The Resurrected Lich

Arthas withdrew his sword and fell, blood gushing out. He trembled on the cold ground, instinctively reaching out to cover the wound in his abdomen, as if thinking he could stop the bleeding with his hand, but it was in vain.

Death came.

He closed his eyes, and the sounds around him became faint and ethereal. The excruciating pain seemed to tear his consciousness apart. But this feeling was only momentary, and it quickly dissipated.

A quick and painless death.

Then he lost consciousness. The chill of death, the stench of the Undead army, the excruciating pain—all vanished. Only a soft, comforting Tranquility remained. Nathanos let himself sink into darkness; he thought of nothing else but eternal rest.

But suddenly...

A piercing pain shattered him, a agony he had never experienced before, a torment far surpassing any physical torture. His soul, already detached from his body, was forcibly pulled back from the warm, Tranquility the Otherworld of the dead; the force was so savage, like Arthas's invasion of Quel'Thalas. Nathanos felt the torment becoming unbearable. At first, he thought it was the suffering the Otherworld of the dead, but it was not. He heard whispers, hollow and terrifying voices, like a melancholic melody, echoing around him.

He felt it again... he felt his physical form.

"Arthas, how dare you..." Nathanos's spirit cried out from afar. He was being resurrected, and his opponent refused to let him return to eternal death. No matter how he resisted, it would be futile.

"No!!!"

He resisted, and the only response was a hollow, cold, maniacal laugh. The laughter mocked him; resistance was futile. The laughter stripped him away, sweeping away his cherished memories. Everyone he knew appeared in his mind like a painting, then slowly turned to dust—pain had taken them away.

'You will serve my glory, Nathanos.'

'You... don't even think about it!'

'You will submit to death.'

'I... will not... obey!'

' Arthas is my Death Knight, and he will forever command you, for which you will be honored. He... is right before you.'

'Absolutely not. Arthas can manipulate my actions, but he can't destroy my Will.'

Another burst of wild laughter followed...

'Now, awaken, Nathanos!'

The whispers were followed by the urgent tolling of bells, magical bells that completely dispelled his thoughts of resistance and destroyed his power to defy. He only remembered the whispers.

'Is this my name? Nathanos ...'

There seemed to be something else after that, but he couldn't remember; the whisper hadn't told him.

There was also a Death Knight named Arthas standing in front of him. This person looked familiar; he seemed to be a Prince.

'Prince Arthas?'

He opened his eyes and saw the owner of that name, and this world—red, black, white, gray, a strange world. He was curious, but there was no curiosity in his eyes. He saw the Death Knight, whispering obedience to him, instinctively tighten his grip on his sword. Why could he notice such a detail?

"At your service, Prince Highness," he said, but he didn't realize it was him speaking. He had forgotten the voice, but now he heard it again.

He bent down, unable to see Arthas's excitement, but the other quickly responded, "Stand up, Nathanos. We are the same now."

"It is my honor, Master." He spoke again, and this time he realized it was his own voice.

'Nathanos!'

Whispers interspersed between their polite greetings drew Nathanos's attention to the voice.

'Cut off that woman's head.'

Woman?

He twitched his fingers, stiffly turned his head, and saw the woman on the cross. She looked familiar. Who was she?

'Give me her soul.'

'Yes, Lich King.' He walked over and whispered to himself who had sent the message. These messages flooded into his consciousness out of nowhere.

He saw the woman's face clearly; she bore a resemblance to him.

'Who is he?' Nathanos asked in his mind. The Lich King did not answer him with words, but instead lashed him with a chilling cold, purging the unbearable, intense grief in his heart.

Obey my orders.

'I can't do that.'

'Your past is holding you back; it's time to let go.'

What was the past?

'Burden, hatred, pain. The person before you leads you to death...'

'Who is she?'

'She belongs to your past, now... you should embrace a new destiny, but you must leave your past behind. Obey my orders now.'

Nathanos's memory was interrupted. The Lich King's power prevented him from recalling what happened next.

"Those Ranger will also serve me." That's what Arthas said. And now they have indeed joined the Scourge. These people, like him, are lost and unsure of what to do.

Nathanos was left beside Arthas like a brand-new toy, only able to keep a few yards' distance from the Death Knight, as if an invisible rope had tied him to the Death Knight's side.

Arthas continued his relentless march towards Silvermoon City. He didn't need to glance at Nathanos every now and then; the Lich King would keep a close watch on him. He only needed to keep attacking.

The Elf destroyed the bridge during their retreat. This was indeed a clever trick, wasting a considerable amount of Arthas's precious time. The river runs through the entirety of Quel'Thalas, connecting to the eastern foothills.

