Before he sank completely into darkness, the last thing Malone heard was, "Do your best, foolish mortal. Now that you've been granted power, you can be counted among my subjects! When you... perhaps you'll be able to return to this world..."
"When what? What do I have to do to come back? Spit it out, you bastard!"
Though Malone wanted to shout, he could no longer control his body. As his consciousness faded, his hands went limp and he collapsed onto the floor, losing all awareness.
After who knew how long adrift in the darkness, Malone finally regained control of his body.
The first thing he did was open his eyes. He saw a sky full of stars.
"Where is this? Where am I? Where's that man? Where's my bed?" Malone muttered to himself as he struggled to his feet.
Suddenly, he felt a chill. He looked down at himself and discovered that he wasn't wearing a single stitch of clothing.
No wonder it was so cold... As Malone thought this, he...
Suddenly, Malone's eyes flew wide. This wasn't his body!
He raised his hands in front of him. Even in the darkness, he could tell that his hands had never been this big before. And his fingertips and knuckles had never been covered in so many calluses!
Malone looked over the rest of his body. There was no doubt about it: this wasn't his body. Nearly every part of him was a size bigger—even the little guy he'd always been so proud of.
"Where's a mirror? Where's a mirror?" Malone scrambled around on the ground, desperate to find out what his face looked like now.
For the moment, Malone even forgot to check whether the world he was in was still his own.
"Maicomarlon, what are you doing?"
In his panic, Malone heard someone speaking to him. But it was hard to believe the speaker was human, because that voice... It was unbearably grating, like two dried-out conveyor belts rubbing against each other.
"Who's there?" Malone warily raised his head and looked toward the voice. Then...
Good heavens, what was he looking at?
A tall figure stood before Malone, illuminated by the bright moonlight.
The figure walked toward Malone, step by step. He raised his right hand, clad in chainmail, and pushed back his headscarf.
Malone saw the man's face and let out a scream of terror. His features might once have been normal, but they certainly weren't anymore.
His skin was a pale, dark green, split where his ears met his jaw. A glistening discharge ran down his face.
His shattered, dark purple lips had sunk into his skull, forming a grotesque grin. Intelligence and malice gleamed together in his eyes.
"Y-you... Who are you?" Malone shouted as he scrambled backward on his hands and feet.
"Maicomarlon, have you lost your mind? It's Gorefiend—Teron Gorefiend!" The ugly figure stepped closer. Seeing Malone huddled up in fear, he stopped.
"Gorefiend? I don't even know..." Malone started to say that he didn't know him, but a thought suddenly flashed through his mind...
Could it be... that Teron Gorefiend?
Teron Gorefiend, the first Death Knight in Warcraft history. He had once been a member of the Shadow Council, one of Gul'dan's Orc Warlocks. Later, Orgrim Doomhammer killed him in a clash, but Gul'dan summoned him back into this world and placed him in a human body, turning him into a Death Knight.
Malone found the information he knew about "Teron Gorefiend" in his memories.
Could the man standing before him really be the legendary Teron Gorefiend? Had he really come to Azeroth? Was that man in white not a lunatic, but a real... God of Video Games?
With these doubts in mind, Malone ventured to ask, "Y-you're a Death Knight?"
"A Death Knight? Hmm, yes. That's what Gul'dan calls us..." Teron Gorefiend said thoughtfully. "But what's wrong with you, Maicomarlon? Is something the matter with your body? Should we ask Gul'dan to take a look?"
"Death Knight... Gul'dan..." Malone stared blankly for a moment. "It's all real... I really did come to Azeroth..."
"Of course it's real, Maicomarlon. Are you all right? We've come to Azeroth, naturally. And not only that, we're going to conquer this world, under the leadership of Warchief Orgrim Doomhammer." Teron Gorefiend spoke proudly.
"W-we?" Malone suddenly caught the oddity in Teron Gorefiend's words. "We? You mean I... I'm also..."
Malone instinctively looked at his arms. Though this body was strong and tall, it was clearly human. So... after crossing over to Azeroth, why was he, still human, standing face-to-face with Teron Gorefiend? And why did the man seem so close to him? Could he be part of the Horde? But he wasn't an Orc!
"Maicomarlon, there really does seem to be something wrong with your body. Are you still not used to being in a human body? I think we'd better ask Gul'dan to examine you first thing tomorrow morning." Teron Gorefiend seemed genuinely concerned about Malone's odd behavior.
"A human body?" Malone repeated softly.
"Yes, a human body. Didn't Gul'dan tell us? We Death Knights are powerful warriors formed by transferring the souls of Warlocks like us, who died this way, into human bodies," Teron Gorefiend explained.
"Death Knight? We're Death Knights? You mean I... I'm a Death Knight too?" Malone asked in a trembling voice.
"That's right, Maicomarlon. Have you forgotten? We were all killed by the Warchief in that clash. But now we've returned to this world, stronger than ever, to fight for the Horde! These new bodies are certainly much stronger than our former, frail Warlock bodies, but it's only natural that you're not used to yours yet. I..."
"I'm a Death Knight? I'm a Death Knight!" Malone shouted. He could hardly believe it.
Never mind being a Death Knight or anything like that... He could put the question of allegiance aside for now. Malone simply couldn't imagine becoming a Death Knight, let alone one of the first generation...
As for why... Malone took another look amid his panic at Teron Gorefiend's face, which looked as though it had been smashed by a battering ram. He wailed, "A mirror! Is there a mirror? At least... at least let me see how ugly I am now!"
Before you continue