The Pit Lord Magtheridon possessed a massive body, as large as a small mountain, and wore thick Legion armor. Compared to him, Sylvanas was like a squirrel in front of a tiger.
Swoosh, swoosh
Sylvanas fired seven arrows in succession, each imbued with a different power: Frost, Flame, Arcane, poison, death, shadow, and even Holy Light blessed by Paladin.
The seven arrows exploded on Magtheridon's massive body, and a layer of green light enveloped Magtheridon, blocking the seven arrows.
"A funny little mouse."
Magtheridon unharmed, grinning menacingly. He suddenly turned around, displaying an agility disproportionate to his massive size, and lashed out with his thick tail, striking Sylvanas was unable to dodge in time.
Sylvanas screamed in agony, breaking countless bones as she fell into the Abyss of the Frozen Throne.
Thrall shrugged regretfully, "Sylvanas really got off easy. I think the Forsaken would be great laborers; they don't need to eat and can work non-stop for 24 hours."
Magtheridon stated unequivocally, "The Forsaken must be destroyed. One Arthas has already given us enough trouble, Burning Legion does not want a second Lich King."
Thrall a small sigh, regretting that he hadn't been able to nail Sylvanas to the wooden frame. He turned to face the other leaders, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Jaina, thank you for your help to the Orcs over the years. I'm sorry, but I really dislike humans. You can't provide delicious meat, and you're not good enough to be laborers. Humans are utterly useless, and they eat a lot. I hope you can understand my predicament."
Jaina was pale and her legs went weak with fear.
Although she was one of the most powerful mages of her time, her magic was useless against the densely packed Burning Legion within Icecrown Citadel.
Dozens of Felhound charged onto the Frozen Throne, relentlessly burning Jaina's magic. Jaina clutched her head, screaming in agony, the pain from the Mana Burn unbearable.
Thrall stroked his sharp fangs and grinned maliciously, "Don't worry, Jaina, I really want to taste you. After all the blood in your body has drained, I'll turn you into a delicious meal. I'll make sure you can still breathe before I completely devour you."
Jaina, weakened by the depletion of her mana, was ordered by Legion Guard Magtheridon be nailed to a wooden frame and left to die.
Seeing the fate of the first few, Magni Bronzebeard knew there was no chance of survival. He raised his warhammer and roared, "I'll fight you to the death!"
Magni knew he couldn't defeat the powerful Magtheridon, so his target was Thrall. Unfortunately, Thrall nimbly hid among the Legion Guards, and a large group of Legion Guards surrounded him. Although Magni fought bravely, he was outnumbered and was quickly cut down.
King Bronzebeard also did not escape the Destiny of being hung on a wooden frame.
Tirion Fordring's legs trembled, and he forced a smile, pleading, "Great Savior, I'm willing to take the Devolution Potion and become your obedient pet, just to live."
Thrall chuckled, coldly rejecting Tirion Fordring: "I'm sorry, Tirion Fordring, although you 'Consecration yourself to the Orcs, there's no place for you in the New World I've planned. Tirion Fordring, your death will bring me great comfort."
A Legion Guard walked over, knocked Tirion Fordring to the ground, and kicked him several times, Hamstring Tirion Fordring bones and leaving him barely alive, before nailing him to the wooden frame.
Thrall then looked at the Prophet Velen, who was sitting on the ground praying. Velen's expression was extremely calm, with a serene peace that seemed detached from the world, as if everything before him was an illusion.
"What a pity, Prophet Velen, your Holy Light cannot save you."
Thrall suddenly launched a flying kick at Velen's head, then grabbed his hair and slammed his face against the ground again and again, causing cracks to appear in the hard, Frost ground.
Velen's face was a bloody mess, his skull cracked so much that his head looked somewhat deformed, but he remained unfazed, constantly praying:
"Great Holy Light, thank you for testing me. Nothing can stop my faith in the Holy Light. Physical pain is nothing. When all the trials are over, I will awaken from my slumber and be greeted by the warm sunshine of Exodar."
Thrall was helpless against Velen's Steadfast faith. Magtheridon laughed heartily, "Thrall, your torture is useless. I've long heard that Velen is utterly obsessed with the Holy Light, and physical pain cannot subdue him. Unfortunately, the Burning Legion are masters of the soul."
Velen was also nailed to the wooden frame, his hands and feet pierced through long nails, but he remained unfazed, constantly praising the Holy Light.
Magtheridon, his face expressionless, extended his forepaws, releasing a surge of green energy that burrowed into Velen's body like a venomous snake. Velen let out a piercing scream before finally opening his eyes.
This was torture of the soul, a hundred times more terrifying than physical torture. Velen looked around in agony, saying in disbelief, "Impossible, this can't be real."
Magtheridon chuckled coldly, "Velen, your torment has only just begun. I will extract your soul and sear it day and night in the Legion Forge. Will the Holy Light you worship save you? I doubt it."
"The Holy Light is everywhere, and its power is immense, as long as I have faith in my heart." Out of his devout faith, Velen could not tolerate others' desecration of the Holy Light.
Magtheridon let out a chilling laugh:
"Unfortunately, this is Icecrown Citadel, the border between the real world and the Shadowlands, a place where the Holy Light cannot reach. The Lich King has been helping you defend against the invasion of the Shadowlands, and look at what you've done? The Burning Legion forged the souls of Azeroth's fallen into the Legion soldiers, deliberately sending them to fight against the Scourge. Their deaths finally provoked Azeroth's backlash; otherwise, how could you bunch of trash have defeated the Lich King? This was all the work of our Burning Legion."
Thrall then realized that the Scourge's decline was due to the Burning Legion's schemes; in the process of destroying countless worlds, the Burning Legion had learned some patterns.
For example, if Undead creatures slaughter too many of the inhabitants of this world, it will cause a backlash from the world itself.
Thrall looked around, then suddenly sensed something was wrong and asked, "What do we seem to have overlooked? Where's that little Gnome?"
High Tinker Mekkatorque, the Gnomes -King, has disappeared. Magtheridon sent his men to search the entire Icecrown Citadel, but there is still no trace of the little Gnome.
Thrall frowned and said angrily, "Everyone says that Gnome Invincible escape artists, and today I've seen it for myself. Oh well, he's just a little Gnome."
Magtheridon somewhat frustrated, gritting his teeth as he said, "He actually escaped. Fortunately, the leaders of the Alliance and the Horde have been nailed to wooden frames. Azeroth is finally heading towards its doom."
Blood Elf Regent Lor'themar Theron stood trembling beside him, barely daring to breathe.
For some reason, Thrall, Magtheridon, and many of the Legion soldiers ignored him and turned a blind eye to him.