Frostmourne

"Who am I?"

Arthas gave a smile that sent a chill through Brann's heart. Unhurriedly, he enunciated every word.

"I am Arthas, crown prince of Lordaeron and its future king."

"A Paladin of the Silver Hand, a student of the Lightbringer and Archbishop Faol, an agent sworn to safeguard the holy light, uphold justice, and eradicate evil."

"Founder of the Secret Council Bureau, Highlord of the Secret Council Knights, founder of Theramore, slayer of trolls, and ally of the elves."

His words seemed to ring directly within the heart. Brann could clearly feel Arthas's voice echoing inside him.

Yet under these circumstances, Brann actually felt less afraid than before. He frowned and studied Arthas for a long while. "...You are Arthas. Wait, how did you end up like this? This is too strange. This kind of power is no laughing matter!"

The oppressive aura emanating from Arthas faded slightly. He regarded Brann with a meaningful look and said calmly, "So your first thought when you saw me was that I had probably been led astray or corrupted?"

Brann still held the warhammer, but he was no longer tense. He mulled over the meaning of Arthas's words, then realized something a few seconds later. "You've had this ability all along?! But that's incredible... If that's true..."

"Then the holy light wouldn't protect me. Isn't that right, Brann?" Arthas's expression finally returned to normal. He seemed to be the same gentle, refined prince as ever.

Brann paused, unsure how to respond, because Arthas had said exactly what he had been about to say.

"Perhaps the powers in this world truly can be divided into good and evil, but what matters most is how we wield them."

Arthas waved his hand, directing all the ghosts blocking his path to [Frostmourne] to disperse. The way to the Frost Throne housing the demonic sword was immediately clear.

"Brann, you're not a stubborn man. That's why I chose to tell you about this today." Arthas sighed and pressed his palm against the ice, gazing at the frozen Runes Longsword with a complicated expression.

"Arthas... This... Not everyone will accept this-it's too dangerous. Have you forgotten what happened to Kel'Thuzad and the mages before him who toyed with souls?" Brann did not directly dispute Arthas's words, but he still felt that the world would never accept the power Arthas had revealed.

Kel'Thuzad's magical experiments had initially involved only animals such as rats. Once discovered, he had been stripped of all his titles by Dalaran's Kirin Tor Council and banished. Yet the power Arthas now displayed was far more extreme than Kel'Thuzad's.

Arthas shook his head helplessly, his expression turning resolute. "Of course I know that. That's why I hid it for over a decade, waiting for an opportunity like this."

The time for concealing his power was over. The Burning Legion's pawns had already spread a web of schemes across this world. One careless misstep could doom Azeroth beyond recovery.

Arthas refused to entrust his hopes to those obstinate Kaldorei. Their people could hardly be called tolerant; otherwise, Illidan Stormrage and his Demon Hunters would never have suffered so badly. Yet now, it seemed Arthas would have to play a role much like Illidan's.

But he would not wait for others to judge him as Illidan had. Arthas was determined to protect the entire kingdom and the world. Mere prejudice and misunderstanding could not shake his resolve. That was also why he had spent more than a decade building his influence in the mortal world.

Taking a deep breath, Arthas clenched his right fist. Frost and shadow coiled around his arm, entwined with the power of death.

Bang!

His energy-laden fist slammed into the Frost Throne. Blue cracks immediately spread across the ice as [Frostmourne]'s long-suppressed power began surging outward from within. With a sharp crack, the pedestal, split from shadowy ice that had come from the void, abruptly shattered.

The blast's shock wave drove Brann back several steps. Countless sharp shards of ice hurtled toward the dwarf. Before he could dodge, a mighty Holy Light Barrier rose before him. The ice fragments, imbued with death and shadow, melted rapidly upon striking it.

Arthas reached out with his right hand and firmly gripped [Frostmourne]'s exposed hilt. With a pull, he lifted it from the broken ice, taking hold of the demonic sword forged through the painstaking efforts of countless Nathrezim.

The moment he picked up the longsword, an unfamiliar voice sounded in Arthas's ears. But Arthas already knew who it was without any introduction.

"Now, go and take your revenge on Mal'Ganis. He is in the Undead Base north of your camp. But you had better hurry, or else..."

Along with the voice, a vast, chilling, evil intent invaded Arthas's body. It came from the Nathrezim's curse upon [Frostmourne] and the seed the Lich King had planted to bring about Arthas's corruption.

Unfortunately, these evil-spawning thoughts and influences were filtered out by Arthas's nearly pure power of death, leaving nothing behind.

[Frostmourne] seemed to realize something. Its blade hummed, and flames instantly flared within the hollow eyes of the demonic skull adorning its hilt. It sought to resist Arthas and seize control of his will.

"Obey, or be destroyed." Like a sovereign ruling from on high, Arthas poured immense amounts of the power of death into [Frostmourne], completely erasing the traces left by the Dreadlords and the Lich King.

Had Arthas known only how to wield the holy light, he could never have accomplished this. But he had chosen to walk both paths: light and darkness.

Although his knowledge of dark magic and necromancy fell short of that possessed by the Dreadlords in the Twisting Nether, the energy Arthas could wield was several levels purer than theirs. If not for his body's inability to withstand it, his holy light and death could even pose a direct threat to the Titans Gods.

