The old king is dead

"Ridiculous tricks."

Once Ner'zhul's vision returned to normal, he easily spotted Arthas's little ploy.

The prince held a runic firearm forged by dwarves and personally consecrated with the holy light, giving it extra power against any undead or demons.

But such an attack posed almost no threat to Ner'zhul. Even with holy light runes etched into the thorium bullet, stopping it would be easy.

The Lich King extended a portion of his soul power, forming a dense wall. Yet just as he thought he would block it effortlessly, the bullet's thorium casing split open the instant it touched his soul barrier.

-Those were no runes of blessing, but a highly unstable holy light bomb!

Any stimulus from magic or other energy would make it burst and ignite the holy light energy within.

Searing holy light gushed out, triggering a massive, powerful explosion. But even this did not panic Ner'zhul. He calmly strengthened his defenses.

Yet the instant the soul barrier met the holy light, Arthas charged like lightning, his sudden burst of force cracking the ground beneath his feet.

Ner'zhul faltered. He had never imagined that Arthas had held back some of his strength during their earlier battle!

Under cover of the holy light, Arthas swung his warhammer and utterly shattered Ner'zhul's defenses. He ignored the icicles and spells flying toward him, for the holy light had formed a semicircular shield before him.

Ner'zhul immediately recalled the portion of his soul controlling the Scourge. Vast amounts of soul power surged toward Arthas like an avalanche and a tidal wave, seeking to annihilate him completely.

Below the Frozen Throne, Anub'Rekhan suddenly slowed as he fought Anub'arak. Even when the Crypt Lord's foreclaws pierced his body, he did not fight back.

"Stop... stop... the Lich King isn't controlling me anymore!"

Anub'Rekhan could not move his body for the moment, but he could still speak. Seeing his former king about to tear him limb from limb, he hurriedly tried to stop Anub'arak.

Anub'arak was about to continue attacking when Anub'Rekhan's words made him pause. He was not worried that Anub'Rekhan was trying to trick him, since the other man's body really had stopped moving entirely.

The other undead belonging to the Scourge also fell into confusion after the Lich King withdrew the will that controlled them. Many of the higher-ranking undead freed from his control either froze like Anub'Rekhan or turned directly against the Lich King's loyalists beside them.

The battle turned in an instant. Anub'arak's side had been at a disadvantage, barely managing to hold the undead army back. Now, the uncontrolled Scourge had descended into utter chaos.

Anub'Rekhan struggled to regain control of his body. But although the Lich King was no longer directly enslaving them, the flaws in his soul still made movement difficult.

This was a safeguard the Lich King had left in his overly powerful servants, preventing them from immediately turning against him once they escaped his control.

"Did my master succeed?"

Anub'arak raised his head and looked toward the top of the Frozen Throne. There, a distinct, immense surge of soul power suddenly erupted. Its suffocating pressure made the soul flames of many lesser undead flicker.

"I'm afraid not... those are the Lich King's soul fluctuations-that human from earlier may be doomed." Anub'Rekhan also felt the natural suppression of the Lich King's soul power. As he tried to regain his freedom, he spoke to Anub'arak.

When they had resisted the Lich King and his minions all those years ago, this was the power that had defeated them.

Though the insect people were immensely powerful in both physique and magic, the disparity between their souls had caught many of them off guard.

And now... the Lich King's power had clearly grown stronger. Even those Dreadlords were probably no longer a match for him.

"I have to help." Anub'arak intended to help Arthas slay the Lich King.

But Anub'Rekhan offered a buzzing warning. "You'd better not. We're both undead now. We have little power to resist the Lich King."

The Crypt Lord fell silent. Anub'Rekhan was right. Upon the Frozen Throne, the Lich King's power exceeded anything they had imagined.

At the glacier's summit, even Arthas felt his breathing briefly stop as the tidal wave of soul pressure bore down on him-Ner'zhul truly was a veteran turncoat, well versed in concealing his true strength.

He had even kept the nathrezim in the dark. They had no idea that, as Ner'zhul expanded the Scourge, his power had already grown beyond their control.

Yet his perilous situation did not make Arthas show any panic. An eerie blue glow lit up at his waist.

As that light spread, Frostmourne sprang from his waist of its own accord and stood before Arthas, ravenously devouring the souls unleashed by the Lich King.

"What?!"

Ner'zhul immediately realized that Arthas had deliberately forced him to withdraw his control over the Scourge. With his souls gathered together, Arthas could use Frostmourne to steal his control of the Scourge!

This did not merely weaken his hold over the Scourge; it directly weakened Ner'zhul himself, for his own power grew through the feedback he received from the undead.

Ner'zhul tried to withdraw his power, but Frostmourne was like a starving wolf that refused to release its prey. Nourished by the souls, the demonic blade gradually grew stronger and began a tug-of-war with Ner'zhul.

Unable to withdraw his power, Ner'zhul immediately tried to break the deadlock using the safeguard he had left in Frostmourne. But when he used the runes to command Frostmourne to stop, he found that it did not respond at all.

How could this happen?

If Ner'zhul had still possessed a body, his expression would have been hideous-he suddenly realized that he seemed to be the one who had been outmaneuvered.

But... how did this human know about my existence? He seems to know everything about me... even the Scourge!

Question after question flashed through Ner'zhul's mind. There was still much he could not understand, but clearly, Arthas would not give him the time.

