Icecrown Citadel (25)
"Still haven't found it?" Belmont kept pressing, but all his men were shaking their heads. The Shadowblade leader couldn't blame his Deathstalker, because no one in the world was more skilled at hunting than them.
Anas said the Witherer fell from Icecrown Citadel. Belmont wouldn't believe his nonsense, but upon reflection, it was indeed possible. Out of concern, he still led a search party.
Veronalara should have come too! Belmont thought through gritted teeth. Her Dark Ranger was equally skilled in reconnaissance and searching. With her help, the speed would be several times faster, but the woman had refused, saying that the battle of Icecrown Citadel wasn't over yet and her soldiers needed to deal with the battlefield—all excuses.
"How could the Witherer allow such a person to lead the entire Dark Ranger Force?"
"Sir, please take a look at this."
Belmont momentarily shifted his attention, staring intently at the soldier calling for him. "Have you found your master?"
"No, sir, I am not the master, but you must come and see."
"I must remind you, soldier! Nothing is more important than finding the master right now, do you understand?" Belmont rebuked, but the Deathstalker was not about to give up.
"I understand, but you have to come and take a look. I think it might be related to the master!"
Upon hearing this, Belmont began to reconsider the soldier's request. "Where?"
"In the valley ahead."
Belmont and the others followed behind the soldier. He looked up and saw Icecrown Citadel standing majestically, exuding an aura of authority. He wondered when the Witherer would be able to build such a fortress.
"Look!" the Deathstalker pointing ahead. Everyone saw it and was stunned.
In the narrow valley, a pile of bones blocked the road. An uninformed person would think a massacre had taken place here, but Belmont, based on his experience, judged that it was all the skeleton of a creature, a dragon, but now reduced to dust. The only thing that could identify it was its perfectly preserved right wing.
"Sindragosa?" Belmont said. He had never seen the Frost Queen, so it was just a guess, but he hoped he was right.
"Check this area for signs of other people's activity."
It felt just like the first time he wielded Frostmourne in battle, charging into the enemy ranks and unleashing a symphony of emotions. Frostmourne was still in his hand; Arthas trusted it, that it could devour even more souls. Just like now, the Rune Sword shattered the shield that blocked it, then struck the shield-bearing Warrior, rendering his protective spells utterly useless.
Arthas looked up, searching for his next target. He had many choices; one fall would only bring more to attack. Beneath the Frozen Throne, they all wanted to be "Kingslayer"—perhaps one of the endings they envisioned. But Arthas believed they should know, and Fordring should have warned them, that today, here, in the place where Arthas became the Lich King, another ending was possible.
He had done so before; at the Sindragosa's Fall, Frostmourne granted the blue dragon new life, and in the same way, Frostmourne could also take away a person's soul.
He could have done it from the beginning; he could have ended those pathetic challengers before Fordring threatened to give him a quick death. He didn't know what he was waiting for. Now he did. It was his destiny to embark on this path, across the Great Sea, all the way to Northrend, to find Frostmourne, and then to the Frozen Throne. Now, he had finally reached the final step of this journey. The only regret was that the person who witnessed it all wasn't the one he had envisioned.
"It's over!" those three words burst from his throat.
Frostmourne fell, carrying his rage, and everyone except Fordring suddenly felt the Rune Sword pierce their bodies, straight through their hearts. Yet it wasn't painful; only a surge of electricity coursed through their bodies, just like when he first raised Frostmourne. Arthas wanted to tell these people: Death is not to be feared!
In just a moment, everything was over, just as he had said!
As the warriors fell one by one, Arthas raised his head, savoring the joy of victory.
"I have no more doubts, no more hesitation. You are the strongest warriors of Azeroth. All my obstacles have been overcome by you, and my most valiant servants have fallen to your merciless wrath and blades." He turned to look at Fordring, bound by ice, before whose throne even the Holy Light paled. "You have trained them well, Fordring. You have brought the world's strongest warriors before me. Justice compels you, and that suits me perfectly!"
"Your silent sacrifice will be rewarded by me. Witness it, Paladin! I will transform them from corpses into Warrior of the Scourge. Azeroth will fall into chaos and destruction in their hands! Now, rise!"
Arthas gripped Frostmourne firmly in one hand, then raised the Rune Sword high. Purple light began to swirl around the blade's tip, accelerating rapidly until it writhed and twisted in mid-air like a venomous snake, biting at each of the fallen corpses. Frostmourne was draining the souls of these warriors; when it was all over, their power would help him reshape the world.
"Will the world then forget your sins?"
These words struck him like a thunderbolt, sending a chill down his spine. Arthas, lost in joy, stopped his spellcasting.
He slowly turned around, then looked up. A figure was already seated on the Frozen Throne. Arthas thought of Ner'zhul, the Orcs whose soul was sealed within a suit of armor. But the person before him wasn't armor, nor was he encased in ice; he simply sat there quietly. Arthas didn't remind the other that it was his throne. Instead, a bizarre thought crossed his mind: what if someone could sit on it for him...
"Nathanos, I thought you weren't coming! Are you here to witness the end of the world?" Arthas said to the man on the throne, noticing that he was holding a blue axe that looked remarkably like Frostmourne.
The Witherer looked down at the Prince, his expression Arthas by the spiked helmet. "I just don't want to miss this moment. This isn't the end of the world; it's just two wandering ghosts talking."
"I was initially disappointed with this battle, but after seeing you, I no longer feel that way. Now I just want to know, how will you stop me?"
"You haven't answered my question yet," Nathanos said. "Do you think your sins will be forgotten once the world is reshaped?"