Alexstrasza looked at the scroll in Wrathion's hand as if facing a formidable enemy, her body instinctively entering a defensive stance.
"Where did you get this thing?!"
Like Kalecgos, the Red Dragon Queen also sensed the danger of this scroll. If the master who placed the seal on the scroll had ill intentions, then the building beneath their feet, along with them, would instantly turn to ashes.
"Uh, this thing isn't that dangerous."
Wrathion felt that Arthas probably wouldn't want to kill him; after all, it would be meaningless. He was merely a traveler from another world, coming to their world to find some things. Killing him, without even getting his body or soul, what good would that do Arthas?
Probably.
Kalecgos also chimed in, "I've already checked it. Although this scroll is dangerous, it's also quite stable. The worst-case scenario shouldn't happen."
Alexstrasza finally breathed a slight sigh of relief. She looked at the scroll and said doubtfully, "You said it contains information about the Dragon Isles. That's a bit... absurd."
She wasn't a fool who could be easily tricked. Although the scroll did have a rather dangerous seal, its appearance and form clearly indicated it was a product of recent years.
The Dragon Isles were a secret hidden before the Great Sundering. Even the Dragons themselves couldn't find their homeland, so how did the original owner of this scroll manage it?
Malyndia also began to suspect Wrathion's intentions. "What exactly are your tricks? If you're truly sincere about sharing your findings, then don't play these games."
Wrathion smiled, "This is something I spent a fortune to get—although I haven't paid yet, what I have to give up makes even me feel a pang. Besides, for such important news, wouldn't it seem odd to just give it away for free?"
Alexstrasza nodded slightly this time. Now, this was more like Wrathion's style. Although he wasn't an evil Black Dragon, if you truly believed in his unearned favors, you would most likely have to repay him with interest in the near future.
"Tell me your demands, but I want to make it clear beforehand: no one is certain if your information is true or false, so until we truly confirm it's about the Dragon Isles, we can only pay a 'deposit' first."
Alexstrasza looked at Wrathion with some helplessness. In this impromptu meeting today, she was the oldest Dragon, yet she still couldn't gain an advantage against a cunning junior like Wrathion.
Wrathion held up a finger and smiled, "My condition is simple: you must help me rebuild the Black Dragonflight."
This request did not surprise the other Dragons present. Everyone knew Wrathion's obsession with rebuilding the Black Dragonflight, but he had never found a suitable method.
Wrathion's pride also prevented him from shamelessly asking for help from the brothers and sisters of other Dragonflights. Additionally, most Black Dragons had long been corrupted by Deathwing's bloodline, becoming reviled beings. Rebuilding a new Black Dragonflight was not an easy task.
And now, with leverage in hand, Wrathion finally had the confidence to discuss this matter with his compatriots in the Dragon Legion. No matter how arrogant he was, he knew deeply that rebuilding the almost completely destroyed Black Dragonflight was absolutely not something he could do alone, overnight.
But Alexstrasza did not directly agree to Wrathion's request. Instead, she said, "This is not a simple matter. Moreover, Wrathion, you know the terrible mistakes the Black Dragonflight once made. Even if it is to be rebuilt, it will be fraught with difficulties."
"But Black Dragons have also sacrificed for our world, shedding their blood," Wrathion retorted, not backing down. "In any case, this is my demand, and I will not compromise."
At this, Alexstrasza could only take a deep breath. Wrathion's condition was not unreasonable, and she had warned him. Since he was insistent, then so be it—
"Wrathion, can I see that scroll again?"
Chromie, who had been a silent observer, suddenly interjected.
Wrathion was not too surprised and tossed the scroll to the short figure nearby.
Chromie reached out and caught the scroll steadily, continuously flipping through it and examining it. "That's right... the form is correct, but the time doesn't match. Hmm... there's also a special seal here, but this workshop disappeared decades ago—so, Wrathion, you've met him, haven't you?"
Wrathion blinked. "Sorry, I don't know what you mean."
All the other Dragons also looked at Chromie, seemingly realizing that Chromie knew something. Chromie belatedly covered her mouth, smiling awkwardly, "Uh, do you believe me if I say I don't know anything?"
"Chromie? Why didn't Nozdormu come, and instead sent you?"
Alexstrasza finally asked the question she had wanted to ask from the beginning. When she noticed that after receiving Kalecgos's summons, it was Chromie who came from the Bronze Dragonflight instead of Nozdormu, she found it strange, but she hadn't had a chance to ask.
