The Prince

In the budding spring, warm seasonal winds swept away the cold curtain that had shrouded the northern lands of Lordaeron throughout the lingering winter. Amidst the breeze, which held infinite vitality, withered branches sprouted new buds, wild grass poked its head from the earth, and the mist from Lake Lordamere transformed into a gentle drizzle, nourishing this long-parched land once more.

King Terenas Menethil of Lordaeron welcomed the second son of his life—Alvin—amidst the drifting spring rain.

Alvin, which in the human tongue means "beloved by all." The father, already nearing the middle stages of his life, hoped this child would become an object of affection and protection for everyone, rather than bearing the heavy burden of kingship from the day of his birth like his eldest son, Arthas.

The King gently cradled the sleeping child in his arms, observing the wrinkled skin and innocent sleeping expression with meticulous care, a loving smile gracing his face—this child was different from the restless Arthas; he was a quiet little one.

However, over the course of the following year, this child who appeared to be such a well-behaved baby truly explained to Terenas what "quiet" really meant—

A normal child could roll over on their own by six months and begin to babble, but Alvin spent most of his days in a deep, unresponsive slumber; a normal child could begin learning to walk independently after a year, but Alvin remained asleep all day long.

Watching as Arthas, a year his senior, was already able to walk independently and climb stairs, while Alvin continued to sleep soundly as if nothing were amiss, the King grew concerned. Yet, the herbalists and priests who had served the royal family for years had all examined the little prince's condition, and their conclusions were entirely consistent—there was nothing wrong with Alvin.

The high walls of the palace were not an airtight barrier; a full year passed, and even the footmen and peddlers in the streets began to cautiously whisper over their tea about the prince who seemed so abnormal.

As time went on, faced with a Queen whose worry could no longer be masked, even the King, who had initially been able to comfort himself, had to make a decision—he sent for Archbishop Alonsus Faol, who was preaching in Strathlome, the human with the highest attainments in the fields of mystery and healing, to diagnose the little prince who remained in a state of slumber.

The turmoil of the past year had caused the aging Terenas to show signs of wear; his golden hair had become dull and sparse, and his temples were tinged with gray. After the Archbishop finished examining the little prince, the worried father appeared urgent and anxious: "Alonsus, what exactly is wrong with Alvin?"

The Archbishop, draped in snow-white robes, slowly withdrew the palm he had placed on Alvin's forehead, stood up, and said with a strange expression: "Your Majesty, if I am not mistaken, Prince Alvin's condition is likely due to his own soul power being too strong, preventing it from fully connecting with his still-growing body, thus causing this spontaneous state of lethargy."

"As long as his body grows, this state of constant sleep will disappear," the Archbishop said, stroking the scepter in his hand, his tone revealing a hint of emotion. "Your child is a genius. If he can devote himself to the path of the Holy Light, in time, surpassing even me would not be a difficult task."

Although still somewhat worried, with the Archbishop's personal guarantee, the anxious Queen and King were finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

However, unlike the Queen, who wept with joy simply because of the Archbishop's diagnosis, Terenas felt a faint, lingering concern regarding Alonsus Faol's words.

For Arthas, who would inevitably inherit the throne, having a genius younger brother might not be a good thing. This would not only increase the pressure on Arthas as the elder brother but could also lead to conflict between the siblings, causing the Kingdom of Lordaeron to decline from its peak.

Gently stroking Alvin, who remained in a deep sleep, Terenas's loving eyes grew complex. I will not let anyone affect this country, even if that person is my son. Thinking this, the King's eyes revealed a cold, sharp gaze.

The hourglass of time flipped over again and again; the flowers on the grass withered and bloomed anew. The children grew up, the adults grew old, and the palace of Lordaeron remained as it had always been, with the only changes being the holly trees in the courtyard that grew slowly over time.

In the past few years, the time Alvin spent in slumber had grown shorter and shorter, until it vanished completely last year. Now he could move as freely as any other person, but due to a lack of a solid foundation, the young prince remained very thin compared to his peers.

In the May sunshine, the little prince sat on a handcrafted, delicate swing, carefully flipping through the books spread across his lap, occasionally looking up at the center of the courtyard where laughter constantly erupted—young Arthas, led by his mother, was playing around the trees in the garden with his sister.

After years of slumber, the soul from another world slowly merged with the original, pure soul of this body. During his waking days, he had relearned about this world called Azeroth through royal tutors and by poring over various ancient texts.

