Several nights later, on a broad altar deep within Tanaan Jungle, Orc clans from all over the world had gathered together.
Wooo~~~ Woo~~~
The deep, resounding horn echoed through the night, lingering for a long time.
A sea of people had already gathered below the altar. Countless torches glittered like stars, illuminating the entire area.
On the platform at the top of the altar, Gul'dan's aged body stood quietly beside a stone table, shrouded beneath the hood of his robe. A huge stone basin sat on the table, filled to the brim with thick, dark green liquid.
The demon blood of a Pit Lord, the gift of the Burning Legion—this was the Orcs' fate.
At that moment, a commotion and cheers rose up. The Orcs below the altar voluntarily split apart, opening a path through the middle.
Grom Hellscream strode up toward the altar platform, gripping his signature weapon: the battle axe Gorehowl.
Yet something was strange. An Orc with his entire face hidden beneath a hood followed behind Hellscream. No one knew him, but Hellscream seemed to trust this unfamiliar Orc deeply.
Not only that, some particularly observant Orcs also sensed that something was amiss. The main force of the Warsong Clan seemed to have assembled around the perimeter, along with a pile of dark objects that could not be clearly seen beneath the cover of night.
Upon reaching the platform at the top of the altar, Grom looked at the hunched Gul'dan before him, contempt flashing through his eyes.
"Is this the gift you claimed would bring the Orcs endless power? Is this the ascension you spoke of?" Grom glanced at the thick, dark green liquid in the stone basin and snorted heavily.
Gul'dan nodded, picked up the wooden cup beside the basin, filled it with the dark