Arena Champion Thrall

The hungry Ogre decisively attacked Thrall after obtaining a weapon. Every step of his bloated body sent tremors through the ground.

Facing such a vicious opponent, Thrall did not panic. He was immensely shocked, even though he had no weapon in hand and his opponent was an Ogre.

The massive Ogre soon charged up to Thrall, raised the spiked mace in his hand, and shouted, "Food!"

The spiked mace looked crude, but in the hands of a race as massive as the Ogres, its terror became even more apparent. With an Ogre's strength behind it, anyone struck by that mace would basically lose their ability to fight.

Thrall had been raised by Edras Blackmoore as a slave since childhood and had struggled through the gladiatorial arena all his life. Now that he was the Arena Champion of Durnholde Castle, he possessed a wealth of experience.

The Ogre was strong, but clumsy. Faced with the mace swung by the Ogre, Thrall chose not to meet it head-on and instead dodged aside.

He nimbly evaded the Ogre's attacks again and again, rendering the Ogre's mace useless.

After several attacks were avoided, the Ogre grew even more enraged. His speed increased, and his strength grew greater as well. He forced Thrall into a corner, intending to smash the small Orc before him to death.

But he had underestimated Thrall. He thought that forcing Thrall into a corner would leave him nowhere to retreat, yet Thrall vanished right before his eyes.

Just as the Ogre was confused, tremendous pressure suddenly landed on his back, followed by a heavy blow to the back of his head.

It was Thrall. With agility far keener than the Ogre's, Thrall slid between the Ogre's legs and escaped from beneath him. Then he leaped straight onto the Ogre's back and hammered the back of his head with his fists.

Even with an Ogre's toughness, he could not withstand repeated blows to the back of the head for long. The Ogre began wildly flailing his limbs, trying to throw Thrall off his back.

However, the Ogre was simply too cumbersome. His enormous size prevented his arms from reaching Thrall on his back at all.

After taking several blows to the back of his head, the Ogre's eyes turned red with fury. He shouted, "I'll ram you to death!"

Then he viciously slammed his back into the arena wall.

Thrall had already jumped away before that. The Ogre used all his strength in an attempt to crush Thrall into pulp, but instead slammed himself hard into the wall and was left dazed by the rebound.

Seeing the dazed Ogre, Thrall swiftly snatched the mace from his hand, leaped high into the air, and brought it down directly on the Ogre's fat head.

The spiked side of the mace did not pierce the Ogre's skull as expected. The crude mace had spikes on only one side; the other was an ordinary hammerhead.

Empowered by Thrall's strength, the Ogre was knocked unconscious by the blow. His enormous body collapsed to the ground after losing control.

"Thrall! Thrall!"

All the spectators in the arena erupted into cheers. Although many of them had lost their bets, the nobles did not care about such money. Instead, they were even more pleased with Thrall's performance.

"You lost, Arthas," Tyrel Sunstrider said to Arthas Menethil with a smile.

A thousand gold coins meant nothing to Arthas Menethil, Prince of Lordaeron, but he still said unhappily, "Just a cheap trick."

If they had faced the Ogre head-on, even Arthas and Tyrel, who were older than Thrall, would have found it difficult to win under the same circumstances. Though their techniques were formidable under the guidance of famous teachers, they lacked Thrall's ability to adapt on the fly, forged through life-and-death combat.

"This is Thrall, the Arena Champion!" Edras Blackmoore's eyes gleamed with madness. The look in his eyes suddenly reminded Tyrel Sunstrider of Dalkhan's gaze. He realized that both Lieutenant General Edras Blackmoore and Magister Dath'Remar Sunstrider possessed something indescribably mad in their eyes.

After winning the gladiatorial match, Thrall returned once more to his dark, damp quarters. Calling it quarters was generous—it was more like a prison cell. As soon as he entered, the guards immediately locked the door.

Though he had defeated the Ogre, Thrall felt no joy from his victory. He quietly sat down and began to think.

Other than possessing an Orc's body, Thrall's soul was now more like that of a human.

A sound interrupted Thrall's thoughts. He looked toward the door and said delightedly, "Is that you, Taresa?"

"I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you, Thrall. I'm Tyrel Sunstrider." The person who appeared was not the Taresa Thrall had expected, but Tyrel Sunstrider.

Thrall watched the newcomer cautiously. Upon noticing that he was a High Elf with golden eyes, he recalled their earlier exchanged glance and said, "It's you, the elf in the arena stands."

"Yes, Thrall." Tyrel Sunstrider readily admitted it, had the guard unlock Thrall's cell door, and walked inside.

Without question, this was the first time Tyrel Sunstrider, who had grown up in the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas, had come to such a crude place. Yet he showed no aversion and instead openly sat down across from Thrall.

"A High Elf is truly a rare sight. Your status must be anything but ordinary, or he would not have allowed you to see me. So why have you come, elf?" Thrall spoke in a low voice, calmly stating his words.

Tyrel Sunstrider's golden eyes met Thrall's blue ones again. This time, he could see composure and wisdom in Thrall's gaze.

Tyrel Sunstrider stated his purpose directly. "I came here simply because I wanted to meet you, Thrall. You are different from the other Orcs of your kind in Durnholde Castle. I can see hope and wisdom in your eyes. I am full of curiosity about Orcish history and your world, and I hope to learn about all of it."

"Then you may be disappointed, Tyrel Sunstrider. Not long after I was born, I was raised by Edras Blackmoore. I do not know much about Orcish history, and I rarely have the chance to interact with the other members of my people imprisoned outside." Thrall was telling the truth. Edras Blackmoore had found him shortly after his birth, and he was later raised by the family of one of Edras Blackmoore's servants. Taresa was the servant's daughter.

Hearing this, Tyrel Sunstrider could not help feeling somewhat disappointed. He was deeply curious about the Orcs and their world. However, he quickly composed himself, took out exquisite elven pastries from his Space Bag, pushed them toward Thrall, and said, "They should not treat a champion like this. At the very least, he should be given a comfortable environment and sufficient food."

This was the first time Thrall had seen such exquisite elven pastries. The food Lieutenant General Edras Blackmoore gave him had always been poor, practically carelessly made. Only Taresa occasionally stole some pastries for Thrall, but those were nowhere near the same level as what Tyrel Sunstrider had brought out.

"Thank you, Tyrel. This is the most delicious food I have ever eaten." After tasting the elven pastries, Thrall spoke from the heart.