Lusken

The first rays of dawn shone on the animal hides overhead, turning the dark gray ground golden. The air was still; the only sound was the clanging of the hellish boars scrambling for food.

Orunok sat cross-legged inside the tent, two fragments of the Curse Cipher lying before him. He closed his eyes in meditation; the rising sun usually brought peace to the Orcs ... but not today.

His second child had died and returned to the embrace of his ancestors. This was nothing short of a tragedy for him, a parent outliving their child, but Orunok felt no sorrow, at least not now! The old Orcs thought that perhaps soon he too would join Atol.

He had already washed and tidied himself up, waiting for the last piece of the fragment to be delivered to him.

Nathanos rushed back to Orunok's residence, encountering several ferocious creatures roaming Shadowmoon Valley along the way. The most dangerous encounter was with a huge two-headed dog.

Finally, he saw the opening sequence showing Orunok's residence. The Witherer sighed deeply, gritted his teeth, and walked the last leg of the journey.

Before this, he had made a deal with Orunok. The Curse Cipher would belong to him, and now he intended to cash it in. At the same time, he also had to face the unspoken conditions of the Orcs.

He slowly approached his destination along the mountain path. Although it was unnecessary and impossible, Nathanos still needed to think about how to help Orunok accept his loss. If he didn't say a word about his son's death, the old Orcs might doubt whether the soul beneath his dead body still had any mercy.

Finally, Nathanos arrived at Orunok's dwelling. He saw Grom'tor feeding Darkhowl. The Orcs noticed him at that moment. After a long, still moment, Grom'tor silently gave Nathanos a look; his father was inside the tent.

As he reached the tent entrance, he heard the sound of dry, hard clods of earth breaking. He went inside.

"The last fragment," Nathanos said, placing it between the other two. The Witherer sighed inwardly, but clenched his teeth, offering his condolences to the father who had lost his child.

"I envy Atol," Orunok said. "He sacrificed himself for the cause of justice. Everything he did was not to atone for his sins, but to win glory and the approval of his ancestors."

"If I had gone earlier..."

"That's fate," Orunok interrupted Nathanos. He didn't need sympathy.

The Orcs's gaze pierced through the cloak behind Nathanos. His eyes reflected no scenery, yet possessed something that mortals could not offer. Unbeknownst to him, Orunok smiled as he saw the three fragments of the Curse Cipher.

"I need some time to finish the final work."

"What do you mean by 'final work'?"

A wave of pain washed over Orunok. "Piece the pieces back together," he replied simply.

"Anything else?" Nathanos pressed. "You never said what you ultimately wanted to do, never from the beginning."

In a daze, Orunok recalled the past twenty years, most of which he had spent in repentance, and now he finally had the chance to truly end it all.

"A battle."

Nathanos narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Orunok. The Orcs's aged appearance made it hard to imagine he could still withstand a battle. "What kind of battle is worth your personal attention?"

Orunok smiled, head bowed, and replied in a calm voice, "I will reclaim the traditions abandoned by the Orcs many years ago." He looked up at Nathanos. "The beginning of all sins is also the end. I will face the Fire Lord Lusken."

Nathanos stood still in the shadows. The Orcs's appearance saddened him. They were both people seeking redemption, so why did seeing Orunok evoke such feelings in them now?

Beneath the peaks of Gul'dan's Hand, green Fel crackled. Lusken, taller than a mammoth, emerged from it. It was practically a colossal, mobile city, each limb supporting it thicker than a human. Fel seeped into its body, appearing to condense into a thick layer on its skin. It was an ancient element, once an object of worship for the Orcs, but now it resembled more of a weapon of war, its raging flames appearing unimaginably ancient. It looked down upon Nathanos and Orunok.

The avatar of flames approached step by step, like a sea of fire in a forest drawing near. Nathanos's attention was focused on one point. He made no sound, made no movement. He could only sense that Lusken felt unlike any other element. The Fire Lord's consciousness overwhelmingly crushed everything.

The imposing creature before him made Orunok gasp. Nathanos glanced at him. Was he filled with fear, or was he remorse for the mistakes the Orcs had made in the past?

The Witherer snapped out of his daze and stood motionless before the slowly advancing Lusken. His face showed no fear, but rather a glint of ambition.

"It looks like it's about to begin." He spoke, trying to remind Orunok that this was his last chance to escape, and once the fight started, Nathanos would have a hard time protecting him.

Gul'dan's echo lingers beneath the peak of Gul'dan's Hand, where he utters the same words countless times each day, as if cursing the world: No one can forget me, no one!

"You've defeated Gul'dan!" Nathanos thought to himself. The moment he saw Lusken, he understood how Shadowmoon Valley had been destroyed. This was no human being to face. Its size was so immense that even a mortal looking up would find it difficult to see it completely.

Lusken stopped in front of Orunok, knowing that it was this Orcs who had summoned it.

The threat of the Fire Lord overwhelmed Nathanos's mind, nearly crushing him. Orunok felt as if all words were bursting from his eyeballs, tearing through his fingers and flowing outwards.

"How dare you disturb my rest, you mortal!"

The sound echoed across the land.

Nathanos had just seen Orunok's eyes roll back and his head tilt to the back. Now, the aged beastman was speaking in a passionate voice, as if Fel had seized his throat and transformed him into language.

"I have come here to end you, Lusken. Today, all will end the mistakes my people made in the past."

Lusken let out a deep laugh, stepping onto the shore, causing the entire ground to collapse. "No one can withstand the power of fire. Now, pay the price."