บท 1: Unfamiliar yet Familiar World

"When the sun rests, and the world is dark, and the great fires are lit, and the ale is poured into flagons, then it is time to sing sagas as the Dwarfs do. And the greatest saga is the saga of Sigmar, the mightiest warrior. Harken now, hear these words, and live in hope."

—Excerpt from the Legend of Sigmar "Heldenhammer" Hinderstern, The Orcbane, The Demonslayer, The Justiciar and Master of Holy Thunder, The Hero of Great Wars, Hero of Stormwind, Protector of the Azeroth, Hierarch of the Holy Stormcast Templar Order and Founder of Covenant

***

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"Sigmar, Sigmar, Oh, great hero, it is time to wake up... The Light is illuminating the way and the Arcane is uncovering the secrets of the path... come and wake up, my Champion."

Those were the only words that I heard as I opened my eyes. The voice was so soft and so... calming?

It was for sure that nothing brought me greatest comfort than hearing that female voice.

Before my eyes, there was no familiar sight of the roof, but instead of a forest?

I also felt different; even though I had just woken up, I was stronger, much stronger... it was rather an indescribable feeling, as I felt some kind of energy flowing through my veins, through every single part of my body.

So either someone dropped me during the time I slept, or I died in the sleep. After several seconds, I realized another thing that came up to me like a thunder from a clear sky, which was that my body was bigger, more muscular, and stronger just from the look.

But my memory was also blurry...

Like something was mixed within it; there were images of wars, rivers of blood, and fields of death and destruction. The images were rather vivid, very lively and very, very real. The images of the endless wars against the spawns of the chaos and countless other scourges of the sentient species of the world.

They were filled with unnamed amounts of carnage and slaughter, mostly the enemies of the figure that was prominent within them, but as well as countless human warriors and knights and something that appeared to be dwarves that were fighting alongside the humans against the dangers of the old world.

As I turned around my head, there was something there... it was a weapon that appeared to be a warhammer. The exactly the same warhammer as the one from my visions in the memories, covered by gold, made from the metal found in the heart of the shattered world and from the flames of the dying skies.

The ruby gym was shining with ominous light as a warning to anyone who would dare to stand in between the warhammer and its target. On the other side of the warhammer, even creepier, as the skull was engraved there on the cross, overseeing everything that was happening.

It was Ghal Maraz...

I instinctively knew the name and the images of a man in runic golden armor wielding the Warhammer, standing in front of hordes of green-skinned monsters and slaying them in hundreds and hundreds.

Around them were thousands of warriors and knights, each cheering his name, saying it with fervent zeal. All of them were chanting the name, the name that was apparently now mine according to the voice that I heard...

Sigmar.

It seemed that it was also my name right now?

Who was I?

I was thinking that it should be my parallel life... perhaps the two versions of me have merged together, resulting in me in this new world.

I stood up, with my right hand going instinctively for the Ghal Maraz, and gripped it in a way that was too familiar. Like I was doing it for my whole life, even though in my first life, I never did even once touch a weapon.

Yet the sense of family and the comfortable feeling of wearing the golden runic armor was indeed undeniable.

"I should probably find where I am... and lately... who I am..."

Standing up, I noticed that even though the armor that I wore looked rather bulky, it was very easy to wear; most probably had something to do with the fact that this body was much stronger because when I picked up Ghal Maraz, I was sure that it weighed more than at least one hundred kilograms, but I was able to lift it with ease.

It felt...

Just right?

That would be the correct word for the feeling that I was feeling right now when I was holding the warhammer.

Everything was like it should be.

***

The man strode through the swampy area of the place where he arrived. He had long blonde hair tied into a braid and a blonde beard around his face, giving him the ruffed look of a warrior.

It was undeniable that he had a certain appearance of a warrior.

He was walking through this place for several hours already, trying to find an entrance or exit from the place, but it was futile to no way. This sawmp seemed to be almost endless as from the start, from the moment he woke up, something wasn't sitting right with him.

He was in a place that seemed to be rather stagnant?

The ocean seeped into the fen, making the water brackish and ideal for alligators and crocolisks. Salt deposits encrust fallen logs and protruding rocks.

Sigmar looked around the place, as it seemed rather familiar to him, but now was not the time to be marveling at the place where he was because all of his senses were screaming at him that he was being watched.

"Lok'Tar Ogar!"

Out of nowhere, suddenly, a war cry sounded that told Sigmar everything that he needed to know where he was right now being located.

After the shout was heard through the forest, several muscular, around something above 2 meters tall armored figures appeared from the swamps and rushed toward Sigmar. The creatures had green skin and huge tusks from their mouths as they rushed towards him with a roar.

