Azeroth Monster Manual

“Lord Ayr, are you really not going to reconsider?”

Romans gesticulated wildly, expounding his views.

“There’s no need, Grand Magus, I know what I’m doing.”

Ayr didn't turn his head, simply tossing out this sentence before quickening his pace again.

“But, I think you’d be better off listening to my advice.”

Romans jogged forward a few steps, blocking the group’s path with a serious expression.

“Grand Magus, since that’s the case, allow me to offer you some life advice as well.”

Romans breathed a sigh of relief when the young man stopped. The young man's decision was too risky. Everyone was in the same boat, and the victory of this competition could even be said to be related to his future and destiny, which made him even more cautious.

The young man smiled playfully, then said:

“My life advice to you is: don't give advice to others casually.”

After speaking, the young man bypassed the Grand Magus and continued forward, not caring what he thought. Hermit even turned back to give Romans a thumbs-down.

The group strode away, quickly disappearing from sight, leaving a bewildered Romans a mess in the wind.

… …

“Speaker Antonidas, please allow me to participate in this 3V3 arena match.”

Modera followed behind Antonidas, speaking while keeping a close eye on the figure shrouded in black robes.

“Your strength and experience are insufficient to cope with this competition. Although the magical talent of the Quel'dorei is inferior to us humans, their lifespans are very long, and their combat experience is frighteningly rich.”

“But that Phoenix Flame…”

Antonidas stopped, looking at his loyal supporter with disappointment.

“Fool, that elf named Quenthus is only 300 years old. His age is only that of a newly-adult child among elves.

You and he are merely flowers in a greenhouse, with similar strength. Do you want to end up like him?”

“S-Sorry, Speaker Antonidas, but that…”

“Alright, Modera, I know what I’m doing. This competition concerns the future of Dalaran, we must win.”

Krasus closed his eyes slightly, seemingly contemplating something.

But the hunched figure shrouded in black robes emitted a strange laugh, which made the already-anxious female mage even more nervous.

“Relax, little girl, our Speaker is always like this. He is so aloof, so wise, so…”

“Shut up, Kima, if you still want to return to that filthy, stinking cage.”

“Alright, alright, your majesty must not be offended.”

The black-robed mysterious man exaggeratedly raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, but a series of bizarre, meaningless laughter came from his mouth.

“Speaker, he…”

Nielas Aran hesitated, opening his mouth. Although Antonidas had already given him the bottom line, he had to ask about the fate of the Kingdom of Azeroth.

“No need to ask more, act according to the plan.”

Antonidas flicked his sleeve and strode away. Modera and Aran exchanged glances, then looked at the black-robed man together.

“Let's go, you two little ones, don't keep our Speaker waiting.”

Although the black-robed man was hunched over, he was extremely tall, and his legs were frighteningly long. In a few steps, he caught up with Antonidas, who was walking in the front.

“Mr. Krasus, us?”

Aran looked at the two departing figures, and could only helplessly turn to the elf who was closing his eyes to rest.

“Let’s go.”

The elven mage sighed and slowly walked towards the arena.

… …

Ayr stood in the Arena of Wills. The sewage pipes in the middle that spurted dirty liquid from time to time, the two diagonally opposite piles of towering, low-quality wooden boxes, and the dense crowd of spectators overhead gave him a dreamlike feeling.

Ayr opened his arms, ignoring the mocking, excited, or surprised gazes of the three people opposite him, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

“This can be considered fulfilling a dream, right?”

Smiling silently, Ayr's eyes became sharp.

The voice of the host, Edman, sounded at the right time.

“Good evening, everyone! Of course, this charming night is another sleepless night. Are you ready?”

The audience burst into enthusiastic cheers, and the whole place was heated up by Edman's words.

“Without further ado, let us first introduce the blue team's contestants. First, the Chief Court Mage from Stormwind City, Lord Nielas Aran!”

Nielas waved shyly, and sparse applause rang out from the audience.

“Next is a member of the Kirin Tor Six-Man Council, Lord Krasus.”

“Wow…”

The crowd suddenly burst into curious inquiries. An elf actually represents the Dalaran Kirin Tor Council?

The Quel'dorei in the VIP seats were cursing repeatedly, condemning Krasus's 'traitorous behavior.' Only Kael'thas and Romans revealed strange expressions.

“Hey, long ears, is that elf a spy you planted beside Antonidas?”

