Reforged Flaming Strike

The two glared at each other. Nathanos remembered that the Elf Prince was a member of the Council of Six and a powerful mage. However, his hatred for the Undead made Kael'thas appear less composed at this moment.

"Wouldn't it be better to stay in your kingdom? Be a Prince... Oh! No, I should call you King... No! No, that's not right either. After all, your kingdom has been destroyed. What kind of king are you?" Nathanos tried to provoke Kael'thas and disrupt his composure. Although he was not a mage, he knew that the key to using magic was control. If Kael'thas lost his temper and became uncontrollable, he would undoubtedly lose the battle with him.

"I should have stopped Arthas in Quel'Thalas! I should have done it." Kael'thas narrowed his eyes and growled, "Tell me! Where is that coward?"

"You mean Prince Arthas? He's not here. Ah, it seems you miss him. Why not? He destroyed your kingdom, he corrupted your Sunwell. And, of course, he killed your father."

"He's better than anyone at killing elders, you don't need to remind me!" Kael'thas continued. "At least my father died a glorious death, but what about him? He killed a father who opened his arms to his son."

Nathanos didn't know how Arthas would react when he heard these words, but it was none of his business.

"You are even worse than him, Prince Kael'thas. While your people were fighting and bleeding to protect their homeland, you were enjoying your golden age in Dalaran, weren't you?" Nathanos sneered. "By the way! Isn't that the city I mentioned right behind you? What are you here for? To find those gold coins you lost beneath the ruins? I bet you have a lot of valuable treasures in Dalaran ..."

Kael'thas had already charged forward, closing the distance to his opponent in a few strides. Nathanos was still wondering about his suicidal act. It was perplexing that a mage would charge in like Warrior.

But the Elf Prince's next move surprised Nathanos. A smooth, gleaming weapon suddenly emerged from his right sleeve—a Rune Sword, though unlike the blue runes of Frostmourne, this sword glowed red. Kael'thas drew the sword and thrust it towards the Undead before him.

In desperation, Nathanos raised Quel'delar to parry. The two swords clashed. Kael'thas went all out, but Nathanos held back. He was forced back step by step by the enraged Elf until he stepped on a stone and stopped.

"Truly astonishing," he thought to himself, "Kael'thas's power makes him seem completely unlike a mage." Nathanos was also facing a mage skilled in swordsmanship for the first time, and his opponent was far more powerful than he had imagined.

"I recognize this sword." Their eyes met, and Nathanos's relaxed expression enraged Kael'thas. "I watched it being cleaved in two by Frostmourne, just before Arthas killed your father."

Nathanos was right. The sword in Kael'thas's hand was indeed Felo'melrn, the Flaming Strike, the sword of Dath'Remar Sunstrider, the founder of Quel'Thalas and his ancestor. This sword was incredibly ancient, having appeared during the War of the Ancients.

"I have reforged it with the fires of vengeance. The Flaming Strike will tear you apart!"

"It will also witness another major historical event—the end of the last Sunstrider," Nathanos said sarcastically.

Nathanos was physically stronger and more skilled with a sword than Kael'thas. He began to push his opponent back, trying to throw him off balance. However, the mage reacted quickly, executing another move almost perfectly: Flaming Strike. Nathanos seized the opportunity, forcefully deflecting Kael'thas's attack and knocking him back.

"I bet you haven't been reforging it for long. Don't you know how fragile the joints of a broken sword are?" Nathanos said, searching for Kael'thas's weaknesses.

"Human weapons to be compared to Elf weapons?" Kael'thas laughed. "Never before has the Flaming Strike been so resilient—just like me, just like the Blood Elf. Because we have been broken, we are stronger—strong and determined. Our determination is to see Arthas go to hell, to see you monsters reduced to ashes!"

The attack came with lightning speed. One second the Elf Prince was standing there giving a passionate speech, and the next Nathanos was desperately defending himself. A sudden attack using Blink? The combination of magic and swordsmanship was indeed difficult to defend against! Quel'delar clashed with the Flaming Strike. Nathanos feigned a retreat, then swung his sword with tremendous force. Kael'thas Blink again, appearing behind Nathanos, avoiding the sword's path, then turned and counterattacked. The force and frequency of his attacks took Nathanos by surprise. He was forced to retreat, one step, two steps, almost slipping and falling, barely managing to keep his balance by bending his right knee. Kael'thas roared and thrust his sword forward, launching a fatal blow. Nathanos parried desperately, twisting the hilt of his sword to misdirect the Flaming Strike, then striking Kael'thas with his left elbow.

The mage grunted and retreated, the power in his hands vanishing. Nathanos seized the opportunity, lifting Quel'delar with both hands and slashing at Kael'thas.

However, Flaming Strike blocked the attack. The two swords clashed once more. The flames of hatred burned fiercely in Kael'thas's eyes.

In melee combat, Nathanos had the upper hand. Although Kael'thas boasted that his reforged Flaming Strike was more powerful, it wasn't enough to compensate for the difference in their hand-to-hand combat abilities. Slowly, Quel'delar closed in on Kael'thas's throat.

"Arthas's lackey!"

Enrage blurred Nathanos's vision as he roared and thrust with all his might.

But it pierced into the dark soil.

Kael'thas is gone.

"Coward!" Nathanos roared, though he knew the Elf Prince couldn't hear him. That bastard had vanished again with magic. Rage surged within him, and just as reason threatened to overwhelm him, he pushed his emotions aside. He wondered why Kael'thas hadn't attacked him with magic. He quickly realized the answer—perhaps Kael'thas was bound by his Fel Addiction, afraid to use magic freely.

"Magic lackeys!" Nathanos murmured, then easily charged out of the fiercely contested battlefield. The battle that followed was no longer his concern; victory or defeat would have no effect on him. The Undead tide was only outwardly unstoppable. But the Elf fought valiantly. Outside the ruins of Dalaran, devastation reigned, the ground soaked in blood. Nathanos surveyed the battlefield; the battle was still raging, but all he could see were Blood Elf —no sign of their masters.

"Hmm, it's time to consider retreating!"