Just as Patrick had expected, Anasterian, whose sun was already setting, ultimately proved no match for Arthas at the height of his power. The Elf King lay helplessly on his back on the ice, a pool of blood beneath him, his long white hair scattered in disarray and his face covered in wrinkles. Having exhausted the Arcane energy that had sustained him in his old age, the old King had reached the end of his life, and Arthas's sword had struck his body directly.
Anasterian was dead, and his soul had dissipated. His aged body was no match for a young, vigorous one, either, so even reanimating Anasterian's corpse would serve little purpose. After the battle, Arthas merely hurried to repair his mount.
The King's death shocked all the surrounding Elves. Had the ruler who represented the highest magical attainment in Quel'Thalas died just like that? The Royalists seethed inwardly, while the other Elves on the outskirts began to question their resolve to keep fighting.
Watching the battle unfold, Patrick held back Nochong and Salorian as they rose in anger. "We're no match for Arthas right now. Let's retreat."
"But are we just going to let His Majesty Anasterian die like this? And what happens to the Sunwell if we leave? Are we going to let the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas be destroyed just like that?" Nochong was relatively rational. As the most important Spellbreaker captain in Quel'Thalas, no one understood what the Sunwell meant to the High Elves better than he did.
"The energy problem and our people's addiction to magic may find some relief in my Floating City. But if we all perish on the Isle of Quel'Danas today, the High Elves will cease to exist." Patrick spoke with absolute firmness.
"..." Nochong and Salorian remained silent for a