Hooves pounded, and the earth rumbled.
Rex rode the Netherwing King, with a hundred knights following behind him as they galloped across the desolate Western Plaguelands.
Dirt scattered, and clouds of dust billowed high into the air.
He was heading toward Darrowshire. After enjoying more than a month of relative ease, Rex had become busy once again.
Everything had piled up at once: clearing the Wailing Caverns, delivering resources to Outland, and now this matter in Darrowshire.
All of it had come at the same time, leaving Rex so busy that he scarcely had a moment to himself.
"Halt!" Rex raised his riding crop high and shouted.
He pulled on the reins, and the Netherwing King responded perfectly to his wishes. His forehooves rose high before slamming heavily into the ground with a thud, throwing up clouds of dust.
The other knights were less skilled at controlling their mounts than Rex. They had a little trouble stopping, though nothing serious.
Rex began scanning his surroundings.
His expression darkened. It was not because he had spotted an ambush or someone lying in wait for him, but because he had discovered something deeply shocking.
Undead had appeared in the Western Plaguelands. Yes, there was no mistake-undead.
Although Rex had not seen them with his own eyes, he was extremely familiar with the power they carried. That power naturally repelled him, stirring feelings of revulsion.
It was inherently incompatible with the Holy Light, so Rex could easily recognize it whenever he encountered it.
After stopping the Netherwing King, he leaped down and stood on the ground, scraping his foot against the hard earth.
"Your Highness? What happened?" A man also dismounted, strode over to Rex, and asked.
The man's golden hair gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight. In Rex's memory, only Kael'thas had long