The Prince of Lordaeron bravely enters Azeroth

In a circular battlefield surrounded by the various tribes of the Horde, the breeze from the Kalimdor continent blew through here, and many forces, openly or secretly, were watching this duel - Mak'gora.

"The rules are... there are no restrictions. The winner will be awarded the position of chieftain after fighting till the last moment."

While waiting for Varok Saurfang to finish reading the Rules of Mak'gora, Lor'themar and Garrosh began their pre-battle speeches.

"Ah... You are the first blood elf who dares to challenge me. Lor'themar Theron, I will call you that for now."

Garrosh couldn't help but sigh as he stroked the battle axe Bloodhowl in his hand.

This is exactly the feeling he wanted, fighting to the death, with the winner stepping on the loser's head and getting the glory he deserves.

"You are far too arrogant, Garrosh Hellscream."

"I don't want you to make the same mistake as others. This duel is absolutely fair and just. No one will stop us from gaining glory."

Pointing his axe at Lor'themar, Garrosh calmly stated the reasons for establishing the rules of this duel.

In the last duel with Kane, he lost his glory because of the poisoning by the scum, but this time it will be different. He will use all his skills just to win.

I hope the impostor in front of me has the strength of the Blood Elf Regent, and not someone who can't even withstand a blow from my axe.

"As for your point about glory, I do agree with you."

"If you feel you can't defeat me, just shout surrender and kneel down before me..."

"I never knew how to write the word surrender. I hope you can still smile when you fail."

"Okay, time to start our Mak'gora."

"I can't ask for it!"

With two clangs, Avian and Eitrigg simultaneously struck the battle flags with the emblems of Quel'Thalas and the Horde.

"Glory to the Sin'dorei!"

"Lok'Tar Ogar!"

Accompanied by two war cries and a gust of wind, the white-haired blood elves and the brown-skinned orcs fought together. For a moment, swords and axes clashed and bright red anger erupted.

"Elf, your power is only this much."

After three rounds, Garrosh chopped Lor'themar back with an axe, and the blood elves retreated with swords, leaving a three-meter-long knife mark on the field.

"I underestimated you, blood elf."

After seven rounds, Garrosh cleaved Lor'themar's weapon, the Mi-Knife, away.

"You have failed, champion of the blood elves..."

"Really? I feel like we're just getting started."

Seeing the uninjured blood elves in front of him and Lor'themar who had condensed a blade of rage, Garrosh began to use 10% more strength. If there are no weapons, then make one, right?

"I really underestimated you, warrior."

After fifteen rounds, clang... clang sounds continued to be heard. Garrosh, holding Bloodroar, chopped off four fury swords in succession and began to fight the enemy cautiously.

"Ego is your greatest enemy, Hellscream."

Lor'themar, holding the dark red hammer of rage, gasped and spoke. He used the ground to gain momentum, leaped up, spun in the air, gathered up the wind, and struck hard with the hammer.

My anger is endless, but yours will only gradually dry up.

"You are a warrior who is not even a high-ranking one. You are truly arrogant, warrior."

A flash of cold axe light flashed, and the hammer in Lor'themar's hand broke, and a thirty-centimeter-long axe mark appeared on his chest.

"Warrior, you are so tenacious. Your vitality is like an indestructible cockroach."

After twenty-fifth round, seeing Lor'themar in front of him, whose battle robe was leaking, with seven scars on his upper body, and breathing heavily, Garrosh began to fight the enemy with all his strength.

"You are right. Thanks to the appreciation of the heroes of Azeroth, I am nicknamed Ah Qiang...

After this was said, everyone was convinced of Aqiang's will, but did Lor'themar have this nickname? People just follow the crowd, when did the gossip come out?

"What... Warchief Garrosh wants to let us go? Do you think I will allow you to show mercy?"

"You think I'll show mercy! Taste the true power of Hellscream!"

Garrosh roared twice, raised Bloodroar, burned the rage in his heart, gathered stronger power of rage, and strode towards the blood elf in front holding a bright red axe.

You dare to compete with me in axe fighting? You are looking down on me!

"The name Aqiang... is well deserved, a warrior of the tribe."

"No matter what the result is today, I recognize you."

After forty rounds, Garrosh, carrying Gorehowl, acknowledged the blood elves who were standing firm in front of him as warriors of the Horde.

"Hellscream! I can still fight for another three hundred rounds."

After licking the two-centimeter-deep wound on his left arm, Lor'themar charged towards his opponent with his sword in hand.

It seems like the time has not come yet. Do I need to fight you for another three hundred rounds?

"Hmph! Don't worry, I will respect your wishes."

Looking at Lor'themar who was getting closer and closer to him, Garrosh snorted disdainfully, gripped his battle axe tightly, spun around, and chopped down the flying blood elves with a whirlwind.

Then he rushed over and chopped it down to the ground with an axe, stirring up a cloud of dust.

