Deadly Battle

Go to Hearthglen! Warn them—it won't be too late.

Arthas commanded himself, silently praying to the Holy Light and constantly trying to think positively. He completely disregarded whether the soldiers behind him could keep up; his only focus was his goal.

Hopefully, it's not too late! He killed Kel'Thuzad, but instead of stopping the plague, he may have allowed it to erupt even faster. Arthas now understands why Nathanos tried to stop him from killing Kel'Thuzad —it was to get Kel'Thuzad to reveal the cure for the plague.

"No! That guy won't say it; he'll keep denying it until he dies." Arthas muttered through gritted teeth, convinced he was right. Kel'Thuzad's words—that the purification of this continent had begun—still echoed in his mind. He couldn't fail, absolutely not! He dared not imagine the consequences of failing again.

The soldiers were already exhausted and couldn't keep up with Arthas's pace at all. Even when Farek called out to his Prince, the prince completely ignored him. Arthas wanted to ensure he arrived in time, which was understandable; so many lives were hanging by a thread. Therefore, he might travel through the night.

Frustrated, Farek and the others could only let their troops rest by the roadside for a while. Five minutes later, Nathanos arrived. He had found a horse somewhere and, sitting on its back, could see the resting troops from above. However, he didn't see Arthas's horse, so he knew that the impulsive Prince wasn't there at all.

"Where is Arthas?"

"Prince Highness is too fast, we can't keep up."

"Damn it!" he muttered, calculating that the fastest he could get to Hearthglen from here was by dawn the next day—that was on horseback.

"Farek, don't go to Hearthglen. Immediately search along the road to Stratholme from here. If you find any grain chests belonging to Andorhal, confiscate them immediately."

"What? But I have to..."

"Obey orders!" Nathanos said, ignoring the men, and rode off quickly to catch up with Arthas, his two hounds following behind.

Farek shouted a few times, but when he realized Nathanos wasn't listening, he complained, "What orders do you mean, 'obey'? He's not my superior!"

Nathanos rode for two hours at full gallop before he had to stop and let his non-combat mount and its hounds rest by the river. After the hounds had drunk some water, Nathanos tossed them the last of his dried meat. Then he began to organize the few thoughts that remained in his mind.

Firstly, Arthas's choice was correct; the closest place to leave Andorhal was Hearthglen. However, going to Hearthglen meant falling behind Stratholme, Arthas couldn't possibly catch up with. This is why he sent Farek and the others to Stratholme first. Secondly, Nathanos was very worried about Arthas. Judging from the footprints on the road, Arthas hadn't stopped but had been traveling non-stop without rest.

Nathanos was lost in thought when his hand began to itch. He opened his eyes and saw a hunting dog licking his palm.

"Are you ready?" Nathanos smiled and patted its head. His pet wagged its tail, indicating to its master that they could continue their journey.

He quickly leaped onto his horse and set off once more, now intending to reach Hearthglen in one go.

In the dim light, no one could see the struggle on Arthas's face. He was worried about everyone, including the soldiers behind him. He had realized long ago that they were falling behind, but time was of the essence. He hadn't even eaten anything or rested for a moment.

Anxiety and impatience burned like flames. Controlled by intense emotions, he appeared detached, as if a thousand miles away.

'They're dying one by one, turning into Undead. I must stop them, I must!' Arthas's lips were cracked, and he snapped the reins again. His warhorse neighed in discontent, telling him that this was already the fastest it could go.

The sky was turning from black to gray when the gunshot rang out. Arthas's heart sank. He spurred his horse and swiftly headed north along the rugged hillside path. When he reached the Hearthglen, he was met first by a group of humans and Dwarf armed with muskets, their muzzles pointed at him. A strange, sweet aroma of toast mingled with the smell of gunpowder on the breeze.

Prince of Lordaeron charged forward. "Drop your weapons!" he shouted, jerking the reins. The warhorse reared up with a neigh, then collapsed to the ground. Arthas ignored this, scrambling to his feet. "I am Prince Arthas! What's going on here? Why are you all armed?"

