Instructor Rassuvios

A herd of velociraptors followed them for miles, always staying outside their spell range. One of them glanced back and saw them roar for a moment, then scurry away with their ears drooping. Thank goodness, the perilous Arathi Highlands were almost over. At this distance, they could already discern the cold, desolate mountain peaks in the distance of Hillsbrad —the Alterac Mountains. This filled the long-traveled group with a sense of impending victory.

"Hurry up." The leader was hidden under a black hood, and the others were dressed the same as him, but he could command them.

The only misfortune was that since the fall of Stromgarde, there were practically no maps of Arathi Highlands left in the world. The available information was as scarce as the supplies they carried. Their final destination was too far away for teleportation. However, their master had made it clear that they had to return to Naxxramas within three days.

Despite being draped in striped fur cloaks, everyone shivered from the cold. Their legs felt like stiff, lifeless stone pillars, and their bodies were completely numb. The leader was relatively better off; his four companions were carrying a heavy coffin.

"Hurry, we must offer him to Master Kel'Thuzad before his body decays," the head acolyte said. Although Lordaeron was almost entirely under the control of the Undead, it wasn't entirely Scourge territory. Some humans were still resisting. Moreover, Arathi wasn't under Lordaeron's control.

Finally, they saw a glimmer of light: a tall and majestic city wall stood before them, spanning the mountains between Hillsbrad and Arathi. Not far away lay the ruins of a castle.

These men quickened their pace, crossing a bridge that appeared to be made of pure energy. As they approached, the gates of the Arathi Wall were open as usual, but the leader suddenly stopped.

"Stop! Something's happened!"

Just as he spoke, he heard a heavy thud behind him. He cursed these idiots inwardly; their actions would damage the corpse.

He was about to warn them, but all he saw were his companions lying on the ground, dark liquid flowing from beneath their bodies in the moonlight.

"You're next!"

A purple dagger slit the acolyte's throat. Before he could struggle for long, he collapsed, muttering a few incoherent words.

"They're all dead," the woman with the dagger shouted. She pulled down her hood, exposing her face to the moonlight. Lilian went to the coffin, but instead of opening it, she waited for Nathanos to approach.

"Are you sure these people are all members of the Cult of the Damned?"

Lilian smiled. "There's no mistake. I calculated the timing as soon as Taresa sent the message..."

"Then it must be right!" Nathanos nodded as he walked to the coffin.

The coffin lid was pushed open, and the body inside was remarkably well-preserved.

"He must be Rassuvios," Nathanos said, looking at the strong Warrior lying in the coffin. There were obvious ligature marks on his neck, indicating that he had been hanged.

"I don't understand why we need to take a corpse, sir."

"I heard long ago that there was a powerful Warrior trainer in Stormwind City. He was very loyal to his country and had a strong Will."

"But he's fallen to such a state." Lilian looked up at her master. "Kel'Thuzad wants to resurrect him to serve the Lich King?"

Nathanos began examining Rassuvios for any other injuries. "If he has become a minion of the Scourge Undead, it will be a disaster."

"Fortunately, we stopped the Cult of the Damned," Lilian said. "I'll go find enough wood now to burn his body."

"No!" Nathanos stopped her. "He still has a glorious mission to complete. Can you see his face? His body is already stiff, but I can still feel his anger, his anger towards the living."

"I think you're right, the Witherer." Lilian noticed that Rassuvios's hands were clenched tightly, as if some power was sealed within his body and had nowhere to be released. "Taresa said in her letter that he was hanged. Before his execution, he cried out that he was innocent, but he was not given a chance to defend himself. Those humans even spat on his corpse."

"If the Cult of the Damned bribes enough, those nobles won't let him utter a single word." Nathanos clapped his hands and stood up. "We can't let him fall into the Lich King's hands, but we can't destroy him either. We must let him rise up and serve the Forsaken. Let him unleash his fury on the Scourge and the living."

This audacious idea stunned Lilian; this was the Witherer's true purpose. But she wanted to know how to wake Rassuvios.

"Step back, Lilian," Nathanos commanded, and before Lilian could react, he began chanting a spell. Lilian had never heard Belmont mention that Nathanos possessed necromancy, and perhaps even the Forsaken, so loyal to the Witherer, was unaware of it.

"This endless harassment is driving me crazy. I'm training new recruits and don't have time to listen to your long-winded lectures."

After being brought to Stormwind Keep, Rassuvios had been forced to wait there for hours, and he was quite displeased with this waste of time. The representatives of that group, Duke Boris Vishak and Earl, had always been useless, good-for-nothings stationed at Tempest Keep. However, Rassuvios was also puzzled; he didn't recognize them. The two nobles hadn't shown up yet—what were their intentions?