"Nozdormu is temporarily unavailable for some reason, so he sent me," Chromie admitted honestly.
Kalecgos walked in front of Chromie, squatted down, and spoke as gently as possible, "Chromie, I'm sorry, but this matter is really important. So, do the Bronze Dragons know something?"
Chromie stammered for a long time, finally giving in. "Alright! This scroll was produced in Lordaeron, but this workshop was destroyed along with the Kingdom of Lordaeron during the Third War. Logically, it's impossible for such a clearly recent product to appear."
"Chromie, that's not the point. You seem to know the owner of this scroll?" Alexstrasza asked directly, "Why aren't you saying it?"
Chromie shook her head. "I don't know who he is. I only know a little bit of information. The me from that time—or rather, all the Bronze Dragons—intercepted the information. What I know was also revealed to me by Nozdormu."
"So, Nozdormu knows?"
"I don't think he knows either. Nozdormu didn't come to the meeting because he's investigating this matter on the timeline, but he seems to have encountered a little trouble—I guess he's probably trapped by his past self or something. Uh, can you please not look at me with that strange gaze? This kind of thing is actually quite common for Bronze Dragons."
Chromie rambled on and on. Alexstrasza sighed, rubbing her forehead helplessly, "How did it get involved with the timeline? Wrathion, how many more things are you hiding from me?"
"Not many, Lady, trust me," Wrathion said quite innocently.
"Never mind. Let's talk about the Black Dragonflight. Since Chromie and Nozdormu haven't prevented this from happening, perhaps letting nature take its course is the best approach."
Alexstrasza also waved her hand, stopping Wrathion's explanation. She always felt that the more she understood, the more confused her thoughts would become, so it was better this way.
"I will have our compatriots return some of the Black Dragonflight's relics to you first, but you must promise to unseal the scroll as soon as possible. Our world is also facing danger now, and returning to the Dragon Isles is a very important opportunity for us. If we can regain our former strength, perhaps we won't have to be so passive."
.....
Once Eastweald, now the Eastern Plaguelands.
Even after the Lich King's death, the Undead Scourge here showed no signs of diminishing.
Parts of the Cenarion Circle and the Argent Crusade have been stationed here, attempting to cleanse the plague and eliminate the remaining undead.
Their years of painstaking efforts have indeed yielded some results; the once-dry rivers are once again filled with clear water, and the lands and forests ravaged by the plague are gradually beginning to recover their vitality.
However, this does not mean that the Eastern Plaguelands has become a safe zone; on the contrary, it remains one of the most dangerous areas on the entire continent of Lordaeron.
The Cenarion Circle and the Argent Crusade have limited manpower, and the entire Eastern Plaguelands is vast, so the area they can actually purify is only a small portion.
Jaina stepped on withered branches and fallen leaves, covering her mouth and nose with her hand, trying to block the strange smell of decay.
Arthas noticed her discomfort and gave her a small blessing with holy light, blocking the impure aura and allowing her to breathe cleaner air.
"Thank you, Arthas," Jaina sighed in relief, "Is this place really Eastweald? It's almost unbelievable."
In Jaina's memory, Eastweald was a lush, fertile land with clear rivers, although its forests contained many dangerous beasts and creatures like Ogres and Trolls.
But the Eastern Plaguelands was a pure wasteland; even the most resilient plants found it difficult to grow here, and dead trees were covered in nauseating mold, from which the stench like rotting corpses continuously emanated.
"This is a vivid scene of the Scourge plague spiraling out of control," Arthas said calmly, "a means adopted to rapidly expand military power, creating large areas suitable for low-level undead activities."
He casually broke off a fungus from a nearby dead tree trunk, crumbled it to dust with his hand, and explained, "It's a rather crude plague; otherwise, the Druids and Paladins here would probably have to spend even longer to gradually purify the land beneath their feet."
In the forest where they currently were, there were still many plague-infected beasts, as well as undead that had recently emerged from the ground, affected by the recent drastic changes.
The Eastern Plaguelands was originally a human settlement, and having gone through the Second and Third Wars, almost every corner of this land buried a large number of corpses and unwilling souls—humans, elves, orcs, and trolls—who knows how many races had shed all their blood on this land.
Arthas and Jaina continued their journey, and he casually collected the souls of the undead they encountered along the way, sending their reanimated bodies back to rest.
