A Shattered Heart

Hope is a terrible and loathsome thing to me. I've sought it countless times, but after the battle of the Dark Cathedral, I no longer hold hope for anything. Its absence only reduces my chances, but it doesn't diminish my disappointment.

Upon reflection, I realized I always trusted others too much, assuming they shared my thoughts. The truth is always the opposite; if the standards of right and wrong keep changing, then they become meaningless.

Therefore, I no longer consider whether my actions are evil; I simply act according to my own Will.

Outside the Dark Cathedral, the spire forged from Saronite looked even more sinister and terrifying under the moonlight. The sky seemed to be in a good mood; the Icecrown Glacier, usually shrouded in raging winds and snow, was now remarkably calm, with only the occasional sound of the wind.

Like those who believe in the Holy Light, the Scourge also have the custom of building churches for acolytes who study psychic magic to meditate.

"Ready?" A bonfire blazed with blue flames to the left of the church entrance. Four people wearing purple hoods, typical of members of the Cult of the Damned, huddled around the fire. One was an elderly man with white hair and beard, the other three appearing younger. They weren't warming themselves; they were preparing to enter the cathedral, driven by a sense of duty and responsibility, though none of them truly wanted to. The cathedral was already filled with members of the Cult of the Damned, their enemies. If exposed, their chances of survival were virtually zero.

"Once we begin, there's no turning back," the old man warned one last time. Greatsword, completely covered by a black cloth, hung on his back, and the others carried their own weapons.

Everyone nodded in agreement, and the old man smiled with satisfaction. At that moment, he didn't see a pair of eyes that held a hint of fear.

"Very good, let's set off. May the Holy Light grant us strength."

The four people slowly entered the cathedral, trying not to make a sound. The interior resembled an opera house, with rows and rows of fan-shaped seats on both sides. A long, wide aisle connected the main entrance to the innermost part of the cathedral. The stone pillars supporting the cathedral were neatly arranged on both sides of the aisle. The candlelight illuminated the cathedral, but even so, the interior was still a somber gray. However, what truly made the atmosphere terrifying was the vivid, blood-red curtain at the end of the aisle. The four people who entered the cathedral, including the old man, were somewhat nervous; they couldn't help but wonder if some terrible, evil ritual was taking place.

The four of them controlled their pace, their movements fluid and synchronized, as they desperately needed to find a place to stop. Fortunately, they not only found one, but they were at the very front of it.

All that's left to do is wait.

"Remain calm and follow my instructions," the old man whistled. The church fell silent, and the newly arrived members of the Cult of the Damned stood solemnly awaiting what was about to happen.

Beneath the red curtain stood another figure, a high-ranking psychic wearing a bone helmet. Interestingly, he was the only one facing the cathedral entrance. This gesture suggested he knew what was about to happen.

After waiting for nearly fifteen minutes, three more acolytes from the Cult of the Damned finally entered the cathedral. However, unlike the others, they carried something with them. The object was wrapped in a black cloth and held up by the lead acolyte. Then, as they approached the high-ranking psychic, they simultaneously knelt on one knee and revealed the object in its entirety to everyone.

The old man held his breath. The intelligence was true; it really was a heart, a heart frozen solid. Even from that distance, he could feel the chill, growing colder and colder...

This is very strange. Why didn't he feel cold when the heart was first brought in, but is now shivering?

"Be careful," the old man warned the other three people with him, "I sense a dark presence."

The last visitor to the cathedral had arrived. Unlike those dressed in the robes of the Cult of the Damned, he was completely concealed beneath a suit of skeletal armor. Thus, the sound of metal striking the floor echoed throughout the cathedral with each step he took. Every step was a warning, not a threat to visitors with ulterior motives, but a direct message: Your end has come.

"The Lich King is here; may the Holy Light guide our blades!"

The Lich King, Arthas, his arrival seems to have exceeded everyone's expectations.

The high-ranking psychic responsible for receiving the frozen heart immediately knelt down. His master, however, ignored this respect and turned his gaze towards the direction of the old man.

"Uninvited guests, do you think you can sneak into my kingdom?" The Lich King's words rendered all pretense meaningless. The old man hardened his resolve, drew his weapon from behind his back, removed the black cloth concealing his face, and the light of Ashbringer illuminated his features. Tirion Fordring thought to himself that this was the second time he had truly faced Arthas ...

Three hours ago.

When Nathanos returned to the Argent Crusade's stronghold, he ran into Belmont, who said nothing but gave him a bone. The bone still bore various wounds and the aura of magic.

"These are the bones of Frost Wyrm."

"It was left by Sapphiron," Belmont said, an awkward smile on his face. "We have won, Master. Naxxramas has fallen."

"How is the battle going? Have all the enemies been wiped out? How many men have we lost?"

