Digger Worms

This time, they did not retrace their steps, but continued deeper into the passage. Yet when they emerged from the cavern again, Masley discovered to his surprise that they were back in the circular central hall. They stood at the third entrance from the right-they had merely made a circuit around the Interrogation Hall! What amazed the Night Elf was that he had thought he was walking straight through the cavern the entire time, without feeling a single turn. He could only marvel at the Dark Iron Dwarves' extraordinary architecture.

This time, Masley noticed numerous iron cages hanging above both the entrance and exit of the prison passage they had just traversed. Most were empty, but some held prisoners. This was clearly some form of punishment, for the cages were so cramped that their occupants could only curl into a ball, unable even to lie down. Most of the prisoners were silent and motionless. Masley could not even tell whether they were alive or dead.

Anger surged through the Night Elf. If not for the sacred mission the White Lady had entrusted to him, he might have lost control and caused an uproar.

Before I leave, I'm going to do something big, he thought fiercely. In truth, after everything he had seen and heard along the way, showing restraint this long was already a remarkable feat for this once hot-blooded youth.

The group left the exit and crept into the hall. Compared with when they first entered, their chances of being discovered were now much lower.

The effects of the dragon dung Diago had scattered clearly had not entirely dissipated. Not a single bloodhound remained in sight, and even the dwarven guards had dwindled to a sparse handful. Large new pools of blood stained the ground. The bloodhounds' rampage seemed to have inflicted unimaginable damage on the Dark Iron Dwarves' security system.

This time, they entered the fourth cavern from the right. Here, Diago stopped concealing himself. He even strode brazenly down the middle of the road, yet the passing Dark Iron Dwarves paid him no mind. Some even waved to him.

"This is the only place in the city where other races aren't restricted," Diago told the air beside him, smiling and nodding to a Dark Iron Dwarf passing by. "You can find almost every race in Azeroth in that big building ahead. These Dark Iron Dwarves are used to it."

"Wow, how cool!" The Druid materialized out of thin air and said sarcastically, "Since when did the Dark Iron Dwarves become so enlightened?"

"You'll understand in a moment," Diago said mysteriously.

At a corner, Diago stopped. He pointed to a patch of darkness against the wall, signaling Khanifa to hide there.

"Stay here, Khanifa. Hide," Diago instructed. The big cat could not appear in the next stage of his plan. He and the elf might be able to slip in, but there was no explaining away a yellow leopard accompanying them.

They continued along the passage, but before they had gone far, an immense, magnificent structure appeared before them. It was a circular building resembling a Roman arena, except that overhead, instead of open sky, there was a heavy vault of rock.

Diago stopped at a small door on the arena's outer perimeter. He listened for sounds inside, then knocked three times in a measured rhythm.

"At this hour, they should be waiting for the first match to begin," he explained quietly to Masley.

A few seconds later, the door was pulled open from within. A Dark Iron Dwarf appeared before them. He looked quite old, his hair and beard entirely white. He wore black robes trimmed in white and a small, round black cap.

"What took you so long? Where are the jailers escorting you?" the old man grumbled. He peered outside but saw no guards. "Those stupid, lazy oafs. I'll teach them a lesson they'll never forget-I hear those Flamewakers need some attendants. Yes, I'll recommend them."

Masley froze. What was going on? His companion, however, clearly reacted much faster.

"My apologies. We got a little lost. As you know, it's all too easy for newcomers to lose themselves in this great city," Diago said with a hint of flattery. He looked perfectly composed, as though their presence here was entirely natural. But he knew those Dark Iron jailers must still be searching everywhere for the prison keys. Though the missing keys would put them on alert, not a single prisoner was missing, so they would simply cover it up. After all, their current Firelord master was not so easy to talk to. If they reported it, they would all be in serious trouble. Besides, this was not the only set of keys. When the next shift of guards arrived tomorrow, couldn't they just bring the spare?

