The frail and elderly Arthas, leaning on his cane, approached Frostmourne.
With dim, bleary eyes, it took him a while to find Frostmourne. His wrinkled hands stroked the blade of Frostmourne, and he said with satisfaction:
"Frostmourne, my little darling, I know you're hungry, you'll soon have a good meal."
Arthas's hands trembled as he pulled a black cloth bag from his robes, from which he poured out a shimmering powdery substance, which floated onto Frostmourne.
Frostmourne trembled slightly, emitting a cheerful hum, as if it were feeding.
"This is the refined Soul Essence, likely a product of the Forge of Souls." Sylvanas immediately recognized the origin of the powdered substance.
Then, Arthas went to the mirror where the Emissary was imprisoned:
"Lorne, you are the Primordial Emissary. No one understands the mysteries of the Moon Goddess better than you. Tell me, why have I become like this? Why? Why is this happening?"
The image of Human Veteran appears in the mirror:
"Don't you understand, Arthas? Orcs are the children of Elune. All who dare to oppose Orcs will be destroyed, including you. Do you think that controlling the Scourge gives you the power to oppose the Orcs? Look at your aged appearance; this is the consequence of your opposition to the Orcs. All races of Azeroth are only fit to be food for the Orcs. This is destiny."
Arthas said coldly:
"I do not believe in Destiny; I will fight against Destiny. The Forge of Souls is grinding the souls of the Orcs. Once I have enough Soul Essence, I will temporarily regain my former strength. At that time, all the Orcs will die. I will hang Thrall at the gates of Icecrown Citadel, and Thrall's henchman Jaina, and Sylvanas who betrayed me—they will all get their comeuppance."
Jaina and Sylvanas were filled with unease, sensing Arthas's determination for revenge.
The two women simultaneously understood something. No wonder the Scourge had suddenly attacked several Orcs armies in Northrend a few days ago and took away all the corpses; it turned out they were doing this to grind up the souls.
The Human Veteran laughed heartily:
"Indeed, Arthas, you've found a solution, but the Orcs Soul Essence can only temporarily alleviate your aging, not completely reverse it. Your aging has caused the strength of all the Scourge's high-ranking generals to decline. As long as the Alliance and the Horde unite, you're finished."
Arthas also sneered:
"Emissary Lorne, you have no idea about the Alliance and the Horde. Thrall is cunning and treacherous, Sylvanas only cares about the Forsaken, Tirion Fordring is a hypocritical Imp, Jaina is far too clever. Only King Varian is a complete fool; Kingdom of Stormwind has been nearly destroyed by his schemes. Bolvar is more than enough to stop him. The Alliance and the Horde cannot unite; I will defeat them one by one."
The two women hiding in the corner nodded in agreement. Arthas was absolutely right. If the Alliance and the Horde united, the best outcome would be for the Alliance to Charge while the Orcs devoured the flesh of the Alliance soldiers from behind.
The Human Veteran glared at Arthas with resentment and cursed:
"Your triumph will not last forever. Only the Orcs will ultimately prevail; it is destined. The great Orcs are the masters of Azeroth."
Arthas, adjusting his cane, sneered, "Emissary Lorne, you've got a lot to say today. What, you still won't tell me the way to completely solve the problem of aging?"
The Human Veteran shook his head and said, "This is Azeroth rejecting you. You are going against the will of heaven. Apart from using Orcs Soul Essence to alleviate the symptoms, there is no way to cure it."
Arthas looked at him with suspicion. "Don't try to fool me. It seems I haven't tormented you enough. You'll soon give in."
Black Flames appeared in the mirror, scorching the soul of the Human Veteran. The Human Veteran looked to be in great pain, but he endured it without making a sound.
Arthas showed admiration and nodded, saying, "As expected of Primordial Emissary, but I have many more tricks up my sleeve, Frostmourne."
Frostmourne flew up and landed in Arthas's hand. Countless souls flew out of the sword, entered the mirror, and tore at the souls of the Human Veterans.
The Veteran finally couldn't hold on any longer, clutching his head and kneeling on the ground, letting out a painful scream.
Even the Primordial Emissary could not withstand the agony of being torn apart by ten thousand souls.
Arthas seemed quite satisfied after tormenting the Human Veterans.
The door opened, and Kel'Thuzad, dressed in a black robe, strode in, looking exhausted, and said to Arthas:
"I'm sorry, Prince Highness, we have failed again."
Arthas said in a deep voice, "No surprises, Kel'Thuzad. Do you intend for me to grow old like this forever, and for you to be powerless to stop it?"
Kel'Thuzad stood cautiously to the side and whispered:
"Prince Highness, the Scourge's strength is limited by your own. Due to your aging, the strength of your generals has been Pain Suppression, and the Scourge's overall strength is less than one percent of its peak. This cannot continue."
Arthas tapped his cane on the ground. "Are you going to try to persuade me to abdicate again?"
Kel'Thuzad whispered, "Prince Highness, only a new Lich King can restore the Scourge to its former strength and allow it to sweep across Azeroth."
Jaina and Sylvanas were both taken aback. It turned out that the Scourge's overall strength had been severely weakened simply because Arthas was getting old.
Arthas stubbornly shook his head, like those power-hungry old men:
"That's impossible, Kel'Thuzad. I created the Scourge, and even if it's destroyed, it will be destroyed by my own hands. No one can take the Scourge from me."
Both women felt the same way after hearing this.
If we put ourselves in their shoes, they would have done the same. For example, Jaina would never give up the leadership of Theramore, Sylvanas would rather die than not become the Queen of the Forsaken.
Kel'Thuzad looked disappointed.
"Prince Highness, please reconsider! Doing this will only lead the Scourge to its doom. If the Alliance and the Horde unite, we're finished. With your remaining strength, how many Scourge soldiers can you mobilize? Fifty thousand or a hundred thousand? Have you forgotten the hatred for Lordaeron?"
Arthas remained silent, sitting listlessly in a chair to the side. His aged body caused him to breathe heavily, and it took him a long time to calm down.
"Go down, Kel'Thuzad, allow me to think this over carefully."
The two women who were eavesdropping felt a chill run down their spines. If Arthas really relinquished the Lich King's throne and the Scourge regained its strength, Orgrimmar, Undercity, Theramore would likely all be doomed, all depending on Arthas's decision.
Time is of the essence; action must be taken before Arthas gives up.
Kel'Thuzad sighed, shook his head, and left the Halls of Reflections.
Arthas was the only one left in the Halls of Reflections, his aged face filled with struggle in his eyes.
"I still have one more chance. Robbie's experiment is underway. If there really is no other way, perhaps I should relinquish the Lich King's throne. I'm truly unwilling to accept this!"
Arthas coughed again and left the Halls of Reflections, leaning on his cane.