These souls had almost all lost their self-awareness during the long passage of time and endless torment, so the undead they became were merely mindless walking corpses, acting purely on undead instinct.
If the veil of reality above Icecrown Glacier hadn't been torn, they wouldn't even have had the chance to become undead.
However, besides these walking corpses, the Eastern Plaguelands also contained remnants of the Scourge's forces.
Jaina stared blankly at the Ghouls with festering flesh in front of her, because they still clutched decaying standard-issue longswords, and their armor, though tattered, still faintly bore the emblem of Lordaeron.
Controlling this group of Ghouls was a remnant of the Necromancer cult, who looked at Jaina and Arthas with surprise, laughing madly, "Haha, fresh sacrifices! Servants, go serve your master!"
Then he watched in horror as Arthas drew the demonic sword that struck fear into both the living and the dead.
"Frostmourne?! This, this is impossible!"
Those were the Necromancer's last words; Arthas's blade easily destroyed him and his army of Ghouls.
Jaina looked with some disgust at the Necromancer's head separated from his body, waved her hand, and unleashed a cold current, completely pulverizing his filthy body.
Jaina tightened her grip on her staff. "These brave warriors shouldn't have met such an end after death."
"They yearn for justice and revenge," Arthas could hear the cries of these souls, who still retained a sliver of sanity, "Fortunately, what I'm about to do can fulfill their last wish."
"What are you going to do?"
Jaina watched Arthas collect these souls into Frostmourne as he had before, asking with some confusion.
Arthas looked up at the northern sky. "The objects of their revenge are beings that mortals will always have to look up to; individual power is undoubtedly insignificant when facing such enemies."
"Even the Burning Legion is merely a pawn of Sargeras; no matter how strong the wrath of a group of mortals, it cannot burn a god."
"But now we have this opportunity to let the gods witness true revenge and justice."
-----------------
"What exactly do you want to do?! Sylvanas, even after killing so many innocent people, do you feel no guilt at all?"
Anduin was trapped in a magical cage, and during this time, he realized what kind of place Torghast truly was, and was even more shocked that Sylvanas had been allied with the master of this power all along.
"Are you still unwilling to join us, little lion?"
Sylvanas laughed, "You will soon realize that the reality you are familiar with is nothing but a huge lie."
"Associate with a butcher like you? Don't be ridiculous, Sylvanas."
Anduin, despite being imprisoned, still had no intention of compromising. "Even if you capture me, you will never achieve your goal."
"Such ridiculous persistence, Anduin."
Sylvanas approached the seal where Anduin was imprisoned. Anduin stood at the other end of the seal, glaring at Sylvanas. The Banshee narrowed her eyes, examining Anduin's face. "You know, Anduin, every time I see your face, it reminds me of some unpleasant memories. So..."
"I'm going to give you a little punishment."
The Banshee Queen's voice instantly turned cold, and dark magic enveloped Anduin at that moment; the screams that almost pierced his eardrums made Anduin's mind feel as if it would explode.
Fortunately, Sylvanas did not seem to be able to harm Anduin's health. After a brief period of torment, Anduin was pale and breathing heavily, covered in sweat.
Anduin still stared stubbornly at Sylvanas, without the slightest cowardice. "I will never, ever yield. My will will not surrender to a butcher like you."
"You will yield sooner or later, Anduin; EVERYONE WILL."
"Because our will has never belonged to us."
The Banshee Queen's figure dissolved into black mist and disappeared, leaving only a weakened Anduin. Only when Sylvanas's presence vanished did Anduin let out a long breath and collapse onto the ground.
Although Sylvanas's magic did not take his life, the pain she inflicted was real. No matter how resilient Anduin's will was, there was always a limit.
Although he claimed he would never yield to Sylvanas and the master behind her, Anduin himself was actually unsure. He had personally witnessed how terrifying magic could easily control the minds and wills of others. Anduin did not believe that in this dark place, stripped of the Holy Light's protection, he could endure such power.
He only hoped that if he truly became a butcher like Sylvanas and committed irreparable evil, those who tried to save him would quickly end his life.
.....
"The number of active Undead observed in the Eastern Plaguelands has significantly decreased recently?"
When Baron Maxwell of the Scarlet Crusade received this report from the scout, he was quite puzzled.
He showed the report to others in the Scarlet Crusade and the Argent Crusade, and they also stated they had never seen such a situation.
"Could it be that after the Undead uprising, they significantly depleted their energy, and now they have returned to dust?"