Rassuvios scoffed. "This is the first time I've ever missed a military training program. Can you tell me when I'll be able to return?" He glared at Major Samuelson, who had brought him there.

"If they tell you to wait, then you have to wait," Samuelson retorted coldly.

A flash of light appeared, and then two people with smug smiles appeared in the hall. They even exchanged a glance.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. You've really gotten on my nerves! I thought you were sick."

"Instructor Rassuvios, I think you should straighten out your attitude." Duke Boris, dressed in a white shirt and blue linen trousers, cleared his throat and sat opposite Rassuvios with Remington, who was wearing a black robe with gold trim. Their beards and hair were meticulously groomed.

"My stance has always been the same," Rassuvios snapped. "If you can't stand it, then let me leave and don't bother me again."

"If it makes you feel better to say it like that, then do as you please," Remington replied.

Rassuvios paused for a moment, then continued, "If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave. I still need to train the new recruits."

"I'm afraid you won't need to do this anymore!"

These words struck Rassuvios like a thunderbolt. Before he could ask why, Remington continued from Boris's words, "That's right, you've been relieved of your duties. In other words, you're no longer an instructor."

Rassuvios, enraged, slammed both hands on the table with a loud thud. The two nobles were startled. Thrall Salmünsen, standing behind him, placed a hand on Rassuvios' shoulder, but the latter forcefully pulled away.

"You have no right to do this. My position was bestowed upon me personally by Regent Bolvar."

"We understand that, but it's not our idea. It's Countess Katnara's, and His Majesty the Regent has already agreed."

"This is impossible!" Rassuvios roared.

Boris tapped the table to signal him to be quiet, then opened a formal document. "Rassuvios has colluded with the Scourge to turn Lakeshire into a new plague hotspot. Arrest him immediately—Regent Bolvar!" He tilted it so everyone could see its contents.

Rassuvios couldn't believe it, and even the black-haired major sitting behind him seemed extremely shocked.

"We found your hidden residence in Lakeshire. Inside, we also discovered a rotting corpse and a detailed invasion plan, complete with your signature and fingerprints!"

The human instructor retorted loudly, "I don't own a single house in Lakeshire."

The two nobles exchanged a knowing smile, as if they had expected him to say that. "Still trying to argue?" Remington produced another document. It was a file about Rassuvios, detailing the instructor's savings and all his expenses. One item in particular nearly made his eyes pop out—he had bought a two-story villa in Lakeshire.

"This is fake. This is a forgery! This is slander!"

"Enough! Arrest him!!"

The soldiers appeared suddenly, as if it had been pre-arranged, Rassuvios's hands were immediately locked in a restraint. The instructor was highly suspicious of what had happened in such a short time. Everything seemed to be according to plan; he remembered having his weapons confiscated before entering Tempest Keep.

"It was you!" Rassuvios roared. "The Regent will clear my name; he will prove I am innocent!"

His voice still echoed around them. Inside the room, Remington, his brow furrowed, stared at the other end of the table where Rassuvios had been taken away.

"He's right. The Regent probably still has doubts about his crimes, which is why he only ordered him imprisoned. Rassuvios will definitely try to get himself out of prison."

"This will never happen. Intelligence Master Shaw is not in Stormwind City right now. Rumors have already spread, and Rassuvios's name is rapidly becoming a curse among the local villagers. The Regent will soon be pressured into giving in. Besides, Lady Prysto is also urging the Regent to make a decision."

The Stormwind City prison is teeming with rats, but these Sewers creatures dare not approach Rassuvios. Even without armor and shackles, his imposing aura keeps most people at a distance.

The instructor, eyes closed in deep thought, pondered who was slandering him. His first thought was of the Cult of the Damned, who had recently tried to recruit him. Although Stormwind City was far from Lordaeron, Rassuvios had heard of this evil organization, but he hadn't expected them to dare infiltrate Stormwind City.

Those lurking men hidden under black hoods promised him money and power, but Rassuvios remained unmoved.

Join us and build a Legion of dead rats?

He remembered how he had responded to the Cult of the Damned, and then he beheaded the cult's messenger with a single sword stroke.

A sigh escaped his lips. Rassuvios opened his eyes, his mind still on the training courses for his newly recruited soldiers. He planned to yell at them to attack the target dummy. Rassuvios had spent countless hours training these novices into resolute soldiers, so he could tell at a glance that this group of recruits was particularly weak. He frowned, vowing to correct their incompetence.

"I've had enough! They treat me like a heretic!" Rassuvios couldn't control his voice; he heard his own echo, and then the prison fell silent. The instructor realized he was locked up in the deepest part of the prison. Here, he might die and no one would even know.

