Icecrown Citadel, the Scourge's stronghold, is the intersection of the Shadowlands and the real world. Due to the mutual antagonism between the two worlds, countless spaces have been created by overlapping layers.
Icecrown Citadel in Azeroth is merely the outermost layer of space; the true Scourge stronghold is hidden within a more secure area.
Robbie and Kel'Thuzad watched the farce unfold on the Frozen Throne in Anjing. Now that the Scourge had solved its aging problem, eliminating the Burning Legion's invaders would not be difficult.
However, things are not as simple as they seem.
The moon, Elune, no longer revolves around Azeroth; instead, it hangs above Icecrown Citadel, silently watching everything. The Burning Legion's invasion of Icecrown Citadel is clearly not an isolated incident; this is Elune's final test against the Scourge.
As N'Zoth said, the Scourge is not ready and must develop discreetly. If Elune, discovers their secrets, the methods of a True God are hard to predict.
According to the principle that history cannot be changed, the leaders of the Alliance and the Horde should not have died at the Frozen Throne, but Robbie had no idea what would happen next.
Many leaders were nailed to wooden frames, their blood flowing continuously, except for Lor'themar Theron, the Blood Elf Regent, who was spared thanks to his mastery of discretion.
Magtheridon commanded his Legion soldiers to carry countless corpses onto the Frozen Throne, piling them up layer upon layer.
Most of the bodies were those of Horde Alliance and Horde soldiers, as well as soldiers who had died in battle. To ensure a bloody spectacle, Magtheridon deliberately left some surviving soldiers behind.
These soldiers were led to the Frozen Throne and their heads were ruthlessly chopped off.
There were so many corpses, piled up to the brim, that the Frozen Throne rose more than twenty meters higher, and a heavy stench of blood filled the surrounding space.
Even the ruthless Thrall paled at the sight of this bloody scene, and timidly asked, looking at the countless corpses at his feet, "Respected Pit Lord, may I ask what this is?"
Magtheridon pointed to "Arthas" frozen in ice and explained coldly:
"To kill the Lich King, the only way is to break this Frost. I will use these corpses to draw upon the power of the Shadowlands to shatter this solid ice coffin."
Thrall was very uneasy and specifically asked, "What would happen if the power of shadow invaded this world?"
Magtheridon, then smiled nonchalantly:
"In the best-case scenario, the power of shadow will likely corrupt half of Azeroth, and all creatures affected by it will die, including those in Orgrimmar."
Thrall was stunned upon hearing this, and asked in a low voice, "So, all the Orcs will die?"
Magtheridon said calmly, "Thrall, someone as rational as you should understand that the price to kill the Lich King Arthas is worth it. You should show some magnanimity."
Thrall nodded listlessly, saying dejectedly, "I understand. This sacrifice is worthwhile, for the sake of the Burning Legion's cause."
Magtheridon smiled slightly and said, "Very good, Thrall, your future is limitless."
"Damn Magtheridon, that treacherous Elune."
Kel'Thuzad's face was ashen as he analyzed seriously, "Magtheridon is absolutely not exaggerating. He used these corpses to perform Raise Dead, thereby attracting powerful beings from the Shadowlands. The death of half of Azeroth's creatures is already extremely fortunate. We cannot stand idly by."
Robbie nodded solemnly:
"The Scourge cannot stand idly by and watch Azeroth be destroyed, but if they're going to put on an act, we'll play along to the end. Kel'Thuzad, infuse Taelan's weapons with the power of Frost."
Inside the ice, Arthas's expression suddenly changed, and his eyes flashed with a cold light. Magtheridon and Thrall screamed in fright and fled from the Frozen Throne without looking back.
Finally, with no movement from the Frozen Throne, Magtheridon and Thrall cautiously returned.
The Prophet Velen was in agony. A Draenei had lived for tens of thousands of years, he had seen it all, and the pain of having nails in his hands and feet was bearable.
But doubts about the Holy Light and the resulting wavering in his mind tormented his heart.
"Merciful Holy Light, I have served you diligently for many years, why have you placed me in this place of despair, to await death with these filthy foreigners? Why, why?"
Velen kept questioning the Holy Light in his heart, his consciousness slowly collapsing, about to fall into the Abyss of despair.
Suddenly, a bright light appeared before Velen's eyes, and he found himself in a warm garden. The Eredar around him were preparing for a grand celebration, and there was laughter and joy everywhere. In a daze, Velen felt as if he had returned to 25,000 years ago.
This was the day Velen was ordained Prophet, the proudest moment of his life and one of the most cherished experiences in his memory.
"Holy Light, thank you for your mercy," Velen said gratefully.
All the past suffering and millennia of wandering seem like a nightmare after an afternoon nap.
Everything around him froze; time seemed to stand still for a moment. A voice rang in Velen's ear. "Velen, I am the Lich King Arthas."
"Arthas?" Velen's heart skipped a beat, and his mind returned to reality.
"Velen, do you harbor any hatred towards the Orcs?" Arthas asked.
Velen shook his head, a profound and enigmatic expression on his face.
"As a Prophet, I have long foreseen everything. The Draenei's early slaughter by the Orcs was destined. We can only blame Destiny. I have no hatred for the Orcs."
Arthas chuckled and said, "What if the Orcs ruin your best memories?"
A tall Orcs appeared at the celebration, resembling Thrall, with its gaping maw and ferocious expression, tearing at the surrounding Eredar.
The Eredar screamed in terror and fled in all directions, completely ruining the celebration.
"No, I won't allow you to do that!" Velen said, heartbroken.
A Sharp Sword appeared before Velen, Arthas urged, "Velen, why not take up the sword and kill this wretched Orcs?"
In the hallucination of his memories, Velen picked up the sword and made a move to strike the tall Orcs.
But Velen ultimately lost heart. Even knowing it was an illusion, Velen still dared not fight the Orcs, letting the Orcs looked just like Thrall destroy his most cherished memories.
Arthas asked curiously, "What are you worried about? What makes you so afraid, so cowardly even in illusions? Open your eyes and see what Magtheridon is doing. The Shadow power is seeping into Azeroth, and the Draenei of Exodar will die."
Velen slowly closed his eyes and calmly said, "This is the Destiny destined for Azeroth, and no one can change it."
"Arthas" let out a hearty laugh:
"The Draenei leader waiting to die on the wooden frame was almost fooled by you. It turns out you had your suspicions all along. You're nothing more than the eyes of Elune. Elune observes everything through your eyes, which is why you're so cowardly, isn't it?"
Having his thoughts exposed, Velen's expression changed drastically, and he said in a daze, "This is just a guess; I can't be sure yet."
Arthas said sorrowfully, "Azeroth is facing a life-or-death crisis. Someone must step forward. If everyone is Imp like you, is there any hope for this world?"
The vision of "Arthas" grew ever larger, and a terrifying power seemed to gather from Frostmourne, as if it could sweep across the entire world.
"This is the Scourge's last strength, the very last, the Lich King."