The power of the M1

The history of the Twilight's Hammer began with Cho'gall-the first Ogre Mage. Ogres were creatures native to Draenor, the Orcs' homeworld, and descendants of the monstrous Gronn. They were huge and immensely strong, but lacked sufficient intelligence and put blind faith in brute force.

On Draenor, Ogres, Orcs, and Draenei were the three largest humanoid races. Before they were corrupted by demons, the Orcs had neither friendship nor an alliance with the Draenei, but they coexisted peacefully and traded regularly. The Orcs exchanged meat and hides from their hunts for gems and handicrafts they found incredible. Ogres, however, were the Orcs' mortal enemies. Even in the Orcs' eyes, these savage creatures had almost no civilization to speak of.

After the demonic corruption, however, the Orc leader Gul'dan began considering recruiting these Ogres to strengthen the Orcs' fighting power. Although they possessed nothing but brute strength and knew no magic, through "successful experiments," Gul'dan created two-headed Ogres-deformed Ogres with the same massive builds as ordinary Ogres, but greater intelligence. The first two-headed Ogre was Cho'gall. Gul'dan personally instructed Cho'gall in magic. After the chieftain of a certain clan was executed for defying the Shadow Council's orders, Cho'gall became that Orc clan's leader. Clearly, Gul'dan had arranged everything, for Ogres and Orcs had previously been mortal enemies, and Cho'gall was the first and only Ogre to become the chieftain of an Orc clan. He renamed the clan Twilight's Hammer. Its previous name and the identity of its former chieftain could no longer be traced. Under Cho'gall's leadership, this clan became the one most closely loyal to Gul'dan.

When Gul'dan led the fallen Orcish Horde in its invasion of Azeroth, Cho'gall's Twilight's Hammer clan followed close behind him.

During the Second War, after learning that Gul'dan had betrayed the Horde, the Orc Warchief Orgrim Doomhammer sent troops to purge the rebels. They slaughtered Gul'dan and his followers almost to a man, but Cho'gall escaped.

Although people believed Cho'gall might already be dead, he had actually escaped with a handful of trusted followers, hiding all the way to Silithus. There, he discovered Ahn'Qiraj-the ruins of the ancient insectoid Aqir Empire. There, Cho'gall discovered a terrifying power that could almost rival Sargeras, leader of the Burning Legion: C'Thun, one of the Old Gods sealed away by the Titans in primordial times.

C'Thun and the other Old Gods had been defeated and sealed away during their war against the Titans in primordial times. Over countless ages, he gained control of the insect people of Ahn'Qiraj. But to regain control of Azeroth, he needed more people to serve it. Insectoid creatures were clearly unsuitable for operating anywhere outside Silithus-they were far too conspicuous. Thus, C'Thun chose Cho'gall.

After obtaining the Old Gods' power, Cho'gall organized the secret Twilight's Hammer cult. As servants of the Old Gods, they began secretly gathering strength, preparing for their evil masters' return to the continent of Azeroth. These cultists, brainwashed by the Old Gods, firmly believed that Azeroth would inevitably return to the Old Gods' rule. Once the Old Gods returned, they would thoroughly cleanse Azeroth-what the Twilight cultists called the "Hour of Twilight"-and all creations of the usurpers, the Titans, would be destroyed. Only the truly devout would survive the day of judgment.

But however carefully they guarded their secrets, successfully deceiving almost every power on Azeroth, this secret cult was almost an open book to Diago Asnar, who possessed memories of his previous life.

Thus, when Twilight cultists occupied the mines at Firewatch Ridge, Diago immediately understood what was happening-these doomsday believers were clearly stockpiling resources for their evil masters. After much hesitation, Diago told Grand Smith Burninate a few things about the Twilight's Hammer. But what he feared did not happen. The grand smith was deeply grateful for the information and never once asked where it had come from. That put his mind considerably at ease.

Still, Diago knew he could do more for the Thorium Brotherhood. So, one evening a few days after making the M1 rifle, he and the Night Elf left Thorium Point.

Searing Gorge was as oppressively hot as ever. Even at night, the glowing red lava provided ample illumination. But the haze of volcanic ash made everything look dim and indistinct.

Diago lay prone atop a small hill, looking down over the trail below. It was the only route leading south from the Firewatch Ridge mines.

Diago wiped the sweat from his forehead. Although his Lizard-skin Cloak could change color to match its surroundings and block detection by infrared vision, it was also completely airtight, preventing heat from escaping. Being inside it was like being trapped in a steamer. In an environment as stifling as Searing Gorge, it was sheer agony.

You win some, you lose some. At least this cloak only has one drawback, Diago consoled himself. Just then, the rumble of wheels came from the distance.

