All the paladins, priests, guards, and others nearby seemed determined to seek justice for Rotande Gili, who lay in a pool of blood. They charged at Arthas, but the prince who had already stepped into darkness was not worried in the slightest.
Before they had made it halfway, Rotande Gili slowly rose from the ground. His bloodstained bishop's robes stirred without wind, and his skin gradually turned pale green, as though plague had spread throughout his body.
The archbishop Arthas had killed was now under Frostmourne's control, a minion of the Undead.
"How does your new life feel, Your Grace?" Like an elegant gentleman, Arthas put away his runeblade and instead looked at the newly born plague mage, Rotande Gili, with a relaxed expression.
"Nothing could feel better than this. Ha... ha. No one can escape death and decay."
"Then clear out this rabble for me," Arthas said indifferently, as though those soldiers were already dead.
"Oh, as you command. Ha... ha... The taste is sweet." Rotande Gili was no longer the patriarch who had cried out in the name of the Holy Light. He had now become a devoted follower of Arthas.
Everyone froze in shock at the sight of Rotande Gili rising from the dead. All of Lordaeron City had heard of what had happened in Dalaran Province. Now the archbishop, in whom everyone had placed their faith in the Holy Light, had died as well, and had even been raised as one of the Undead. Unable to accept this, they drew their weapons and shouted, "We cannot let this prince desecrate the archbishop's corpse! Fight for the Holy Light!"
Unfortunately, the soldiers charging at Arthas had barely advanced before the plague mage unleashed wave after wave of Death Wave, enveloping, corrupting, and eroding them. The plague, like