Settling Down at the Well of Eternity

The tedious migration had finally come to an end. Gazing at the lake shimmering with purple light before him, Azar felt his heart swell with excitement. The Well of Eternity—this was where his hope lay. His kin were also marveling at the sight, whispering about how beautiful she was, how beautiful this place was. Only Azar knew that she possessed more than just a beautiful exterior; she held immense energy. How immense? Enough to make Sargeras, the greatest Titan in the universe, covet her.

Celebratory feasts followed one after another, with the entire tribe rejoicing over their beautiful new settlement. The Zarzan tribe was an anomaly among the Dark Troll race; they loathed blood, vulgarity, and filth, preferring all things beautiful and refined. They were, after all, the predecessors of the Night Elf, and this innate love for beauty was etched into their very genes. For the first two days, Azar joined in the festivities—who doesn't like a good party? But after a few times, he grew weary. It wasn't that he disliked the food and drink, but looking at the female trolls simply failed to stir any interest in him. You should understand. For the remaining days, he pondered whether he should do something; he couldn't keep wearing this troll skin forever. It was simply too ugly.

At the beginning, Y'Shaarj had been sprawled over the Well of Eternity. Later, this supreme Old God was plucked out like a radish by the Father of Titans, Aman'Thul, leaving behind a crater on the planet. This brought misery to Azeroth; a scar had appeared on her beautiful body, and countless capillaries had been torn, causing blood to gush out and form this beautiful lake.

Now, Azar and his tribe were settled beside her. The area was surrounded by hills and forests, with a mild climate that felt like spring all year round and abundant resources. The towering trees in the forest required several people to encircle them. The tribespeople decided to hollow out these trees to build homes, clearing the wilderness and hunting to survive, slowly multiplying and recovering from the trauma of war. Azar also began his own life. His lineage destined him to be a noble, and as a noble, he possessed the right to reap without sowing. He built a row of houses near a small hill not far from the lake, paved a two-meter-wide gravel path leading to the water, and constructed a pier extending a hundred meters into the lake. With everything prepared, he was ready to begin his journey of cultivation.

He handed all his slaves over to his sister, Yax, to manage—yes, they still practiced slavery—keeping only a few sharp young men and an old maid for himself. During the first week, he set a small plan for himself. He intended to first understand his own body. He did not know when the influence of the Well of Eternity would begin to take effect, though he understood that the Arcane power would only make them more beautiful, wiser, and more civilized, granting them eternal life unless they were killed. However, he hoped to gain more power and grasp more initiative during the mutation process. He didn't actually like the long ears of the Night Elf; he preferred the appearance of the Elven King from The Hobbit. Perhaps the appearance could be shaped by the mind, so the first thing he had to do was familiarize himself with his body.

The combat strength of trolls included two physical professions: warriors and hunters—one melee, one ranged—as well as the witch doctor, a magic-based profession. Azar was a typical troll warrior. At this time, there was no complete training or advancement system, and the concept of rage had not been fully developed; there was only the Power of Fury within their blood and the combat techniques honed by the necessity of survival. Simply put, this was the primitive era of the world, where everything was chaotic and unordered. Azar believed he should not be confined to the combat skills of a single profession; he could establish his own school!

At first, he trained in combat techniques with a group of young men. They were enthusiastic, full of vigor, and brimming with drive. After all, he was a Champion of the tribe. The only thing the young men weren't used to was the debriefing session after combat. Every night, after a day of hard training, they would sit at the large table in the main hall, sharing their combat insights. Whenever this happened, Azar would sit to the side, silent, listening to everyone speak. He wanted to organize and refine these skills to unearth the combat techniques best suited for himself.

One eventually grows accustomed to a strange life. As time passed, everyone came to enjoy this lifestyle because they could feel their strength progressing rapidly. After a year of effort, the combat techniques of these few had improved significantly, and their combat effectiveness had increased greatly compared to the past. Azar had also become familiar with his body, able to fight as he pleased. These were combat skills realized by generations of trolls fighting against the wilderness; any creature would erupt with astonishing insight when faced with life-or-death situations. He knew his future would inevitably involve life-and-death struggles, so what he learned had to be for combat, not for show. He took his followers deep into the forest to fight and kill, calling it "creating a safer living environment for the tribe." Where there is combat, there are casualties. In less than half a year, two of the seven had died and three were injured, including himself, who had been wounded many times. The mortality rate was terrifying, right? No, what was terrifying was their combat effectiveness. This was a primitive era where all kinds of ferocious beasts could be seen everywhere. Although trolls possessed extremely strong physical recovery and were hulking figures of about two meters, this was Azeroth—the primitive Azeroth. Every species felt the gods, and they all had the right to evolve and the opportunity to reach the pinnacle of the food chain.

Azar felt no sorrow; he knew that only by living could one have everything. The same healthy troll was the strongest and the luckiest, and he would accompany him in future battles and life. They buried their fallen brothers, though this was not understood by the troll race—after all, they were slaves—but Azar did not care. His worldview from his previous life did not allow him to disregard life, especially not the lives of comrades who had fought alongside him. He wanted to change, to change the thoughts and practices of these people, starting with these few. He succeeded, and the surviving trolls became even more loyal to him. The three injured trolls were not useless; he had the smartest one follow his sister to learn how to manage people, and another was assigned to be a scout to select excellent young trolls from the entire tribe. Yes, he had begun to cultivate his own power.

Everything was unfolding in an orderly manner. Yalik and Muru—yes, those were the names Azar gave them; in the future, they could even carry the surname Tikal, provided they made sufficient contributions to the family. These two helped him look after the first batch of thirteen children, helping them temper their bodies so that in a few years, when their bodies were fully grown, they could begin training in combat techniques. Koral was progressing quickly; he had already begun to independently manage his slaves, and it was estimated that it wouldn't be long before he could officially become his steward. Azar and Falco—yes, that was the only troll who had returned completely unscathed—were excellent. He had a good physique, was quick-witted, and reacted sharply. How to put it? A top student! Yes, Azar was the teacher, and he was the top student; Azar was the professor, and he was the graduate student—that was roughly the idea. Now, Azar and Falco were exploring a new subject: rage! After more than a year of combat life, they had not only honed their martial arts but, in the process of endlessly pushing their physical potential, had unearthed their racial talent: the Power of Fury. Why did the other four major races possess greater strength? It was because their combat units had more individuals who had awakened their racial talents. What they were discussing now was not the initial awakening, but how to enable a troll to develop their Power of Fury faster and better. Because Falco had discovered that after systematically and orderly adjusting the initial combat technique training, it was easier to trigger the Power of Fury.