Icecrown Citadel (23)
The Priest was somewhat dumbfounded. She cast an amplifying aura on the Druids in front of her, who was helping her fend off the Undead summoned by the Lich King.
"We can protect our comrades' bodies."
"That will only cause more deaths," Tirion replied, raising Ashbringer high, its warm the Holy Light warding off the biting cold. Out of the corner of his eye Fordring noticed the others seemed motionless, all questioning and struggling with whether they should abandon their fallen comrades.
"Go and do as I say!" Tirion roared.
The first to act was a Dwarf Paladin, his eyes filled with despair as he looked at the nearest corpse. The victim was from Darnassus, a hunter who had died alongside his Night Saber.
"May the Holy Light shine upon your soul, my friend." The Dwarf forcefully pushed the body off the battlefield. His actions were undoubtedly justified, but everyone else felt a chill in their hearts.
Perhaps noticing the strange looks, the Dwarf shouted, "Do you expect me to witness their resurrection before killing you?"
"He's right," Tirion continued. "Don't hesitate, warriors. More important than the spirits of the fallen are the people still alive around you."
The hesitation finally vanished, and more people nodded to each other and began to act on Tirion's orders. One corpse after another was pushed off the Frozen Throne.
Arthas, who witnessed all of this, sneered, "You abandoned your followers, Fordring! Is this also the will of the Holy Light?"
"We will carry on the last wishes of the victims and completely annihilate you."
"Ridiculous." Arthas finished his chant, stood up, and unleashed ice blades to repel those who were close to him. "You think my Valkyr only resurrects the dead? Don't forget, you don't have wings here!"
The deformed Vrykul women finally arrived, emerging from the shadows of twilight. Before the Lich King could give any command, they charged directly at the living creatures on the platform, their speed too fast to dodge.
A Gnome mage, being light and agile, was grabbed by a Valkyr with one hand, struggled in mid-air to no avail, and was then thrown down.
Fordring cursed; he should have expected this. His companions weren't stupid either; they began targeting the flying creatures. The Valkyr were limited in number; they'd deal with them first, then their master. In the meantime, one person only needed to hold Arthas off.
Tirion noticed the Lich King was watching him. Yes! The Lich King's plan was exactly the opposite: to defeat Ashbringer while the Valkyr dealt with the others. These winged monsters had conveniently given the two most powerful figures on the platform a fair chance to fight.
"Fordring, I heard that your son died at the hands of a Priest killed him with the Holy Light."
Taelan!
Tirion's resolve wavered, but only for a moment before he regained his composure. The Lich King was indeed adept at using an enemy's painful past to disrupt their beliefs. But using this tactic on Tirion would be a grave mistake.
"So the Holy Light betrayed me?" Tirion replied with a laugh, making no attempt to hide the sarcasm on his face. "Our loved ones have all perished! Me, you, and... one of your friends." He said, and when he mentioned the word "friend," Arthas glanced around at the group, not recognizing any familiar faces.
Why didn't Nathanos come during the final battle?
"I will never be able to get over Taelan's death, but I am proud of him. In his last moments, he abandoned his wrong ideas and pursued the right choice, even if that choice meant betrayal and sacrifice!"
The memories of the past seemed to empower Tirion; he leaped into the air, hoisting Ashbringer above his head and swinging it towards the Lich King's skull. Countless enemies had attempted to attack Arthas in this way, but in the Dark Prince's eyes, it was foolish. Frostmourne would dwarf any weapon, except Ashbringer ...
... Arthas found himself suddenly becoming uneasy. He felt that something was missing, and what he was missing was precisely what Tirion possessed at that moment—the confidence to defeat the enemy.
No way! Arthas frantically denied this ridiculous idea in his mind. From the moment he picked up Frostmourne until now, he had been invincible and had almost forgotten what defeat tasted like.
This time is no different!
Arthas raised Frostmourne to parry Tirion's attack. In his view, he saw the Rune Sword blocking his way, Ashbringer burning with golden flames, and the roaring Paladin.
Boom! Frostmourne and Ashbringer clashed in their most intense battle ever, the evil of death and the Holy Light of justice radiating outwards, creating whirlwinds. Sparks flew between the two weapons' wielders. Finally, both pushed each other back with their combined might.
Tirion plunged his sword into the ground, using the force to stop himself and avoid getting too far away from the Lich King.
Arthas was also backing away, stopping only when his feet touched the steps leading to the throne.
How much power did Fordring use in that attack? How many more attacks like that could he launch? The Lich King began to analyze his enemy's condition, a habit he had developed in his previous life. He remembered that Nathanos had taught him this: in a battle, every second must be used to accurately assess the shift in power between oneself and the enemy. Overestimating oneself and underestimating the enemy is extremely dangerous.
Arthas smiled. He didn't need to care about his condition because his power was limitless. On the other hand, Tirion, no matter how powerful Paladin was, was still a living being and could not escape the fatigue of the body.
The Dark Prince laughed, "Nathanos is absolutely right. Every battle requires weighing oneself against one's enemy."
"So you still remember. I thought you'd forgotten that line." Tirion gripped Ashbringer tightly again, having recovered from the earlier exchange. "Unfortunately, you can't see the situation before you!"
"Can't see?" Arthas laughed. "You need to catch your breath, I don't. The land beneath your feet is unfamiliar, while the land beneath mine is familiar. You must pray to the Holy Light, while I control everything. The situation is this: your path has come to an end."
"Is that so?" Fordring's expression began to calm down. He took a breath and no longer felt that the cold wind was a torment to his lungs.
"Can you hear it?" he asked. "Can you hear the roar of the soul, the sound of shattering?"