Confirming His Technique

Gizzlok pushed open the tanned leather curtain of the tent and looked back as he went in to make sure no one was there... no one should be eavesdropping.

Nathanos's crimson eyes helped him easily pinpoint his master's location, Goblins bowed deeply. "Master, the gladiatorial combat is about to begin, and your opponent is Lo'gosh, a subordinate of Regar."

"You're late. If you hadn't shown up in a few more minutes, I would have had to go to the arena without your report."

Gizzlok bowed deeply again. "Please forgive me, Master. I have been carrying out your task, only it has taken longer."

Nathanos the Witherer rarely lost his temper with his subordinates. Of course, he treated the Forsaken the same way. And he knew that Gizzlok was indeed doing his job, gathering intelligence on "Ghost Wolf" Lo'gosh while he was tied up with dueling performance after duel.

"You have been forgiven." Nathanos smiled. "Tell me, what did you find out?"

"Lo'gosh, a human Warrior, with a previous record of twenty-three consecutive wins and zero losses. He habitually wields a sword in each hand. And..." Gizzlok turned to the next page, writing the information directly into the ledger filled with transactions to save money. "Regarding his appearance, which is also what you're most concerned about." He paused, "The situation... is a bit complicated."

Nathanos's smile vanished abruptly. What did that complexity mean? Did the people here not even know what Lo'gosh looked like?

"I asked many people, and their descriptions were all wildly imaginative, Master," Gizzlok continued. "They said Lo'gosh was strong, had a determined look in his eyes, and was highly skilled in martial arts... but they didn't mention his facial features. I don't think anyone would care about that, since what the audience in the arena cares about is who will bleed."

Nathanos gave a cold laugh, "Asking too much will arouse suspicion. It seems that if I want to confirm Lo'gosh's identity, I must meet him in the arena." He shook his increasingly gray hair. "This journey is destined not to end so easily."

"I think so, Master." The Goblins scratched his head and asked, "Shall we continue with the plan?"

"Everything is as usual. But..." Nathanos's words trailed off as he suddenly stared out of the tent, his eyes flashing with anger. Gizzlok noticed his strange behavior, turned his head to look, and heard nothing except the sound of the wind rustling through the grass and trees.

"What's wrong, Master?" the Goblins asked, but the Witherer did not answer.

After a long silence, Nathanos looked at the Goblins, "Proceed as planned, but with a few minor modifications!"

The duel night has arrived. The stands are packed, and the crowd even extends outside the doors.

Nathanos's opponents entered the arena. Drums thundered, roars echoed. They wanted to know just how deep a human's hatred for the Undead truly ran. Meanwhile, the Witherer was still sizing up the human known as the "Ghost Wolf," who was as strong as the rumors described, his eyes resolute. His deep black hair was tied back with a long, thin strip of cloth, an Elf elven custom, but for a gladiator, he was wise; hair could be a hindrance in battle, so he used this method to avoid any potential mishaps.

Nathanos found the face both strange and familiar. He hadn't seen Varian for many years. When Lothar came to Lordaeron, he was just a boy, but now he had become an excellent Warrior —if this human was him.

"The Forsaken," the human cried, his voice as chilling as his title. "I am Lo'gosh, the Ghost Wolf."

"I can write this sentence on your tombstone in the mass grave," Nathanos replied.

The human smiled slightly, ignoring his opponent's childish attempt to provoke him. "You have already defeated two of my companions, Broll and Valeera, and earned the opportunity to challenge me. And here I am to meet your challenge."

"I understand," Nathanos glanced at Valeera and Broll in the audience, especially the former. "Well, here you are."

"I'll make you regret ever showing your face to me," Lo'gosh said resolutely. "Unless you choose a method other than a duel to save your life."

"How can I save my life?" Nathanos asked.

"Offer one of your hands." The human noticed Nathanos's disdainful smile, knowing the Undead wouldn't agree to the condition. "Or let me take your life." He continued, his calm tone as casual as discussing the weather. "You know perfectly well the outcome of this duel. Choosing the first condition is not shameful."

