The Devil

Cairne Bloodhoof's towering form stood at the front of the Tauren ranks. The hunting parties had converged, and victory in this counterattack was no longer in doubt.

The battle still continued, with Magatha Grimtotem directing the fight from afar.

Just moments ago, if Hamuul Runetotem had not arrived in time, terrible fury would nearly have cast her soul into eternal corruption.

Purification had restored her calm. Though her mental state was terrible, the Shaman still stubbornly insisted on purging the Centaur fanatics.

Left with no other choice, Cairne Bloodhoof could only have Hamuul look after her.

He and Hamuul had been childhood friends, inseparable partners, like light and shadow, clouds and wind, water and fire.

To Cairne, that mild-tempered old bull was the finest tempering agent. He never lost his composure, and whenever Cairne was consumed by rage, Hamuul's wisdom always brought him back to his senses in time. That was why they trusted each other completely.

The chieftain led a small group guarding the place where the two sides had met. From beginning to end, he said not a word, merely watching the retreating Centaur with grave eyes.

Behind him, silent Tauren warriors stood like an unyielding barricade. Invisible hatred gathered in their eyes, blazing like fire yet cold as frost.

At first glance, every one of them seemed eager to hack the creatures passing before them into a thousand pieces. Yet from beginning to end, not a single one tried to strike.

The Shu'halo respected their elders and forgave their children.

To any devout Shu'halo, calves were forever pure and innocent. No matter the circumstances, children could never be targets for blades, and once someone raised a butcher's knife against a calf, his soul became foul and filthy.

All manner of old, weak, women, and children passed through in a long line, carrying fear, relief... and hatred they could not conceal.

Kindness bred malice, and thus the wheel of hatred began to turn.

Ironic, wasn't it? They were clearly the invaders, yet they had somehow cast themselves as the victims.

The Tauren present witnessed it all, and so did the Centaur. Neither knew what sort of story they would pass down to their descendants—remorse born of conscience, or distortion and fabrication?

But at least in this moment, the Tauren chose to remain true to themselves. As for the Centaur's choice...

No one knew.

At last, the final Centaur child had left.

On the Centaur side of the standoff, only Khan Magra remained. He stood like a sculpture of steel, alone beneath the hateful gazes of enemies dozens of times his number, never taking a single step back.

"Let us finish this!"

Though he was like a trapped beast in a cage, the Khan's voice remained steady and powerful.

He raised his spear once more and held it across his chest.

"Before that, Chieftain Cairne Bloodhoof, allow me to express my deepest respect for your magnanimity. I believe you understand the meaning and price of doing this, and you also know its consequences."

"But to me, this is utterly ridiculous." The Khan spoke without the slightest concern for whether his words might anger his opponent.

"If our positions were reversed, it would never even be something I considered."

The Centaur Khan raised his spear and stared directly at the mountain-like Tauren chieftain before saying mockingly, "I would only slaughter every Tauren I saw. Not even a child would be spared."

Unexpected calm appeared in Cairne's gray-green eyes. In a deep, powerful voice, he replied, "I understand. And that is the difference between us."

The Centaur Khan burst into laughter.

"You are right! Of course we are different!"

"From beginning to end, I have believed that the noble Centaur must stand above every other race! That has never changed!"

"Even if it cannot be achieved now,

I will forever await that future!" Yet his fervor suddenly cooled, and he said indifferently, "That is why I will continue to fail forever."

After a brief pause, the Centaur Khan suddenly smiled. "Honored Chieftain Cairne Bloodhoof, you will certainly become a great chieftain—not merely the chieftain of the Bloodhoof Tribe, but the High Chieftain of all Tauren!"

"That will be our end."

Magra spoke with conviction, as though he believed it more firmly than anyone present.

"To stop that day from coming, let me make one final contribution to my race!"

Both sides took this as the signal to begin. The moment the Khan finished his impassioned speech, Cairne's runic spear suddenly flared to life.

Though his fury had reached its peak, Cairne remained terrifyingly calm. He saw that the Khan was the one whose authority had been stripped away, so he could not waste too much time here. This battle had to end swiftly!

Yet the chieftain had not expected the battle to end countless times faster than he had imagined.

Khan Magra charged straight at him, brandishing his spear. Just as Cairne thrust out his own spear, ready to clash blade to blade, the Centaur Khan suddenly reversed his weapon, spread his arms, and bared his naked chest to Cairne's runic spear!

The blade pierced in, and the bloody tip burst out. Its sharp edge split the Centaur Khan's heart in two, and his powerful, vigorous life instantly crumbled.

Faced with such unprecedented resolve to commit suicide, even Cairne, hardened by countless battles, fell briefly into a daze.

"Don't... don't look at me like that..."

"I don't need... your pity... your pity!"

With the Centaur retreating, their grand ambition of invasion had already come to a shattered end.

His bargain with the devil, his gamble that had staked his entire race, had ended in failure.

Their battle no longer had any meaning. It could only give the ones behind this conspiracy more help and, in the end, provide them with another joke to laugh at.

"I made a deal with the devil... now... I have paid the price..."

"But... I am a greedy and jealous... man..."

Blood gushed from the Khan's mouth as he roared madly, "I cannot stand it... I will not allow it... I will not allow those bastards who want to use us and reap the rewards without lifting a finger!"

"I paid the price! I wagered everything! Why... why does he get to use us from so high above!"

"I gave up everything—my clan, my faith, my soul... so he! That demon! He must pay even more!"

With every sentence the Khan struggled to force out, his wound tore wider and death drew closer. Yet his voice grew louder and clearer, until it became a roar.

"As thanks, let me tell you miserable fools who it was... and why..."

As though in a final flash of life, the Centaur Khan's eyes gradually brightened. Roaring, he revealed everything—the terrifying conspiracy hidden beneath this invasion.

Cairne was stunned. In fury, he seized the Centaur Khan by the throat and lifted him like a rag doll.

But the body whose breathing was gradually ceasing could no longer tell him anything.

Khan Magra was dead.

Cairne recovered from his shock and slowly lowered the Khan's corpse, allowing the warrior to retain a dignified posture.

Then he turned to the Tauren warriors beside him and said heavily, "Quick, signal Hamuul. We..."

Before he could finish, something strange happened.

The sky over Bloodhoof Village had changed color. An ominous scarlet canopy covered the bright yellow of the flames, wrapping the entire village like an inverted dome.

Cairne did not know what it was, but there was no doubt that something even more terrifying had happened!