"Before you enter, choose your weapons." The old dwarf pointed at a weapon rack in the corner. Diago noticed a selection of shortswords, hand axes, and similar weapons, none of particularly good quality. But the old man soon noticed that these two "prisoners" were fully armed. A knowing expression crossed his face. "Oh, I see the jailers have already provided you with suitable weapons and equipment. That is permitted under the rules, though, to be honest, very few people are equipped so well. They must have wagered heavily on you."

Diago felt there was absolutely no need to keep lying, because this old man, with his formidable powers of reasoning, had filled in everything himself. Wisely, he kept his mouth shut and listened as the old man rambled on, elaborating on his own imaginings.

"Fight well. Don't disappoint the gamblers who bet on you, or you'll regret ever being born," the old dwarf said pointedly. He turned and pushed open the door at the other end of the room, leading into the arena. "Get ready. The audience is getting impatient!"

With that, he walked out through the doorway. Through it, Masley glimpsed what seemed to be an enormous, open space. The instant the door opened, a deafening roar of voices surged into the room. A moment later, however, every sound was drowned out by one tremendous voice. Clearly, some sort of amplification spell was at work.

"...those who commit crimes against the Dark Iron Dwarves receive only one punishment: death. By ancient tradition, the guilty must face all manner of savage creatures from Azeroth in the Arena of Order and pay a price in blood. To this day, only a fortunate few have survived this brutal ordeal..."

"What's going on?" Masley asked, looking utterly bewildered.

"I'm afraid we'll have to pose as gladiators. This Dark Iron Dwarf thinks we're prisoners sent to the arena," Diago explained with a smile, looking entirely untroubled. "That's a good thing, and what I intended all along. It will make moving around this city a little easier-if we win."

"Of course we'll win." The Night Elf's attention immediately shifted to this matter. He spoke smugly, his face brimming with youthful pride. "We always win, don't we?"

Diago said nothing. He took the rifle off his back, worked the bolt back and forth, then replaced the magazine with a full one. In fact, he knew exactly what would happen here and what opponents they would face. He even knew the background of that old Dark Iron Dwarf inside out.

This old man was Arbiter Grisstone, renowned for his fairness since the days of the High King, Modimus Anvilmar. Anvilmar's death had set the three dwarven clans against one another. Arbiter Grisstone had chosen to follow his own king-Thaurissan, king of the Dark Iron Dwarves. He had once dreamed of leading the Dark Iron Dwarves to the height of power through his fairness and impartiality, but fate had played a cruel trick. After the War of the Three Hammers, the entire Dark Iron clan had become slaves to the Firelord because of their king's folly. After the old king's death, Grisstone had continued serving his son, Thaurissan II-Dagran Thaurissan. Yet in this young man, he saw no hope of restoring the Dark Iron clan. Now, only while officiating in the Arena of Order could the arbiter catch a glimpse of the Dark Iron clan's former strength and prosperity.

"...now, let us welcome these two doomed souls into the arena: a human and a Night Elf. Darlings of the Dark Iron, let us shake them with our greatest enthusiasm!" the arbiter cried passionately, trying to stir the audience. But they were not impressed. They looked distracted and bored. In truth, who cared about the entrance of two nobodies? Any Silver Champion in the Arena of Order looked stronger and fiercer than these two.

Diago saw Grisstone beckoning to him. Expressionless, he walked out of the room, with the Night Elf following behind. The young elf looked somewhat at a loss. He stiffly waved a greeting to the spectators in the stands, only to draw a burst of laughter.

"Well, our challengers seem a little stiff. Very well, then, let us begin our pre-meal dessert. Hopefully, they'll surprise us." With that, Grisstone headed toward the preparation room. A few minutes later, every exit had been closed. Only the enormous, heavy black iron portcullis slowly rose amid the grinding and creaking of chains.

Diago knew this was the rule in the Arena of Order.

Before the formal gladiatorial bout, challengers had to undergo two rounds of trials. This was in the interest of fairness. Most of those being challenged had fought in the Arena of Order many times and were widely known, their strengths and weaknesses familiar to most. The challengers therefore had to display their own characteristics too, lest their opponents be caught completely off guard by an unfamiliar adversary.

