Out of Control

They struggled desperately around him.

Where Broxigar saw them, his companions were all near death. Some Warrior had grown up with him since childhood, their bond like that of brothers; they too had fallen, most their bodies hacked to pieces. The executioner was a tall, ferocious demon with a blue face and fangs. But in a short while, Broxigar dealt with the demon. He leaped onto the demon and howled. The demon wore armor, but was still cleaved in two and fell dead.

The Burning Legion continued to pour in, and the Orcs population was dwindling rapidly. Only a small number were still putting up a fierce fight, but casualties were occurring every minute.

Thrall had actually implemented defensive measures, making it impossible for the Burning Legion to breach the defenses. The Horde is requesting reinforcements, but it will take time. They need Broxigar and his brothers.

The Orcs were dwindling in number. The Warrior standing before him fell, his head hitting the ground, blood flowing like a river; his personal guards had also long since perished, their bodies never even found, buried in a ball of green flames, not burned alive, but their bodies corroded and dissolved by the green flames.

Broxigar wielded his resolute battle axe before the terrifying enemy, but it was all in vain. He sweated profusely with each strike, yet every time he looked ahead, he saw more Orcs fall.

More and more...

Now, he was left to fight alone. Thousands upon thousands of screaming monsters swarmed towards him, seemingly intent on destroying everything.

Broxigar snapped out of his daze as they were about to encounter this lone hero.

He wasn't afraid, even though he was facing an enemy many times his size. The Orcs sensed an opportunity before him; he could finally rid himself of the guilt he'd carried for years!

At that moment, Broxigar believed he should die. He should have perished alongside his comrades. They had all Consecration their lives for the Horde, while he alone remained alive. This was wrong.

"I'm a coward," he thought many times. "If I had tried harder, I should have sacrificed myself with them."

He had told Thrall before, but the chieftain always shook his head and said, "No one needs to try any harder, old friend. The scars are there, and the scouts saw you fighting bravely. Your actions are as respectable as those of the Orcs who sacrificed their lives."

Broxigar accepted Thrall's praise at that time, but he could not forgive himself.

"Are you alright?" Nathanos's greeting came from behind. The Orcs didn't turn around, but he smiled. The Undead thought he had been scared out of his wits.

"Keep an eye on what's above you, Undead. I've already agreed to leave the ground to you!"

Broxigar stepped forward and roared at the bulky Abyssal Lord, "This is an unfair duel!"

The demons and Nathanos both thought the Orcs had backed down, but what Broxigar said next was completely unexpected.

"You should hire more help!"

"You filthy little brat, how dare you speak so arrogantly in front of Mannoroth!"

The Abyssal Lord Mannoroth closed in, raising his massive twin blades, ready to smash Broxigar into a bloody pulp. The Orcs stood motionless, as if awaiting his death.

Broxigar felt time was passing incredibly slowly. The Abyssal Lord had only taken a few steps closer, or perhaps time was still flowing normally, but his thoughts were racing. He thought of Grom Grommash, who had faced a Grommash Abyssal Lord in the same way, and whose final fate was exactly what Broxigar desired. He longed for a glorious death himself!

"Come on!" The Orcs charged forward, leaping with all his might, gripping the axe blades tightly and slashing at Mannoroth. The demon parried with his twin blades. Sparks flew as their weapons clashed. Nathanos's eyes widened; the demon had actually been repelled, its four thick legs barely able to support its weight.

"Is this... is this what Grommash went through? By the ancestors' blessing, I can be like him."

He charged forward again, this time not with his axe, but with his arm, aiming a blow at Mannoroth's face. The Abyssal Lord staggered back once more!

Come on!

The Oak Axe severed the demon's fangs!

"Come on!!"

The axe blade cleaved the giant double-edged sword in two!

Come on!!!

Mannoroth's skin was cut open, his flesh was cut open, and blood splattered everywhere!

"Let me die a glorious death!" Broxigar's eyes were bloodshot from being forced open, his fanaticism chilling even the demons. He attacked relentlessly, completely disregarding and forgetting what he was attacking. He only needed to vent, to unleash his rage. Rage gave him inexhaustible strength, but he knew he could only find peace when he had exhausted it all. Broxigar saw nothing but a bluish-black expanse, which then turned green. The green splattered on his face, looking disgusting, yet filling him with immense excitement. His roar turned into maniacal laughter, like that of a deranged madman.

He vaguely heard someone shouting "Enough!" At first, he didn't pay attention, but the voice grew louder and louder, making him more and more irritable. What angered him even more was that someone was pulling his arm hard, making each swing of his sword more and more difficult.

'Not enough, not enough!' he cried out in his heart!

"Enough!!"

'No, my brothers are dead...' Broxigar once again cleaved the Oak Axe into Mannoroth's flesh.

He's dead!

'I'm not dead yet!' the Orcs reminded himself. He wasn't dead yet. This wasn't the outcome he wanted. This wasn't a fact he could accept.

"Why can't I die a glorious death like Grom! Why am I still alive! Why am I still here!"

Broxigar swung his sword in the opposite direction. If it weren't for his sudden babble, Nathanos would have been beheaded by this unexpected attack. Instead, Sulfuras managed to lock the Oak Axe firmly in place.

"Are you insane?" the Undead roared at him.

'Undead? Yes, that's right! He's the enemy, the Horde's mortal foe!'

Nathanos sensed the murderous intent burning like fire in the Greenskin's eyes. Was it hatred? Yet, it also carried a hint of regret.

"Get your act together, Broxigar Saurfang! You know who I am, and you know who you are!"

The Burning Legion's flames raged within Blackrock Spire, the temperature soaring, yet Broxigar felt a chill rise from his very core. It was a need to calm him, to let his strength flow from his arms to his heart. His heart... was pounding.

The Orcs swallowed hard, his eyes trembling. "What... am I doing?"

Both he and Nathanos glanced at the demon. Mannoroth was a gruesome sight; his abdomen and forelegs were torn open, and green blood flowed to their feet.