Chapter 7 Chapter VII

Thrall ran, the sand under his feet was extremely unstable, slowing him down.The sand turns abruptly into hard dirt and grass.Above him was no longer the eerie sky of the Caverns of Time, he saw squirrels and black skies and twinkling stars.Thrall slowed down and stopped, trying to find his bearings. The air carried the familiar smell of pine wood and earth, shrouded in mist, and slightly chilly, but it also made the smell more obvious, allowing Thrall to confirm his position.A few steps away, a small stream splashed, and Thrall glimpsed the white tail of a fox.Thrall had never been to this exact spot, but he recognized the area.It's where he grew up.

He's in the Hillsbrad Foothills, he's in the Eastern Kingdoms. Then, he thought to himself, I know where I am.But the more important question is... when? Few people have experienced what he's done before, and not so long ago he wasn't even sure it was possible. When is he? With a sudden realization, he leaned heavily against a tree and let the Doomhammer slide to the ground.Descharin's sudden death, coupled with the ferocity of the attack, distracted him too much to truly discover and appreciate the significance of what he was doing. The open wound on his body needs attention.Thrall put a hand on the wound, begging for healing.There was a gentle light on his hands, bringing waves of warmth, and the wounds under his hands closed.Thrall took off his robe, washed the blood off it in the stream, put it away and put it in his bag.Just when he had just changed into a clean robe, a sound came.

The voice of an orc. The Doomhammer was too conspicuous, so he quickly wrapped the hammer in an old robe and stuffed it into his backpack as much as possible.He hoped to catch a glimpse of those orcs, while helplessly pondering a plausible story.His eyes widened slightly, and suddenly he was glad that Doomhammer was in his bag, out of sight.He recognized the temperament carried by one of them.A silhouette of a black mountain is drawn on a red background.That was the banner of the Blackstone Clan.Depending on his exact stage in his world's history, this represents one of two possibilities.The vast majority of members of the Blackrock clan are not people Thrall respects.He thought of the headstrong and cruel Blackhand, and his sons Red and Maim, who still lived in Blackrock Mountain.

But there was one Blackrock orc who, in Thrall's view, had redeemed the entire clan.That orc's name is Orgrim Doomhammer.Thrall was buoyed by the idea that perhaps at this point in time when he returned, his mentor and best friend were still alive.The orc, posing as an ordinary traveler, challenged him, stirring his blunt orcish rage...and the joy that Thrall had defeated him.The orc, who taught him the art of orcish warfare, appointed Thrall Warchief of the Horde before his death, gifting the young orc with his famous armor...and the Doomhammer. Orgrim.Suddenly, Thrall longed desperately to see the mighty orc, his friend, once more.And such a thing is possible, right here... right now.

The approaching orc drew a tomahawk. "Who are you?" he asked. "Sar-Sarkash," Thrall said quickly.He cannot claim to be a shaman, not here, not in this age.How could he do that? "A warlock." The guard looked back and forth at him. "And the taste of dressing is unique. Where's your skull and emblazoned robe?" Thrall straightened his body and took a menacing step towards the guard. "The purpose of operating in the shadows is to go unnoticed," he said. "Trust me. Only the insecure need black suits and bones to advertise how dangerous they are. The rest of us know what we can do and don't need to be so boastful."

The guard took a step back, then looked around carefully. "You...were sent to assist us in our upcoming mission?" Thrall didn't like the sharpness in his voice, but he needed to divert the other party's suspicion as soon as possible, so he nodded and replied, "Yes, that's right. Otherwise, why would I be here?" "Send a warlock, strange," said the guard, narrowing his eyes for a moment.Thrall endured the scrutiny until finally the guard shrugged. "Oh, well. My job is not to ask and question, I'm just carrying out my orders. My name is Grukar. I have some business to attend to later. Come with me to the fire by the tent. Today It was cold at night."

