Odin's explanation surprised Arthas somewhat, but he wasn't particularly shocked.
It wasn't the first or second day he had wielded Frostmourne, and many powerful enemies and opponents had already had their blood and souls drunk by the runeblade. Arthas had long since gained a profound understanding of the sword's nature.
Arthas, who already had some understanding of the Shadowlands, had also wondered why the Dreadlords had such deep mastery over the powers of death and souls.
Judging by the few individuals he had fought, while their mastery of necromancy was not low, it might still not surpass that of Arthas's Archlich Kel'Thuzad.
Indeed, if one had to say, it could only be said that the Nathrezim possessed a considerable talent in necromancy, but they were absolutely far from reaching a state of perfection.
The weapon Frostmourne, however, was precisely the opposite of the Dreadlords' situation: the material of this weapon was not top-tier, otherwise it would not have been shattered by the Ashbringer, but the runes and knowledge of death contained within it far surpassed the skill of the Ashbringer.
If Frostmourne had been forged by Kil'jaeden, an Eredar who had delved into the path of magic for countless millennia, Arthas might have found it somewhat reasonable.
Otherwise, with the Dreadlords' rudimentary knowledge of necromancy, let alone forging Frostmourne, there was a higher probability they would create a fel version of Fire of Joy.
After all, their race were demons, a race that lived in the Twisting Nether and utilized fel. Even if the path of fel had methods targeting souls, compared to the Shadowlands, which represented death, it was the difference between someone who could cook and a master chef.
Odin reinforced Frostmourne's blade with several runes. These markings represented the most primal concepts such as "soul" and "death," causing the runeblade to undergo a certain transformation.
He then returned the reinforced Frostmourne to Arthas, saying, "This is all I can do. This sword's origin lies in the Shadowlands, not our universe. To truly reveal its full potential, you need to go there yourself."
After speaking, a stream of light suddenly appeared in Odin's single eye, circled around Arthas, and then vanished from the real plane.
Arthas clearly perceived that this was some kind of message, and he looked at Odin, wanting him to answer his confusion.
Odin also graciously responded to Arthas, "I told you, the Shadowlands is a very wondrous place. Although they are closely connected to the main universe's time, messages transmitted through the Shadowlands using certain methods can be free from the constraints of space and time.
Just now, I transmitted the information of our conversation into the River of Souls. Don't worry, that is a message that can only be read by someone who has lost an eye."
Frostmourne returned to Arthas's hand. Although the runeblade appeared to have no special changes, only a few inconspicuous runes appeared at the end of the blade, he could feel its internal transformation.
Previously, Frostmourne had contained tens of thousands of Theramore souls. While the aura emitted by these souls provided Frostmourne with great power, it also placed a significant burden on the runeblade.
After all, these souls could not be exploited; Frostmourne merely served as a container, incidentally utilizing the soul power that would otherwise be wasted.
Just as Arthas had thought, while an increasing number of souls could enhance the sword's power, becoming stronger with more souls, at the same time, Frostmourne's own burden would become increasingly severe.
Collisions with ordinary weapons were not an issue, as the enhancement brought by the souls made this burden almost negligible. However, collisions with powerful weapons, which generated energy tremors, would make Frostmourne incredibly fragile.
If, in addition, the souls within Frostmourne harbored immense resentment and anger towards the sword, the soul power driven by these emotions could at any moment disrupt the fragile balance of the blade.
Odin's runes temporarily relieved Frostmourne of this concern, but in the long run, as it absorbed more and more souls, the runeblade would eventually meet its destruction.
"Frostmourne is a sword that serves death. The more souls it absorbs, the more its power pleases its master," Odin said. "But if you seize more souls than you can control, it will also backfire on you."
Odin's words were a warning and a reminder, "Every time you take a life with this sword, you must be clear whether you can control the other's soul."
"I understand. I will use this power wisely."
Odin waved his hand, "Haha, the fact that you can wield this sword without being consumed by dark thoughts shows that you are not a reckless person. I just hope that at some point in the future, the knight wielding Frostmourne can forge another path...
This is something no one has ever conceived. If those guys call me an old stubborn, then I want to see if this can make a difference."
Arthas chuckled at the words, never expecting that the Great Administrator Odin still harbored resentment over his colleagues' words from back then, hoping to change Azeroth's fate in his own way.
However, the passage of time had also changed the Administrator's mindset. He was initially a self-righteous "god," but now he was willing to interact with mortals and learn from these creatures weakened by the Flesh Curse.
"Alright, I've said what I needed to say. Let Skovald stay in the Halls of Valor and be ridiculed for a lifetime." Odin settled back into his throne, returning to his languid state. "Arthas, go, complete your own task, but the Halls of Valor always welcomes you as a guest."
"Thank you, Great Administrator. May the Light be with you."
Amidst the light, Arthas's figure vanished from the hall, leaving only his voice echoing through the grand chamber.
"A paladin, huh? Haha, Tyr, I never thought the seeds you planted would one day blossom," Odin once again fell into reminiscence. Back then, they were diligent Guardians, watching over the growth of Azeroth.
Always hiding in this grand hall wasn't a good solution either. Odin felt he had been away long enough, so long that even his colleagues were almost forgetting him.
Loken, corrupted by the Old Gods, had already drowned in his throne and sweet dreams, but countless pairs of eyes filled with greed and evil still stared at all of Azeroth.
Odin sat upright on his throne, slightly bowing his head, "Helya, I will come to correct my mistakes."
Arthas, upon returning to the real plane, couldn't help but fall into deep thought: the fallen ones incited by the Burning Legion had been dealt with, and now the other demons were either on the Broken Shore or lurking in the Twisting Nether, leaving him with almost no opportunity to act.
