body, freezing him into a statue.
The Orcs howled and cried out as their houses were destroyed by the Blizzard, leaving them nowhere to hide and nowhere to escape.
Thrall laughed heartily as he watched the Orcs suffer horrific fates from the tower.
"A bunch of ungrateful wretch! This is the consequence of your betrayal. If you won't be slaves, then die!"
Only then did the Orcs realize that the Portal was their only way to escape.