Life in Another World Isn't Easy

As day turned to night, the "White Lady" of Azeroth's twin moons gradually dipped below the horizon. Though the "Blue Child" still stubbornly clung to the sky, it had faded into little more than a faint shadow.

Across the Burning Steppes, a land riddled with red magma, the sunlight slowly dispelled the dawn's darkness, revealing terrain as black as the night itself—a thick layer of volcanic ash accumulated over thousands of years.

Malone lay upon this volcanic crust. In the game, he had visited this crimson-mapped region countless times, as several important dungeons were located here. Yet, only now did he truly feel the desolation of this land.

Malone looked to his right, where several massive volcanoes obstructed his view not far away. Red magma, accompanied by billowing white steam, rolled down from the gaps at the summits, cooling completely into volcanic ash near the mountain bases.

"Blackrock Mountain..." Malone whispered, pushing himself up with his hands against the cold ground behind him.

Malone had never considered what he would do if he were to transmigrate like the protagonists in those novels.

But now that he truly had, Malone found himself terrifyingly calm—perhaps because he was too familiar with this land and this world, or perhaps because he felt completely hopeless about the future.

Malone scanned his surroundings. Countless naked human males were gathered in small groups, conversing with one another.

Everything looked abnormal—and Malone did not mean the fact that they were naked, but rather...

Malone knew these people were not human. They were the dead, reanimated dead; the bodies of Stormwind knights who had long since perished, now housing the souls of orc warlocks.

Malone himself was among them, though he was the most peculiar of these death knights.

Malone had finally found a mirror last night—Teron Gorefiend had brought a basin of water from a distant orc camp, using a wooden tub of unknown origin.

Thanks to the bright twin moons of Azeroth, Malone had been able to see his current appearance clearly.

He was reasonably satisfied with this; his face had not been nearly severed at the jaw like Teron Gorefiend's, but remained intact. More importantly, the black hair and black eyes made it easier for him to accept his current visage—it would have been far too strange to wake up as some blond-haired, blue-eyed foreigner.

As a death knight... in truth, Malone did not even know if he was still a death knight.

First-generation death knights like Teron Gorefiend were created by stuffing orc warlock souls into the corpses of dead humans. But Malone's situation... he truly wanted to know what kind of monster was born when three souls were crammed into a single corpse.

That fellow who claimed to be the God of Video Games... Malone once again recalled the man with the indistinct features who had appeared in that stark white room.

That guy seemed to have succeeded—Malone's soul, or rather his consciousness, had entered this body that did not belong to him, gaining the memories of both the orc and the original owner of this body, then replacing them both to take control.

The orc's soul was named Maicomarlon; Teron Gorefiend had been calling him by that name all last night.

Like Teron Gorefiend, Maicomarlon had been a warlock belonging to the Shadow Council. After being killed by Orgrim Doomhammer, he was resurrected by Gul'dan and stuffed into this human corpse, only to be replaced by Malone less than a night later.

The human's soul... interestingly, it sounded similar to the orc's name: Michael Malone, a soldier responsible for guarding Stormwind.

What was less interesting, and what Malone felt fortunate about, was that Michael was not a good soldier; he had deserted during the defense of Stormwind.

Malone did not know how Michael had escaped the orc encirclement. To be precise, he did know—Michael's memories recorded everything—but Malone found those accidental coincidences hard to believe.

Michael had fled Stormwind, heading north through Elwynn Forest and Redridge Mountains, only to be overtaken by the rapidly advancing orc army in the Burning Steppes, meeting a death that was merely delayed by a short while.

Of course, Michael lacked the courage to fight the swarming orcs, or he would not have been a deserter.

As countless orcs charged toward him—Malone even suspected those orcs hadn't noticed Michael at all—Michael had simply been scared to death the moment he saw the orc army advancing in his direction.

Perhaps he hadn't been scared completely to death—Malone had his doubts—otherwise, he shouldn't have obtained Michael's memories.

The guy must have been scared half to death, or perhaps he had gone into total shock. Then, the marching orc army had "picked up" Michael's "corpse," delivered it to Gul'dan to complete the death knight conversion, and then...

Michael's soul, along with Maicomarlon's, became a part of Malone's memories.

Regarding this body and his current situation, this was all Malone knew. From Maicomarlon's memories, Malone had discerned the era he was in—the era of Azeroth's grand, epic history.

Currently, the orcs had just conquered Stormwind. After forming an alliance with the Amani trolls led by Zul'jin, they were briefly gathering near Blackrock Mountain, preparing to march north to attack the human kingdoms of Lordaeron, Stromgarde, and Gilneas, as well as the magical city of Dalaran. And, of course, the Wildhammer dwarves of Aerie Peak and the high elves of Quel'Thalas.

As for the Alliance, Malone did not know if Anduin Lothar had reached Lordaeron with Varian Wrynn to meet the wise King Terenas; he did not know if Thoras Trollbane and Genn Greymane still harbored hostility toward Anduin Lothar's arrival, and...

And whether Aiden Perenolde of the Kingdom of Alterac and his assassin organization, the Syndicate, had already begun plotting to defect to the orcs, offering up the passage through Alterac Valley...

Malone knew almost everything—everything about this world. Whether it was the Burning Legion's invasion ten thousand years ago, The Sundering; the creation of the world by the Titans; the future Scourge sweeping across the world; Arthas killing his father and master; the shadow of Deathwing disrupting the world; or the conflict between the Alliance and the Horde that would erupt years later, the mysterious new continent of Pandaria, and so on...

Yet, none of this compared to the one thing Malone cared about most right now—what kind of power had that self-proclaimed god actually given him? A death knight? Was a mediocre death knight who hadn't even left a name in the history of Azeroth the full extent of the power he now possessed?