Diago could even guess that, somewhere in those little rooms beneath the arena, a gladiator must be secretly watching their every move.

The portcullis finally reached the top, but even after a while, no creatures emerged.

Diago heard only a faint hissing inside, like the friction of some sort of snake sliding across the ground.

"What's that?" Masley had clearly heard it too, and asked in puzzlement.

"Digger Worms," Diago said with a frown. These things were not difficult to fight, but they were troublesome. He took a piece of low-grade aquamarine infused with frost energy from his bag and tossed it onto the ground.

Digger Worms were insects that lived in sandy regions. An adult Digger Worm was roughly half a meter thick and could reach twelve meters in length, making it larger than a Brazilian anaconda. They could sense vibrations, detecting even slight tremors within sixty feet. They resembled oversized inchworms, except that Digger Worms possessed a pair of enormous mandibles capable of biting through trees and tearing into prey. Some Digger Worms living in Outland were said to have evolved six to twelve slender legs tipped with sharp claws. Digger Worms could also unleash a lethal spray of powerful acid at an enemy. A target unable to evade the acid's damage would die on the spot!

Diago gently pressed his palm against the ground, sensing the movement below. Suddenly, he jerked his head up and shouted at Masley.

"Get back, Masley!"

The Night Elf, transformed into a black panther, sprang nimbly away from where he stood.

Right where he had been standing, the sand bulged into a large mound. With a hiss, the ground broke open. Amid flying sand, several enormous worms, each as thick as a bucket and three or four meters long, burst out of the earth. They bared their hideous teeth and lunged at the adventurers. The next instant, however, a white burst of frost spread outward, enveloping them in a cold mist. The worms slowed at once, their winding movements over the sand no longer as swift as before.

Diago could not help feeling amused. He had no idea where the Dark Iron Dwarves had caught these worms, but those before him were clearly far from adulthood. They were too small and had not even reached the age at which they learned to spit acid.

Amused though he was, his hands did not idle. His rifle, already loaded and chambered, roared again and again like the Thunder God. Slowed by the Frost Trap, the Digger Worms took one bullet after another.

The juvenile Digger Worms' shells had not fully hardened and could not withstand the penetration of rifle bullets. As their shells shattered, streams of dark green fluid gushed from their bodies. These insects had no spines, but that did not mean they lacked central nervous systems. Hits to their vital points killed them just the same.

The worms hissed in agony, trembling and rolling. Owing to their insect nature, these Digger Worms would not die completely for a while, but they had clearly ceased to pose a threat.

Diago waited calmly nearby. Sure enough, after several minutes, the worms gradually quieted and stopped trembling.

Just then, the little door to the preparation room opened again, and Arbiter Grisstone stepped out.

Note: hunter traps.

Please note that hunter traps in Azeroth differ from traps on our Earth. Of course, traps such as steel-jawed traps, snares, pitfalls, and poisoned bait also exist in Azeroth. Even people who are not hunters, such as farmers or lumberjacks, can set and use them, but hunters use them more skillfully and with greater variety.

But for Azeroth's professional hunters, these are too cumbersome and time-consuming, and inconvenient to carry-can you imagine a hunter fighting an enemy with a string of steel-jawed traps on their back? They are better at using various magical traps against enemies, such as Explosive Traps and Frost Traps. They infuse different elemental energies into various vessels-of course, these vessels are not fixed, but hunters generally prefer sturdy, stable gemstones-and detonate them when needed. There are generally two triggering methods: active and passive. A passive trap is tossed onto the ground and triggers automatically when an enemy comes within a certain distance, while active triggering relies on the connection between hunter and trap.

In terms of function, hunter traps generally come in five varieties: Frost Trap, Freezing Trap, Explosive Trap, Immolation Trap, and Snake Trap. (The last one has to be set up using Earth's methods, hoho~)

Of course, hunters generally try to use gemstones of the lowest quality, or even ore containing only a small amount of gemstone material, as trap vessels. Though gems are much cheaper in Azeroth, they are consumables, and no one can afford to use too many.

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