Although Arthas didn't want to linger longer in this world, breaking into Sargeras' Tomb at this time was simply too dangerous; even he wasn't 100% confident he could escape unscathed.
As for Gul'dan, no matter how much Arthas wished him dead, the cunning Orc Warlock was like a startled bird, hiding in Night Hold and refusing to come out, leaving Arthas with no way to deal with him.
Currently, the forces of the Alliance and Horde had not yet fully assembled, and control of the Suramar region was still in the hands of the Burning Legion.
It seemed he couldn't take Gul'dan's life, but perhaps having Varian personally eliminate the scourge that was Gul'dan would be a good alternative.
However, after much deliberation, Arthas couldn't think of a suitable target for the time being; it seemed his path home was still far away.
Although the demon invasion was aggressive, their high-ranking commanders were not scattered; aside from a few Dreadlords ordered to infiltrate Azeroth's civilization, most high-ranking demons were hidden within their bases.
Stormheim held nothing left for Arthas to explore, and he didn't want to deal with Helya in Helheim; Helya in Helheim was like himself on the Frozen Throne.
Arthas had no intention of confronting such a troublesome opponent, and Helya herself had deep connections to the Shadowlands; death for her was merely a temporary slumber, and even Odin couldn't completely kill her.
With demons unexposed and other evil entities difficult to deal with, Arthas was hesitating whether to return to Dalaran and wait for a while when he suddenly sensed a disgusting aura seemingly polluting the real plane.
"This is… the power of the Old Gods?"
Arthas concentrated on sensing the source of this power, and with his extreme sensitivity to soul fluctuations, he almost traversed the entire distance of the Broken Isles, detecting a once pure soul being corrupted.
That nauseating power originated from the pollution of the Old Gods.
At this time, it should be the period when Savis was invading Val'sharah, and facing both the Old Gods' minions and the Burning Legion's forces simultaneously left the Night Elves there somewhat overwhelmed.
Val'sharah, corrupted by the Old Gods, was undoubtedly fraught with danger, but for Arthas, it was an excellent hunting ground—the fear of enemies and corrupted souls were Frostmourne's favorite delicacies.
A long, melodious whistle sounded, piercing the thin membrane between reality and illusion, summoning Arthas's beloved steed, Invincible, from the shadows.
This warhorse exuded an aura that repelled the living; as its hooves touched the ground, the surrounding green grass and shrubs withered at a visible rate.
"Invincible, it seems you've hunted some good things in the Shadowlands." Arthas stroked Invincible's head, "But don't enter the forest in this form, or those Druids might fight us first."
Invincible tilted its head, understanding its master's intention, and snorted, the soul fire in its eye sockets suddenly extinguished, followed by golden holy flames erupting from its nostrils.
"Hee-haw—!"
Accompanying Invincible's neigh, the originally eerie and terrifying warhorse was enveloped in layers of golden light, and its ferocious horse armor was transformed by holy light energy into noble and pure decorations.
A pair of holy light wings extended from the horse's back, and in the blink of an eye, Invincible transformed from a deathly warhorse of hell into a sacred and noble warhorse.
Golden holy light cascaded from the saddle on its back, condensing into long, ribbon-like skirt armor, and a unicorn-like horn extended from its head armor.
Arthas revealed a satisfied smile—his Invincible had never died; Arthas had put immense effort into it, helping this warhorse transcend the limitations of lifespan and species, evolving into an existence similar to Elemental Creatures.
Holy light and death were both its flesh and its armor; the two in one was the true form of this warhorse.
Moreover, it seemed Invincible had found something good in the Shadowlands during this time; its form was becoming increasingly perfect, and given enough time, this horse might even be able to contend with demigods.
Riding the holy light warhorse, Arthas carried Ashbringer on his back; at least this way, he gave the impression of coming to help. If he had entered the battlefield with Frostmourne and Invincible in its undead form, the Druids' spells would probably have fallen on him first.
There was no helping it; after all, there was also a fellow named Arthas in this world who, wielding Frostmourne and riding Invincible, had bloodily purged the entire continent of Lordaeron, hadn't he?
Lightly squeezing the horse's back with his legs, Invincible understood, carrying its master as it galloped into the air, moving so fast it almost became a golden streak in the sky.
…
"Ysera, I don't have the patience to wait anymore; Savis and his damned Nightmare must be punished immediately!"
Archdruid Malfurion, abandoning his usual calm demeanor, was almost consumed by rage; with an unhappy expression, he transformed into a storm raven, flapped his wings, and vanished before Ysera.
Green Dragon Queen Ysera watched Malfurion's departure with worry in her eyes, and she said to the somewhat bewildered Druids before her, "Malfurion is too impulsive. We must stop his reckless behavior; it will lead him into Savis's trap."
The Druids exchanged glances; although they also wanted to stop Malfurion, he was almost the mentor and pioneer for most of them here, which left them truly at a loss for words.
Ysera shook her dragon head helplessly; Val'sharah's current assault by the Old Gods' minions was also due to the Nightmare having already encroached upon the Emerald Dream, and as the real-world location most deeply connected to the Emerald Dream, Val'sharah was inevitably implicated.
The World Tree Shaladrassil, almost completely corrupted, was the first casualty of the Nightmare's arrival; these trees, as symbols of life, had deep connections to the Emerald Dream, allowing the Nightmare to easily corrupt them.
And Cenarius, also a demigod in the Emerald Dream, had fallen to the Nightmare; he had now been taken by Nightmare King Savis, which infuriated Malfurion, Cenarius's student.
The Arch Druid had already gone to track down the true culprit, and Ysera knew that with her current strength alone, she couldn't contend with the forces threatening Val'sharah; she had to find reliable help.