Duels in the arena were often tense and thrilling, their only flaw being that they ended too quickly. But today's spectacle had Kargath's blood boiling. The battle had been swift and clean, yet it had lasted a long time, making it far more entertaining. More importantly, the opponents of his clansmen had held out for a long time. He had to admit that these people from another world were truly tenacious.
"Ninety-seven, ninety-eight..."
These people were actually about to win! Kargath grinned. "Ha! I'm glad I got to watch you rats fight in my arena for several hours."
"Sorry, but we probably don't have that much time."
Garrosh, whom Grommash regarded as a prophet, had once warned the Orc warlords about magic. There were many spellcasters in Azeroth, and they had to be careful. Kargath had paid those words no heed, so when Khadgar completed his spell, he regretted it.
Blue light struck the Shattered Hand Warlord's eyes. He instinctively turned his head aside, then opened his eyes again to find numerous ice spikes seeming to sprout from the arena floor. His warriors had been sealed inside them, while the Blades accompanying the mage were completely unharmed.
So this was magic? Kargath blinked. His brief surprise prevented him from stopping Khadgar from blasting open another arena gate with magic.
These people were escaping, and something else bothered Kargath even more—the number of fallen Shattered Hand Orcs in the arena was only ninety-nine! In other words, the duel was not over yet. He leaped down from the platform, crushed the ice with brute force, freed the Shattered Hand warriors trapped inside, and led them in pursuit.
Breaking free from Kargath's pursuit had already left Khadgar somewhat exhausted, and now they had entered a cave. He had collapsed the entrance with