Ravencrest's sudden struggle caught Dantal'inax off guard for a moment, but once he reacted, he immediately prepared to continue controlling Ravencrest with necromantic magic.
However, when his magic landed on Ravencrest, it was blocked by some unknown magical force, and the spells that could easily bind Ravencrest's consciousness lost their effect.
Ravencrest still possessed free will, and he once again attacked Dantal'inax with his longsword.
After Dantal'inax's spell failed, he hastily raised his staff to parry Ravencrest's descending longsword, but Ravencrest kicked the Dreadlords in the abdomen.
The immense force directly sent Dantal'inax flying. Although he was not harmed, being repeatedly attacked by a mortal made him feel disgraced.
Ravencrest charged forward, and just as he was about to continue his assault, Dantal'inax let out a piercing shriek.
The sound contained magic, causing Ravencrest's soul to tremble, his steps to falter, and an uncontrollable dizziness to strike his soul.
After being resurrected as an undead, Ravencrest's soul was already somewhat detached from his body, although an unknown force protected him from Dantal'inax's magic regaining control.
However, this did not mean he could ignore all of Dantal'inax's attacks. The sudden assault of soul magic immediately put Ravencrest at a disadvantage.
Dantal'inax's body gradually swelled, and Latonius's disguise was directly burst by the Dreadlords' massive physique, revealing his inherent powerful build and runic armor.
"Fool! Do you think you can truly contend with us?!"
Dantal'inax now felt that resurrecting Ravencrest was a mistake. Although manipulating this commander of the War of the Ancients could make the undead soldiers easier to control, they did not necessarily need Ravencrest.
"If you refuse to cooperate, then I'll use your damned soul as raw material for a monstrosity!" Dantal'inax extended his sharp claws, and fel power pulled Ravencrest's body into mid-air.
Ravencrest wanted to break free from the Dreadlords' magic, but their strengths were not on the same level. Although he was a battle-hardened warrior and commander, he still appeared very fragile when facing demonic spells.
To put it bluntly, those without the corresponding power and will to resist magic can only be daedane when bound by magic.
Dantal'inax's sharp claws thrust out fiercely, intending to destroy Ravencrest's body and soul in one go, but at that moment, a blue stream of light shot out from the shadows of the fortress.
Upon sensing danger, Dantal'inax retracted his hand at the fastest speed, but even so, his claws were cleanly severed by half.
He was furious and bewildered, searching everywhere for the source of the attack—it must be someone connected to the force that freed Ravencrest from his control!
The blue stream of light smoothly sank into the ground, and the magic on Ravencrest also lost its effect due to Dantal'inax being interrupted. He fell to the ground, looking at the runic longsword standing obliquely.
"Frostmourne...?"
Dantal'inax's thoughts paused for half a second: Wasn't this sword destroyed long ago?
There could never be another Frostmourne in this world. The origin of this sword was more complex than anyone could imagine; the runes on it came from Maw, the land of death throughout the entire universe.
After a brief moment of stunned, Dantal'inax immediately prepared to summon reinforcements. The appearance of Frostmourne made the whole situation confusing, and to avoid greater variables, summoning reinforcements was the best course of action.
However, before the magic used for the distress call could be cast, Dantal'inax suddenly noticed that the sky seemed to have changed. The sky, originally covered by dark clouds, was now stained a dim orange-red under his gaze.
The color, like a fading sunset, struck Dantal'inax's mind like a heavy hammer, and the surrounding buildings and scenery slowly became ethereal, as if covered by a thin mist.
The Dreadlords stopped casting, because it was meaningless now. During the time he was entangled with Ravencrest, the hidden presence had pulled the entire top platform of Ravencrest Fortress into the rift between the Shadowlands and the real plane.
The runes on Frostmourne lit up one by one. After trembling slightly, the runic sword pulled itself out of the hard platform ground and floated in mid-air. Dantal'inax's spirit sharpened, and he wrapped himself in his bat wings, shooting fel rays from the tips of his wings.
A biting cold wind surged out from the blade of Frostmourne, and a wall of ice rose from the ground, blocking all the fel rays. Frostmourne seemed completely unaffected, and the cold wind almost entirely froze the entire platform.
