Stranger

With no one around, Grot's efforts to find the voice were fruitless. The atmosphere grew uneasy and heavy.

"I've always been behind you."

The Orcs whirled around, ready to attack the source of the voice. But something was amiss. Grot stared wide-eyed at the stranger. Something was wrong. He was an unfamiliar Orcs, but Grot had never seen his clothes before, neither the fabric nor the cut. He sported the short beard of High Elf. And his expression— High Elf- like expression that seemed utterly out of place on the Orcs's face.

Grot trusted his intuition, and at that moment, his intuition told him that the Orcs was an imposter—an Elf disguised as an Orcs.

"You're not an Orcs." Grot gripped the only weapon in his hand—the shovel. The Orcs smiled slightly upon hearing this, as if acknowledging his assessment.

"You are an Elf."

"I'm used to wearing Elf expression, but I'm not." The Orcs's voice was strong and powerful as he raised his head. "I am a dragon, and I transformed into Orcs so that I could communicate with you more effectively."

Clang~

Grot dropped the shovel. He couldn't believe his ears. The man who called himself a dragon was scrutinizing him closely, making him feel uneasy.

The Orcs grunted nervously, then feigned composure and said, "So you haven't heard of the Dragonmaw Clan? Your kind were once enslaved by us." His words carried a hint of contempt; his mind told him it was unwise, but he couldn't help saying it.

"Once? Once, the flames of the Red Dragon brought annihilation to the Dragonmaw Orc of Grim Batol," the stranger replied, smiling at Grot. "And a certain Orcs helped his clan's enemy save the Queen of Dragons."

Now Grot could no longer hide the look of horror on his face. How could he know the answer? Only he and that human knew the truth of what happened back then.

"Don't be alarmed, your clan will never know about this."

Grot turned his gaze away from the stranger, making no attempt to hide the anger on his face. "I did not betray the clan."

The other person said in a low voice, "Yes, of course you don't."

"Then leave," Grot said. "You are not welcome here, dragon. If my clan finds you, they will tear you to pieces."

The stranger didn't even blink. Such threats didn't frighten him at all.

"Your clan? I saw the duel just now too. I must say, your chieftain... is truly remarkable."

"Mog'gor will be defeated, it definitely will."

"Before that, how many Orcs will die in his duel? And how many corpses will you bury beneath this land?"

"I don't need you to remind me."

"Of course you need it," the stranger said firmly. "Because I heard what you just said, you said you hoped Mog'gor would die next time."

Grot looked at the stranger, wondering what he wanted to say. They had been talking for some time. The stranger hadn't revealed his purpose. Grot was convinced he must have some ulterior motive.

"Some people in the clan would be put to death for saying something like that, stranger. But I won't. Even if you secretly tell Mog'gor everything I've said, he won't kill me. In his eyes, I'm just a wretched old man."

"Back in Grim Batol, you were just a servant who brought food to Nathanos."

Upon hearing this name, Grot's ears twitched involuntarily, and he asked warily, "The human who mated with the Queen of Dragons? Was it him who told you all this?"

"I know without him telling me."

"Why?"

"If I were to explain it all, it would probably be almost dawn." The stranger's eyes suddenly lit up, a mysterious smile playing on his lips. "Perhaps this will help you understand."

Grot watched as the stranger caught a leaf that had drifted down from the tree. The leaf began to change in the stranger's hand at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye. Withered yellow, faded, tender green, emerald green... in the blink of an eye, the changing seasons were fully manifested.

"This...this is impossible!" Grot was stunned. "You're a Bronze Dragon?"

"In a sense, yes," the stranger said slowly. "Now you should understand, I can witness what happened at any point in history. The secret between you and Nathanos is no secret to me either."

"Then why did you come to see me? I think it must be related to Nathanos, you've mentioned him many times."

The stranger nodded. "I'm here only to make a deal with you," he said, lowering his voice. "In exchange for the Dragonmaw Clan's true salvation, you'll do me a favor."

A moment of silence fell, the only sound the rustling of the wind through the trees. Grot took a deep breath, any lingering doubt vanishing. "Are you telling the truth?" he asked, his eyes wide. "The Dragonmaw Clan can escape their current situation?"

"You definitely can," the stranger replied. "And it won't be long before you're free. You'll join Horde and regain your former glory."

The Orcs paid a heavy price for their past glory.

Grot ruthlessly erased the memories that surfaced. Nothing was more important now than overthrowing Mog'gor's rule. "If you're telling the truth, then I accept the deal."

"Very good. You won't regret it, because I won't let you do anything dangerous," the stranger said.

Cheap deals are always fraught with traps. Grot immediately became wary again. What did this guy want?

The stranger's other hand was inside his shoulder strap, concealing an item hidden within his Orcs attire. Grot could hear the metallic clanging of metal inside. Was there a weapon hidden there?

A warning of impending conflict suddenly rang in Grot's mind.

"I need you to write a letter to Nathanos, he's in Arathi. Then, after you meet him, bring this to him." The stranger took out the object and tossed it to Grot.

It wasn't a weapon, but a cloth bag containing a palm-sized amber-colored stone.

"Make sure the letter you write makes sure Nathanos comes looking for you. And I must remind you, Nathanos has changed; he is no longer human, but an Undead. In short, you'll find out once you go to Arathi."

"I don't understand." Grot stared at the stone in the bag, blinked, and after a long while said, "Why don't you do it yourself? Who are you anyway?"

"Go do it, Grot," the stranger said. His voice was deep and resonant. Then he said nothing more. As he turned around, a golden, swirling portal appeared. He walked into it and vanished after a few steps.

Grot sat heavily on the ground.

A Bronze Dragon had just offered him a deal, and he had agreed.

The Orcs placed his head in his palms and pressed hard against his temples. His mind was somewhat unclear, and he felt lost and hesitant. But the thought of the dragon's promise to him immediately cleared his confusion.

"Nathanos, the Undead?"