Thassarian's lowered sword dripped with the blood of the fallen, his expression cold and unyielding, but the flames of hatred in his heart burned fiercely.
He stared with icy eyes at the disoriented Necromancers, muttering in a voice only he could hear, "My sword exists for this moment."
Balnazzar glared at the Death Knight on the Undead Warhorse. For him, Thassarian was not a difficult opponent; even with restricted flight, he could quickly deal with Thassarian.
However, just as he took a step, intending to crush the bug before him, Varimathras grabbed his shoulder, "Forget about that Death Knight! This is a trap, we need to find a way to leave!"
"They've stopped us repeatedly, and now they only sent a weak knight. Are you already thinking of fleeing?"
Balnazzar didn't take Varimathras's advice to heart. Even if he had to leave, he would first kill this Death Knight to let the Lich King know they weren't pushovers to be manipulated!
Breaking free from Varimathras's grasp, Balnazzar's palm gathered fel energy that made the surrounding Necromancers tremble in fear. A dark green cloud began to form over the town.
Varimathras looked at the green clouds and lightning in the sky, scolding the panicked Necromancers, "What are you still looking at? Why aren't you dispelling the magic restrictions here?"
The leading Necromancer's face was pale as he stammered, "We... we have no idea how this magic circle works! It's as if it appeared out of thin air—we can't find the nodes to break it!"
Those words instantly ignited a nameless fury within Varimathras, but a moment later, the cunning nature of a Dreadlords made him realize something was amiss—he shouldn't be so easily angered by such a thing.
"This magic circle also has the effect of disturbing one's mind..."
The Necromancers' behavior further convinced Varimathras of this. He focused his attention, observing the energy flow around him more closely.
Under such observation, he quickly discovered the problem: the shadow energy in the air was gathering towards the town under the guidance of some individual. As the energy gradually increased, the minds of those trapped within would become more and more out of control.
Balnazzar should have been affected to some extent, but he himself couldn't tolerate being hunted by the Lich King. Eighty percent of his current rage had accumulated beforehand.
It wouldn't take long to deal with a Death Knight, and it didn't matter if Balnazzar went, but Varimathras also had to quickly destroy the magical barrier here, otherwise, it might not be as simple as just one Death Knight delaying them soon.
Thinking of this, Varimathras used his ability to control the minds of the Necromancers, actually freeing them from their confused state, allowing them to cooperate with him to quickly destroy this spell.
Balnazzar's rage made him act recklessly. The fel energy he condensed almost formed a scorching storm in the town. This chaotic energy could not only burn the body but also erode the soul, so even a Death Knight dared not touch these flames.
Thassarian's expression remained calm. Using the cover of the houses, he continuously approached Balnazzar, skillfully maneuvering his Undead Warhorse to dodge Balnazzar's fel flames.
He was constantly wary of Balnazzar's other moves. The Dreadlords used fel magic only to compress his activity space; his true trump cards were not these wide-range but slow-moving destructive spells.
Kel'Thuzad had told him that this area was filled with shadow energy, and demons were also masters of shadow magic. As Kel'Thuzad's magic circle perfected, the shadow energy in the town would also increase, which would also make the Dreadlords feel right at home.
Every step the Death Knight took was difficult. Balnazzar's strength was greater than Mal'Ganis and Detheroc. Although Thassarian's strength had also improved, he still felt a great sense of oppression.
However, this time he knew exactly why he was here, and he also knew that the Nathrezim's close-combat abilities were equally formidable. Therefore, he had to wait for the opportune moment.
Finally, after using his blade to extinguish another fel flame, Balnazzar's magic paused slightly, as if it had reached a limit and could no longer be cast.
Thassarian immediately spurred his horse forward. But just as he was about to charge Balnazzar, the Undead Warhorse suddenly stopped.
Countless shadow-condensed tentacles emerged from the ground, tightly coiling around the Undead Warhorse's four hooves and continuously spreading upwards along its limbs.
Thassarian decisively abandoned his mount, flipping over and leaping high off the horse's back. The runeblade, Vengeance, in his hand, thrust towards the Dreadlords's forehead.
But just as the blade was about to pierce the demon's brow, a strange smile appeared on Balnazzar's pale face.
The surrounding shadow energy surged like water. Thassarian's body was actually locked in mid-air by the power of shadow, unmoving, like a statue encased in concrete.
"Did you think I didn't notice the anomaly in the shadow energy?" Balnazzar said unhurriedly, "You can slowly experience the feeling of being 'drowned' in the gradually strengthening ocean of shadow."
After the Dreadlords finished speaking, he no longer cared about Thassarian and turned to leave. Thassarian's armor, stimulated by the shadows, was slowly "waking up."
He seemed to feel ten thousand eyes watching him, ten thousand tentacles squeezing his body. The shadows were treating him as a delicacy, wanting to devour him bit by bit.
However, Thassarian also smiled the moment Balnazzar turned around—in this situation, the Dreadlords would definitely use shadow magic.
"Crack."
Balnazzar heard a faint sound of bones breaking. It seemed Thassarian's bones were crushed by the power of shadow. In a short while, he would turn into a puddle of minced meat, devoured by the shadows—
"Splurt!"
Intense pain tore at Balnazzar's nerves. His body involuntarily tensed, and corrupted blood continuously spurted from the hideous wound on his back.
Thassarian calmly wiped the blood from his face. His longsword, Vengeance, had grown flesh-like tissue, twisting and covering the saronite-forged runeblade, making it eerily sharper.
The Dreadlords's armor sizzled like butter cut by a hot knife, revealing a massive gash. The fatal wound, a diagonal cut, nearly severed one of Balnazzar's wings, even exposing the white bones beneath his muscles.