Someone proposed this hypothesis, but it was quickly rejected.
This might be possible in other regions, but this is the Eastern Plaguelands, the most suitable area for Undead activity on the entire continent of Lordaeron. It is difficult for the dead awakened by the Undead uprising to suddenly disappear in such a short time.
So, if it's not a decrease in the number of Undead that's causing the lower observed number of active Undead…
The expressions of the Scarlet Crusade members grew serious, because the last time a similar situation occurred was when the shadow of Naxxramas loomed over the Eastern Plaguelands.
Lesser Undead have no thoughts of their own; they only act on instinct. Therefore, most of the time, the number of Undead in a fixed area tends to be stable, as those mindless zombies or skeletons do not stray far from their birthplace.
However, once these Undead begin to move with a tendency, it indicates that something is attracting them.
Generally, what causes this phenomenon are high-ranking commanders of the Scourge; only they can command the Undead of an entire region to attack or retreat in unison.
This discovery made the Scarlet Crusade members quite uneasy. Some of their personnel had already been transferred to Northrend to suppress the Undead uprising there, and now the manpower remaining in the Eastern Plaguelands was quite insufficient.
If it was just to ensure regional stability and prevent major accidents, their current manpower would be sufficient. But if the Undead of the entire Eastern Plaguelands were to assault their outposts under command, they would certainly not be able to hold them.
"What should we do now? Should we recall all personnel and guard the fortress of Light's Hope Chapel?"
Someone suggested this, as consolidating the defense line is the most prudent plan when defensive capabilities are lacking. As long as Light's Hope Chapel does not fall, they can regroup and gather forces to counterattack the Undead.
But the problem is, directly evacuating the areas that have been controlled and purified without doing anything, surrendering them, means that years of hard work by the Scarlet Crusade and the Cenarion Circle would all be in vain. The rampant Undead Scourge would contaminate those areas again like locusts, and even if they were reclaimed later, they would only be left with barren land.
"Our losses would be too great then; wouldn't all these years of work be for nothing?"
"But if we divide our forces to defend those areas, and Light's Hope Chapel is attacked, we might not be able to withstand the assault of the entire Eastern Plaguelands' Undead!"
"The Chapel must not fall, and if the Undead Scourge truly reoccurs, our small force cannot hold the outer defenses! It would only be sending our brothers to their deaths in those places for nothing!"
Seeing the group arguing fiercely with differing opinions in the Chapel's hall, Baron Maxwell felt his head swell—ever since Fording's demise, there had been too many dissenting voices among them.
Even though everyone wanted to resolve the problems in the Eastern Plaguelands, everyone's ideas and plans differed greatly. Coupled with the fact that most of the Cenarion Circle's druids were as stubborn as old wood, such incidents were no longer rare.
"Enough!"
Finally, Maxwell could no longer bear it. He roared, bringing the noise to a halt. "First, withdraw the personnel from those dangerous areas, especially those near Stratholme. The Chapel is still the most important. As long as it is not lost, no matter how fierce the Undead's offensive, we can defeat them."
"So we just wait here for the Undead to attack?" Someone disagreed with this approach.
"Of course not. Send out our best scouts and spies to all areas where Scourge commanders might be active to see if there are any traces of large-scale Undead movements… Also, we need someone to go to Stratholme."
The last sentence silenced everyone, because they all knew that going to Stratholme during another Undead uprising was almost no different from seeking death.
Although the Scarlet Crusade had launched a cleansing offensive on Stratholme a few years ago, that city was not simply just having many Undead. The grievances of countless innocents who died in the Stratholme massacre and the dark magic left by the Scourge cursed the city. The great fire that swept through the entire city is still burning to this day.
No one knew when that cursed flame would cease, and even if they cleared the Undead and Scourge remnants from the city, new Undead would emerge again after a period of time.
The Scarlet Crusade had never had sufficient capability to thoroughly purify the entire city. Even during their most prosperous period, they only controlled a portion of the city.
And now, due to manpower issues, they had directly withdrawn from the city. It had most likely become a paradise for the Undead and a forbidden zone for the living again.
But everyone knew that Maxwell's plan was correct. They had to know if it had become a Scourge lair again, otherwise, once the Scourge firmly established themselves within the city, it would be too late.
It was time to make sacrifices, and the members of the Argent Crusade and the Scarlet Crusade did not fear death.