That's right, Azeroth, the location where the series of events in the online game World of Warcraft took place in his previous life. This world was filled with trials of life and death, and the entanglement of blood and fire.

The point that terrified him most was his current identity. The second prince of Lordaeron, the younger brother of the future Lich King Arthas, a character who had never appeared in the game. Although he did not know why he hadn't been targeted by the legendary Bronze Dragonflight who guarded the timeline, a sense of unease and crisis had always been hidden in his heart.

Therefore, when he was five years old and Archbishop Alonsus Faol offered to teach him the path of the Holy Light, he chose without hesitation to embrace the Holy Light, becoming a proud apprentice priest.

Whether it was due to the overlapping of two souls, Alvin was born with extremely sharp perception. For ordinary people, the Holy Light was something that could only be sensed with great difficulty through various external aids, but he had gained insight after praying in a quiet room for only half a day.

However, powerful perception also brought side effects: the whispers from the darkness—low murmurs that seemed to be everywhere. If he did not concentrate on resisting them, they would assault his mind.

During those days, he could not get a good night's sleep until, under the guidance of Archbishop Faol, he chose the Good Domain as his innate domain and truly became a priest favored by the Holy Light; only then did those endless whispers slowly fade away.

Watching his family enjoying the warm afternoon, his thoughts stirred, and in less than half a second, a green light screen visible only to him appeared in his field of vision:

Name: Alvin Languages: Common, Thalassian, Dwarven Constitution 7, Strength 8, Agility 11, Intelligence 15, Wisdom 21, Willpower 13 Class: Level 2 Priest Domains: Good Domain, Travel Domain Level 0 Orisons: Create Water, Cure Minor Wounds, Detect Magic, Light, Purify Level 1 Spells: Bless, Divine Favor, Shield of Faith, Summon Monster I, Entropic Shield, Detect Undead, (Protection from Evil), (Longstrider) Feats: Extend Spell, Skillful Spellcaster

The panel was completely different from the game; at least he didn't remember the priest spells in the World of Warcraft he had played having so many twists and turns. This was a model of the world's power system built for him by the system that had followed him to this world, based on collected external data.

In other words, this was a more real world, and at the same time, a world completely different from the game.

In nearly seven years, he had almost forgotten the events and people he had experienced in his previous life; the only thing firmly etched in his mind was the plot of World of Warcraft, which he replayed in his head several times every day—

The fallen prince kills his own father, a tsunami of undead drowns the kingdom; humans and orcs battle endlessly, the Alliance and the Horde remain enemies for years; the Lich King sits upon the Frozen Throne, Deathwing tears the earth asunder and returns to the world; the Old Gods whisper in the shadows, and demons eye Azeroth with covetous intent.

In the plot he was familiar with, there was hope and redemption, but hidden deeper within was only despair and darkness.

After several years of living together, the cheerful prince, the proud sister, the kind King, and the gentle Queen—everyone's warmth and care had changed his initial thought of "fleeing to Kul Tiras to hide as soon as I grow up."

He would not abandon those who cared for him and flee alone; instead, he would try to change their fate. Even if this world was under the surveillance of the Bronze Dragonflight, he had to try so he wouldn't have regrets.

Moreover, he had never heard of Arthas having a younger brother in his previous life. The fact that he could grow up safely meant that this world was not exactly the same as the one in his memory. Perhaps the Bronze Dragonflight were not as he imagined, or perhaps they didn't even exist?

After nearly two years of study, he learned that in this different world, priests didn't just wear robes and provide support from the rear; they could also wear armor and fight on the front lines. Warriors had no such thing as "rage," relying entirely on powerful physical strength and fine equipment; rogues had no special energy, relying mostly on disguise and technique.

Now, the seven-year-old prince was waiting for news that might come from the Kingdom of Stormwind. What he cared about most was whether orcs truly existed.

In his calculations, taking the completion of the Dark Portal as the time origin, Arthas was born in the year -4 After Dark Portal, and this year was already the year 4 After Dark Portal.

If history followed the same path as the game, then by next year, refugees from Stormwind would set foot on the land of Lordaeron, the first Alliance, with Anduin Lothar as the liaison, would be established under the leadership of Lordaeron, the paladin class would be born at the hands of Archbishop Alonsus Faol, and a great war between humans and orcs would be inevitable.