When a person is about to die, whether it is a great ruler or a humble commoner, he will always take some time to recall his life, whether it is impassioned or plain, but it is a life that he has experienced, and it is a life that cannot be abandoned.

That is the proof that a person, a life, lives in the world.

At the moment when the dawn of Mount Hyjal was approaching, against the backdrop of the night, the grom with a tomahawk. Hell Roar stood in front of his son, and he scrutinized Garrosh's face, which was covered in ash and blood, and Grom seemed to see his younger self.

The self who led his people to hunt freely and gallop freely on the Nagrand steppes, the young man who longed for glory and war, who longed to prove himself, the tyrant and thug who finally got lost in the war, and finally lost everything, even lost himself.

The first half of my life was really sinful.

"My son..."

Grom spoke, and he said:

"When I was young, I did a lot of wrong things, when I was crazy about strength and strength, I despised all weakness, your mother, she was seriously injured on a certain hunt, she begged me for help, but I laughed at her, I laughed at her for being a weak person, and when she was dying, I helped her to understand the pain with my own hands, and I thought it was a relief."

"But no, my son."

This past had been hidden in Grom's mind until today, and he had told Garrosh about it in this moment of separation, while the young orc had his head bowed, not knowing how to respond to his father, but Garrosh could feel that this was probably the last time he and his father would talk.

"This is the reason why I alienated you, and why I despised you, when you were first picked up by old Nazgorin, Azeroth..."

Grom smiled:

"I don't dare to face you, son, when I see your eyes again, I will always think of the poor woman who was abandoned by me, I used to think that I would not be bound by feelings, but in fact, it was the one thing I regret the most in my life... I gave up on my family. ”

"Don't say it..."

Garrosh clenched his fists, and he whispered:

"Don't talk about it, father, we still have a lot of time in the future..."

"No, son, there's no time."

Grom interrupted Garrosh's self-consolation, he stretched out his hand and patted his son on the shoulder, and at this moment Grom was not like the strong chief, but like a real father, a kind father, a man who had let go of all his past, and he said to his son:

"I know you had a hard time when you were a child with the Gaiaan Patriarch, because of the evil things I did, I took the lead in drinking the blood of demons, and let the evil force sweep through the entire orc tribe, and the source of this disaster is not only Malones, but also me... I know that the other children are disgusted with you and ostracize you because your father is a butcher, a villain, a man who brought disaster and war. ”

"I am indeed such a person, but I'm sorry, son, I let you carry those heavy things for me."

"No, father!"

Garrosh looked up, tears welled up in the eyes of this brave and reckless young man for the first time, probably the first time Garrosh had shed a tear, even when he was on the verge of death in the battle of Northrend.

But at this moment, Garrosh no longer concealed his inner emotions, he grabbed Grom's cold and cold wrist, and he pleaded and said:

"No, you are the best father in the world, you are strict with me, prompting me to embark on the path of a true warrior, father, you are a real hero, you put an end to all this, no one can denigrate this! I've confirmed that you're my hero, and I want to be like you, father... I need your guidance in my life. ”

"Don't leave me! Don't give up on me! ”

"Wow"

The heavy tomahawk blood roar was grasped by Grom, and he held the tomahawk in both hands, the inheritance of the Warsong Clan, the hand of the chief, and he handed it to Garrosh, whose face was full of tears, and a trace of pride flashed in Grom's eyes:

"Don't try to be me, Garrosh."

"To be a better person than me... A Warsong Chieftain worth following. ”

"My son, Garrosh. Hell roars, and today, in the name of Warsong Chieftain, I announce... You will take over the power and mission from me, and you will be the next Warsong Chief! ”

Grom looked at his son, and he whispered:

"Take it, Garrosh."

"I will watch you in hell, my son, the story of the hell roar of the old era will end here, and the legendary life of the hell roar that belongs to the new era will also begin here, use your future legend to glorify me..."

—————————————————

While the family legacy of Hellroar is underway, on the other side of the battlefield, Kilrog. Death-Eye sat on the already cold head of Malone, his only remaining eye watching the darkness drifting in the sky, the deepest darkness before dawn, the blood-ringed orc who had seen his own vision of death silently awaited the end of his life.

Behind him, Jorin. Dead Eyes quietly accompanies his father.

As a member of the Blood Ring Clan, Yolin knew since he was a child that death could never be avoided in a person's life, and everyone would welcome death, so for the fact that his father would always die, Jolin had been mentally prepared for a long time, and like other members of the Blood Ring Clan, he did not think it was a miserable parting.

Singing the praises of death, praising death, that's the tradition of the Blood Ring Clan.

"Jorin..."

Compared to the Hellroar father and son, the communication between the Dead-Eyed father and son was much easier, and Kilrog played with the hunting stick in his hand that had been reshaped by the black fire of death, and he turned his head to look at his son:

"I'm going to die, you little, don't you have anything to say to me?"

"If you really need a blessing, then, I would say, I wish you a safe journey."

Jorin shrugged his shoulders, and the young orc said to his father:

"You've been telling me since I was a kid that death is inevitable, and that every bloodring orc should learn to laugh at death, shouldn't they?"

"Yes, that's right, that's what I taught you."

Kirrog shrugged his shoulders, the old orc seemed to be very open, he moved his ten fingers, closed his eyes, leaned against the head of Maloneos behind him, and he whispered as if remembering the past:

"When I was younger, Jorin, in the Bloodring Caverns of the Hellfire Peninsula, like my ancestors, I performed the Dead Eye Ritual, sacrificed one of my eyes, and saw visions of my death... But you know what? The illusion was wrong, or rather, it should have happened, but it didn't..."