Hermit playfully nudged Romans' shoulder. Romans took two steps back slightly and cautiously said:

“I have lived in Quel'Thalas for 1500 years, but that elf…”

“That elf is not from Quel'Thalas. His identity is very suspicious. I once asked my father, but he was tight-lipped about Krasus and didn't explain anything to me.”

Kael'thas took over Romans' words, saying with a solemn expression.

“Maybe that guy is a descendant of an elven adventurer who wandered outside.”

Hermit said nonchalantly, but it didn't earn Kael'thas and Romans' approval.

“No, his age is even older than my father, at least over 4000 years old, even tracing back to the era of King Dath'Remar. And the lifespan of us Quel'dorei is only around 3000 years… Instructor Ayr is being too confident.”

Kael'thas's two long golden eyebrows trembled slightly. His brow was furrowed, with a worried expression.

“Don't worry, Lord Ayr won't lose.”

Hermit stood up and patted the prince's shoulder, saying with a confident expression.

… …

“And one more is… from… from…”

The host, Edman, stared at the script in his hand with disbelief, unable to speak.

The audience originally looked at the host expectantly, waiting for him to introduce the next contestant, but a long time passed, and they didn't wait for Edman's explanation. The crowd began to whisper, and the entire arena became exceptionally noisy.

Edman looked at Antonidas in the VIP seat for help, but received the Speaker's approval.

Edman had to continue stammering:

“The next blue team contestant is the Magister Kima from the Hinterlands' Revantusk Tribe, the savage Kima!”

The black-robed man in the arena playfully took off his wide robe, revealing his tall, but hunched over, body. Two sharp fangs flashing with cold light were exposed in front of everyone. His face was somewhat ferocious, one eye was gouged out, and the other eye flashed with vicious, sinister light from time to time.

This troll didn't wear strange tribal leather armor like his tribesmen, but instead wore a cruel gladiator's robe, which made Ayr click his tongue.

‘When did the three stooges of the Horde get this treatment? The Kirin Tor is really rich and generous.’

Ayr stroked his chin, complaining in his heart.

“I never thought that one day, Kima would be able to stand under the spotlight. This feeling… is really great!”

The troll took a deep breath in ecstasy, stretching his body wantonly.

“Bang!”

Kael'thas angrily smashed the teacup in his hand, and the elves beside him were all whispering in disbelief.

“Why? Why would Antonidas allow those disgusting beasts to participate?”

The prince roared angrily. Looking at the audience, the pot had already exploded. Some irritable adventurers couldn't help but throw the garbage they had prepared at the troll below.

Trolls, an ancient and powerful race. The history of trolls can be traced back tens of thousands of years, and they are the native species of Azeroth.

The nature-worshipping Kaldorei, the magic-believing Quel'dorei, and other elven branches forgotten by history are all close relatives of the trolls, or rather, their ancestors all came from trolls.

Of course, the Quel'dorei and the Kaldorei far away in Kalimdor would not admit it. How could the dirty and barbaric trolls be the ancestors of the great Children of the Stars and the noble Children of the Sun?

The trolls had an extremely glorious history 16,000 years ago. It could even be said that the entire Azeroth was covered with trolls, but with the passage of history and the century-long war with the Aqir, the troll empire was severely damaged.

Until the explosion of the Well of Eternity ten thousand years ago, the continent split into several pieces. The trolls, who originally possessed extremely high civilization and wisdom, were also torn apart and scattered all over the world. Only the great troll empire of Zandalar was missing.

The trolls, who lost their civilization, became barbaric and bloodthirsty. They began to sacrifice innocent lives, even their own tribesmen, to the Loa gods they originally worshiped. Due to the large size and high fertility of the troll tribes, and their barbaric, strange living sacrifices and cannibalistic traditions, their neighbors were troubled.

Dwarves, gnomes, humans, and the Quel'dorei, who have a deep blood feud with the trolls.

People angrily threw garbage at Kima, venting the anger in their hearts. They and their ancestors had more or less hatred with the trolls. In contrast, Kima opened his arms with a look of enjoyment, as if a triumphant hero, enjoying the cheers and praise of the crowd.

“A three-system magister, a mysterious troll mage, and…”

Ayr didn't look at the fanatical Aran and the eccentric troll. His gaze never left the figure of one person.

“And a young red dragon, it's getting more and more interesting.”

Licking his lips, Ayr felt his blood was about to boil.

PS: The history of the trolls is too long. If the relationship between the trolls and the elves is discussed, it is estimated that the entire length will be water. Let me briefly describe it.