In the ancient times of that year.
Neltharion was a good youngster, diligently following the orders of the Titans, day after day, guarding the lands of Azeroth. That was until he discovered a prison deep within the earth, imprisoning the Old Gods. And then he was struck.
The Old Gods began to whisper to him, even through the confines of their prison cages, even when he left the prison's vicinity, they continued to whisper.
Whispering to Neltharion with a chain of curses more relentless than Monk Tang from "Journey to the West."
Imagine, anyone subjected to someone continuously whispering "you are a little girl" in their ear for twenty minutes would become mentally dazed. And here it was for an uncountable number of years with high-frequency calling.
Gradually, the Old Gods eroded Neltharion's heart, convincing him that if he destroyed all other races of Azeroth, he could rule the world with his Black Dragonflight, and enslave the Green Dragon Queen Ysera and the Red Dragon Queen Alexstrasza.
Now, Deathwing's amulet had similar brainwashing abilities over Duke.
It was a low-frequency speech, unperceivable by the human auditory system. Though seemingly unheard, the human brain would still respond to the sound.
Seeing the translated Common language in the system prompt, Duke chuckled.
"You—Duke Marcus—are my—great Deathwing's—most loyal servant. My command is the highest meaning of your life. If I command you, even if I want you to kill your closest person, you will do it unconditionally without hesitation! My will is your will. My enemy is your enemy!"
After reading this constantly flashing message in the system prompt, Duke curled his lip: "You should add 'It's not me who's wrong, but the world.'"
"Host, how should we proceed?"
"Continue receiving, but don't block it to avoid the silly dragon discovering it. Automatically delete every thousand same messages. Notify me after filtering any new instructions."
"Understood, Host."
Looking around at the pitch-black darkness, Duke suddenly found himself envying the night vision abilities of the elves.
Walking at night in the primeval forest where you can't see your hand in front of your face is either going to lead you to a ghost or stepping on some nasty snakes and getting bitten.
Duke shivered, abandoning the idea of walking at night. He found a small tree hollow, used the powers of the storm to clean the dirt inside, and, with the help of the system sprite standing guard, fell asleep.
After a night of turmoil, Duke was exhausted.
The next morning, Duke woke up, feeling as though he had aged another year. It was not an illusion; the curse from the Demon King Sargeras was indeed devouring his life force.
Calculating, he had wandered around Lordaeron for a few days, two days on the road, four days in the Wetlands, and three days waiting at Muradin's place. Two weeks had passed in a blink of an eye.
With the countdown of life, he only had two weeks left to live.
"Damn, it's up to Krasus now. If he doesn't pull through, I'll really turn into a Forsaken." Even the perfect Sylvanas didn't dare to face her sister after becoming the Forsaken Queen. If he truly became a Forsaken, Alleria probably wouldn't stand it either.
He needed to hurry.
Who knows what other twists and turns lay ahead?
He tidied himself up.
"Alright, if I don't initiate first contact, Deathwing probably won't trust me. System sprite, begin the isolation procedure."
"As you command."
Softly instructing the system sprite, a thought rose in Duke's mind—how should I get to Grim Batol?
This was an experiment, and Duke knew he was playing with fire. If he was exposed at this time, he was sure to die a death most final. Yet, Duke felt an urge to ride this crazy roller coaster of thrill and risk.
It was like dancing on the blade's edge, walking a tightrope over a sea of flames without a safety net.
Every cell in his body was excited, every inch of flesh seemed to be burning.
"I bet a copper, with Deathwing's cunning and craftiness, even if he leaves, he won't run far. That bastard is definitely hiding nearby, ready to kill me the moment he senses something's wrong," Duke muttered to himself.
While muttering, he couldn't wait to see the effect. In his mind, Duke chose to send the system's prompt 'how should I get to Grim Batol?' from his mental sea.
Almost the instant the thought left his body, Deathwing's amulet responded.
A video file was shoved into the system's isolation zone. Duke didn't know if it was the system sprite's wicked sense of humor, but it made the video into a file, and the filename was even 'Deathwing01.MP4'.
After glancing at it, Duke was exasperated: System, you're so awesome, why didn't you make it a 'M2ST' Blu-ray postscript?
Complaints aside, Duke still opened the video.
In his mental world, Duke had a new window.
What he saw was the forest he was in.
However, this video was entirely three-dimensional. Duke gritted his teeth and let the video directly enter his brain.
Leaving the forest, there was a rocky wasteland, a wilderness path likely trodden by dwarven hunters. Through this path, one could reach Grim Batol, and the mountain where the orcs held the Red Dragon Queen.
Duke quickly figured out his approximate location by looking at the sun's position and the direction of Grim Batol.
Deathwing had taken him far, from the middle of the Wetlands directly to the southeastern mountains, probably between Grim Batol and the Stonewrought Dam.
Not only would this save him several days of travel, but most importantly, this route would perfectly evade the Horde's formation at the foot of Grim Batol Fortress. There were tens of thousands of Horde there. How many exactly was unknown, but one thing was certain—there were more than a few.
Though the mountain path was rugged, he could reach Grim Batol in two or three days if he hurried.
The view jumped, and in the next instant, images of the surroundings of Grim Batol flashed in the video.
Before Duke could react, the picture started moving.
It started slow, then sped up.
Clearly, this bird's-eye view was not human. It was probably recorded by Deathwing using some special aerial filming method.
The picture continued down a small path, swiftly passing through the forest into a rocky area. There, it turned a bend, accelerating forward. Cliffs and valleys sped by, trees becoming a blur.