Sal nodded. "Thank you, Grukar." Thrall followed Glukar and gradually walked into the hilly area.There stood a small tent dyed red and black.The door curtain was pulled down, and two orcs stood guard on both sides of the door.They looked at Thrall curiously, but since it was obvious that he and Grukar were together, the two quickly lost interest in him. "Wait here for me," Grukar whispered. "I won't go away for too long." Thrall nodded and walked to the bonfire a few steps away.Several other guards crouched there, holding out their hands to the flames.Thrall imitated them, trying not to attract anyone's attention.Then he heard some voices.

Or rather, a voice.Thrall couldn't catch all the words, but Gul'dan was being mentioned.Thrall listened, his eyes narrowed.Gul'dan betrayed the orcs.He allied himself with demons to increase his own power, while forming the Shadow Council to weaken the clans.Worst of all, he persuaded Draenor's highest ranking orcs to drink the blood of demons.For a long time, this stain has been haunting them.Even those orcs who did not drink together found their urge to kill unquenchable, their skin turning green from the daemon's taint.It wasn't until Thrall's friend, Grom Hellscream, finally killed Mannoroth - all tortured by his demonic blood - thus freeing the orcs completely.

But that heroic act took place many years in the future, Thrall knew.In this timeline, Gul'dan's betrayal is still news.And now someone has come to persuade Orgrim Doomhammer to overthrow Gul'dan. Eventually, the horrific stories petered out.For a moment, there was only silence. Then Thrall heard a voice he never thought he could hear again.The voice was younger, higher-pitched than Thrall remembered, but he recognized it immediately, and the throat caught. "I trust you, old friend." Orgrim Doomhammer. "And I promise you, I will not tolerate Gul'dan's plans against our people. We will stand with you against the darkness."

Thrall suddenly thought to himself: Was he born when this conversation took place?Who would have the courage to seek out Doomhammer like this— Then he realized, and the awareness suddenly took his breath away. "One of my personal guards will escort you to a safe place. There is a creek near here, and there is plenty of game in the forest at this time of year, so you won't go hungry. I will represent you as best I can , and when the time is right, you and I will fight side by side to get rid of the traitor Gul'dan together." But that scene didn't happen.What happened was—

