After Archimonde descended, Arthas and Kel'Thuzad, the former leaders of the undead, were immediately stripped of their authority, and command fell into the hands of the Legion.
"Soon, I will order the Legion to begin the invasion. But first, I will use these insignificant mages to make an example... Let their city become dust in the annals of history."
The towering demon strode down from the platform of the summoning ritual, standing tall with pride and majesty.
The Eredar's hooves struck heavily against the ground with every step, his armor shifting with rose, gold, and pale violet gleams beneath the twilight. At his side, Tichondrius followed closely, his waist bent in constant deference.
Though his heart was filled with resentment, Arthas forced himself to hold it down. Only after they had gone far enough did he turn to Kel'Thuzad and shout, "What kind of joke is this? What's going on?"
"Be patient, young death knight." Unlike Arthas, the lich appeared far calmer, as though he had foreseen all of this. "This was also within the Lich King's expectations. There may yet be a place for you in his grand plan."
Perhaps?
Arthas swiftly turned to look at Kel'Thuzad. His nostrils flared, but in the end, he restrained his anger.
Whether it was the demons or the Lich King himself—if anyone treated him as a tool to be discarded after use, he would immediately show them just how wrong they were. He had done too much—lost too much, and given up too much for this.
None of this could be meaningless. None of this could ever be meaningless.
That was what the fallen prince told himself.
Although Dalaran could not accurately monitor the Scourge's progress in summoning demons, with Archimonde's arrival, the mages in the city had indeed noticed that something