The Titans Gods were nothing like the loa and wild gods born upon planets. Their immense power truly befitted the title of "Creator," and they themselves were cosmic beings infinitely close to the source.

If not for Sargeras's betrayal, even all the demons in the universe combined could never have threatened the Titans.

In just a few seconds, Arthas's power completely reversed the relationship between master and servant with [Frostmourne]. No longer would the sword control the man; the man would wield the sword.

However, [Frostmourne] had yet to taste any delectable souls, so its power was only slightly greater than that of an epic weapon. In a sense, although [Frostmourne] was a two-handed sword, it was better suited to ceremonial use than combat.

Its strength lay in controlling souls, devouring them to strengthen itself, and feeding that power back to its wielder. The original Arthas had wielded this sword to slaughter almost the entire population of Lordaeron, then led the undead Scourge to crush the elven kingdom of Quel'Thalas. Only then had the demonic sword and the invincible Death Knight earned their infamy.

Yet no matter how many ordinary souls it absorbed, the improvement to the runeblade would remain limited. The fundamental nature of those lives imposed that limit. Arthas had no desire to burden [Frostmourne] by feeding it too many feeble souls.

Moreover, thanks to his own highly pure power of death, Arthas could simply convert harvested souls into pure energy for his own use or to strengthen [Frostmourne]. There was no need to devour them in such a crude fashion.

Slaughtering living beings was not his style, either. But that did not mean [Frostmourne]'s greatest function had been curtailed. On the contrary, it would be Arthas's weapon for cutting down every enemy.

After all, humans, trolls, orcs, and elves were not the only beings with souls. Demons, demigods, dragons, and even Titans had them as well.

Unlike the Lich King's mindless absorption of lingering souls, Arthas had long since set his sights on beings of a higher order.

Under Arthas's control, [Frostmourne], which had shown signs of rebelling, quickly quieted. The runes upon its blade dimmed one by one, and the blue flames in the skull's eyes gradually went out.

[Frostmourne] acknowledged this master and would serve him. It sensed Arthas's hunger for power. The demonic sword was insatiably greedy; anyone who could give it souls would be accepted as its master.

Brann cautiously stepped out from behind the Holy Light Barrier. Once he was certain there was no danger, he wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and asked Arthas, "Hey, are you all right?"

After speaking, Brann swallowed, his grip on the warhammer unconsciously tightening.

"No need to be so nervous, Brann. I'm not under the control of some demonic curse. I'm still me-Arthas." Arthas secured the dimmed runeblade in the clasp on his belt, and his hair returned to its normal golden color.

Unless he unleashed large amounts of death and dark magic, Arthas's body would not undergo those corresponding changes. As for that phrase, aside from indulging his twisted sense of humor, it actually helped him switch abilities quickly in combat, serving as a form of self-suggestion.

This little trick from the field of magic was quite useful. With that psychological cue, Arthas had concealed his possession of death powers for more than a decade, leaving almost no trace. Even exposure right under the Kirin Tor's noses had failed to reveal him.

Brann studied Arthas suspiciously. After finding that he truly could not discern any difference in him, he handed the warhammer back.

"All right. Actually, when you were still able to protect me with the holy light, I knew you were fine." Brann feigned confidence, showing none of his earlier panic.

Arthas took [Revenge of the Holy Light] and hefted it. Compared with a demonic sword like [Frostmourne], which was on the verge of developing self-awareness, this warhammer had no merits beyond its weight and comfortable handling.

He even believed that if he faced a Paladin wielding this warhammer while armed with the runeblade, he could cleave through both hammer and wielder in just two or three exchanges.

At such a moment, the disparity between weapons became starkly apparent. Aside from artifacts on the same level as [Frostmourne], all other weapons and armor were no sturdier than cardboard before the demonic runeblade.

Yet Arthas also sensed that [Frostmourne] was, after all, merely a tool the Nathrezim had forged at the command of the Burning Legion's leader, Kil'jaeden the Deceiver, to keep the Lich King in check. Although tremendous effort had gone into its craftsmanship and materials, there was still room for improvement.

Slipping the warhammer onto his back, Arthas said gravely to Brann, "Brann, I have a favor to ask of you."

"Hey, you make it sound as if I'd refuse!"

The warmhearted dwarf would not tolerate a friend doubting him like that, though Brann actually had mixed feelings about Arthas commanding such powerful dark forces. He understood deeply that power itself was neither good nor evil; what mattered was its wielder. But power inclined toward darkness demanded an especially strong heart from whoever controlled it.

He was glad because Arthas was naturally the sort of person who possessed that inner strength. Yet he was worried because, in Brann's eyes, the power Arthas had just displayed was far too extreme. He had never felt such pressure from a human before.

When faced with Arthas's death form, Brann had even felt as though he really was about to die. That icy oppression and suffocating sensation could not be faked. Despite his wealth of experience, Brann had rarely encountered anything like it.

"Take my Secret Council Knights and get back to camp at once. Bring the lads back to Daggercap Bay." Arthas rolled his neck, producing a crisp crack as his bones shifted.

"What? Why would they listen to me..."

Before Brann could finish, Arthas tossed him a badge-the Royal Seal of Lordaeron. Seeing that seal was equivalent to standing before a member of the royal family.

Arthas's name was also engraved upon the badge. Brann stared for a moment, then asked, "Where are you going, then?"

"To settle this trouble once and for all."