Unlike after arriving on Azeroth, the Orcs who had drunk Mannoroth's blood only a few years ago were now at the peak of their strength. They had yet to experience the bloodlust, lethargy, and corruption that would come later. With his powerful physique and the aid of Corrupted Blood, Blackhand recovered swiftly. In the blink of an eye, wounds that should have left him drenched in blood had healed seven or eight tenths of the way.
Now, he strode toward Yrel.
"Leader of the blue skins, unlike your cowardly kin, you are strong and brave."
Blackhand took large strides toward Yrel. "But you will never understand the power of the truly great. After pledging ourselves to the Great One, we received rewards beyond imagination. Look—the strength I possess is a gift from the Great One. Stand against the Great One, and you are doomed to fail!"
"A demon's gift?" Yrel sneered inwardly. How could she not know what these demons' gifts were all about?
To achieve his goals, the fallen Titan Sargeras did not simply slaughter everything in sight. He also used schemes and stratagems, gathering followers beneath his banner. That was how he had once tempted the Eredar, and how he recruited various races into the Burning Legion.
But no matter what the Burning Legion and the demons did, they had only one true goal: to destroy every world and turn the physical universe into a sea of fire.
No matter how powerful the gifts the Horde received from the demons, their ultimate purpose was surely vastly different from what the Horde imagined.
Blackhand slowly approached, intending to say something more.
What came flying at him was a glob of bloody spit. With a contemptuous look, Yrel spat in Blackhand's face, then swept out with her warhammer. Before Blackhand