"Interesting, a Pit Lord, that makes more sense. Who would believe that a mere Orcs could kill Cenarius? It's good that you stepped forward, you insignificant Pit Lord. Of course, I'm not surprised at all by this Orcs's duplicity."
The flying monster Pride and rude, with a despicable look that showed no regard for anyone.
Mannoroth sensed something was amiss. Ten thousand years ago, Azshara City, he had met Illidan. At that time, although Illidan was incredibly powerful, he still maintained basic humility, understanding his own insignificance in the face of the vast universe.
"Don't you recognize me, Illidan Stormrage?" Mannoroth asked in surprise, feeling greatly insulted. After all, he was Archimonde's Adjutant, a notorious villain in the universe.
"Should we recognize you?" the monster known as "Illidan" asked with disdain. "A lowly Pit Lord, nothing more than a reptilian creature, barely better than a filthy Orcs. What right do you have to be known by me?"
"Asshole!"
Mannoroth was furious and pointed at the monster in the sky, shouting:
"Illidan, if it were ten thousand years ago, I might have thought more highly of you. But the era of the High Elves is over. I heard you were imprisoned for ten thousand years. Times have changed. Compared to ten thousand years ago, I am already different."
After all, ten thousand years had passed. Although the Burning Legion had made only minor progress, it had also undergone significant changes. With one side gaining strength and the other losing it, Mannoroth believed he could defeat Illidan, who had been deprived of his freedom for ten thousand years.
"Very well, I'd love to see the so-called abilities of a Pit Lord." The monster remained incredibly Pride, showing no regard for Mannoroth whatsoever.
Mannoroth took a deep breath, and the terrifying trident in his hand changed shape, transforming into a giant rocket launcher-like weapon, which he aimed at the monster flying in the air.
With a deafening roar, a surge of Fel energy erupted, slamming into the monster in mid-air and causing a massive explosion. Fel Flame Fel energy spread outwards, engulfing everything in a raging inferno, destroying all the flowers and plants in the valley.
Grom Hellscream had intended to escape, but he was tainted by the Fel Flames, which clung to him like a leech and could not be extinguished. These terrifying flames could even scorch stones, let alone an Orcs.
The poor old Orcs let out a series of miserable screams; after all, he was only made of flesh and blood and could not withstand this terrifying magical power.
Mannoroth ignored Grommash Hellscream, his face tense as he stared at the monster in the sky. When the smoke cleared, the monster was seen to have used its wings to protect its body, and it was completely unharmed.
"Insignificant Pit Lord, I overestimated your power. You are not ready."
The monster brandished its Warglaive and sneered, "Is this all the power you have, weak Pit Lord? How pathetic, how regrettable."
Mannoroth's expression was solemn. He seemed oblivious to the wailing and pain of Grommash Hellscream beside him, focusing intently on the enemy before him.
"You are somewhat different from those of ten thousand years ago; your power system is completely different," Mannoroth said solemnly. "But my changes are even greater, and I will let you experience the terrifying power of the Legion."
Mannoroth took a deep breath, his entire body covered in thick armor, transforming him into a fully armed Pit Lord, with a massive rocket launcher mounted on his back.
Rumble.
With a series of deafening roars, Mannoroth unleashed his Fel energy relentlessly, engulfing the sky above the mountain valley in its Fel, and filling every space with Fel Flames.
At this moment, Grommash Hellscream, scorched by Fel, finally breathed his last. His entire body had been burned to ashes, leaving only the terrifying giant axe Gorehowl.
Faced with the relentless bombardment, the monster spread its wings and flew into the air, attempting to escape the range. Mannoroth's rocket launcher had clearly been extended, increasing its range.
"You insignificant Pit Lord, let me show you the power of the flames of Azzinoth."
The monster threw its two weapons to the ground, where they transformed into two enormous balls of Fel Fire that lunged at Mannoroth. The Fel Flames were extremely hot, and Mannoroth's armor began to melt.
"Little Pit Lord, look me in the eye."
The monster's eyes emitted a destructive light, burning holes in Mannoroth's body, leaving it a bloody mess.
"Illidan is even more powerful than he was ten thousand years ago!" Mannoroth was horrified. He knew he was no match for him and roared, "Illidan, the Pit Lords cannot die! Let us fight again!"
Bang!
With a deafening roar, Mannoroth self-destructed, leaving only a pair of enormous fangs on the ground. This was the Pit Lord clan's escape talent, known as the Broken Tooth Escape.
The monster slowly descended from the sky, and in the ravine destroyed by Fel Flames, it discovered a surviving little flower, still stubbornly blooming.
Gazing at the beautiful little flower, the monster tilted its head and murmured, "Tyrande loves flowers like this the most."
"Damn it, damn it, why is this happening?" The monster knelt on the ground, clutching its head in anguish. "Why am I still so hung up on Tyrande Whisperwind? She's just a lowly Night Elf, she's not worthy of me at all."
"Strange, who am I?" The monster was in a daze, the Fel in its eyes flickering. After a long while, the monster finally came to its senses, its face calm.
"I am Illidan Stormrage, Malfurion's brother. My greatest love is Tyrande. Ten thousand years ago, Maiev imprisoned me in the Vault of the Wardens, but I do not hate her. This is the punishment I deserve."
The monster looked around, still utterly bewildered.
"Tyrande released me from the Vault of the Wardens. Am I truly free? Tyrande is now married to my Malfurion. I should silently bless them and not disturb them. No woman in this world, except Tyrande, can move me. This world is completely different from what it was ten thousand years ago. Perhaps I should travel more and see more of it."
The monster swung its enormous demonic horns, muttering to itself as it walked, its figure gradually disappearing into the distance.
Robbie emerged from the shadows, glanced at the Gorehowl and Mannoroth's fangs on the ground, hesitated for a moment, and ultimately did not pick them up. Maiev's understanding of Soul Magic was insufficient, and the monster almost broke free of its soul bondage.
Fortunately, Robbie was keeping an eye on him and reconstructing his worldview.
"It should be able to hold out for a while. According to historical trends, Illidan will fall in the Black Temple, killed by a group of insignificant mortal adventurers."
Looking at the Orcs Camp that had been burned to ashes, Robbie felt how ridiculous history was and couldn't help but ponder it.
The most important thing now is to stop the Burning Legion's Fel Reaver production line from entering Azeroth. The Scourge has sent out scouts to investigate and has already learned important information: there is a crucial clue in the Goblin's Rustwater Port.
The Pit Lord Mannoroth awakens aboard a starship belonging to the Legion Burning Legion, located in outer space of Azeroth. Protected by the Titans Shield, the powerful starship is unable to enter the Azeroth.
Through the starship's windows, Mannoroth could see the misty Azeroth. He had no time to admire the beauty of Azeroth; he hurriedly opened the Legion Communicator. Kil'jaeden the Deceiver had been waiting for him for a long time.