The people put down their guns, clearly surprised that their Prince was standing right in front of them.

"Your Highness, you don't believe something has happened here."

"Answer me!" Arthas roared.

"The food was contaminated, dead people stood up and attacked us, and..."

"What else?" Arthas wasn't surprised by what he heard, but what made him widen his eyes in disbelief was the next piece of news—a large-scale army.

Arthas was filled with questions. How could there be an army? Where did the army come from? At the same time, he figured out the answer himself—it was the work of that Cult of the Damned and that Demon Lord!

"Arthas!" As always, Nathanos would appear behind Arthas whenever he faced difficulties, providing him with excellent guidance.

"Arthas!" came another call, as he felt Nathanos ever closer.

With a neigh, Nathanos leaped from his horse and immediately saw Arthas's exhausted warhorse lying on the ground, its heavy breathing causing its belly to heave violently. It wouldn't live much longer; even food wouldn't help. Nathanos's heart sank, and he walked to the Prince's side.

"How is it?" he asked, but Arthas's pale face told him the result was bad.

"The army!" a scout shouted as he ran in, "An army of the dead... is coming this way!"

"Damn it!" Arthas cursed. Hearthglen's loose defenses couldn't hold off an entire Undead army, but he had to stop them.

"Everyone, get ready..."

"Shut up!"

Nathanos's angry, trembling voice startled Arthas, who turned to look at him.

"Are you crazy? Didn't you hear him say it was an entire army? Get out of here right now!"

"I'm not going anywhere. My people are here, and I must protect them!"

"Then who will protect you?" Nathanos grabbed his arm and shook it violently, trying to bring him to his senses. Arthas was overwhelmed by this question! Who would protect him?

"You are the Prince of Lordaeron, the hope for the future of the kingdom. How can you stay here? You cannot die! Do you understand? Go find Uther, go get reinforcements, only then can you save your people, do you know that?" Nathanos's desperate shouts finally paid off— Arthas stopped speaking, he just stood there, looking at Nathanos with sadness and sorrow.

"I beg you, Prince Highness. Leave now, I will defend this place. Bring back reinforcements and prove to the people that you have not abandoned them," Nathanos pleaded. At this moment, his heart was in greater turmoil than Arthas's. He had made a decision in an instant, and this time he had to race against time. If Arthas failed to bring back reinforcements in time, the entire Hearthglen would be...

Nathanos released him and walked up to a cavalryman. The man said nothing, dismounted, and handed him the reins. A new batch of warhorses was brought before Arthas.

"They're here! They're here!"

The guards on the watchtower shouted down, instantly causing a commotion. Nathanos, looking desperately at Arthas's dazed expression, ignored his orders, grabbed his arm, and forcefully pulled him up. At the last moment, their eyes met again.

"Please come back and save us. Then we'll go to Stratholme together. Believe that all of this can be salvaged, believe in it!"

After Nathanos finished speaking, he lashed his warhorse with his whip, and in that instant he saw tears welling up in Arthas's eyes.

"You carry the hopes of all, Prince!" he shouted, regardless of whether Arthas could hear him. Watching the voice fade into the distance, Nathanos felt a great sense of relief, but at the same time, the ground began to tremble, the mountains shook, and a rumbling, chaotic sound of footsteps approached!

Hearthglen was in chaos.

Nathanos turned to face all the waiting soldiers, and he saw trust—in their faces. They all firmly believed that their decision to send Arthas away was the right one.

A massive, dark army of Undead blocked the only exit from Hearthglen, charging towards them. Nathanos gripped Lo'gresh tightly in his hand, his hounds standing by his side. His right hand was placed over his heart, and he prayed silently, 'Alleria, give me your strength.'

When he opened his eyes again, he saw the Undead army charging at the forefront, their skeleton soldiers now armed and clad in armor. Nathanos shouted out the words Arthas hadn't finished saying:

"Everyone! Prepare for battle!"