Thunder Axe Fortress

Just moments ago, Nathanos was interrogating a Satyr, though the satyr died without saying a word. In the blink of an eye, he arrived at the gathering place of the Forsaken.

They were now hiding on the outskirts of Thunder Axe Fortress, surrounded by the pungent, foul smell of Fel. The fortress was surrounded by massive stone pillars, making a sneak attack impossible; a direct assault was the only option.

Nathanos was used to fighting tough wars, but now he had to proceed with caution, as the Forsaken were few enough to sustain a war of attrition. He glanced at the others, who were discussing how to attack Thunder Axe Fortress.

The Witherer said nothing. The Forsaken can no longer turn back. Take Thunder Axe Fortress, then wipe out the four Centaur Horde, and finally conquer Maraudon. Thinking about it carefully, the first step seems the easiest.

"Grown ups."

"Have you decided on the tactics?"

Belmont. "Everyone agrees to act at night if we're quick. Those Orcs won't even know who killed them."

If it fails, it will only alert the enemy. Nathanos answered Belmont in his heart, but he didn't say it aloud, because there was no other way.

"I've checked. The Orcs on guard duty at Thunder Axe Fortress rotate every hour. Based on the timing, there will be a rotation when the moon is at its highest point in the sky. We'll move out at that time."

Belmont received the order, bowed, and withdrew. He relayed Nathnos's message to the others. Veronara sighed as she watched the Witherer's retreating figure. "Looks like he's nervous too. Neither orcs nor centaurs are easy to deal with."

Liana agreed, the astute Dark Ranger going a step further. "Nathanos isn't a fool. He's been through many wars, but none as difficult as this. We don't need sleep, we don't need food. That's our advantage, but it also presents us with new problems. If we're wounded, we simply can't heal."

"You should address Lord the Witherer with more respect," Belmont said, staring at Liana, only to be met with a sarcastic laugh.

Belmont stepped forward, gripping the dagger at his side. "I advise you to behave yourself, Dark Ranger," he threatened, preparing to charge at Enya. Veronalara sensed the tension between the two and immediately stepped in front of Enya.

"Enough, this is not the time for infighting. Belmont, Liana meant no disrespect to Nathanos." She kept her voice down as much as possible so that the Witherer wouldn't notice anything amiss, but little did she know that Nathanos had heard every single word spoken by everyone here.

"That would be for the best. You must understand that without Lord the Witherer, we might still be holed up in Darrowshire."

"It's no better in the desert!"

"Liana, stop talking," Veronalara reminded her.

"No need to warn me, Veronalara," Liana said, arms crossed. "If Nathanos can lead us to a place in this world, I will follow him to the death. Only the results will tell."

"Yes, I believe you will!" Belmont's eyes grew even colder. "Remember your vow!"

Not everyone would place their hopes on him. Nathanos knew Liana wasn't the only one questioning him; perhaps many didn't understand why they had traveled so far. The Witherer stared at the slowly rising moon, thinking of many leaders, like Lothar and Turalyon. He wondered what they would do when questioned by their own soldiers...

"The time has come," Nathanos said, turning to Belmont.

"We are ready, my lord," said the Forsaken behind him, his voice unexpectedly tense. "Give the order to attack!"

A series of piercing screams echoed through Thunder Axe Fortress as Nathanos slashed his sword, killing three orcs wielding Orcs. He paid special attention to the Orcs banners. The red banners appeared to be soaked in the blood of some creature, and the design depicted a long blade, yet none of the Orcs here carried such a weapon.

Burn those flags!

"Don't even think about it!"

The voice came from directly in front of him. Nathanos knew this was no good omen. Standing before him was a burly Orcs. He was a Warlock. His dark green skin was tainted with countless forms of Fel energy.

"Who are you?" Nathanos asked.

"My name is Zug'ka!" The Orcs's feet seemed rooted to the spot. All around him lay gruesome soldiers, Orcs and attacking Undead. Legs severed, blades embedded in chests, heads cleaved off. These were considered lenient ends.

Nathanos assumed that once the battle began, the Orcs leader would be the first to rush out and command. But this guy in front of him had been hiding for a long time, only appearing now. What had he done to deserve wasting so much of his precious time?

An Orcs's corpse lay at his feet. Veronalara had taken control of the fortress's high ground and was slaying enemies with precise arrows.

The situation seemed to be tilting in the Forsaken, but the violent shaking of the ground made Nathanos realize something. He seemed to have forgotten that this Orcs was a Warlock!

Streaks of lightning, accompanied by deafening claps of thunder, repeatedly exploded in the sky above Thunder Axe Fortress.

A monster three times the height of an Orcs emerged from the fortress. He had powerful wings and sharp teeth capable of crushing bones. Each step he took sank into the sand, but with a slight effort, he could take another step forward.

Having experienced the War of the Ancients, Nathanos was certainly aware of the fighting power of the demon before him.

Doomguard! A gigantic Doomguard! It looks like this laughing Orcs has sacrificed the souls of his fallen soldiers to this demon.

"It looks like it took you quite a while to summon this guy!"

"The Demon Lord Azre'sok will send you to hell!" Zug'ka shouted. The demon seemed to understand the Orcs's words, and charged towards Nathanos, wielding a green-spotted cleaver. He drew ever closer to the leader of the Forsaken.

"Attack his eyes!" Nathanos shouted to Veronalara. An arrow flew toward Azre'sok. The Doomguard reacted quickly, deflecting the Dark Ranger's attack with his weapon. He looked up to find the one who had ambushed him, completely unaware that Nathanos had entered his blind spot.

That momentary opening was enough for Nathanos!

Before the demon could even spot Veronalara, another arrow flew and struck him squarely in the eye.

"You brainless idiot!"

Azre'sok screamed in agony and took two steps back, wildly swinging his machete, killing several unfortunate Orcs.

"You think this kind of attack can defeat him?" Zug'ka mocked. He knew Azre'sok was only momentarily careless, and that once he recovered from his pain, he would crush the insignificant Undead. But the unexpected happened—he was wrong! Azre'sok not only didn't stop his indiscriminate attacks, but became even more frenzied.

Zug'ka realized something was wrong and looked at Nathanos with a mixture of anger and confusion, only to find that Nathanos had already drawn his bow and aimed it at him. "My arrows... are different from others!"

The Orcs let out a single scream, his eyes widening incredulously, before collapsing to the ground without pain. Nathanos's arrow had pierced his skull. Azre'sok thrashed about, the pain unbearable even as he pulled the arrow from his eye. Green blood seeped from between his fingers, which clutched his face. The pain wasn't from the wound itself, but from every muscle and organ in his body—a stinging sensation like ants gnawing at his heart.

Azre'sok could no longer bear the pain. He rammed his head against a stone pillar of the fortress, then fell backward, landing squarely on Zug'ka's corpse.

Then, the two corpses decomposed rapidly at a visible rate, until even the exposed skeletons turned black.

Everyone who witnessed this scene gasped in astonishment, including Nathanos, who was also surprised by his own power. He had rarely used the Bow of the Lich King, which was imbued with the Lich King's power, since reclaiming it.

Having witnessed its power, I must be even more careful in using this force.