Warhammer in hand, Arthas walked up to the ice imprisoning Ner'zhul.

"Wait! Perhaps we can make a deal. Something concerning those demons, for instance-"

Ignoring Ner'zhul entirely, Arthas slammed his warhammer into the ice. A crack immediately appeared in the solid shadow ice.

Ner'zhul felt it at once: some of his power was escaping through that crack even faster. Frostmourne seemed to notice as well, intensifying its plunder of Ner'zhul.

Bang!

The second hammer blow fell without hesitation. Arthas's sole purpose was to smash this block of ice and utterly destroy Ner'zhul's evil soul upon the Frozen Throne.

"Don't you care about this world's future? Kill me, and you won't be a match for them!"

The Lich King truly panicked. Arthas was simply a stone, ignoring everything he said and focusing entirely on his heavy blows.

"There's still time to stop! I promise I won't threaten the Eastern Kingdoms again! I can even secretly help you become the most powerful being in the Eastern Kingdoms!"

Ner'zhul kept offering tempting promises, trying to make Arthas stop.

At those words, Arthas paused. Joy rose in Ner'zhul's heart as he thought Arthas had taken the bait, and he immediately began infusing his words with corrupting power.

But Arthas merely replied calmly, "Save your gifts for hell, as compensation for your people. Perhaps they'll forgive you?"

Arthas's words froze Ner'zhul's thoughts. He recalled the horrors of Draenor's destruction, brought about by his own arrogance. Countless orcs had been hurled off Draenor by chaotic gravitational forces, while those who remained on the ground were swallowed by the fracturing earth.

The wails of his dead people were among the few nightmares that haunted Ner'zhul, and Arthas's words had dredged up those agonizing memories.

While Ner'zhul was distracted, Arthas's final blow crashed down. Shards of shadow ice fell one after another, and the block imprisoning the Lich King shattered completely.

With the destruction of the Shadow Crystal, the souls absorbed and digested within Ner'zhul erupted into turmoil. Through his increasingly blurred vision, he dimly saw the quiet valley of his homeland and its bright, never-setting moon.

It was the home of the Shadowmoon Clan, Draenor's Shadowmoon Valley-Ner'zhul seemed to see his wife and his people once more, following the shamanic path and living ordinary lives in that peaceful valley.

As death approached, Ner'zhul, the Lich King, also saw visions of the boundary between life and death.

"You..."

Only at the Frozen Throne, the place where the Lich King had been created, could he be utterly destroyed. And this time, he truly died forever, with no chance of resurrection.

Ner'zhul never even finished his last words. All his regret and hatred vanished in the upheaval of souls Arthas had triggered with Frostmourne. Before even Frostmourne could absorb his soul, Ner'zhul was torn apart by the soul vortex.

Once he sensed that Ner'zhul's soul had vanished entirely, Arthas let out a long breath. In every respect, Ner'zhul had been the most dangerous enemy he had faced so far.

But Ner'zhul was also an enemy his plan required him to eliminate. As long as this creature remained alive, he would pose an enormous threat to the Eastern Kingdoms and even all of Azeroth.

Several clangs rang out from the pile of ice. Arthas chipped away the broken ice and picked up the armor that had once housed Ner'zhul's soul.

Ner'zhul's influence had vanished with his destruction, but this suit of armor, forged from an unknown metal, was still not something a mortal could wear.

Arthas crouched and picked up the helmet from the ground. A pitch-black gem was set into the center of the crownlike helm, yet on closer inspection, its color seemed to lie somewhere between deep blue and grayish white.

The Helm of Domination was the most important part of the Lich King's armor. This helm was an artifact Kil'jaeden had forged by drawing upon the power of the Shadowlands.

It could amplify its wearer's thoughts, and Ner'zhul's ability to control so many undead had been closely tied to it.

Now, the Lich King's death would have a consequence: the undead he had enslaved and summoned into the Physical World would run rampant-this was why there had to be a Lich King.

Any undead left uncontrolled would develop hatred for the living. This was their instinct, unless someone could control their thoughts at the most fundamental level.

Without a master, the Scourge would only become more frenzied. And because of Ner'zhul's earlier actions, the boundary between life and death at Icecrown Glacier had already become blurred. Here, the living would die, and the dead would come "alive."

Holding the helmet, Arthas raised it before his face and placed this "crown" upon his head.

The instant he put on the helm, blue "flames" burned in Arthas's eyes. He felt his thoughts suddenly stretch far into the distance, and he observed the world from a strange perspective.

His gaze seemed to sweep down from the heavens, taking in everything with ease. He could even see himself putting on the crown.

He grasped Frostmourne as it floated toward him, swept away the broken ice blocking the throne, and sat down. Resting Frostmourne beside his leg, he propped his head on one hand.

The moment Arthas sat down, almost all the undead received the same command: calm down and purge the Lich King's diehard minions.

The undead that had been frantically slaughtering one another stopped like machines. They tilted their heads slightly and looked toward several Necromancers still trying to drive the ghouls onward-they were the Lich King's lackeys.

Amid screams, those Necromancers who had forsaken their humanity were swallowed by the sea of undead.

Such scenes unfolded throughout Northrend. All the undead, whether they had willingly joined the Lich King or been forced to obey Ner'zhul, realized one thing: the Scourge had a new master.