Chapter 574: Chapter 574: The Broken Backbone
One might have expected, at the very least, a skirmish, even if on a smaller scale.
Yet, who could have foreseen that in front of the Alliance leaders and countless soldiers, these fearsome orcs would capitulate so easily?
All it took was a single sentence from Duke, and the fluttering blue Stormwind battle flag behind him.
12,000 orcs surrendered!
Despite their ferocious appearance, their beastly strong muscles, and their weapons capable of slaying powerful creatures, they surrendered just like that?
"No! It shouldn't be like this… It wasn't supposed to be like this…" In the midst of the Alliance forces, a massive figure expressed his disbelief with a quiet sob.
He didn't cry when a hundred thousand orcs were engulfed in flames.
Nor did he cry when another hundred thousand were swallowed by the sea.
He didn't cry through the countless defeats and deaths of hundreds of thousands of his brethren.
Because he knew, no matter how many died, the orcs were still the orcs he knew.
The proud race that, even in the harshest of environments, stood defiant and fierce.
Now, over ten thousand of them had knelt without even battling, bowing heads they had never before lowered.
Is this the orc race I knew?
Are these the same orcs who dared to charge headlong into beings far stronger than themselves, like the Gronn and Ogres?
Even with heavy chains piercing his shoulder blades, even shackled in a massive prison wagon specially designed for him, Orgrim never showed a hint of emotion.
But now, Orgrim let out a cry, almost a scream. He roared in the orcish tongue.
"Stand up! Orcs!"
"Are you still the great orcs I know!?"
"Do you not fear the wrath of our ancestors in the afterlife?"
"Stand up! Orcs—you are not slaves of these foreigners! Stand up—take your weapons and fight! Better to die on your feet than live on your knees!"
Every orc heard the call of their former Warchief.
Some were in pain, some were hesitant, some were lost, but many more were anxious and trembling.
Orgrim forgot that he was yelling as a captive. Had he been the revered Warchief of two weeks ago, every orc would have continued to support him in the face of adversity.
It was an age-old orcish tenet—either you challenge and defeat your chieftain in honorable Mak'gora, becoming the new leader, or you obey in all things, even if it means your death.
Now, even the Warchief was a human captive. What hope did they have?
Orgrim despondently saw countless orcs glance up at him, then lower their heads even further, completely, like true slaves, pressing their foreheads to the dry, hot, red soil.
"No—" Orgrim let out a heart-wrenching scream.
At this moment, he finally understood Duke's sinister intention.
This seemingly frail young human had, in his own way, shattered the spine of the Horde.
And once the spine is broken, the back can never straighten again.
Duke was using this method to destroy the entire Horde. Even if these orcs escaped Alliance control in the future, they would only remember the fear instilled by the Alliance, by Duke. They would live in perpetual terror, never having the confidence or will to oppose the Alliance.
"No…" Orgrim slumped down, murmuring, "It's over. All is lost."
Amidst this despair, Orgrim thought not of himself or the current state of the Horde but of the last glimmer of hope in his heart.
Yes, Thrall!
The bloodline of his dear friend, the former chieftain of the Frostwolf clan, Durotan!
Orgrim had sent emissaries beyond the Dark Portal to the world of Draenor, back to Nagrand. After consulting the great shaman prophet, he learned of the Horde's last hope.
Initially, he didn't understand what the prophet meant by the 'Horde's only hope.' Instinctively, he sent the few remaining Blademasters of the Burning Blade clan to protect his friend's son.
Now, he understood.
Placing hope in an orc baby of less than two years seems ridiculous. Sadly, he realized that this was his only choice.
Only the Frostwolf and Warsong clans, still out there and not completely crushed by the Alliance, could serve as the soul and backbone for a new Horde.
Orgrim's cries gradually faded as he carefully hid his hope. He dared not even look at Duke, fearing this young and terrifying human, who seemed to anticipate everything, would discover his innermost secret.
Later, Lothar, relieved, signaled, and 10,000 Alliance soldiers rushed forward to control the orcs.
No war is without sacrifice, and now that the outcome was clear, every additional Alliance soldier brought home meant another reunited family.
Anduin Lothar deeply understood the balance between sacrifice and the propagation of a race.
Just as Lothar was about to subdue the orcs, Duke gestured to stop him.
"Why?"
Duke calmly stated, "I want to instill an undying fear in the hearts of these orcs. It's far more effective than any shackles or torture."
"Oh?"
Duke turned to the most unique 'king' of the Alliance, the Kirin Tor's leader, Antonidas, with his silver beard flowing in the wind. "Master Antonidas, can the Dark Portal be sealed now?"
Antonidas rode up and dismounted. After extending his magical senses to probe the portal, he wore a troubled expression.
"The energy of the Dark Portal is immense. I fear I might falter if I try alone."
Even though the Dark Portal wasn't in its initial high-energy state, transporting troops from Draenor, it was a creation of demi-gods. One wrong move and it could explode, annihilating all life within several kilometers.
Antonidas thought of Duke.
"Duke, do you remember our cooperation in Alterac?" Antonidas whispered.
He referred to the giant ice tornado that annihilated hundreds of red dragons. That time was arguably their first perfect collaboration. In a way, although Duke couldn't harness such vast magical power, his ability to manipulate magic was superior to even Antonidas.
What Antonidas was suggesting was asking Duke for assistance once again.
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