Sigmar immediately did the same thing; as he gripped the Ghal Maraz, he appeared in front of one of the creatures and smashed its head with the blunt side of the Warhammer in full force.

In a split of a second, one of the green skin was killed as Sigmar realized what they were...

Orcs.

Pretty similar to the creatures that he saw in his memories that he still hadn't decided yet if they were really his or not.

As the corpse of the orc dropped to the ground, the other three orcs that came together with him gave Sigmar a roar as they rushed toward him with their axes ready. He noticed that they barely wore any armors, aside from some ramshacked parts that were made from crude metalwork and leather parts.

The orc warrior that was nearest to him, hacked toward him with a huge waraxe as Sigmar dodged to the side and immediately swung the Ghal Maraz, stabbing the orc with the sharp, pointy side of the Warhammer the orc straight into the area around the heart.

As the orc warrior gurgled some blood, as Sigmar most probably hit the heart, the new transmigrator drew out his warhammer and attacked another of the orcs. This time, he struck the orc to his unprotected stomach with full force; as the orc faltered a little, afterward, almost instantly, he smashed his skull with the Ghal Maraz.

The remaining orc warrior, seeing that all other three orcs that came with him were dead, charged at Sigmar with a roar, Sigmar turned around and hit the orc with his warhammer to his stomach, sending the green creature flying into the nearby trees.

To his surprise, the enemy was still alive, showcasing the somewhat unnatural durability and tenacity of the orc, but unfortunately, it didn't last long, as the last thing that the orc warrior saw was the warhammer falling on his head.

"They were certainly strong... their physical strength alone should be several times around the best strongman of Earth if I were to compare it to it. But... at least now I know that I am on Azeroth and with my luck, it would be the game version."

The orcs he fought were strong, be it physically or mentally, and they were skilled warriors, but Sigmar Heldenhammer was more; he was the bane of the Goblins and Orks of the Old World, unified of the barbarian tribes and Warrior Emperor of The Empire.

Some petty orcs were for sure not his match.

From the memories that belonged to the Jonathan Smith of 21st Century Earth, he knew that from a certain point of view, being in the Cinematic Version of the World of Warcraft would be safer?

The power level was too low there.

But in the Game Universe?

Beings that could tank through entire mountains and Mages that were able to destroy entire nations were probably the least of the possible problems.

Azeroth, for sure, for all of its splendor and beauty, for all of its wonders and endless possibilities, was, in the end, a literal death world. From the Orkish Invasion through the Dark Portal and the monstrosities that they brought with them to the ever-present threat of the Burning Legion that was threatening to destroy everything in order to fulfill the goals of the Dark Titan, then there was Scourge and its Lich King and the last threat...

The Old Gods and even more enigmatic Void Lords were dwelling within the shadows of the Great Dark Beyond. But apparently, now he had the skill set of the Sigmar Heldenhammer, or it would be more precise, he was Sigmar Heldenhammer, or Sigmar Heldenhammer was him?

The topic of his identity was something that he needed to decide, but for the time being, he needed to continue his journey.

Now that he confirmed his location, he knew that he was in the Azeroth.

At the same time, he semi-confirmed the timeline, as this should be somewhere around after the Dark Portal was opened, and if he had to guess, based on his own experiences with the Orks of the Old World, then this should be before the Horde launched an attack on the Stormwind.

So right now, they were just arriving in a greater number in the Black Morass.

Jonathan Smith was someone who was well versed in the lore of the World of Warcraft, it seemed, and other "franchises," while the other part of the new him was well versed in waging war and the art of killing.

In the lore of World of Warcraft, it wasn't specified when exactly the Horde arrived at the Azeroth and how long it took for Stormwind to send there their Knights to scout the area and confirm the rumors about something being there.

If he had to guess, then he had several months before that time.

Finding his way around the Black Morass won't be an easy thing, considering the fact that his head was still hurting like hell and his memories of two lifetimes, two personalities, and everything that was taking place within his mind.

So, for now, he decided to find some safe place to rest, which would be rather hard, as the whole Black Morass was most likely swarming with the Orcs and Horde. Still, he was very confident in his strength and his capability to handle the orcs when they came.

As long as there wasn't a very large number of them, Sigmar believed that he would be okey, or as long as they didn't bring with them Ogres, Warlocks, Death Knights, or anything that was vastly bigger than him right now.

He needed time to make everything stable within his mind, and after that was done, he planned to search his way out of the Black Morass, and hopefully, within a few weeks, he would be able to find his way to the Stormwind.

Preferably with some heads of the orcs as proof.

That would be the most welcomed.