"Even with your axe, you still can't defeat a simple ranger like me."

Standing up with his spear in hand, the ordinary ranger swung his spear with all his might and slashed out in anger, directly chopping down the orc warrior running towards him.

"I'd like to see how tough your turtle shell is, Lor'themar."

"This is my shield, you ignorant fool."

In the 66th round, Lor'themar condensed two huge red shields, which blocked the storm of blades with bang bang bang, pushed Garrosh away, and forced his opponent to retreat for the first time in a head-on battle.

"Your shield is no better than that, Lor'themar."

Garrosh swung three axes in a second and finally broke Lor'themar's shield. He passed through the shield fragments and chopped at Lor'themar who was holding a knife with an axe.

While the two were fighting fiercely, Halduron on the Quel'Thalas side turned and asked Lor'themar Theron next to him.

"Brother, do you think he can win?"

"He seems to have a trick up his sleeve. I don't know...Haduren, when did you get a sister or a younger sister?"

"What are you talking about? Don't think that I wouldn't dare to..."

"The problem is that the ranger robe she is wearing does have the emblem of the Brightwing family. I can't be mistaken."

"Is this true? It's true... I don't even remember having..."

“What is it that sustains your will, Lor'themar Theron?”

"You have been doing this all wrong, Garrosh."

At the beginning of the ninety-ninth round, when the hammers and axes clashed, Garrosh looked at Lor'themar, who was gasping for breath, and roared.

You are already covered in wounds, why don't you fall down? Did I really do something wrong? I didn't do anything wrong!

Warrior, you should see my contribution to the tribe, why stop me? I am not wrong!

"Fighting is my will, Garrosh Hellscream!"

Tearing the tattered robe on his upper body, Lor'themar roared back and swung his hammer directly at Garrosh's head.

Very good, the seeds of doubt have already been born in your eyes, but I can still fight until the end of time.

You and your future warriors of the Orthodox Horde, your hostility excites me.

"Then I will destroy your will! Lor'themar Theron!"

"I won't sit still and wait for death!"

While Lor'themar and Garrosh were fighting fiercely, Varian had already led the Alliance army towards the temporary camp of the Horde.

"Varian Wrynn, you can go no further."

"Baine, Vol'jin, Sylvanas, have you decided to have a fair fight with our Alliance?"

Finding that there were only three tribal leaders blocking their way ahead, Varian stopped his horse and spoke to test them.

"We just want to buy some time for the new warchief. The tribe is not afraid of the Alliance."

"A new warchief? Is it your earth-keeper G'el who has returned? Or is it the blood elves' regent, Lor'themar Theron, who will serve as the new warchief?"

The five words "new warchief" made Varian suddenly realize that the tribe was caught in an internal strife.

He said that he was very happy to see this scene, as it was a good opportunity to severely damage or even disintegrate the tribe.

But when he thought of his son behind him and the holy light that saved his life, he became a little hesitant.

Because of this resurrection, the other half of his personality, the gladiator Lo'Gosh, was temporarily suppressed, and the violent rage in his body was also relieved.

But when he thought of the soldiers who died in the North Castle and the nearly destroyed Theramore, Varian felt that completely eliminating the Horde was the best option for the people of the Alliance.

"They are dueling, Varian."

When Varian's eyes lit up and he made up his mind, Jaina happened to come to his side holding a magic ball with a lit image.

"Councilman Kalek just sent back the live footage of their duel. He said that perhaps we should respect the tribe's traditions."

"This should be the tribe's tradition - Makgora. They are fighting to the death to decide who will be the chief of the tribe."

Varian fell silent as he watched Lor'themar and Garrosh fighting a life-and-death battle in front of him.

"I will not lose. I am Garrosh Hellscream, Warchief of the Horde!"

"You are running low on energy, Hellscream."

In the 180th round, looking at the panting young hero opposite him, Lor'themar pretended to breathe heavily and swung his sword vigorously to show his affirmation.

It really hurt, but not as much as the last time he took the mana bomb made by the Focusing Rainbow. The energy in his body turned into holy light and healed his body.

The superficial scars were kept only to create an aura of never giving up, so as to break Garrosh's defenses and realize his own plan.

"For the sake of glory, I will never surrender!"

A surge of rage suddenly erupted from Garrosh. With the new rage, he chopped Lor'themar back with six axes head-on. He then distanced himself and took another leap of faith, leaping and slashing forward with Bloodroar raised high.

"Huh... You are the loser, Lor'themar."

After two hundred and twenty-two rounds, Garrosh, who continued to squeeze out the latent strength in his body, swung seven axes in a row.

He hammered Lor'themar into the ground like a nail, and when the dust cleared, only Lor'themar's elven head was revealed.

"You have fallen, in appreciation of your..."

"The Sin'dorei will never surrender! The Sin'dorei will always be strong! Glory belongs to the Sin'dorei!"

