Bront was delighted by the powerful Elemental Power within him. Hearing his master's question, he asked curiously:
"What should I say? Oh right, I haven't thanked my master yet."
Bront immediately knelt on the ground and kowtowed to thank his master for his kindness.
Drek'Thar slapped his forehead. Why was this kid so clueless? On a whim, he decided to provoke him.
"Bront, do you know why I took you as my apprentice?"
Bront lowered his head, timidly and he whispered:
"At the age of thirteen, I displayed exceptional talent. If you do not take me as your apprentice and force me to work diligently every day without time to communicate with the elements, I will soon awaken to self-realization, and my achievements will surpass yours."
Drek'Thar was stunned, and after a long while, he said, "You know everything."
Bront shrank back and nodded.
"What else do you know?" Drek'Thar asked menacingly.
Bront took a step back in fright, his voice barely a whisper, "The cultivation Manual you gave me when I was twenty was fake. Although I wasted seven years, I should have been able to communicate with the elements by the time I was twenty. It was the Manual you gave me that severed the elemental connection, preventing me from becoming Shaman."
"You knew it was fake, yet you still practiced it?" Drek'Thar asked in surprise.
Bront said, sounding aggrieved, "I'm scared!"
"You're afraid? What's there to be afraid of?" Drek'Thar was somewhat incomprehensible. "Then what have you been serving me for all these years, enduring countless hardships?"
"It's just a habit." Bront avoided looking his master in the eye.
Drek'Thar gritted his teeth and asked again, "Do you know why your master deliberately stood on the edge of the cliff?"
Bront trembled with fear, his voice shaking. "You're giving me a chance to push you down. How could I dare? You're my master. If I did that, wouldn't I be worse than a pig or a dog?"
Drek'Thar was greatly disappointed, and also somewhat frightened.
This disciple is not stupid at all; he understands everything. He's just a bit blindly loyal and not capable of being of great use.
Drek'Thar was somewhat annoyed; after all these years, he still didn't understand his disciple at all.
"I was blind! You're not a worthy Orcs at all!" Drek'Thar roared in exasperation.
"What should a qualified Orcs do?" Bront asked in a low voice.
Drek'Thar shouted, "A proper Orcs should betray his master and ancestors, be ruthless and merciless, and kill decisively. Once he learns the skill, he should kill his master immediately, just like I did when I was young."
Bront lowered his head and curled up. "I can't do it."
Drek'Thar sighed, "Fine, you've learned my skills, so I have nothing left to regret. Remember my words, from today onward, you are Drek'Thar."
"Yes, Master."
Bront obeyed his master's orders and used Elemental Magic to transform into Drek'Thar's appearance.
Drek'Thar breathed a sigh of relief and jumped off the cliff.
"Master, you can't die!" Bront burst into tears, and powerful elemental energy surged forth.
Drek'Thar's legs tightened as elemental arms gripped his lower body, leaving him suspended in mid-air.
With a forceful pull, Bront's elemental arm dragged Drek'Thar to the edge of the cliff.
"Master, you can't do this! Give me some time, I can heal your internal injuries."
Drek'Thar was furious. In the original plan, he was supposed to be ambushed by his disciple and choose to jump off a cliff to his death.
A passageway had been prepared in the pool below, Drek'Thar would use Elemental Power to feign death and escape.
Bront was unwilling to kill his master, so Drek'Thar had no choice but to take his own life.
But I never expected to be rescued.
"Let me go! My master is determined to die, do not try to stop me!" Drek'Thar struggled desperately.
Unfortunately, his current strength was inferior to his disciple's, and he was unable to break free.
"Master, you can't die! After I heal your hidden injuries, you can do whatever you want with me."
Drek'Thar turned pale with anger, a sense of foreboding creeping into his heart.
A piercing alarm sounded at the Frostwolf Clan's settlement.
Enemy attack.
The master and apprentice looked down from their vantage point and saw only a handful of enemies.
A tall Draenei floated in mid-air, firing arrows of Holy Light that reaped the lives of the Frostwolf Clan.
Beside the Draenei was a Night Elf, yet possessing the majesty of Dragon, who fought using Arcane Magic.
On the ground were two Orcs, one wielding Battle Axe and the other a hammer, smashing the heads of one Orcs after another.
"That's the Doomhammer." Drek'Thar gasped.
With the Doomhammer in Orgrim's hands, it's clear who the enemy is.
"Master, I'm going to fight."
Seeing his people being slaughtered, Bront's eyes widened in fury, and an unnamed rage surged within him.
Drek'Thar was so anxious his heart was about to jump out of his chest. His eyes darted around as he said, "Apprentice, let me go! Let's fight side by side!"
Bront hesitated for a moment, then released his master's restraints.
Drek'Thar was about to jump off a cliff to escape when Bront shouted:
"Master, I will lend you a hand. Let us defeat the enemy together."
Bront grabbed Drek'Thar's arm, and the two burrowed underground. Powerful Earth Elemental Power surged, leaving a noticeable ridge in the ground.
With the help of Earth Elemental Power, the master and apprentice arrived at the Frostwolf Clan's settlement in an instant.
Bront leaped out of the ground, heading straight for Thrall.
Drek'Thar was filled with bitterness and quickly covered his head and face with a cloth, thus failing to attract attention.
Thrall recognized Drek'Thar and, in his world, had driven the old Shaman mad.
The "Drek'Thar" before him was younger and looked strong and powerful, Thrall didn't take him seriously and charged forward with Doomhammer in hand.
"Drek'Thar, your life is mine."
Bront raised his arm, and a surge of Elemental Power erupted forth, his Lava- formed hand gripping Thrall tightly.
Thrall was terrified, having never seen such a powerful Shaman, and hurriedly pleaded:
"Please spare me, senior! I was wrong. I'm willing to surrender and become your slave."
Bront, lacking experience in combat, was at a loss and let Thrall go.
Rend crouched down, stealthily approached Bront from behind, and swung his axe at him.
Bront's mind conjured a wall of earth that blocked the Battle Axe.
"Why are you doing this?" Bront turned around, and a hand formed of Lava emerged from the ground, gripping Rend tightly.
Rend hurriedly learned from Thrall, crying and pleading:
"Senior, please spare me! I was wrong. I'm willing to be your slave."
In the air, Velen and Anachronos were taken aback.
Before arriving, the two assessed Drek'Thar's strength and concluded that he was inferior to Thrall.
Unexpectedly, the "Drek'Thar" in this world is so formidable.
Seeing that they were outmatched, Velen and Anachronos quickly flew upwards, away from the battle area.
Bront sighed and didn't give chase.
He raised his hand, and powerful Water Elemental Power surged forth, like two soaring Cloud Serpent, flying over the gathering places on both banks.
Even though the wounded Frostwolf Clan were on their last breath, they were completely healed.
Velen gasped, while Anachronos's eyes widened.
Never before in the entire history of Draenor has such a powerful Shaman been seen.
How can Drek'Thar be so powerful? Something's not right.
Velen and Anachronos both wore thoughtful expressions.
A cold glint appeared behind Bront.