"We've lost quite a few men." Belmont's tone was no longer as excited as before. "Only four survived."

"Four!" Nathanos's eyes widened in shock. The soldiers he had given to Meryl were handpicked from within the Forsaken, the cream of the crop. "And Meryl? How is he?"

"Xie Feng was wounded in his battle with Kel'Thuzad and has returned to Fortress of Courage. He told me to tell you that all the Scourge Undead in the floating fortress have been wiped out, and Kel'Thuzad was not spared either. He personally destroyed the Lich's Life Box. As for Putress, he is indeed in Naxxramas. Meryl said only you can decide his fate." Belmont said, handing Nathanos a small vial filled with green gas. "This is his latest plague. It's intended for Wintergarde Keep."

Nathanos toyed with the bottle, wanting to Putress to a fate worse than death, but the fate of this captive was no longer up to the Forsaken. This henchman of the Lich King had claimed the lives of many Alliance and Horde Warrior. Only they had the right to decide how to deal with Putress.

"Send him to Dalaran, deliver a message to the Alliance and the Horde, and let them decide Putress' fate. The Forsaken have already proven their innocence."

"Yes, Master. Is there anything else I need to do?"

The Witherer waved his hand, gesturing for Belmont to come closer, and whispered a few words.

"Arthas and his heart?" Belmont exclaimed in surprise. He had thought it was just a joke or a frightening rumor. But now that it was coming from Nathanos's mouth, Belmont had no choice but to believe it was true.

"We must act immediately, but unfortunately it can only be a covert operation. The Lich King's spies are everywhere, and if he discovers us, our plans will be ruined."

"Should we tell Tirion?" Belmont asked, and he quickly received a reply: as the Witherer had requested, the Argent Crusade had to know about this.

Only Belmont can handle a detailed discussion.

"Highlord!" A soldier from the Argent Crusade entered Fordring's meeting room. He was discussing something with Dalfors, the Lord of the Argent Crusade, and Entari, the Commander of the Argent Crusade.

"What is it, soldier?"

"The representative of the Forsaken wishes to see you."

"Ah!" Fordring smiled. In the past, he would have rushed up and destroyed Undead he saw without hesitation, but now he believed in his convictions more, because race did not represent honor.

"I was just thinking of seeing him, let him in."

When Belmont walked into the conference room, he was still a little nervous; he wasn't used to dealing with living people.

"Highlord Fordring." He tried his best to be respectful, but the voice of a dead man is never pleasant.

"Welcome, Ambassador Belmont." Tirion stepped forward to greet Belmont, his words as light as his steps. "The news has spread. Congratulations on your victory in Naxxramas. This is undoubtedly a powerful blow to the Lich King, and more importantly, you have inspired the people. Few can come out of Naxxramas alive."

"You have proven yourselves." Dalfors was a Dwarf, and his boisterous manner of speaking was very much in line with his race. "The Lich Gate incident must have been orchestrated by the Lich King."

Entari nodded in agreement. Indeed, the Lich King would not exchange his most powerful floating fortress for the Forsaken's infiltration of the enemy.

"Thank you for your recognition." Belmont bowed deeply, a gesture he had only ever made to Nathanos, making this an exception. "But now, I have some new information to share with you."

The atmosphere instantly turned serious, Tirion coughed lightly to calm everyone down.

"Speak. There's no need to hide anything here."

"Our people have uncovered a secret about the Lich King, concerning his heart."

Belmont had expected Tirion and his companions to be surprised, but they simply exchanged a calm glance.

"You all knew?"

"We just received intelligence that this morning, a group of Cult of the Damned from Icecrown Citadel headed towards the Dark Cathedral with something." Tirion took a deep breath. "This is the guidance of the Holy Light. The heart still exists, Arthas still has a chance to become human again."

"That's a truly insane idea," Belmont remarked, inwardly admiring that Nathanos had guessed exactly what Tirion was going to say. He then prepared to request Ashbringer to allow the Forsaken to participate in the operation. "If you've already decided, then the person who infiltrates the Dark Cathedral must be one in a million."

"What do you think of the man standing in front of you?" Tirion replied with a smile.

Belmont was so surprised that his mouth dropped open and he couldn't utter a word. He struggled to adjust his gaze to look at Dalfors and Entari.

"We tried to persuade him," Dalfors said. "We argued for an hour before you arrived. In the end..." The Dwarf shrugged.

"This is far too dangerous. Have you considered the consequences, Highlord?"

"I'm more lucid than anyone else, Belmont. And I'm about to set off." Tirion walked to the Undead's side and whispered, "Thank Nathanos for me."

"I must admit..." The Lich King looked at the Ashbringer approaching him. They were surrounded by members of the Cult of the Damned, and there were only four of them. "I foresaw your arrival. I hope you can find rest... a resting place suitable for you."