His idea was quickly shattered; he had not been forgotten. The sound of neat footsteps in military boots echoed down the prison corridor.

Is this to release him, or...?

"Instructor Rassuvios, you are accused of heresy." The Stockade Warden Selvert held up a verdict. "The military councilors sentence you to hanging, to be carried out immediately."

The crowd hurled insults at Rassuvios, and his angry defenses seemed utterly powerless against the spittle of the Stormwind City residents.

Taresa Foxton's heart pounded with turmoil; she didn't want to see the look of agony on Rassuvios's face as he tightened his grip on her neck. The blonde girl straightened up and then withdrew from the crowd. Nathanos had told her to keep quiet about anything in Stormwind City to avoid putting her in danger. All she had to do was write down her daily experiences in Stormwind City in a diary and hand it to Nathanos at the end of each week.

This can be considered a transaction; a few pages of paper filled with everyday details can be exchanged for several silver coins.

Taresa didn't understand the significance of doing this. Nathanos paid her to settle in Stormwind City on the condition that she join the Forsaken as a spy remaining in Stormwind City. But she didn't need to infiltrate Stormwind City's upper echelons to extract secrets; she only needed to record what happened in Stormwind City each day.

Whether out of gratitude to Nathanos or for the sake of living in Stormwind City, she wouldn't refuse. Moreover, once she learned that Nathanos hadn't become a pawn of the Scourge, she had no more reservations.

"Instructor Rassuvios, hanging, new plague site in Lakeshire," Taresa whispered to herself, thinking Nathanos would be interested.

A chilling wind swept across the high plains. Nathanos's spell was nearing completion. Lilian remained vigilant, vowing to prevent any creature from approaching the Witherer.

Time passed, and the air reeked of decay.

"None of us can rest, and neither can you." Lilian heard Nathanos's voice calling for Rassuvios. Voss knew that the Forsaken would soon have a new member.

A cold wind brushed against Rassuvios's face, and he opened his eyes and cried out. The echo reverberated through the night. His hands trembled violently. If he were still alive, the look of terror on his face would surely be from his rapid, shallow breathing. "Where am I?" he cried out, his voice trembling.

There was no answer, only two pairs of eyes of different colors staring at him.

Rassuvios trembled and sobbed, not from exhaustion, but from overwhelming fear.

"Betrayal is shameful. To die in betrayal is even more shameful." Nathanos' words seemed to come from hell, spurring the instructor on.

Rassuvios covered his face with his hands, his body overwhelmed by a tidal wave of hatred and rage. He remembered the pain of being strangled with ropes, but that pain only tormented his body. What truly etched in his memory was the scorn of the people of Stormwind City, including many of the soldiers he had trained. The slander of Boris and Remington, the conspiracy of the Cult of the Damned, the interference of Countess Katnarara Prysto, and the folly of Regent Bolvar. Rassuvios couldn't believe what he had just experienced.

He was loyal to Stormwind City and proud of it. He hated those who had betrayed and abandoned him, cursing them in his heart for being blind.

The clash between spear and shield signifies a choice. He carries a shield within him, guarding the last vestige of the promise he made to his homeland as a living being. Simultaneously, a spear is shattering his "defense," reminding him: You are dead. The Scourge has harmed you. Those you protected have betrayed you. Now you must adapt to rebirth; only then can you exact revenge.

Finally, the pressure eased, and the conflict quietly dissipated. Filled with doubt, he opened his eyes wide and reluctantly looked at the person—the one who had brought him new ideas. Then he saw that this person was now weakly kneeling on the ground.

"Who are you?"

"The Lich King's enemies, orphans of death, and... the abandoned."

Rassuvios looked at Nathanos, who was being helped up by Lilian. "So, we're all the same?"

"Yes, I have turned back you from the path of death, giving you the opportunity to take revenge on the beings you hate. The Scourge will be destroyed, and the Betrayer will pay for their crimes in blood!"

Serving this being whose eyes glowed red— Rassuvios began to calm down—his eyes were filled with a rage and hatred far more intense than his own. But what Rassuvios cared about was something else—the resolve in Nathanos's eyes. The dead human instructor knew what he had to do.

"I am yours now," he said hoarsely.

In response, Nathanos described the landscape of Maraudon. Hundreds of Undead had built their own cities beneath a desolate land, all under the control of the Lich King. And many soldiers had just learned to wield swords...

"You will soon witness my power," Rassuvios said, raising his head to his new master. "Your soldiers will be absolutely obedient to you, and they will shake the world with your Will! Rassuvios, at your service!"