Purple-black shadow energy clung to the Dreadlords's flesh and bone, ravenously feasting on the readily available meal of flesh and blood. Under the erosion of the shadows, the wound was further corroded and worsened.
The Death Knight's unique death energy and plague also spread into Balnazzar's body. Under the intertwining of several energies, the flesh on his back rotted away in large patches almost every second.
"Ahhhhhh!"
The demon's agonizing scream reached Varimathras's ears. He watched in shock as Balnazzar knelt on the ground, one wing drooping, his back continuously assaulted by a massive amount of shadow energy.
Thassarian violently plunged Vengeance into Balnazzar's body. This longsword, as if "awakened" by some power, became a beacon and a gathering point for shadow energy. The energy, originally controlled by the demon, rushed towards Balnazzar without restraint.
At Thassarian's feet, the shattered skull returned to its original white color.
Balnazzar frantically tried to move his body to stop the shadow backlash, but he quickly realized that almost half of his flesh body had been corrupted by shadow, and the remaining half was covered in various plague energies.
He trembled and twisted his head, glaring maliciously with bloodshot eyes at Thassarian, who was disarming his animated saronite armor, and roared curses, "You despicable worm... I will surely—"
Balnazzar's last words were cut short as a shadow-flesh spike pierced his throat, silencing him abruptly.
Kel'Thuzad, who was controlling the magic in the town from afar, suddenly covered the town with Medivh's magic circle. A moment later, he revealed a satisfied smile.
Balnazzar's body slumped to the ground powerlessly at that moment. The instant he fell, the Dreadlords's corpse was immediately covered by unidentifiable, grotesque tissue. The shadow energy seemed to have gained self-awareness, freely devouring the demon's flesh and blood.
Varimathras was helpless, only able to watch Balnazzar being consumed by shadow energy. That process was completely irreversible, unless countered by the power of Holy Light, but Balnazzar would probably be burned to ashes by the Holy Light before he could recover.
He looked at Thassarian, who had temporarily lost his combat ability, and no thought of fighting arose within him. He suddenly had a premonition that if he stayed, his fate would be similar to Balnazzar's.
"Go kill that Death Knight! Quickly!"
The Dreadlords roared at the Necromancers. The mind-controlled Necromancers immediately surrounded Thassarian, while Varimathras intended to attack the magic surrounding the town with brute force.
fel energy was already eroding the surrounding magic at an extremely fast rate, but an inexplicable sense of threat made him prefer to be backlashed by excessive fel energy rather than not increase the intensity of the controlled fel energy.
"Bang!"
Unfortunately, this loud sound was not Varimathras breaking the magic, but the Necromancers being struck down and crushed by a heavy warhammer.
Ogrim stood on the dented ground he had created, slowly lifting his runic warhammer. He glanced at Balnazzar's corpse and said to Thassarian, "Well done. Leave the rest to us."
The moment Varimathras saw Ogrim, he was immediately overwhelmed by a suffocating sense of crisis. Not only because Ogrim's strength far exceeded Thassarian's at that moment, but also because he felt that the truly dangerous presence had arrived.
Arthas's figure slowly emerged from a patch of darkness. Frostmourne in his hand gleamed with a ghostly blue light. Varimathras's heart immediately filled with extremely ominous thoughts.
Just then, the magic circle was shattered, but before Varimathras could rejoice, he discovered that behind this layer of magical barrier, another, more intricate pattern was arranged in the sky.
"This is—!"
Varimathras almost lost his voice. A long-forgotten sense of dread swept over him: the one outside was the true trump card—the familiar patterns indicated that this spell was derived from the Burning Legion's knowledge.
Only demons could have a deeper understanding of demons. This demonic magic circle was inscribed with incantations to imprison demonic souls!
But how could humans and undead know this kind of magic?
With this layer of magic, they could not have escaped from the very beginning. Moreover, it seemed that Balnazzar's soul was very likely captured by the magic circle's controller.
Ogrim, Lothar, and Arthas surrounded Varimathras. The Dreadlords's mind raced. He suddenly raised his hands and shouted:
"Wait, I surrender! I can swear allegiance to the Scourge! I can tell you the locations of Tichondrius and Detheroc!"
The Dreadlords's shouts made Ogrim and Lothar pause. They both looked at Arthas.
Arthas, however, did not stop. He walked up to Varimathras, observing the surrendering Varimathras, and chuckled, "As far as I know, the Nathrezim are all two-faced. Perhaps you swear allegiance to me today, and tomorrow you'll be working for the Burning Legion again."
Varimathras's expression didn't change, but he was somewhat uncertain. Arthas seemed to know much more than he thought. "Your Majesty, the Legion is not omniscient and omnipotent. If you don't kill me, I can be your informant and provide you with Legion intelligence."
"Alright," Arthas agreed readily, "Of course, you'll have to give me your soul."
This condition instantly put Varimathras in a dilemma. If he gave his soul to Arthas, he would be completely betraying the Legion, because he couldn't disobey Arthas's commands, otherwise Arthas could deal with him at any time.
The Burning Legion would not tolerate any traitors. After the Legion invaded Azeroth, the fate awaiting Varimathras would be more terrifying than death.
But if he didn't agree to Arthas... Varimathras felt that his fate in a moment might not be any better.
Varimathras, caught in a dilemma, remained silent for a moment. But when he saw Balnazzar's gruesome death and his unknown fate of his soul, even the Dreadlords shivered.
"Before I agree, can you tell me if Mal'Ganis is truly dead or..."
Arthas slightly raised Frostmourne in his hand, and a familiar soul aura emanated from it, making Varimathras nod repeatedly, "I will certainly pledge allegiance to you, and never betray."