The curtain of the tent was drawn.Three orcs showed up, one of them Doomhammer - younger, healthier, stronger, prouder.In his face, Thrall could see the older orc he would one day be.But although just a moment ago he had longed to see Orgrim's face again, now his eyes were on the other two orcs. They were a couple, and the furs on them as they stepped out of the tent seemed too heavy for the climate.Following them was a huge white wolf—a frost wolf, Thrall knew.They held their heads high, the man strong and battle-hardened, the woman a true warrior like her mate. And in her arms, she held a baby. Sal knew the kid. That was him... the orcs standing before him were his parents. He simply stared at each other, with joy, surprise and fear surging in his chest. "Come, Durotan, Draka," said Grukar. "Sarqash and I will escort you to a safe camp." The baby seemed a little disturbed.woman--…… Mother…… ——Looking down at her child, her orc's resolute and proud face softened with love.Then, she turned back to Sal.Their eyes met. "Your eyes are special, Sarkash," she said. "I've only seen blue eyes like this on this little guy before." Thrall wanted to say something, but Grukar suddenly looked at him strangely. "Let's hurry," he said. "I think you can continue discussing eye color after you safely arrive at the new location." Thrall had never felt so lost in his life.Grukar led his parents to exactly where he arrived when he entered this timeline.Thrall followed silently, distracted by the possible consequences. He can save his parents. He could save himself from being captured and raised as a gladiator by the cruel and pathetic Aedelas Blackmoore.He could help them attack Gul'dan, and maybe free them from the demon's curse decades before Hellscream.He can save Theresa. He can save everyone. He spoke to Orgrim Doomhammer about the murder of his family.What came to his mind were the words of that conversation - so long ago now, but still in the future on this timeline. Has my father looked for you?Thrall asked. He did, Orgrim replied.Not having them around is my greatest regret and sadness.I think it's for the sake of my warriors and Durotan.They brought you, young Thrall, and told me of Gul'dan's crimes.I believed them. ... Knowing he was staring at the pair in front of him, Thrall just couldn't stop, or he might stop breathing.He craves this vision - the one he should have grown up with for granted, but which will be taken away forever if he doesn't stop what is soon to happen. They finally noticed.Durotan looked curious but not malicious, and Draka made no secret of his surprise. "You seem interested in us, stranger," she said. "Have you never seen a Frostwolf orc before? Or maybe it was the blue-eyed baby that attracted you?" Sal was still speechless.Durotan avoided his trouble.He had looked around and decided it was a good place, secluded and grassy.He turned to Draka with a smile. "I know my old friend can be trusted. It won't be long—" Then Durotan stopped suddenly, halfway through his sentence.Before Thrall realized what was happening, the chieftain of the Frostwolf clan let out a battle cry and reached for his axe. It happened so fast. There were three men, each charging in a different direction - one towards Durotan, one towards Draka, and one towards the Frostwolf who had already leaped to protect his companion.Thrall resolutely decided to save his family, growled hoarsely, and reached for the Doomhammer. A strong hand gripped his arm, twitching violently. "What are you doing?" the guard growled.He recalled more fragments of his conversation with Doomhammer, and immediately realized two things. I don't know for sure, but I'm convinced that the guards I commissioned to lead Durotan to safety called the killers and killed them. The guard joins the attack.And he assumed Thrall was one of them. The second thing Thrall realized was even worse. He can't prevent what's about to happen - if he wants to preserve the correct timeline. His parents must die.He needs to be found by Blackmoore, and he needs to be trained in battle, only then can he save his people from their internment, only then can he keep the world as he knows it from being destroyed. His steps froze.Thrall was in agony, every muscle in his body urging him to fight, to kill these assassins and save his parents.But this is not possible. Draka had put baby Thrall on the ground and was fighting ferociously to protect her child and herself.She glanced at Thrall, a fleeting glance filled with anger, contempt, and hatred.He knew that he would never forget the sting until he died.Her attention returned to her own struggle, cursing the attacking orcs and Thrall's betrayal.Not far away, Durotan tried to suffocate the man who would kill him, his leg was slashed and blood spurted.A sharp howl came, but it stopped abruptly as the Frostwolf fell to the ground.Draka continued to struggle. And Baby Thrall, lying helpless on the ground as his parents fought, wailed in terror. The feeling that Thrall watched, unable to modify history, made him sick.His dying father regained his strength and broke the neck of his enemy. At that moment, the assassin who killed the Frostwolf turned to Grukar.The traitor was so taken aback by the turn of events that it did not even occur to him to draw his own weapon. "No!" he shouted, surprise and fear in his voice. "No, I'm one of you; they're targets—" A huge two-handed sword sliced ​​across Grukar's neck.The severed head flew up, and the gushing blood splashed densely on Thrall's robe.Now, the assassin turned to Thrall. This is a huge mistake. At least, Thrall could do one thing: self-defense.He will die one day, there is no doubt about it.But not today.Shouting a battle cry, Thrall charged forward, turning his grief, panic, and rage on the offensive, deterring his would-be killer.However, this assassin is very professional, he took it easy.The battle is only close at hand, and the momentum is fierce.Thrall swung, dodged, leaped sideways, kicked.The assassin slashed, howled, and dodged. Thrall's focus was on his own survival, but his heart ached when he heard Durotan's cries of pain, and when he saw Draka's crippled body.The sound didn't weaken Thrall.Instead, he felt rejuvenated and focused.He struck harder, forcing his now terrified foe back, step by step, until he stumbled and fell. Sal followed immediately.He stomped the assassin to the ground and held the Doomhammer high.Just as he was about to crush the orc's head with his mighty weapon, he stopped. He cannot change the timeline.What if this evil creature, for some reason beyond his imagination, needs to survive? Thrall roared, spat in the orc's face, and jumped off him.He stood on the greatsword used by the opponent. "Go," he said, "never, never let me see your face again: do you understand?" The assassin didn't question his good luck, but ran away desperately.Once Thrall was sure the bastard was gone, he turned back to his parents. Draka is dead.Her body was almost hacked into pieces, her face frozen in a scornful snarl.Thrall turned to his father just in time to watch the third assassin brutally cut off Durotan's hands - denying him the ability to hold his son even before he died.Thrall had seen many atrocities, but something so horrific kept him there, unable to move. "Take...the child," Durotan's voice was harsh. The assassin knelt beside him and said, "We will leave this child to the beasts of the forest," growled the assassin. "Maybe you'll see them tear him to pieces." After that, Thrall couldn't remember how he got from here to the other end of the clearing.The next thing he knew, his throat was soothed from his loud cry, and Doomhammer was moving so fast that it left only an afterimage.He let the killer go, too, despite his strong desire from head to toe to tear the bastard to pieces.Thrall knelt on the ground with his hands propped up, he was breathing heavily and crying in pain when he came to his senses. "My child," Durotan whispered. he is alive! Thrall crawled over to the baby and picked him up.He gazed into his own blue eyes and touched his own small face.Then, kneeling beside his father, he rolled over and turned his back on him.Durotan grunted again.Thrall laid the baby on Durotan's chest, the crest of the Frostwolf clan embroidered on his swaddle. "You don't have hands to hold him," Thrall said, his voice hoarse, his blue eyes filled with tears as he watched his old baby cry. "So I put him on your heart." Durotan nodded, his face contorted in pain that Thrall could hardly imagine. "Who are you? You betrayed us...you...let me and my spouse die...but you attacked the people who killed us...." Sal shook his head. "You will not believe me, Durotan, son of Galad. But I beg you... in the name of the ancestors. I beg you to believe this: your son will live." There was hope in those dark eyes. Thrall spoke quickly, before it would be too late. "He'll live and grow strong. He'll remember what it was to be an orc, to be a warrior and a shaman." The breath came fast, too fast, but Durotan, fighting for his life, listened intently. "Our people will recover from the darkness that Gul'dan imposed upon them. We will be healed. We will be a glorious, mighty nation. And your son will know you, and his brave mother, and honor you Name a great land." "How...how could you know...?" Thrall fought back his tears and put a hand on his father's chest, next to the baby version of him.The heartbeat is gradually weakening. "Trust me that I know," Thrall said, his heavy voice trembling with emotion. "Your sacrifice was not for nothing. Your son will live to save his world. That, I promise." The words simply came out of my mouth, and Thrall spoke, realizing that they were all true.He did survive, and he did change his world—freeing his people, fighting demons, and giving orcs a home. "I promise," he repeated. Durotan's face relaxed slightly, the slightest hint of a smile playing on his lips. Sal picked up the baby and held him to his heart for a long time. The baby finally fell asleep.All night Sal held him and rocked him back and forth, his heart and mind full of stuff that was about to explode. It's one thing to hear that his parents died protecting him, but quite another to witness that dedication.A baby who just needs to be fed, who is deeply, truly loved, and doesn't need to do anything.This baby has accomplished nothing.He never saved a life, fought a battle, or defeated a single demon.He is loved just because he is who he is, because of his tears and cries, laughter and smiles. Thrall's desire to save his parents surpassed anything in his life.But the timeline is merciless.What happened must happen, or the envoys of the bronze dragonflight will set things right. Set things right.Let good people, innocent people die; that's called putting things right.It's relentless and destructive.But