Dantal'inax's body trembled uncontrollably under the impact of the magical cold wave. This frost not only scoured his flesh but also sealed his magic and soul.
The Dreadlords struggled to mobilize fel, attempting to break the frost domain created by Frostmourne, but with his thoughts frozen, his casting became extremely slow. Spells that he could normally use with a single thought now required several seconds to reset the incantation.
However, his attention, already drawn by Frostmourne, and his frozen nerves made him completely overlook the opening behind him. From the shadows, a knight wielding a greatsword stepped out.
Holy light shone like a torch, yet, under the spreading frost of Frostmourne, it provided excellent cover for the holy light, so much so that the Dreadlords completely failed to notice Arthas's appearance.
The greatsword struck down, and the blizzard from Frostmourne also ceased. Dantal'inax's back was instantly torn apart by Ashbringer. He collapsed to the ground, barely alive.
"Arthas... how... how could you still be alive in this world?" Dantal'inax's weak voice was filled with doubt and confusion. He couldn't accept that he had failed like this.
This was completely illogical! This exceeded everyone's expectations!
The Dreadlords could not accept his failure was due to completely accidental factors. He had already arranged everything in Ravencrest Fortress, but Arthas's arrival disrupted all his plans, even costing him his own life on the spot.
Arthas said nothing. He reversed his grip on Ashbringer's hilt and pressed down forcefully, the blade piercing directly into the Dreadlords' body. Holy light flames instantly spread within the demon's body.
After a harrowing scream, the charred Dreadlords finally lost his chance to do evil, and his soul was taken into Frostmourne, awaiting endless torment and suffering.
Arthas pulled out Ashbringer, which was still burning with scorching flames.
"The last one."
"Hmm?"
In the endless abyss, a slightly puzzled voice rang out.
"The balance has been broken… and this world can no longer be touched."
The gaze of this unknown existence seemed to pierce through all material barriers and planar obstructions, landing upon Azeroth.
"Frozen Throne… those useless demons always leave me with all sorts of trouble."
The mysterious existence looked at Azeroth with some weariness; this world was quite special to him, but he never had a good opportunity to thoroughly complete his plan.
However… it no longer mattered now; the chess pieces in that world had lost their purpose, and his gaze turned to the other end of the river of time.
After a long wait, he finally found the answer he had yearned for.
…
"Warchief!"
"Your Majesty!"
Sylvanas awoke from her coma, looking somewhat bewildered at the Royal Dreadguards and Horde leaders surrounding her, "I…?"
Lor'themar saw Sylvanas's expression and said to the guards around them, "Alright, alright, the Warchief is overworked and needs to rest for a bit, it's nothing major, everyone return to their posts."
The Royal Dreadguards left, half-believing, half-doubting; Lor'themar's explanation was a bit far-fetched, but not entirely unreasonable.
The Undead, after all, still possessed self-awareness and souls; physical labor was fine, as their bodies were no longer important, but activities that excessively consumed mental energy could still make the Undead feel fatigued.
Sylvanas taking over the management of the Horde from Vol'jin at such a critical juncture certainly required far more effort than merely managing the Forsaken.
The awakened Sylvanas quickly shed her bewildered expression. She nodded, confirming Lor'themar's statement, dismissed the guards in the Warchief's Hall, leaving only a few high-ranking Horde leaders.
Once only she and the Horde leaders remained in the hall, Lor'themar finally spoke, "Warchief, are you alright?"
Lor'themar wasn't very fond of Sylvanas's current way of doing things, but he had to admit that at this time, Sylvanas was indeed a good choice as Warchief.
"I suddenly fainted? Here?"
Sylvanas sorted through her scattered memories; the few seconds before she lost consciousness were very blurry in her mind.
"Yes, a messenger was just about to report the latest situation from Dalaran, but while waiting for your response…" Lor'themar paused, and Sylvanas understood the whole story.
She wasn't quite sure why she had fainted.
But she was certain that during that brief period of unconsciousness, some kind of change had occurred from her soul to her body.