"I should have died in the torn apocalypse of the collapsed world of Draenor, silently, dead with no bones left, but I didn't... I waited for that death to come, but no... It seemed to forget about me and kept me alive until now, and eventually, it found me, in such a form, that it reminded me, hey, bastard, it's time for you to come back. ”

The old chief said in a relaxed tone:

"You know what? Compared to others, my life is already very complete, at least when I die, I will no longer be alone, and you little cub will be with me. ”

As he spoke, Kilrog turned his head to look at his son, and a complicated glint flashed in his one eye:

"But my son, you have to remember... Death, which is no longer death, has been given some kind of deeper definition, not to be hostile to it, especially in this world. ”

"Father!"

In the end, Jolin was not as calm as he appeared, and under his robes, his two fists were clenched tightly, and he said in a trembling tone:

"While I was performing the Dead Eye ritual... I saw something special, and in that vision, I saw me standing with you, in a huge and gorgeous palace like a god's palace, and we were sitting with so many other people drinking wine... I've seen a lot of people, Saar, Garrosh, even the human King Varian, the Draenei..."

"That vision... What does that illusion of death represent? ”

"Hmm..."

Kilrog looked at his son with a playful gaze, and he whispered:

"It was a blessing, a blessing of death... You just need to know that it is a future, there is no need to resist it, it will come naturally..."

With that, a pulsing black flame burst into flames on Kilrog's hunting stick, reshaping the sturdy weapon, and under the gaze of Death-Eye, a skeletal staff made of animal bones appeared in his hand, which he threw to his son:

"The Blood Ring Clan is yours, little cub."

"Now, get out! Don't bother me, let me experience the tranquility of this death coming. ”

————————————————

"It's a good fit for you, Sal."

The Great Chief Orgrim looked at Thrall leaning on the stone in front of him with a scrutinizing gaze, the death sage Drektar was using a special way to mobilize the power of the elements to heal Thrall's seriously injured body, after embracing death, Drektar's way of using the elements became more "rough", he no longer called and pleaded for the power of the elements, on the contrary, he controlled it, like... Elemental tyrants the same.

"But it's yours, Grand Chief."

Thrall struggled to hand the black hammer in his hand to Orgrim, and he looked at the Great Chief with his blue eyes:

"The Hammer of Doom is your family heirloom, and it is the symbol of the Great Chief of the Orc Tribe, and I am not qualified to hold it."

Orgrim stared at the hammer that Thrall handed over, and he shrugged:

"And who do you think I should give it to? Garrosh? That irascible little bastard might not take 5 years to bury the tribe we've tried so hard to build in the war, Dranosh? There is something hidden inside that kid, Sal, you know better than I do, he has a knot in his heart, and he can't really reassure me until this knot is opened. ”

"Jorin is a blood-ring orc, and the blood-ring orc has a worship and thirst for death in his bones, and he is also unfit to be the leader of the tribe... Lexa is too withdrawn, Brooks is too old, who else can I rely on? ”

The Great Chief patted Sal on the shoulder:

"It's just you, Sal."

"But..."

"No, I know what you're going to say, and I know what you're trying to say."

Orgrim interrupted Thrall's rebuttal, and he reached out and pressed his hand against the cold surface of the Hammer of Doom, then placed the hammer in Thrall's arms, and said:

"You would say that your soul doesn't look like a real orc... But what does it matter? Thrall... No one cares what your soul is, they only see your appearance, their steady style, your wise thinking, their excellent vision of the big picture, you are qualified, son, all the chiefs are happy with you, not to mention... We old men owe your father a favor. ”

"If Durotan hadn't died, he would have been the best and best chief of the new tribe, but alas, my brother died early in the war, but fortunately, he left a legacy of his own."

Orgrim looked into Sal's eyes:

"You have to be clear, Sal, don't take the power of the Great Chief as a gift, as a good thing."

"What I give you is a difficult responsibility, a heavy mission, the orcs and humans signed a peace agreement, which is good, but the rift between the orcs and the elves has appeared, and you need to spend a lot of energy and time to mend it... Of course, you can also resort to war, which is also a way to solve it, and after the demon war, the elven civilization in the weakened period, perhaps defeated by the combined attack of humans and orcs. ”

"But, is that really what we want to see?"

The Great Chief shook his head, and he looked back at the dancing light in the distant sky, and he whispered:

"Sal... Carry on with the tribe, but you must always be vigilant of this world, the outer veil of this world is being lifted little by little, and a real, more cruel world will appear before you..."

"I know you're going to make the right choice, you've always been..."

Behind Thrall, Elder Drektar's palm tapped his shoulder, and the always wise old orc whispered:

"The bells of the old times have sounded, Thrall, after the humans, the old guys in the orc civilization are leaving, then the Night Elves, then the Draenei... A will that hangs high above the world to see a new world stronger and more united is not a desire, but a demand, a compulsion, a pressure..."

In the dawn light, Orgrim's black armor began to flutter like burning ashes, as did the other chieftains, who were leaving, having fulfilled their last mission, and who had sacrificed their lives to win the last time for the new generation.

"Don't let him down, Sal."

Orgrim took a step back, and in the halo of dawn, he opened his arms, as if to embrace the sun, and in this dawn, the civilization of the orcs slowly turned a new page, and between the ashes and the light, the deep voice sounded in the ears of all the young people, like a farewell:

"Young people, don't... We were disappointed..."