Not Convinced? Then Come and Hit Me!

Teron Gorefiend and Malone stepped aside, clearing a path for the Orcs.

"Kilrogg!"

Orgrim stood up from his throne and shouted.

"Remember what you said today, Troll."

Kilrogg ignored Orgrim. As he reached the entrance of the tent, he turned his head. The Orcs behind him scattered to the sides, forming a path so that Kilrogg could see Zul'jin.

Having finished his sentence, Kilrogg strode out of the tent, and a great crowd of Orcs surged out after him like a tide.

Malone felt that Kilrogg was incredibly weak.

Of course, that last bit was still quite handsome—Malone was referring to Kilrogg turning his head and the way those Orcs had instantly parted to create a passage—it had looked as cool as a scene from a movie.

However, looking at the tent that seemed somewhat empty after the Orcs had left, Malone didn't know why a certain thought crossed his mind.

Back home, two people never argued and then just kept getting further and further apart.

That was exactly it!

Malone shook his head in regret; although Kilrogg had dropped countless threats, why hadn't the guy just fought Zul'jin right then and there?

Didn't Orcs love to solve problems with force?

If Grom Hellscream were here, a fight definitely would have broken out.

Malone thought this to himself, but now he was becoming increasingly worried about Tiffany.

"Shall we go too?"

Malone whispered to Teron Gorefiend.

Teron Gorefiend glanced at Orgrim, who did not seem at all concerned by Kilrogg's actions.

"Zuluhed, you stay. The rest of you may leave."

Orgrim commanded, his face remaining as calm as ever.

An Orc who looked even older than Kilrogg stepped a few paces closer to Orgrim's throne.

From Malone's angle, he could only see the back of this Orc, who had messy braids and gray hair.

The skin on the arms and the back of the neck exposed on this fellow was wrinkled, and he looked much frailer—clearly, he was not a warrior.

This guy is a Shaman, Malone told himself. He knew who this Orc was.

Zuluhed, Chieftain of the Dragonmaw Clan. Under the influence of Deathwing, he had imprisoned the Red Dragon Aspect Alexstrasza, providing the Orcs with an "air force."

I wonder how far his plan has progressed, Malone thought to himself. Judging by Orgrim's demeanor, the plan has at least already begun.

But Malone knew he was powerless to stop it; he only wanted to protect Tiffany and take her safely out of the Orc camp.

As for Alexstrasza or whatever, Malone had no time to consider that right now.

Even if he did, he wouldn't want to get involved in such matters, because that would inevitably mean dealing with the Bronze Guardian Dragon Nozdormu, and the latter was the very person Malone feared most right now.

"Let's go, Maicomarlon. There is nothing left here for me."

Teron Gorefiend said.

The two Death Knights left Orgrim's tent—though Malone only counted as half of one.

They had come in a large group, but only two were leaving; Tabek and Rend Blackhand were nowhere to be seen.

"Hey!"

A shout came from behind them.

Malone turned around and saw Kaldara, the Blademaster.

Although he was anxious to get back to see Tiffany, Malone's pace faltered slightly.

Malone was very curious about this Kaldara; there were some things he wanted to ask the guy.

"I'm in a hurry to get back to that shed."

Malone ultimately chose Tiffany's safety, but he decided to make things clear with Kaldara.

"May I come along?"

Kaldara asked.

"No, no, you don't have to worry. That human captive is yours; I won't lay a hand on her again."

Noticing Malone's wary expression, Kaldara replied.

"Alright then."

Malone nodded, and at Teron Gorefiend's reminder, he wrapped his scarf around his face—that scrap of cloth stained with the scent of the dead.

Before passing through the Blackrock Clan's camp, neither Teron Gorefiend nor Kaldara spoke.

Malone gradually grew unable to stand the atmosphere, and driven by his inner curiosity, he decided to be the first to speak.

"Why help us?"

Malone couldn't help but ask.

"I am not helping you; I am merely stating facts."

Kaldara answered with ease.

"That is not a fact. I do not believe you chose to leave simply because you felt you could not defeat me. What exactly is your objective?"

Teron Gorefiend said coldly.

"You are right, but what I said is also true. I simply do not wish to come into conflict with a Death Knight."

Kaldara said as he walked away.

"Then why did you say you surrendered? Will that not affect your reputation?"

In Malone's view, an Orc like a Blademaster would surely value honor far more than life itself.

And to admit to "surrendering" in public was clearly not an honorable thing.

"Perhaps... but it will not affect it much."

Kaldara said, completely unconcerned.

"But others will think your strength is inferior to Teron's! Won't they question this title of 'Blademaster'?"

Malone asked curiously.

Malone knew of Teron Gorefiend's power and the vital role he had played in the First War between humans and Orcs.

But no one else in the world of Azeroth knew this yet.

Teron Gorefiend had even hidden his original name—Teron'gor; he was currently nothing more than a nobody.

Would surrendering without a fight to a nobody not bring shame upon the name of a Blademaster?

"Let them think what they want. If they believe my strength is overrated and wish to achieve the honor of defeating a Blademaster by besting me..."

Kaldara stopped in his tracks, turned to face Malone, and grinned, revealing two fangs—unlike those of other Orcs, they were not murky yellow, but stark white.

"They are welcome to try."

Kaldara said.

That phrase again! Malone stopped walking.

This same sentence, just spoken by the Blademaster Kaldara, had also been said by the Troll chieftain Zul'jin.

Malone felt his body trembling slightly—he could not imagine what kind of arrogant and conceited soul must be hidden within the body of a person who would say such a thing.

Like the Troll Zul'jin, Kaldara held other Orcs in contempt—perhaps that included himself and Teron Gorefiend as well, Malone thought.

But Malone understood that such contempt was built upon a foundation of immense strength.

The Blademaster had long since struck terror across Draenor, and had the Troll Zul'jin not demonstrated overwhelming power, others besides Orgrim Doomhammer would have prevented the Trolls from joining the Orcish Horde from the very beginning.

Orcs only recognize the strong—the Ogres and Trolls were able to join the Horde, yet one never heard of them inviting the Gnolls or Murlocs of Elwynn Forest and Westfall.