Sylvanas's gaze was somewhat unfocused, but it quickly returned to normal. "It's nothing major, it must be that recent events have made my soul a bit tired, I'm fine now.
Alright, I've heard the messenger's report. Now I will personally lead a team to Stormheim; we must obtain the aegis of aggramar before the Burning Legion.
Gather the Horde's champions; we are ready to depart at any moment."
With that, Sylvanas walked out of the Warchief's Hall, leaving the few Horde leaders looking at each other.
And the ranger most closely associated with Sylvanas, Nathanos Blightcaller, stood in place, deep in thought.
—The Dark Lady he served seemed a little different?
But this question lingered in his mind for only a short time. Nathanos said nothing, following Sylvanas away: no matter what changes Sylvanas underwent, he would only obey her commands.
…
Arthas, holding the shards of Frostmourne, rushed back to Dalaran overnight. In the Guardian's secret chamber, Archmage Khadgar had been waiting for him for a long time.
"Arthas, your feat in Val'sharah is inspiring; we can temporarily stop worrying about Xavius and his evil master further invading our world."
"Don't celebrate too soon, Khadgar, Xavius won't give up invading the real world for such a reason," Arthas reminded, "Before facing the Burning Legion, you'd best utterly discourage him—the very thorough kind."
"If we have the chance, we certainly will," Khadgar gave a positive reply.
The Emerald Nightmare was like a ticking time bomb, and it always detonated at the most critical moment. If it couldn't be eliminated as soon as possible, the allied forces' fight against the Burning Legion would inevitably become constrained.
Moreover, losing the help of the demigods and druids in the Emerald Dream also meant losing a significant portion of Azeroth's vital forces.
Malfurion and the druids of Val'sharah would find it difficult to spare much energy to fight the Burning Legion before dealing with the nightmare, that cancerous growth.
But fortunately, Varian and Tirion were still alive, and the Alliance front remained stable, which undoubtedly relieved much pressure on Dalaran.
Furthermore, the former Guardian Dragon Ysera had not fallen due to Xavius's evil scheme; with her help, Malfurion was fully capable of dealing with the nightmare's attacks.
Compared to the worst-case scenario, the current situation was as good as it could possibly be.
Khadgar dared not imagine what would happen if Varian and Tirion had both died at the Broken Shore, and Ysera had been dragged into the nightmare and corrupted by Xavius—how could Azeroth possibly win this war?
The Lich King brought death and despair to Azeroth, but Arthas's appearance made Khadgar feel hope and light during this dark time.
He recalled the Frostmourne and Ashbringer in Arthas's hands, and Khadgar also knew that Arthas would not stay in this world for long.
"You are ready to leave?"
"Yes, the preparations are complete, and I have obtained the crucial item." Arthas patted Khadgar's shoulder, "The path ahead, you must walk yourselves, but I believe Azeroth will never be destroyed."
"At least not until we are completely destroyed, that day won't come." Khadgar laughed heartily, "Come with me, friend, let Dalaran give you one last gift."
Khadgar teleported Arthas to the top of the Violet Citadel, where the current Council of Six was waiting for Khadgar's appearance.
The Archmages were not surprised to see Arthas; it seemed Khadgar had already revealed relevant information to them, but their eyes still held very complex emotions.
Old Dalaran was destroyed by the Undead Scourge, Antonidas also died in that catastrophe, and it was because Kel'Thuzad summoned Archimonde that the entire Lordaeron was truly annihilated.
It could be said that although Ner'zhul did not cause Azeroth to fall as Kil'jaeden intended, Arthas's fall still directly meant that Azeroth entered a painful and long period of time.
Things had changed now; the Arthas before them was no longer the self-corrupting, humanity-extinguishing madman of yesteryear. Anyone would wonder, if the Arthas of their world had not fallen, what would it be like now?
"Long time no see—no… I should say, a pleasure to meet you for the first time, Prince Arthas."
The mages paid Arthas a solemn courtesy, which was not a mage's etiquette, but Lordaeron's noble etiquette, and Arthas returned their bow with a smile.
"Good day, Masters, though I would prefer that our meeting was not at such a critical life-or-death juncture."