Although it took a while, they eventually crossed the river.

"How are we going to get through this?"

Arthas sought Nathanos's opinion, doubting whether his old friend still possessed the same insightful wisdom. In truth, his worries were unfounded. The Scourge's new warriors provided the answer.

"You can order some soldiers to lie in the river and build a bridge."

"A very good idea." Arthas smiled, then sent a group of Ghoul into the river until the meat grinder could barely pass through. Of course, some of the corpses were torn to pieces and beyond repair, rendering them useless. Besides, these corpses polluted the river, providing an additional weapon.

"Advance," the Death Knight commanded.

They continued onward, passing through Fairbreeze Village and the Eastern Sanctum, finally stopping before the gates of Silvermoon City. Arthas's voice wasn't unusually loud, but it seemed to echo throughout every corner of the city before them. The Land of Miracles within the gates of Quel'Thalas remained pure, untouched by the Ironhoof of death.

"Inhabitants of Silvermoon City! I have generously given you the opportunity to surrender, but you remain obstinate. Now, your entire race will perish, and your civilization will be wiped out! Death will cleanse your kingdom!"

Nathanos witnessed it all. The Elf did not surrender. He felt a strange, overwhelming joy, for there was no one he recognized at the city gates.

Within hours, the once-glorious Silvermoon City fell, its splendor reduced to scorched earth under the Ironhoof of the Undead army. The Scourge pressed on relentlessly, summoning the dead to fight for them. The soldiers defending the city now obeyed any command mindlessly, staggering with horrific, fatal wounds—some with shattered skulls, others dragging their entrails. Dark purple gashes cleaved the city in two.

The strait between Silvermoon City and Isle of Quel'Danas is a natural barrier. The Scourge has no navy. Arthas tightened the reins, staring at the shimmering blue sea under the sunlight, his brow furrowed. He couldn't afford to fill the strait with corpses now.

The Death Knight planted Frostmourne in the sand; he had found a solution.

Nathanos watched in shock as the water that had touched the Rune Sword began to freeze into ice, which then stretched all the way to Isle of Quel'Danas, allowing siege engines and soldiers to move freely.

The Elf fought valiantly against the invasion on the island of Danas. King Anasterian Sunstrider appeared before Arthas. The Death Knight drew Frostmourne and charged straight at the Elf king.

Three thousand years had weighed down Anasterian's shoulders. His white hair was not due to dark magic, but purely due to the passage of time, yet he still stood tall, as the artifacts "Flaming Strike" and Frostmourne clashed fiercely.

Arthas thrust his sword down, but Anasterian was no longer in the path of the Charge skeletal horse. He knelt down, wielding Flaming Strike, and unleashed a beautiful sweeping blow at Invincible's forelegs, severing both hooves. The skeletal horse shrieked and collapsed to the ground, carrying its master.

"Invincible!" Arthas roared, his skeletal horse thrashing about, trying to stand. Seeing this, the Death Knight turned to the Elf King, his face contorted with raw rage. Nathanos had done the same thing to him before, and now he was repeating the same mistake.

Nathanos watched their battle. The ancient Elf weapon was no match for the Rune Sword, nor could it possibly contend with it. The moment the blades clashed again, it shattered with a crash. Anasterian fell. His soul, like many others, was torn apart and devoured by Frostmourne.

The Elf King lay helplessly on his back on the ice, a pool of blood beneath him, his long white hair disheveled. At the same time, Arthas rushed to his Undead horse, repairing its severed foreleg, then patted its bones. Invincible leaped up, nuzzling its master with its nose. Nathanos, who had never seen the Elf King, felt an overwhelming weight of grief and pain; an Abomination pierced his very bones.

The terrifying army continued its advance. Arthas soon reached the platform.

He reached his destination, slaughtering all the Sunwell Guardians. He walked toward the pool of energy that had sustained the Quel'dorei for millennia. A figure slowly approached the Death Knight. Nathanos recognized him— Dath'Remar Drasil.

Arthas didn't admire the Sunwell; instead, he turned over an intricately carved urn of ashes and poured its contents into the Holy Pool. The light immediately shifted, pulsating and swirling, and a dark shadow appeared at the center of the waning vortex of magical light.

Two arms stretched towards the sky from the polluted Sunwell. It was a skeleton with an evil smile, its eyes burning with flames, its body coiled with serpentine chains, and its black clothes flowing like a long skirt.

"Just as my master promised, I have been reborn! He has given me eternal life!"

Was it all just for this? All the slaughter, torture, and terror, just to resurrect him?

Nathanos stared at the snickering Lich with surprise and curiosity. He threw him out— Kel'Thuzad.