Arthas's wings of Holy Light slowly flapped, allowing him to float above the demons, who were like a golden ocean of fire. His Holy Light-formed face mask resembled a stern archangel, bringing divine punishment upon these demons from the Twisting Nether.
This was Arthas's first time using his power with full effort. His high affinity for Holy Light allowed him to effortlessly shape the light into whatever form he desired and make it function as intended.
Balnazzar was dead, his soul once again falling into Arthas's hands. The remaining demons were no match for Arthas; in just a few minutes, the demons in the canyon were either dead or had fled.
After clearing all the demons within sight, Arthas descended to the ground, his Holy Light wings trailing behind him, then shattering into particles of light and dissipating.
"Who are you?"
Tirion stood in place, clutching his wound and breathing heavily. He wanted to take a few steps forward, but his severe injuries made it impossible for him to move his body.
Arthas removed the Holy Light mask, and his loose golden hair spilled out from under his hood. He looked at Tirion with a smile, "Fording, even if you're old, you shouldn't have forgotten me, right?"
"Ar… Arthas? You, this… how is this possible?" Tirion's eyes were unfocused, completely disbelieving what he saw.
He wanted to ask more questions, but his body went limp, and he collapsed to the ground again. Arthas stepped forward to help him up and healed his wounds with Holy Light.
However, perhaps because Tirion was too old, or because he had overdrawn too much stamina just now, the Holy Light's healing effect on him was not good. Arthas's Holy Light could only stabilize his condition, preventing the fel poison from further eroding his body.
Feeling the familiar Holy Light power flowing into his body, Tirion's vision blurred somehow, but this time it was due to tears blurring his eyes.
Logically, Tirion should not have shed tears for a regicide, a traitor, and an executioner, but when he saw a complete, normal Arthas again, he completely lost control of his emotions.
"Is it really you… Arthas? But shouldn't you be on the Frozen Throne…" Tirion stopped mid-sentence because, no matter what, the Arthas before him was certainly not that fallen coward.
"Perhaps I should say 'long time no see,' but that doesn't quite fit," Arthas knew Tirion's thoughts, "However, it's better if you ask fewer questions. Even if your body is still tough, an injury like this, if not properly treated, will definitely kill you."
Tirion chuckled at his words; he also thought of some possibilities. "When I came here, I was already prepared to die on the battlefield, but I never imagined that the one who would save me would be you—
Your power is much stronger than the Arthas I knew, and I don't see even a hint of arrogance in you.
I can't even believe you are the Arthas I knew."
At this point, a hint of melancholy and sadness appeared in Tirion's eyes. It seemed he knew that this Arthas was not the traitor he had personally dealt with, but at least it showed that in another world, a true King of Lordaeron still existed.
"The style of your armor is truly nostalgic." Tirion sighed softly. Arthas's Holy Light had temporarily relieved his pain. The Highlord raised the Ashbringer and pressed its hilt into Arthas's hand.
"I no longer have the ability to fight, but the Alliance and the Horde are still resisting the Burning Legion's offensive. We received incorrect intelligence and suffered heavy losses." Tirion's gaze swept over the bodies of the Argent Crusade warriors. Because of that faulty intelligence, these young soldiers paid the price with their lives.
Even though he tried his best, he ultimately failed to lead them through the encirclement. If not for Arthas's arrival, he himself would have been captured by the Burning Legion, and most importantly, the Ashbringer would have fallen into the Burning Legion's hands.
This holy sword was too pure, so once corrupted, it would become a source of corruption. If the Burning Legion got their hands on it, this weapon would become a nightmare for the life of Azeroth.
Such a tragedy had already happened once before: Little Mograine sacrificed his life to end his father's tragic fate, but Mograine's curse then fell upon Darion.
Fortunately, the Ashbringer had returned to the embrace of Holy Light, freed from the curse of corruption. Since this sword was entrusted to Tirion, he absolutely could not accept the Ashbringer falling again.
He had now lost the ability to participate in the upcoming battle. Although he didn't know how "this" Arthas came to this era, now only he could take up the sword and the name of the Ashbringer.
"Arthas, raise this sword. The purity of the Ashbringer and Holy Light must not be defiled. Rather than letting it be a mere ornament in an old man's hand, let you wield it to make the demons tremble.
The coming battle is yours—don't worry about me. Your Holy Light has stabilized my injuries, and the Argent Crusade's griffins are still alive. I can leave here alone."
Tirion stood up, clutching his wound, his gaze complex as he looked at Arthas and the greatsword in his hand. "May the Light be with you."
"May the Light be with you, Fording. Be careful on your way." Arthas nodded, put away The Light's Vengeance, and slung the Ashbringer onto his back.
He had never thought he would have a day to use this weapon, but fate was unpredictable, and the Ashbringer had been placed in his hand in an impossible way.
As Arthas put the Ashbringer on his back and prepared to leave the canyon, Tirion suddenly called out to him, "Arthas!"
"What is it, Fording?"
The old man asked in a dry voice, "Taelan… is he doing well?"
Arthas suddenly understood. He smiled and gave Tirion a thumbs-up, "That guy is a great commander. The First Legion and Mardenholde Keep can't do without him."
The old man bowed slightly to Arthas, as if a great weight had been lifted from his heart.
"Thank you, Prince Arthas."
Watching Tirion ride a griffin away from the Broken Shore, Arthas turned his gaze to the source of the fel light pillar further away. That was where the avatar of the Fallen Titan, Sargeras, was sealed, and also the graveyard of his avatar, the source of these fel energies.
For demons, Sargeras' Tomb, with its seal broken, was undoubtedly akin to a true god's temple. On this small island, their power could receive an amplification second only to their main base in the Twisting Nether.
But these dangers could not stop Arthas, because there was someone he absolutely had to save there.
The Ashbringer seemed to sense its new master's will, and more surging and fervent Holy Light power continuously flowed within the humming Holy Light crystal. Arthas clearly perceived that an invisible link had, at this moment, bound him and the Ashbringer together.