Crypt Lord

Wrapped in a thick cloak, Thassarian rode his warhorse alone across the ice fields, searching for traces of Arthas.

He should never have left the main force so recklessly. He knew he lacked the prince's formidable personal strength, but Arthas had saved his life. Simply retreating with the rest of the army was impossible for him.

So he had given up his chance to become a major in the First Legion and chosen to search for Arthas in the ice fields of Northrend instead.

It was not merely to repay Arthas for saving his life, but also to avenge everyone in the Thirteenth Battalion.

The tragedy of the Thirteenth Battalion had become Thassarian's nightmare. During his week of recovery in Lordaeron, nightmares had haunted him every night. Every person Mal'Ganis had killed cast a shadow over his heart.

Unless he saw Mal'Ganis die with his own eyes, he would surely be haunted by it for the rest of his life.

"I hope His Highness can forgive my recklessness..."

Thassarian had already decided that, once this was over, he would accept whatever Arthas chose to do with him, whether he lived or died. After all, leaving the army on his own had already violated the First Legion's regulations.

But the flames of hatred burned fiercely in his heart. The young warrior simply could not swallow his anger.

Dragonblight was so vast, however, that he could only search in the general direction Arthas and his companions had taken. It was a time-consuming task.

But to Thassarian, who was highly proficient in a range of skills, it was by no means impossible.

Traveling across the boundless ice fields, Thassarian felt loneliness for the first time. He trudged silently through the snow, searching for the faintest clues.

Time passed quickly. Thassarian found an open stretch of high ground and cleared out a small cave to serve as his campsite for the night.

He gathered some reasonably dry firewood and lit it with the flint he carried. Then he removed his weapon and pauldrons and sat beside the campfire to warm himself.

Barely a few minutes after sitting down, Thassarian suddenly noticed strange green pinpricks of light in the distant darkness. Puzzled as he was, he had no intention of investigating at night. Instead, he noted their direction and planned to take a look in daylight.

Arthas rode Invincible across the vast ice fields, following the river toward the higher elevations of Icecrown Glacier. The skeletal warhorse's hooves struck the icy water without sinking, carrying him across its surface.

They passed through Crystalsong Forest, where a massive explosion of arcane magic countless centuries ago had transformed every tree into arcane crystal.

As he traveled farther upstream, the river's pollution grew increasingly severe. Arthas could clearly sense the plague and the aura of death within its waters.

As the crystallized forest gradually receded, blue-black highland permafrost came into view. Arthas looked up and saw a towering black wall between the natural barriers formed by the mountain peaks on either side. This had once been where the river flowed into Crystalsong Forest.

Now, however, the thin streams flowing from beneath that high wall of black metal, which resembled both a dam and a rampart, were no longer a cradle of life. They were venom filled with filth.

Had Crystalsong Forest not been brimming with arcane energy and all manner of wondrous creatures, the river's lower reaches would likely have become a barren wasteland long ago, a breeding ground for the undead.

The Lich King presumably intended to expand the Undead Scourge's influence into the more southerly regions of Northrend this way. If the pollution continued over time, even the wondrous Crystalsong Forest would be unable to escape its fate.

And beneath the towering wall, there was already "someone" waiting for Arthas.

"Stop, death knight. You may go no farther."

An enormous beetle-like creature stood beneath the wall. A considerable amount of blue metal covered his deep-purple carapace, inscribed with all manner of Ancient Nerubian Runes. His mouthparts moved continuously, somehow producing human Common.

In truth, however, this was not Common. He was communicating through the soul, allowing Arthas to understand him directly.

Arthas studied the Crypt Lord for a moment, then pointed Frostmourne at him and the undead forces behind him. "Who are you?"

"I am Anub'arak, king of the ancient kingdom of Azjol-Nerub." Anub'arak's voice was deep and commanding.

Arthas smiled and nodded. "Ah-I see. You're the Lich King's servant, the traitor king, aren't you?"

"His Majesty was right. You have broken free of his control. But that hardly matters. Soon, you will join us again."

Unprovoked by Arthas's words, Anub'arak brandished his scythe-shaped forelegs and said in a low voice, "Knight, I will give you a painful death."

At the Crypt Lord's command, a dark mass of undead swarmed toward Arthas. Yet Arthas paid these ordinary undead no heed. He gave a cold snort and swept Frostmourne in an arc.

"Kneel before your king!"

His voice rang out like a sovereign's decree. Almost all the lesser undead abruptly fell prostrate. The somewhat stronger undead of the middle and upper ranks barely managed to withstand Arthas's oppressive presence, but they could neither move nor cast spells.

Even the gargoyles, those evil stone constructs of the undead, dropped from the sky like rain.

Anub'arak was shaken. Although the Lich King's power sustained him and kept him from submitting directly to Arthas, even his movements slowed for several seconds.

"Just when I was worrying about having no army to command, Ner'zhul sent me his soldiers." Arthas rode through the undead ranks, stopping a little over ten meters from Anub'arak. "Now it's my turn to ask you: obedience or death?"

The primal power of death was far more than highly concentrated energy. In Arthas's hands, it represented a difference in existential rank that almost no undead could overcome.

Just as the titan-forged keepers would never dare strike their creators, Arthas needed only to radiate his authority for the lesser undead, who lacked the Lich King's direct protection and control, to cease moving at once.

The necromancers who practiced undead magic struggled to cast spells under these conditions and were rendered useless. Most other undead puppets and constructs faced the same predicament.

Even the mighty Crypt Lord Anub'arak was affected, but the clearest manifestation of that influence was what happened next.

"Human... you can shake his power?"

Anub'arak did not attack immediately. His movements stiffened, as though he were a puppet resisting the strings that controlled him.

Arthas raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "Your connection to the Lich King has weakened?"

"He can still control my body, but my mind is free for the moment-beware, human. My body will show you no mercy."

Anub'arak's stiff movements began to return to normal. He displayed a speed that should not have belonged to such an enormous body, covering more than ten meters in almost the blink of an eye.

The Crypt Lord's sharp forelegs rose high and came slashing down. His target was not Arthas, but his mount.

But how could Invincible be an ordinary warhorse? The reason Arthas had not ridden him for so long was that he had sent him into the Shadowlands to undergo transformation through a dark ritual.

Invincible snorted contemptuously. Blue flames surged from his nostrils, intensifying with his breath to form a barrier of fire.

Anub'arak had intended to ignore the flames and rely on his tough carapace to withstand the damage. Yet the fire did not harm his magnificent shell at all. Instead, it seared his soul with burning pain.

Under the Lich King's control, the Crypt Lord swiftly pulled away from Arthas's mount. He twisted his head. "Beware. I can command the power of the earth elements-even after my death."

His speech had grown much smoother, as though the flames had further weakened the Lich King's control.