Tirion removed his hood, showing no fear even now; on the contrary, he was filled with courage. "You seem overconfident. Perhaps you should consider the outcome of our last encounter!"

The Lich King gripped Frostmourne, his eyes gleaming with rage. That wretched place Light's Hope Chapel, had inflicted his first defeat. "Last time we clashed, you held the advantage of the Holy Land. Now, the ground beneath your feet is mine. You'll find that our fortunes have... reversed."

"Perhaps!" Fordring said calmly. "Even if my feet aren't on the Holy Land, I can still defeat you with Ashbringer!"

This statement was a complete joke to Arthas, causing him to burst into laughter. This was the Dark Cathedral, a place untouched by the Holy Light. Ashbringer was outnumbered and outmatched here, while Frostmourne could unleash its full power. "Stop bluffing. You're just a Paladin. Your obsession with salvation has reached an incurable level."

Fordring gritted his teeth, remembering that Arthas had once been Paladin as well. But now...

"Are you trying to 'save' this willful child, unwilling to give up the only chance for humanitarian redemption? Therefore, you will only die faster."

"You have truly disappointed me, Arthas," Tirion roared. "That is your heart!" He pointed to the frozen heart floating in mid-air, radiating a chilling light. "That is the last vestige of your humanity, and I will purify it before you completely lose it. I believe..."

The Lich King awaited the Paladin's next words, eager to hear what other moving words Tirion could utter that would touch him so deeply that he would abandon Frostmourne and weep. But whatever the Paladin said, his so-called "purification" only earned his ridicule, and his response was to let his "guest" taste the hunger of Frostmourne.

"I believe you are beyond redemption, consumed by the shadows of the past!" Tirion caught a flicker of doubt in the Lich King's eyes, and that was enough. In that moment of hesitation, Ashbringer, along with its user, leaped toward the heart. Tirion had long anticipated Arthas's arrival and hadn't told his accompanying Argent Crusade Warrior what he would do; his decision seemed almost impromptu.

The vengeful blade easily pierced the ice protecting the heart. A deafening roar shook the entire cathedral, and the necromancer closest to the heart was thrown back by the powerful impact. The Lich King let out a terrifying howl; Fordring's actions had actually caused him excruciating pain. Years ago, when he ripped out his own heart, he thought he would never again experience mortal consciousness, but he was wrong. He had never escaped it, never. Frustration fueled Arthas's rage, and to alleviate the pain, he had to plunge his sword into the ground to support himself.

"Kill them all!" the Lich King commanded, and the acolytes in the cathedral immediately surrounded him. Ashbringer had indeed inflicted serious injuries on him, but the one who had caused it was now lying on the ground, and the guards protecting Fordring were only three in number; they were facing about a hundred members of the Cult of the Damned.

"Tirion has fallen! Brothers, protect him with your lives!" shouted a soldier from the Argent Crusade.

The Scourge minion rushed over, knowing the Holy Light couldn't save these people. But they forgot that the Holy Light wasn't the only one capable of saving lives.

"Terror Guard, clear this place out!"

Arthas was stunned by the voice; he felt defeat had struck him once more. A large number of elite Undead appeared at the entrance; they were all the Betrayer to the Scourge.

Nathanos caught a glimpse of the Lich King kneeling on the ground, and he already knew what had happened; he had understood when the heart was destroyed.

"You... will pay the price for this!"

"Well, I'm truly sorry to have interrupted your banquet, but I'm not your only old friend." The Witherer unleashed a rain of arrows from his bow, grappling with the acolytes who turned to defend themselves. His Terror Guard were specially trained soldiers, perfectly suited for this battle. And among this group, Arthas did indeed spot another familiar figure.

"Mograine!"

The Highlord of the Knights of the Ebon Blade ignored the Lich King, breaking through the enemy lines first and reaching Tirion's side. He then channeled his power to summon a portal to Dark Portal. "Quickly, get through the portal; he won't last much longer."

The soldiers of the Argent Crusade nodded to each other and jostled to help their Highlord through the portal. Then Darion focused his gaze on the Lich King.

"This is a good opportunity! Maybe we can eliminate him here."

"Don't underestimate his power!" Nathanos warned. "Tirion has already inflicted irreparable damage on him. We should be patient; there will be another chance to eliminate him. Fordring owes us a favor this time, and we should be grateful for that."

The Death Knight nodded, and then the Argent Crusade followed, becoming the second to enter the portal.

"Terror Guard, retreat!" Nathanos commanded. He was the last to leave, and as he turned back, the Lich King was casting a terrifying spell, one that would surely annihilate any enemy he saw. Suddenly, Frostmourne unleashed a chilling light of death, and in an instant, Arthas was the only one left in the Dark Cathedral.

He failed again!