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In the blazing waters of Khaz Modan, only the last warship of the Kul Tiran Third Fleet's advance detachment remained, battling fiercely upon the sea.
No one had foreseen that the orcs—invaders from another world who breached the Dark Portal, toppled much of the eastern continent, and destroyed the Kingdom of Stormwind—would choose today to cross the sea and strike at Hillsbrad Hills.
Nor could anyone have anticipated that the orcs would bring forth a red dragon escort, a creature that should have no place in mortal warfare.
Those cursed greenskin destroyers were not as mindless as they appeared.
They had wise men among them, strategists who, at the onset of the attack, played the only war card that could suppress the Kul Tiran fleet.
A dragon!
A creature known only in human myths and legends!
Who could have imagined that these brutish orcs had somehow managed to control one?
"The red dragon is approaching! Take cover! Evade!"
The cry of the navigator on the flagship Intrepid pierced the air in unison with the ringing of the alarm bell.
Yet the sound of heavy objects crashing down from above, mingling with the roar of flames on the water, was more chilling than any bell, instilling sheer terror in every living soul.
Prince Derek Proudmoore, clad in his Kul Tiran naval coat and royal sash, was spattered with blood. At his feet lay the bodies of four orc warriors.
The burning deck of the ship had begun to tilt. Exhausted yet resolute, the prince raised his sword and looked up to see the red dragon circling above, spewing waves of dragonfire that set the aft deck of the Dauntless ablaze.
The creature's immense scales shimmered in the firelight, and its great eyes blazed with chaotic madness, resembling a monster emerging from the depths of hell.
"Vile dragon!"
Amid the chaos, the young prince knew he would not survive the day.
In his wildest imaginings, he had never foreseen that he would perish in such a scene.
Before setting sail, he would never have guessed that a simple transport and patrol mission could end in such a fate.
But as a Proudmoore, even in his final moments, he knew he could not fall as a coward.
He was the son of Admiral Daelin Proudmoore, King of Kul Tiras!
He was the brother of Jaina Proudmoore and Tanred Proudmoore!
He was a prince of Kul Tiras!
He was the commander of this fleet!
And he would die with honor!
In the last moments of his life, the prince was filled with unwavering resolve. He tore off his blood-soaked sash and spat onto the blood-slicked deck.
Then, he seized a silver anchor pendant hanging from his neck and gripped it tightly.
"Orc! Face me! Strike me down!"
The prince looked up, his gaze ablaze with grief and fury. As he let out his final battle cry, the orc knight above caught sight of the tattered royal cloak on Prince Derek's shoulders.
The orc's eyes gleamed with a fierce thrill.
With a primal roar, the hideous orc yanked his reins, guiding the red dragon to spiral down through the air, heading straight for the prince below.
The dragon's mouth brimmed with searing fire.
As it plunged, flames burst forth, scorching heat racing toward the prince's face. The bloodied prince clenched the pendant in his fist, closed his eyes, and let his sword slip from his hand.
"I'm sorry, Father. I have failed you. I will never have the chance to fulfill my mission and return the contaminated sacred vessel to its rightful owners."
"I'm sorry, Mother. I will never return to my hometown. Please, do not weep for me."
"I'm sorry, Anna, Tanred. I can no longer be by your side. My brother must leave the duty of protecting Kul Tiras to you both."
Farewell.
My hometown.
My homeland.
My family.
"Boom!"
The dragonfire struck the deck of the battleship like a mighty war hammer, shattering it into fragments and igniting the ammunition hold. The battleship exploded, scattering debris far and wide.
A blanket of flame spread across the entire sea's surface.
The Orc Dragoon, having slain such an important target, roared with exhilaration. In that moment, he had seized an opportunity to become a hero of the Horde.
He would rise as the tribe's new war star!
He would become a warlord as revered as Grom Hellscream, with his own clan born from this glorious kill!
Amidst the orcs' triumphant roars, he and his red dragon vanished into the horizon.
He would bear this news to the warchief.
The magnanimous Warchief Orgrim Doomhammer would reward him handsomely for his triumph!
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If you enjoy please support me on my patreon Future 80+ chapters at patreon.com/Phoenizbeelze
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