I traveled through time and space and became the Archbishop of Stormwind!

However, the young orc just knelt on one knee and grabbed a handful of wet dirt.

"The rules of Mak'gora (Honor Duel) must not be violated."

He let the humus fall through his fingers,

"This land was once a glorious land, but when my father drank the devil's blood, the glory of the War Song was buried."

"I thought you were here to avenge your father."

Alvin didn't want to hide anything. It's better to talk openly about things like this.

"The orc soul yearns for the glory of battle."

Garrosh stood up and looked directly at Elwynn.

"But Grandmother Gaiaan taught me to understand the scars of our race and this world. Gul'dan, Ner'zhul, and others had long ago gone astray, leading the Horde into the abyss... There was no glory in that kind of war."

The orc said as he took off his backpack.

Alvin noticed that half of an old scroll was exposed in the orc's bag, and the Draenei holy pattern was faintly visible in the sunlight.

This reminded him of the rune murals in the Auchindoun Crypts that recorded the life of the Draenei holy land before its fall.

"I will rewrite the Hellscream legend, but only after all necessary steps are completed..."

The orc took out the scroll.

"This is a scroll my father seized from the Draenei. None of us could understand it at the time, but my grandmother said it should be returned to its original owner. Now I'm giving it back to you."

Garrosh respectfully presented the scroll with both hands.

Elvin was a little confused. A Draenei relic? What could this be?

He took the scroll, unfolded it and took a look at it, but he couldn't understand it either. It should be some kind of encrypted Draenei language.

So he gave it to Irel.

"I apologize for the crimes the orcs committed against the draenei."

Alvin shook his head.

"That's the greenskins' sin, not yours.

Now that things have come to this, there is no need to dwell on it. I hope that future orc tribes will not repeat the same mistakes.

“It’s time to set off.”

Garrosh turned,

“Grandma is still waiting for us.”

On the way back to the camp.

The sun gilded the sea of grass in Nagrand, and Yrel's hooves made a crisp sound on the mossy rocks.

She held the scroll to her forehead, and the sunlight shone through the cracks in the scroll, revealing that it was quite old.

"Elwin, this appears to be an ancient Draenei poem."

She stroked the rough lines along the scroll's edge, the runes glowing faintly at her touch.

"In the far north, the stars are falling..."

Her slender fingers traced the spiral characters, and the unique resonant syllables of the Draenei language vibrated in her throat.

"When the earth breaks apart, it will become a shooting star."

The last word had a strange vibrato that reminded Alvin of a choir he had heard in church.

"Falling stars? Meteorites in the north?"

Something suddenly occurred to Alvin.

He put his hands on the pergola and looked towards the northern horizon.

It seems that you can see the purple aurora looming in the sky.

The northern landmass must have been completely destroyed in the disaster, with the continent reorganizing and even splitting apart.

The area called Void Storm should have taken shape by now.

And—on the edge of that torn continent, I remember there were several spaceships!

In this world line, Kael'thas was unable to capture Stormwind Fortress, so those spaceships should be empty now!

"Are there any legends of the draenei? Are there any stories related to what's written in this scroll?" Alvin asked.

"I haven't heard of it. I'll ask Maraad when I see him. Aside from the Prophet Velen, he's the most knowledgeable of the tribe."

"Speaking of Prophet Velen, where on earth did he go?"

"have no idea......"

When the prophet Velen was mentioned, Yrel's expression suddenly darkened and she shook her head.

"The last time he was seen was at the Temple of Karabor..."

"To protect our evacuation, the Prophet sealed off the entire sanctuary with a barrier of holy light. We try not to assume the worst... but the Prophet may indeed be in grave danger."

Either he died or he escaped on a spaceship, Alvin thought.

Suddenly, a bold idea came to him. If he found those spaceships first, could he fly directly back to Azeroth?

But before he could think it through, they had already arrived at the Mag'har orc camp.

The orc camp is not far south of the Elemental Highlands, at the foot of the mountains east of Nagrand.

Fluorescent graffiti of the ancestral spirits still remain on the crimson rock walls.

Unlike the orc fortress that Alvin had seen before, this camp was extremely simple.

There are only a few stone houses in the entire camp, and most of them are tents made of tarbu cashmere and void ray wing membrane.

What surprised Alvin the most was the totem pole in the center of the camp - what was enshrined here was not the skulls and blades that orcs often placed, but a relief of an elemental spirit.

And Grandma Gaiaan didn't live in the largest and most magnificent house in the camp.

Her tent was hidden behind a wooden rack for drying herbs, with a burlap curtain and various herbs drying behind the tent.

When Alvin bent over and entered, the orc elder was tearing the bandage with his teeth and gently applying medicine to the wounded.

When she saw the visitor, the bronze bell on her earlobe rang pleasantly and she gave Alvin a friendly look.

Grandmother Gaiaan took them outside and found a stone to sit on by the herb patch.

The orcs nearby were still minding their own business. In Alvin's opinion, Grandmother Gaiaan didn't have the demeanor of a tribal leader at all.

Grandma Gaiaan was polite for a moment and then started talking about business.

"The Frostwolves are trapped in the snowy mountains of Frostfire Ridge."

Grandmother Gaiaan frowned and said worriedly,

"Those children preferred to stay with their wolves rather than obey Gul'dan's Shadow Council's orders, but now, I'm really worried about them. I don't know if they are still alive."

"But it's really difficult for our people to reach that plateau, so I think..."

Grandma glanced at the red-haired girl behind Alvin.

"I hope you can do us a favor and go see if those Frostwolf Clan guys are still alive..."

"I see. With the help of the dragon, it's easy to climb over those mountains."

Elwyn nodded, and he noticed that Yrel suddenly grasped the scroll tightly.

Apparently the description reminded her of the poem on the scroll.

But Grandmother Gaiaan didn't know that Frostfire Ridge and Gorgrond had merged into Blade's Edge Mountains due to crustal movement.

The northern part of Gorgrond was destroyed by the void and split into floating islands, which is the red barren land - the Voidstorm.

Alvin was thinking about going to the northern void storm to find those spaceships.

The task of finding the Frostwolf Clan can also be completed along the way. I had a very pleasant chat with Ga'nar from the Frostwolf Clan in Hellfire Citadel last time. I wonder if he is still alive.

Three months would definitely be enough to make several round trips if those spaceships really existed.

Then everyone might really have another way to return to Azeroth.

Thinking of this, Alvin smiled and nodded to Grandma Gaiaan.

"Leave it to me, I'll go to the north and take a look."