he understands. He looked up, flinched, not wanting to see his butchered family again—and blinked.Something was reflecting in the water—something golden and scaly— Thrall tried to find the source of the reflection.There is nothing - just big trees, earth and sky.There was no dragon he expected.He stood up with the baby in his arms, and looked into the water again. One big eye looked back at him. "Nozdormu?" The river is too small for a dragon - it must be a reflection - but... A noise came suddenly, interrupting Thrall's concentration.Looks like baby Sal is awake - hungry.Thrall turned his attention to the child, tried to whisper something reassuring, and looked into the water again. The reflection is gone.But Thrall was pretty sure he had seen it before.He looked around.Nothing at all. Human voices broke the silence of the forest. "In the name of the Holy Light, what noise is this!" The voice was full of respectful humility and apology, though the noise Baby Thrall made was not the speaker's fault. "Time to turn around, Lieutenant. A noise like that must scare away any prey worth pursuing." "I've tried to teach you so much, and you haven't grown at all, Tammis? Getting your supper back is as important as getting out of this damned forest. Whatever it is, let it cry if it wants to." Thrall recognized the voice.He had heard it pour out praise.More to hear its loud curses and whispered angry contempt.This man had helped him shape his destiny.This man is the reason he still bears the name of Thrall - a name that just shows everyone that the orcs are no longer slaves. It was the voice of Aedelas Blackmoore. At any moment, Blackmoore and his companion - no doubt Tamis Foxton, Blackmoore's servant, Theresa Foxton's father - could be in the clearing.Blackmoore would find Thrall in his arms and take him for himself.He would raise Thrall and teach him to fight and kill and tactics.Then one day, Thrall would kill him. Thrall gently lowered the baby himself to the ground.The palm rested on the tiny black head for a moment, stroking the unworn swaddling clothes. "What a heartwarming and eerie moment." Thrall turned quickly, grabbed the Doomhammer tightly, stood in front of the baby, and faced the owner of the voice. The mysterious assassin who had attacked him in the Caverns of Time was now standing a few steps away.Thrall thought the Bronze Dragon had dealt with the man, but it now appears that despite Thrall's words of frustration when he fled earlier, he eventually escaped the Bronze Dragon and found a way to this timeline.A road to Thrall. Once again Thrall couldn't escape this subtle sense of familiarity.This armor—this voice— "I know you," he said. "That calls me by name," the voice was low and sweet, with a touch of humor. Thrall growled, "I can't pronounce your name—not yet—but there's something special about you..." "I should thank you, seriously," the assassin continued in a low voice. "My master gave me a mission. Kill the mighty Thrall. You have escaped my fingers once. And you may escape again. But you forgot one... small... thing.  …" For the last three words, the assassin takes a step forward each time he says one.In an instant, Thrall realized what he was referring to.He gripped the Doomhammer tighter, straightening his body.The human figure was large for his race, but that was nowhere near the orcs. "You must not harm the baby!" he yelled. "Oh, I guess I could," said the black-armored figure. "Look... I know who's coming here soon. And you don't want to hurt that person - because that would be as against the timeline as if you let your parents live. You know Edrus Blackmoore will be here, and he will pick up this little green baby and raise him into a gladiator. And in that particular reunion, you definitely don't want to be around at all." The bastard, he was right.Thrall cannot be seen.And he couldn't fight Blackmoore, risking him being wounded, or even killed. Not yet. "So you have to go. But you also need to protect your younger self. Because if my job is to kill you... It's much easier to cut a baby in half than a full-grown orc. Although if I say If not, I have done a lot of the latter. What should I do, what should I do...?" "It can't get away," Blackmoore complained.He came closer, though still a few steps away from the clearing. "It may be a wounded beast, sir, which cannot crawl away," suggested Tammis. "Then let's find it and end our bad encounter." The stranger smiled, and Thrall suddenly realized where he was moving. Thrall chose to lunge silently at the assassin, despite his entire soul's desperate desire to cry out the battle cry.Not with his hammer, but with his strong body.Humans obviously didn't expect such an attack, Thrall had already bumped into him before he could even raise his weapon, and the force caused both of them to fall into the rushing water. "What's that splash?" Edrus Blackmoore took a swig from the bottle. "Perhaps the giant tortoises that live in this area, sir," Tamis said.Already slightly drunk, Blackmoore nodded.His horse, Nightsong, stopped abruptly.Blackmoore looked ahead, there were at least three adult orcs and the corpses of a great white wolf. Something caught his eye, and Blackmoore suddenly grasped what the source of the hideous noise was.It was the ugliest thing he had ever seen... an orc baby, wrapped in a cloth that must have been the creature's swaddle. He jumped off his horse and walked towards it.