Dick's breathing was somewhat heavy. He reached out and laid the silver-white card in his palm.
This was his trump card!
Dick raised his head. The sight of more than a dozen Frost Wyrms swooping toward him together was enough to make anyone's legs tremble. He was confident he could kill one; if he fought for his life, killing two or even three was not impossible. But once these ultimate weapons of the Scourge reached a certain number, even Dick could only feel powerless.
Arthas and the Archlich both glanced back at the Frost Wyrms approaching the Dalaran Platform. Both undead felt a sense of relief.
Although the gathering Dark Energy terrified them, as long as they could destroy the Magic Circles inscribed around that platform, they would not even need to act themselves. The rampaging energy would devour that Demon Hunter who did not know his own limits.
We've won!
The thought crossed Arthas's mind, and he relaxed. Once his thoughts cleared, the pressure Uther placed on him abruptly lessened considerably. He swung his sword, unleashing a bone-chilling wind, and blocked Uther's frenzied slash with a Howling Blast containing the power of the Northern Wind Snowfield. Thick frost appeared on the surface of Uther's armor, slowing his movements slightly. Using the force transmitted through his blade, Arthas leaped lightly backward.
He rolled his shoulders and rested both hands on Frostmourne.
"Now, let's have some real fun!"
The next moment, one second before Uther's blade came down, the King of the Death Knights' fur cloak flew backward. Visible masses of icy wind and falling snow began swirling around him. This strange phenomenon covered an enormous area. Every patch of ground within the Blizzard rapidly accumulated layer upon layer of snow. The storm howled, and crystal-clear balls of ice fell from