The Strongman

Malone hadn't actually heard what that guy said at the very end, but he knew the guy had promised to grant him power—the power to survive in a world thrown into chaos like this.

Whether it was the Alliance or the Horde—of course, although both the Alliance and the Horde had their own characters in the game, judging by Malone's own tastes and sense of right and wrong, he naturally wouldn't side with the Horde.

But right now, Malone couldn't afford to consider things like factions and allegiances. He only wanted to figure out what kind of "divine blessing" he had received.

"What could it be?" Malone muttered, utterly baffled.

"Ha, Maicomarlon, what are you thinking about?" That familiar, grating voice reached Malone's ears again. A helpless look crossed his face as he raised his head and turned toward the sound.

Teron Gorefiend stood right in front of Malone. Like yesterday, he was dressed from head to toe—Why was he all dressed up while I was naked?

Fuming over the question, Malone clamped his legs together a little tighter. He hadn't minded much when he was alone, but he didn't want to expose certain things in front of Teron Gorefiend.

"Heh heh, don't bother hiding it. That thing's no use to the dead anyway." Teron Gorefiend chuckled—but his terrifying face turned it into a menacing grin. Then he tossed a bundle of things at Malone's feet.

With a clatter, Malone looked at the bundle. It turned out to be a set of rust-covered armor.

Thank goodness, he finally had something to wear... It was freezing, after all. Malone hurriedly picked up the armor and started putting it on, not caring that Teron Gorefiend was still standing nearby.

"Where'd these clothes come from?" Malone asked Teron Gorefiend his first question. He was genuinely curious.

The armor Teron Gorefiend had brought was battered and had several obvious spots of damage, but it was a complete set. Besides the breastplate, leg armor, greaves, and leather boots, it even came with a set of underclothes.

Of course, Malone was used to clothes made of silk and synthetic fibers, so once he put on the linen shirt from Azeroth, his whole body felt as if it were being pricked with needles. Still, it was better than being naked.

"Pulled them off a dead man," Teron Gorefiend replied.

"Dead..." Malone slowed as he lifted the breastplate over his head, then hesitantly looked at the large piece of iron in his hands.

A jagged hole gaped right in the middle of the breastplate. Clumps of reddish-brown crust had dried around it, giving off a foul stench.

Suppressing his discomfort, Malone tossed the armor aside. He knew those reddish-brown clumps were dried blood.

"You're not wearing the armor?" Teron Gorefiend asked, watching Malone with concern. "Still feeling unwell? You'd better put it on, Maicomarlon. We'll be heading north to fight again soon. Things will be different from before. From now on, we'll be right at the front of the battlefield with the other warriors. You can't go without armor!"

"I..." Malone looked down at the shirt and trousers he'd already put on. If he weren't so unwilling to walk around completely naked, he wouldn't even have worn clothes pulled off a dead man.

Orcs really are barbaric creatures. The thought only made Malone more determined to leave.

"Fine, if you don't want to wear armor, then don't, for now. I agree, it makes it hard to move..." Teron Gorefiend rambled on.

Fully dressed, Malone sat back down on the ground and stared into space. Seeing him like this, Teron Gorefiend seemed a little worried, but didn't know what to say. He sat down not far from Malone and fiddled with a long rod at his waist, its tip capped with a gem.

Malone kept thinking about his future. That god... what kind of power did he give me?

"Hey, Teron... do me a favor," Malone said to Teron Gorefiend.

"Hmm? What is it?" Teron Gorefiend shuffled over to Malone.

Good heavens... what is that smell? Malone's sense of smell was under assault.

Only then did he get a good look at Teron Gorefiend—not at his terrifying face; just looking at it made Malone feel sick—but at his clothes.

Clearly, Teron Gorefiend's clothes had also been "pulled off a dead man," and he'd been wearing them much longer than Malone had. More importantly, the human corpse Teron Gorefiend possessed was far more decayed than Malone's, which gave off an intense stench of death.

"You stink," Malone couldn't help complaining.

"Do I? I can't smell anything." Teron Gorefiend curiously pressed a hand to his nostrils and sniffed hard, but only made a wheezing sound. His face was badly damaged, and the two nostrils had obviously stopped working. All they did was make a noise like a leaky bellows.

More importantly—a detail Malone hadn't noticed—how could the dead have a sense of smell?

"Come here. Do it like this." Malone held out his hand and gestured for Teron Gorefiend to copy him, striking a pose for an arm-wrestling match.

That was right. To test his strength, Malone planned to arm-wrestle Teron Gorefiend.

"Maicomarlon... this position feels awkward." For some reason, Teron Gorefiend's body wasn't nearly as flexible as Malone's. His wrist was stiff, and he could barely clasp hands with Malone.

After a great deal of effort, they finally got into position. Malone explained the simple rules of arm wrestling to Teron Gorefiend, then began the countdown.

"Three, two, one, go!" Malone started forcing Teron Gorefiend's arm down.

Perhaps that "God of Video Games" was especially skilled at this sort of thing—Malone meant transporting people to another world. Malone had taken to controlling this body, which didn't belong to him, with complete ease.

"Ah!" Teron Gorefiend cried out in surprise.

"Seriously? Am I that strong?" Malone muttered.

Malone won their arm-wrestling match hands down.

To make sure it hadn't been a fluke, Malone tried several more times with Teron Gorefiend. He wasn't even too bothered by the stench coming off the other man anymore.

In the end, Malone discovered that he really was very strong—at least much stronger than Teron Gorefiend. The other man couldn't beat him in a contest of strength, even using both hands.

That meant Malone was probably one of the stronger mortals. Teron Gorefiend was at least among the top tier of mortals in Azeroth, and Malone's strength was more than twice that of this Death Knight leader.

But what good was that? Malone felt like laughing at the absurdity of it all. He hadn't had any combat training. Thinking he could survive in this world simply by relying on his strength was the real joke!