He gently lifted his cloak a little and saw the black panther Masley Bearhide had transformed into coming around the other side of the hill.

"Ten mine carts, twenty workers, two dozen guards," the Druid reported succinctly. "A few more than we expected, but it shouldn't be a problem!"

"All right. Stick to the plan. Hide beside the road and move when you hear my gunshot," Diago agreed. He patted Khanifa, who was lying beside him. The big cat rose in understanding and walked toward the Druid.

"Watch your aim. That thing's no joke," the Night Elf warned, still shaken. After watching Diago test the gun, he had developed a deep fear of it, yet the weapon also gave him tremendous confidence. It really was a contradiction.

Diago said nothing, merely waving for Masley to hurry off and follow their earlier arrangements. The latter shook out his fur and vanished into the night, with Khanifa following behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, Diago saw the big cat bare its teeth before disappearing. Its newly fitted metal tooth gleamed faintly in the darkness. It looked as though it could hardly wait to make its first kill.

The trail was in poor condition-as were most roads in Searing Gorge. The great upheaval three hundred years earlier had shattered the land and destroyed almost every road. The convoy moved slowly, and Diago waited about seven or eight minutes before it appeared.

The workers handled each mine cart in pairs, one pulling on a rope in front and the other pushing from behind. These two-wheeled mine carts did not carry much; Diago reckoned five hundred pounds would be a good load. The guards marched in two columns on either side of the convoy, twelve to each side. Most were warriors armed with swords and shields, but two wore cloth robes. Diago judged that they might be warlocks, since those were the most numerous spellcasters in the Twilight's Hammer.

Diago pushed the bolt forward, chambering a round. The rifle's front sight moved slowly with the convoy until, at last, it entered the optimal killing range of three hundred meters. Diago found that even with the glow of the lava, aiming was difficult at that distance. He hesitated, then decided to let the enemy come closer. When the Twilight cultists came within a hundred meters, Diago fired, choosing the miner pulling the first cart.

With a deafening bang, the miner spun and fell. At this distance, the M1's bullet passed through his body easily.

With the rope still looped over his shoulders, he dragged the mine cart sharply askew. The overturned cart and scattered ore blocked almost the entire road. The convoy immediately fell into confusion. Bewildered, someone walked toward the first cart to see what had happened. But some of the more experienced men immediately recognized the sound of a gunshot, and one shouted, "Gunner!"

The seasoned warriors immediately raised their shields and scanned their surroundings warily. But in the darkness, no one imagined someone could hit a target from a hundred meters away. Moreover, the thunderous shot echoed through the valley, making it impossible to determine the ambusher's direction.

Another shot rang out, and the man who had gone to investigate toppled stiffly to the ground. Screams pierced the night, carrying far across the open wilderness. The warlocks wasted no time casting Demon Armor and Demons Skin on themselves. Amid the confusion, Diago calmly aimed at a guard and pulled the trigger. The bullet struck his chest, sending him flying over a mine cart and onto the other side.

Watching the Twilight cultists look frantically around, Diago sneered and pulled the trigger again. Against the red background of the lava's glow, at this distance, the cultists could not possibly spot his muzzle flashes. He fired almost without restraint. One Twilight warrior after another fell screaming. Shields made from Qiraji chitin tore like paper before the bullets. The M1's excellent penetration meant Diago did not even need to infuse the bullets with arcane energy to punch through his targets. Compared with ordinary bows and arrows, this gun was an armor-piercing marvel. He even brought down a Twilight warlock protected by defensive spells.

But just then, Diago suddenly felt a sinister chill, as though a venomous snake had fixed its gaze on him. An eerie cold rose from deep inside him, traveling up the back of his neck into his brain and covering him in goosebumps. His heart gave a sudden jolt. Without hesitation, he drew the M500 from the quick-draw holster on his thigh, took out a specially made round, loaded it into the cylinder, and rotated it into firing position.

The next second, accompanied by a piercing shriek, a brilliant ball of light streaked into the air. Specially prepared metal powder burned fiercely overhead, illuminating the entire hilltop. At this point, Diago could no longer worry about exposing himself.

The shadows dispersed, revealing a bizarre abyssal creature no more than three paces away from him.

It floated half a foot above the ground and was about the size of a watermelon. It looked like an eyeball, but radiated an eerie green glow. It had a snake-like vertical pupil, surrounded by a vitreous body bulging with tangled, twisted blood vessels. The eye was so evil that merely looking at it seemed enough to plunge someone into boundless despair.

An Eye of Kilrogg! This demonic creature was an offshoot of the beholders. Warlocks summoned these demonic eyes and used their sensitivity to life for reconnaissance. These evil abyssal creatures were quite weak and lacked the beholders' formidable abilities, but they could corrupt people's minds and serve as magical beacons to guide the corrosive energy unleashed by warlocks.

