"You seem to dislike working with me?"
Kel'Thuzad's soul fire in his hollow eye sockets narrowed into a line of flame as he looked at the silent Death Knight standing at the bow, not saying a word.
Thassarian turned around, staring at the Archlich radiating powerful magical energy, and said in a cold tone, "How can you expect me to accept an envoy who once spread plague across the lands of Lordaeron? If not for His Majesty's command, my sword would have already taken your head."
"Hehehe," Kel'Thuzad let out a spine-chilling laugh, floating to the bow of the ship, "I was merely following orders—and you, you seem to harbor a strange hatred for both the Undead and the living."
"You'd best not come so close to me, or I can't guarantee I won't dismantle your skeleton," Thassarian frowned slightly, "I am only here to hunt those Dreadlords; they must pay the price."
"Oh, I know, Death Knight," Kel'Thuzad's gaze no longer fixed on Thassarian, "I merely wish to remind you that our current master is not the tyrannical monarch of old. All his actions have a purpose, and you would do well not to lose yourself in hatred…"
"Just mind your own business, Lich."
Thassarian clenched his fist then released it. He stopped talking to Kel'Thuzad, walked around the Lich, and returned to the ship's cabin.
—"It seems you've noticed as well, Kel'Thuzad."
Arthas's voice echoed in Kel'Thuzad's mind.
"Of course, my esteemed master. The Death Knight you have chosen possesses great potential, but he seems to harbor… emotions he shouldn't." Kel'Thuzad respectfully bowed towards the void, yet he did not specify what emotions plagued Thassarian.
"The hatred for these demons is a large part of what sustained him to return from the realm of death. But Mal'Ganis is already dead, so this hatred can only be repaid by his few accomplices."
"Be careful, Lich, don't let those few escape, or our world will face unforeseen dangers."
Kel'Thuzad replied with utmost deference, "As you command, Your Majesty."
Arthas's gaze vanished, and Kel'Thuzad's soul fire flickered a few times. As Ner'zhul's former right-hand man, he naturally knew that his original master had only outwardly complied with those large bats.
From the very beginning, Ner'zhul had been determined to seek revenge on the entity behind these demons, but Kel'Thuzad did not think this was a good idea.
The Dreadlords' contribution to the formation of the Scourge was indispensable. Ner'zhul's Legion was almost completely understood by the demons, which is why he wanted to create "proxies" controlled only by himself.
Ner'zhul feigned cooperation with Mal'Ganis to spread plague and fear in Lordaeron, but in reality, he intended to use Arthas to eliminate Mal'Ganis.
Unfortunately, his plans were well-laid, but he never expected Arthas to act outside the norm. After killing Mal'Ganis, he also took care of him along the way.
Therefore, Ner'zhul not only lost his life, but years of accumulation and forbearance all served to benefit others.
After Arthas became the Lich King, the first thing he did was to purge the demons and Ner'zhul's loyalists. Ner'zhul worried about the demons escaping to report to those behind them, but Arthas had no such concerns.
Ner'zhul was not entirely clear about the Dreadlords' plan, so he feared the Dreadlords escaping back into the Twisting Nether to report.
But Arthas knew very well that the Dreadlords could not leave, nor dared to run. If they returned to the Twisting Nether, Kil'jaeden would be the first to punish them. The Legion shows no mercy to failures.
The Dreadlords were key to the Burning Legion's arrival. After losing the help and cover of the Undead Scourge and the Lich King, they would certainly become even more frantic and desperate to complete Kil'jaeden's arrangements.
So these few remained like ticking time bombs for Azeroth.
Arthas also didn't know how many Dreadlords were in Naxxramas, but rather than searching the entire world for demons who could freely hide in others' bodies and souls, setting a trap to lure them in was a better choice.
The only thing Arthas was not entirely satisfied with was whether the bait Kel'Thuzad brought would be able to deceive the cunning Dreadlords; that remained an unknown.
However, he had already sent people to collect things that would definitely pique the demons' interest—
...…
Outside the town where Karazhan, the mage tower of Medivh, the last Guardian, was located in Deadwind Pass, two black-robed figures stopped.
The arrival of strangers startled countless crows resting on the dead trees outside the town. The black flock of crows cawed hoarsely, flapping their wings to fly to dead branches on higher cliffs, their dark green eyes fixed on the figures below.
One black-robed figure pulled back his hood. He looked up at the towering yet dilapidated mage tower in the distance, his eyes filled with complex emotions and nostalgia.
"Karazhan… I never thought I would return to this place in such a state."
Lothar stood outside the abandoned town. The sight of ruined walls and broken structures seemed to pull him back more than ten years, to the time he personally killed his best friend.
The once prosperous town had vanished into the river of time. The fel storm unleashed by the Guardian before his death transformed the originally picturesque valley into a barren wasteland.
Jagged strange rocks and withered trees were the only remaining embellishments here. All the residents of the entire town died in that instant, and that corrupted magical power had not dissipated even after more than a decade.
Lothar and Ogrim walked into the town ruins. A human skeleton lay scattered on a stone chair by the roadside. Death had come so quickly that he had no time to react; sitting there resting, he was transformed into bones by the terrifying fel storm.
"This place suffered a terrible magical strike… I highly doubt we can find anything useful here," Ogrim raised his hand and touched a nearby signpost. The wooden sign immediately crumbled into dust, scattering on the ground.
"Magical items won't be as fragile as these ordinary objects," Lothar explained, "Medivh's tower is a place all mages in the world dream of. We are bound to find something there."
"In any case, it won't be a difficult task," Ogrim looked around, "This place seems to have no other living creatures besides those crows and rats—"
"Rustle—Bang—Clang"
Before Ogrim finished speaking, his hand had already gripped the handle of his runic warhammer. The crude, ferocious weapon was held in his single hand. The Death Knight vigilantly focused his gaze on the source of the strange sound.
"You heard that too, Lothar?" Ogrim whispered, asking Lothar.
Lothar nodded and replied, "Of course. Rats and crows can't make that kind of sound."
Both men fixed their gaze on the deep doorway of an inn; the sound had come from there.