"I never make choices passively," The Witherer said. Lo'gosh could tell that his opponent remained very confident; perhaps he had seriously underestimated him. "Especially after death, I only create answers for myself."

Nathanos gripped his sword tightly with both hands. Varian noticed the bandage wrapped around his left palm, a remnant from his fight with Valeera.

"Everyone here knows my abilities, so you can wait until your injuries heal before you come back to fight me. Of course, that means you've chosen death, and you'll become a crow's meal by noon tomorrow."

"Injuries?" Nathanos felt a surge of rage upon hearing those two words. "My injuries will never heal."

Varian's face showed surprise, then he shook his head helplessly. He charged forward, the tip of his right blade aimed directly at Nathanos's heart.

The Witherer had already seen through his intentions before he even made a move. He shifted slightly to the left, skillfully avoiding the human's attack.

Sulfuras was lifted lightly and then swung in a precise arc, striking the back of the sword in the human's left hand. Nathanos heard his panting.

He was struggling to defend himself.

"Are you dying?"

Lo'gosh responded to Nathanos with a fierce fighting spirit burning in his eyes. He gritted his teeth and used all his strength.

The two were evenly matched in strength, maintaining their stances and locked in a stalemate. The shouts of the audience seemed to threaten to drown out the silence of the night in Kalimdor.

In a contest of stamina, Lo'gosh knew that Undead creatures were tireless, and he was currently at a disadvantage. He had to break the stalemate. He tried to imitate Valeera's move, raising his leg to attack Nathanos's abdomen, but Nathanos seemed to have anticipated his intention, freeing one hand to block him and using the momentum to retreat.

The attack missed, but it didn't matter; Lo'gosh had waited for his moment to retaliate. He drew his spear from his back and hurled it towards the Undead's forehead.

Nathanos tilted his head back, watching the spear fly over him, and adjusted his center of gravity by turning around to maintain his balance.

Lo'gosh had already charged forward, pouncing on its prey's throat like Ghost Wolf...

The onlookers gasped as they watched the warm blood splatter onto the marble. No one had expected the duel to begin so suddenly.

Lo'gosh grunted and stumbled back several steps, unable to believe his eyes. A searing pain shot through his sword and the bridge of his nose. The "Ghost Wolf" tasted his own blood. He stared at the Undead's weapon, the sword now split in two. One had just parried the attack that had come from behind, the other swiftly slicing across his face.

Defense and offense were completed almost simultaneously...

"This can't be." Valeera's heart was pounding. She opened her mouth and shouted in astonishment, "This can't be!"

Regar the Wrath of the Earth slammed his fist into the wooden post on the handrail, thinking to himself that he might be utterly defeated today.

Only Broll remained calm. His Druids path allowed him to control his emotions. He looked at the gladiator who called himself "The Forgotten One" with a complicated expression and murmured, "So it was him!"

One setback wasn't enough to end the contest; Lo'gosh lunged forward in the blink of an eye, weapon in hand. Nathanos braced himself with his uninjured arm, bracing himself for a powerful, skull-splitting slash from the human.

Nathanos knelt on his left knee, barely managing to parry the human's attack. Suddenly, something occurred to Nathanos —not how to deal with the human, but his original purpose for coming here: to confirm his identity. He used his cold arms to deflect Lo'gosh's attack, leaving an opening in the center of his chest, and then kicked him back. He heard the man groan as he fell to the ground—but he ignored him.

The blade flashed as Nathanos swung his sword until he recognized Lo'gosh's moves. Years ago, in the royal training grounds of Lordaeron, a down-on-his-luck Prince and a companion two years his junior had trained under the scorching sun. That Prince's determination was admirable; with each all-out attack, he reminded himself: Survive. Win. Tear the enemy to pieces.

The battle finally ended at sunrise.