Diago immediately recognized it. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger again and hit the eyeball. After a shrill scream, it vanished, banished back to the Twisting Nether to await its next summoning. In fact, warlocks could generally summon only a demon's projection into Azeroth. Only the most reckless demons descended in their true bodies, and those demons usually came to no good end.

"He's over there!" someone shouted, pointing his way. But there was no need to shout. Everyone had seen him. The flare was so dazzling that anyone who still could not see him would have to be blind.

"Charge! Kill that son of a bitch!" The fanatics rushed toward him, screaming wildly. Some warriors even tossed aside their shields as encumbrances. A few Twilight cultists fired haphazardly in his direction, but at this range, hitting anything with those guns captured from the Dark Iron Dwarves was entirely a matter of luck. If he actually got hit, Diago could only count himself unlucky.

Unhurriedly, Diago lay back down-not to hide, but to steady his aim. Without the Eye of Kilrogg to guide them, the warlocks' spells could not reach this far. He could keep shooting targets, though the stationary targets from before had now become moving ones.

Bang-bang-bang-bang. Diago fired unhurriedly, maintaining a steady rhythm. Almost every shot brought down a Twilight cultist, until the rifle's empty clip sprang out with a ping.

Diago took a loaded clip from his bag, tapped it against the stock, pressed it into the magazine, and chambered a round. But during the few seconds he spent reloading, the Twilight cultists had drawn closer. They were now only about fifty meters from the hilltop, though the uphill charge kept them from running very fast.

But just as they reached halfway up the hill, a huge explosion erupted among them. The explosive trap Diago had laid finally took effect. Many were instantly engulfed in flames. They howled and rolled on the ground, trying to extinguish the fire on their bodies, but it was futile. A few seconds later, those bodies, burned to charcoal, finally went still. The stench of scorched human flesh spread over the hillside.

Diago resumed his shooting display. In fact, only a dozen or so Twilight cultists remained by then. Yet the fanatics still hurled themselves forward madly. The foremost had even charged past the Frost Trap set at the second defensive line-almost everyone knew that once you reached a hunter, victory was practically assured. Grinning excitedly, he raised his spear, ready to thrust it into the ambusher's body. But just then, a black shape sprang from the shadows to one side and knocked him down, savagely tearing at his unprotected throat. He died before he could even scream more than a few times.

Diago kept firing, without even the slightest interest in looking his way. After several more shots, he raised his head above the stock and saw the last Twilight cultist charging up the slope fall screaming beneath the panther Druid's attack.

"Master Diago isn't alone anymore! I've got pets to keep me company now! Getting close is a dead end too!" Diago stood up, spat a thick wad of phlegm at the fanatic who had died with his eyes still open, and mocked him triumphantly.

Diago sat down, cradled the rifle, and worked the bolt back and forth, ejecting every round from the magazine one by one. He carefully checked the action. Only after confirming that the chamber was empty did he turn the muzzle around and peer inside.

It was nearly dawn now. By the morning light, Diago was pleased to see that after this battle, the M1 rifle's metal components showed no signs of stress deformation or cracking. The action remained tight and smooth, and even the rifling in the barrel showed not the slightest wear. The human hunter was very satisfied.

"Hey, buddy! Come down and take a look!" Just then, the Night Elf called softly from below the hill.

Diago loaded a fresh full clip into the rifle and headed downhill. It was time to reap the rewards.

More than a dozen corpses lay scattered around the mine carts. The remaining Twilight warlock had not escaped either. This low-ranking warlock had been brought down by Masley's surprise attack without any chance to fight back. Their standing in the Twilight's Hammer probably was not high, judging by their shabby robes. The robes bore no permanent spells, nor even the most basic enchantments, leaving Diago without even the slightest interest in looting them.

He walked over to a mine cart and lifted its tarpaulin, revealing unrefined raw ore. Most was ordinary iron ore, with a small amount of dark iron ore, but some rare thorium was clearly mixed into these ores, as shown by the tiny green threads glittering within them. However, the thorium content was low-not even enough to qualify as low-grade ore. These five carts of ore might not yield even half a pound of thorium.

"Nothing valuable, at least not before it's refined," Diago said quietly. He glanced back toward the mine, where voices were already clamoring. Honestly, after all the banging away here, with flares and gunshots, it would have been absurd if there had been no reaction over there. The doomsday cultists were merely insane, not stupid.

"All right, we need to go," he urged Masley quietly, who was still looting. Honestly, this Night Elf sometimes looked greedier than a Goblin merchant.