Before Gorehowl chopped down, Lor'themar, with determination written all over his face, roared, broke out of the ground, and took the rice knife that happened to be stuck next to him, and knocked Garrosh away with one blow.

"No, the glory belongs to the orcs, I..."

The word "struggle" was written all over his body. He struggled to support himself and slowly climbed up. Before he could finish his words, he was picked up by Lor'themar and punched away.

Then he suddenly jumped up and threw a Rising Dragon Punch to let Young Master Hou experience the pleasure of flying into the air. After that, he spun around in the air for a week and a half and knocked Young Master Hou down from the sky with a whirlwind kick. By the way, he secretly cast some Holy Light for treatment to prevent Young Master Hou from being unable to bear it.

It is true that you cannot kill someone by hitting him, but it would be terrible if your opponent was killed by the recoil force.

If that were the case, then all my preparations would be wasted.

"I actually..."

"Want to give up? Hellscream."

Another cloud of dust cleared, and Lor'themar mentioned Garrosh again, but this time he was not shaking his fist, but asking a question.

"Giving up...what a joke!"

Garrosh stared at Lor'themar with a fearless look and spoke loudly that he would never surrender, even if he died.

Looking at the scarred Lor'themar in front of him, whose body was covered with wounds from Bloodhowl and whose right eye was blinded by himself, Garrosh was filled with disbelief.

The blood elf in front of him... The hero fought against himself, using only rage weaker than his own, and he secretly used his holy light to heal himself.

Young Hero Hou knew that the other party didn't want him to die in pain, but he felt aggrieved that his future would be like this, being defeated by the blood elves whom he had always looked down upon.

Is his rule over?

"The tribe will always..."

"That's enough. If you want to die quickly, I will satisfy you."

"At this moment of your demise, I just want to ask you a question, and I hope you can answer it sincerely."

“Speak, I have no problem satisfying your curiosity, Lor’themar Theron.”

Garrosh, who was in unbearable pain, forced a smile. Although he didn't know why he was still alive, he was willing to fulfill the victor's wish.

"What races are in the so-called orthodox tribes in your mind?"

"The tribe is one family..."

"Even as you face death, you still won't speak your true thoughts? Garrosh Hellscream."

“Is this why you challenge me? Lor’themar Theron.”

Hearing the elf in front of him asking him to speak out his true thoughts about the tribe, Garrosh sneered and spoke with contempt.

It seems that you, a blood elf, have already understood my feelings, but I won’t... I am a proud orc warrior.

"The tribe in my heart... is an orthodox tribe! It is an orthodox tribe that belongs only to orcs!"

With this shout, Young Hero Hou seemed to have put down the burden in his heart and regained some strength in his body.

No matter how other people in the tribe view you, you should not be afraid. You are a loser and should accept your fate calmly.

Orcs speak with their fists. Whoever has the bigger fist is the boss. This is the tradition for most of them.

Garrosh Hellscream considers himself to be a traditional Nagrand orc warrior, who was born with glory and will die with glory.

"I think you have all heard the former warchief's true feelings. Do you have any objections to my appointment as your warchief? Answer me!"

Facing the tribal members around him who mostly had complicated expressions on their faces, Lor'themar raised the Roaring Young Master and shouted loudly with emotion.

"Lor'themar... Lor'themar Theron!"

"Long live Warchief Lor'themar!"

"Lor'themar Theron!!"

Along with the shouts of some warriors and former blood elf workers who had reacted in the tribe, the tribe was suddenly filled with earth-shaking cheers, celebrating the birth of the new chieftain of the tribe.

"You win, Lor'themar Theron. End the life of the loser in this duel... Let me die with honor."

"Garrosh Hellscream, Azeroth is in danger."

"You'd better embrace the glory and die gloriously on the battlefield... so as not to lose the name of the son of Hellscream."

"You will regret it, I will..."

"You are no longer the chieftain of the orcs. You are just a warrior. New chieftains of the orc clans will appear in the future, and the true orcs will choose their chieftains."

When the wounded Lor'themar dragged Avian towards the throne of the chieftain in the temporary camp of the tribe, who was the most embarrassed? It was Lor'themar Theron, the regent of the blood elves, who was forced to change his name by his subordinates.

What happened today? I, the Blood Elf Regent, was called here by Sylvanas for a meeting.

It turns out that I am not Lor'themar Theron, but an impostor.

Halduron, Rommath, Tae'thelan Bloodwatcher, Liadrin... Even you don't support me? I suddenly want to compete for the supreme throne of the tribe's great chief.

After hiding it for so many years, I think it's time to show my true ability. The name was given to me by my parents, and I will never give it up easily.

If you want me to give up, you have to lead us through the war with the Alliance first... maybe there will be no war.

My sanity... You can't make me give up my true name. I am Lor'themar Theron, and I will fight for my name.