The Barrens

The green stone giants swept through the entire elven encampment; no matter how valiant or battle-hardened the warriors were, they faced nothing but broken bones and shattered limbs.

The Horde warriors roared, fighting their way into the camp with such ferocity that they cut through the defenders like a hot knife through butter, rampaging without restraint.

Andrebos watched the chaotic camp with trembling eyes, staring at the two stone giants wreaking havoc within and the menacing Orc warriors, two lines of hot tears streaming down his face.

It was not that he lacked courage, nor was there any flaw in his command; he simply had no options left. The stone giants that had suddenly descended from the sky had completely shattered his defensive strategy.

Andrebos shook off the guards supporting him and brandished his scimitar, parrying Orc attacks while rallying the scattered elven warriors.

Gradually, a number of elven warriors gathered around him, following him as they fought and retreated. Andrebos looked back at the camp he had worked so hard to build; it was already in ruins. The two stone giants and the Orcs who had breached the perimeter were destroying everything in sight.

"We... retreat!" Andrebos issued the difficult order.

The surviving elven archers provided cover fire on both flanks to protect the retreating warriors, while Andrebos placed his own guard at the rear to hold off the advancing Orcs.

Orgrim sat on the floor of the dark cell, bound by magic and leaning against the wall, his heart aching as he listened to the shouts of the Orc warriors.

These were the soldiers he had led through countless hardships, the only unit not corrupted by Gul'dan's Fel magic, yet now they were bleeding and risking their lives for that bastard Gul'dan.

Andy was jolted awake by a sharp pain; the intense sunlight nearly blinded him. He squinted, waiting until his eyes adjusted to the light before opening them fully.

There was not a single part of his body that didn't ache. He had fallen from a great height, and although he had landed in the sea, the massive impact had caused him to cough up blood and lose consciousness.

"Damn it, still hurts—not dead yet!" Andy muttered, struggling to sit up, but the effort only brought on more intense pain.

"Hiss!" Andy bared his teeth and sucked in a cold breath. "Which damn bone did I break?"

Andy lay quietly for over an hour before he could endure the pain enough to sit up and observe his surroundings.

It was a beach, with golden sand shimmering under the sun. A few seabirds circled above the water, diving in from time to time and emerging with fish in their beaks.

Andy forced himself to stand; the cliff he had fallen from was no longer visible, and he had no idea where he had drifted. Behind him, a small sand dune blocked his view.

Andy climbed the dune and stared blankly ahead; at the end of the beach lay a dense forest. Andy hurriedly looked around—could he still be in Ashenvale?

Andy felt his back; his bow was still there, though many arrows were missing from his quiver, likely lost to the sea during his fall.

Andy slowly entered the forest, looking at the massive trees that would take several men to encircle. A sense of disorientation washed over him; these trees were identical to the forest he had run through during his escape.

Andy walked for two days before discovering a ruined outpost. The style was elven, and looking at the smoldering ruins, it was clear it had been destroyed recently. His heart sank—could this really still be Ashenvale?

Andy quickened his pace, but stopped abruptly when he passed a patch of grass. The area was splattered with a large amount of blood, and there were even scraps of flesh hanging from the weeds.

"Andy, watch out! Danger behind you!" the Monster Spirit's warning echoed in his mind.

Andy felt a chill, his crouched body frozen in place. Suddenly, he felt a gust of wind behind his head and rolled forward, hearing a "thud" as something heavy struck the ground.

Andy stood up in one motion to find a tall Orc holding a giant axe, glaring at him. Without hesitation, Andy retreated rapidly while drawing an arrow from his back and nocking it to his bow.

The arrow whistled through the air, trailing a cold light. The Orc instinctively raised its giant axe, but at such close range, the movement was too slow. The arrow pierced the Orc's body, burying itself deep in its heart.

The Orc collapsed, its eyes filled with clear resentment. Andy walked over, pulled out his arrow, returned it to his quiver, and crouched to examine the corpse.

The blood flowing from the body was dark red, with no trace of Fel energy. Andy frowned; these seemed to be Orgrim's men. Had they finally decided to launch their offensive?

Andy ignored the system prompts adding to his stats and continued forward. He finally confirmed his location when he saw the ruined Maestra outpost.

Maestra was now occupied by a group of several dozen Orcs. Andy took a single peek before hiding far away. He didn't have the strength to take on dozens of Orcs alone; if discovered, he would be torn to shreds in an instant.

Andy checked his bearings and, keeping to the southern edge of Ashenvale, moved stealthily toward the direction of the elven encampment.

Along the way, Andy shot down lone Orcs until he reached a point where the path was blocked by an entire Orc camp, leaving him no way around.

He had only seen elven corpses along the way; it seemed the elves had already retreated toward Darnassus.

Andy dared not go further. He tucked the scimitar he had picked up along the way into his belt and turned to retreat rapidly toward the south.

South of Ashenvale, beyond the forest, lay a region of yellowish-brown soil that was hot year-round.

In this land, only a few drought-resistant plants grew, and it was almost entirely barren. According to elven records, no race lived here, and it was unsuitable for any crops to grow.

Only when Andy truly crossed the forest and arrived in this legendary wasteland did he realize the reality was far worse than the records suggested.

Andy walked on the desertified land, the air filled with a dry, scorching heat. Every breath felt like his lungs were being seared by fire.

A gust of wind blew, whipping up sand that lashed against Andy's face, causing a dull, stinging pain.

Andy grimaced, cursing the environment as he walked. He had no destination, and everything here was completely foreign to him.

His only goal was to keep heading south, far away from the Orc warriors roaming everywhere.