Departure

"Now that we've decided to go find Malfurion," Broxigar said casually, "How do you plan to get to the black dragon's lair?"

"Calygros told me where Neltharion's lair is, and we have to get there as fast as we can."

Nathanos and Broxigar rode on the Night Saber that Garrid had given them. The scene seemed familiar; whenever Nathanos thought of Deathwing, he would recall his own experience in Grim Batol.

"But it will take too much time to get there! And we'll expose ourselves. The Burning Legion's assassins may have already been dispatched!"

The demons have secretly planted spies within the resistance, and the Undead and Orcs may have been blacklisted by the demons after participating in the war that thwarted the Burning Legion.

"Then we'll have to fight," Nathanos replied. "We can't use any magic there. Neltharion is very wary of magic, and now I'm more worried about Malfurion ..."

"Are you worried about his safety? That dragon said that the Druids is accompanied by another dragon, so I don't think they will fail easily."

"Neltharion possesses the Dragon Soul, a treasure that will terrify all Dragons except the Black Dragon." He looked at his companion who was traveling with him this time. "Moreover, I'm not worried about Malfurion's safety; I don't like that guy. I'm worried that he will be exposed too early, and then Neltharion will definitely be on high alert, making it even more troublesome to obtain the Dragon Soul."

Broxigar nodded. They had been on the move for an hour. Nathanos urged the Night Saber to hurry. His Night Saber, with its graceful form, sped forward at lightning speed, its Undead companion close behind.

The two traveled in silence, for they had to be careful not only of the road ahead but also of any potential dangers in their surroundings. The night passed quietly and peacefully, and they had traveled quite a distance. As the sun was about to rise, Nathanos stopped.

"Be vigilant!" he said, looking at the sparsely vegetated hills ahead. "There may be danger lurking behind those hills."

The trees on the mountain are sparse, leaving many gaps, making it easy to be ambushed in such places.

Broxigar nodded in agreement. "The enemy will use the hills to the north to launch a surprise attack on us. The view there is unobstructed, and they can clearly see the path. We'd better not take that route."

"Are there any Orcs as rational as you?" Nathanos glanced around, then fed the Night Saber with the food he carried. He had enough to feed them all.

For a strong Warrior like Broxigar, cured meat was hardly a palatable meal, but he had endured far more difficult times. Nathanos didn't need to eat, while Broxigar ate with relish. Orcs are never picky eaters. His behavior made Nathanos instinctively bring food to his mouth several times, but this only earned him Broxigar's mockery.

Night is falling

"The Night Saber is already resting under the tree," Nathanos said after the meal. "I suggest you rest as well. Once you wake up, we'll continue our journey."

"It should be my turn to stand guard."

Nathanos shook his head. He was starting to fiddle with the bow and arrow Cenarius had given him. It was made of the same material as Broxigar's Battle Axe, but its design was too simple, like a bent tree branch.

"I don't need sleep, don't worry."

The security matter was resolved with these words. Broxigar rested by a rock. Nathanos, however, leaped effortlessly onto a steep cliff. He gripped his warbow and then looked around like an owl.

Even though he couldn't sleep, the arrival of night detached Nathanos's mind from reality. He didn't know what was happening, only that his body seemed to be changing. His right thumb rubbed against his palm, but it didn't feel like touching dry, dehydrated skin; instead, it felt full, fleshy, like a living person. Nathanos trembled in shock, panting, as if he had just dodged a fatal attack.

Nathanos thought someone had secretly cast a spell on him, but all was silent except for Broxigar's regular breathing. The Undead gradually calmed down, and he looked down at his hands. They were unchanged, but he didn't know whether to be happy or regretful.

Broxigar opened his eyes; dawn was breaking, and the Orcs estimated the approximate time. It was already daylight, and the Undead were still on guard.

Nathanos stood up, bow and arrow already in his hand. "You're awake?"

The two sat down on the rocks, talking and keeping an eye on their surroundings. "Are you sure you don't want to rest?"

"I have lost the ability to rest."

The green-skinned Warrior shrugged. "Orcs Warrior can sleep with their eyes open, always ready for battle."

Nathanos looked at the Orcs and said, "You are truly vigorous for your age."

The veteran seemed quite pleased with the compliment, but said, "For an old soldier like me, the glorious moments are over."

"I have always believed that the moment of glory is over when a person dies in battle. But now I am wrong."

The Orcs's face darkened considerably. "In Orcs civilization, only those who die gloriously on the battlefield can gain honor. Perhaps... your glory has only just begun."

"My glory?" Nathanos frowned slightly.

Broxigar knew Nathanos was an Undead. To his surprise, the pale-faced human had regained his freedom. As an Orcs with some knowledge of Shaman, Broxigar sensed that his companion had an incredible past.

"Undead ..." Broxigar said, "Could you tell me your name?"

What meaning does a name have for the dead?

"Great Chief Orgrim also perished, but the entire Horde remembers his name because he was a hero. For the fallen, their names serve as models for future generations to admire."

Nathanos sighed. "Well said, I've learned something. My name is Nathanos... a participant in the Second War and Third War."

"Really? It seems you're a veteran!"

"Are you trying to say I'm the same as you?" Nathanos asked Broxigar with amusement.

"No, you've experienced things I haven't."

The Undead nodded slightly, then looked at his hands, the wrinkles on them a reflection of his life.

"How many others are like you?" the Orcs suddenly asked again.

"One kingdom! No..." Nathanos shook his head, "Many kingdoms!"

"I mean, the Undead, like you, have regained their freedom."

Broxigar's question startled Nathanos. He thought of Veronalara and Enya, the two Dark Ranger who had hoped he would lead the freed Undead, but Nathanos had refused at the time.

"Maybe there are many more... I don't know."

What is their situation?

"I don't know!" Nathanos's voice trembled slightly. "But I think... it must be terrible."

Why not help them?

Nathanos had anticipated Broxigar's follow-up question, but he didn't know how to answer him. He wanted to tell him directly that he didn't want to help the Undead, but a voice inside him told him that he couldn't say those words.

So Nathanos could only reply, "I can't even save myself. Can you give me a reason for a dead man to exist? I don't even know what I can do in this form, or... what meaning it would have for me to do anything. That's what I want to know most. If there's anything else that can drive me forward, it's revenge against the Lich King."

"You can't do it alone."

"Am I supposed to rely on living people?"

"Why not?"

Nathanos snorted coldly, deliberately turning his head away so that Broxigar wouldn't see the rage blazing in his eyes.

"I'd rather believe the dead!" The Undead said this, then thought about it for a moment and was startled by his own words.

"If you didn't believe in living people, you wouldn't be sitting next to me."

Nathanos had no rebuttal to this point; his heart answered Broxigar's question, but he always felt that the answer was meant for him: not all the living reject the dead.