They quickly assembled an elite team and rode griffons to the outskirts of Stratholme. Three of the members would set up a camp outside a side gate of Stratholme, while the other three would infiltrate the city to scout for the Scourge within.
If the Undead were indeed gathering there, or if traces of a Scourge commander were found there, the three team members who infiltrated the city would immediately fire a signal flare.
As for the three outside the city… their task was to bring this news back to the Chapel at all costs.
After a simple farewell to their comrades, the six Silver Hand mounted their griffons and flew towards Stratholme.
Under the biting cold wind at high altitude, the clouds on the distant horizon were tinged dark red. Amidst rolling black smoke and fire, the outline of a once-prosperous town came into their view.
The well-trained Silver Hand quickly landed stealthily outside the side gate of the city. The entire Stratholme was shrouded in fire and black smoke, making it impossible to ascertain the specific situation from the sky.
Three of them could only enter the city on foot from there, and this was the most dangerous part of the entire plan.
Archmage Angela Dusathus was one of the three members providing external support. If an accident occurred, she would use a forced teleportation spell to directly lead the external personnel to evacuate. As for the reconnaissance team in the city… they could only wish them good luck, because in that city, even an Archmage would find it difficult to use a teleportation spell to leave.
he moment they entered the urban area of Stratholme, a strong sense of unease rose from the hearts of the three Silver Hands.
The city was a little too quiet... Besides the crackling sound of wood caused by smoldering flames, there was no sound at all in the entire square.
In the past, even if there weren't a large number of undead wandering back and forth, one could at least hear the whispering of unwilling ghosts, or occasionally see ghostly citizens wandering the streets.
But now there was nothing here; besides flames, black smoke, and charred buildings, all they could hear was each other's breathing.
Under this deathly silence and eerie feeling, even the battle-hardened Silver Hands began to sweat profusely, and the quiet environment not only failed to bring them any sense of security but also tightened their nerves to the extreme.
"Swallowing sound"
They instantly turned to look at one of their teammates, who nodded awkwardly, pointing to his throat; it was his subconscious gulp that had been heard by the other two because of the overly quiet environment.
"Be careful, our mission is very important, and there must be no mistakes," the leading captain emphasized in a deep voice, "The safety of the chapel depends on us."
The three experienced individuals began to stealthily explore the urban area of Stratholme, trying to figure out what strange things had happened in the city.
They passed through streets and alleys, from Elder's Square to the Scarlet Crusade Fortress; they carefully inspected and explored every area where undead and Scourge soldiers had once existed, but the result was always the same.
Nothing, absolutely nothing.
Whether it was the undead or members of the Scourge, they didn't even see a single maggot or plague rat on the piles of rotting grain or corpses, as if everything that could move in the city had disappeared overnight.
The eerie discovery made the veins on the three men's foreheads throb; their intuition told them that if they continued to investigate, they might discover something unimaginable.
However, the Silver Hands, burdened with important responsibilities, naturally couldn't just leave halfway; since they had already entered Stratholme, they planned to search deeper into Stratholme.
That was once the main base of the Scourge, where countless Scourge members and the undead they enslaved were stationed, and the horrifying Stratholme Massacre began in that cursed urban area.
The three Silver Hands checked their equipment and supplies again, and after confirming everything was in order, they cautiously advanced towards the dangerous area; gradually, they all began to feel numb to the city's strangeness, because even in the necropolises left behind by the Scourge, they didn't see any trace that could indicate the presence of Scourge members.
After investigating for most of the day, such results were completely unsatisfactory to them, because if this was the case, they wouldn't even need to use signal flares; they could just walk out and meet up with the support team outside.
"Should we retreat, Captain?" one member asked.
The captain was silent for a moment, then shook his head, "No, there's one more place we haven't been yet..."
At this point, his hand, resting on the hilt of his longsword at his waist, involuntarily tightened its grip on the hilt, "Slaughter Square."
The two team members exchanged glances and nodded in response, "No problem."
Then, they were blocked outside Slaughter Square.
The captain looked at the sturdy magic barrier in front of him in shock, saying in disbelief, "When did such a magic barrier appear here?! It wasn't here the last time we came to clear out the remnants of the Scourge!"
Such a discovery immediately boosted their somewhat low morale; indeed, their risky deep dive into the city was correct, and they had finally found some clues.
Unfortunately, there was no mage in the team at this time, and facing the barrier before them, they could do nothing but sigh in admiration.
"What do we do now?"
"Should we go out and seek assistance from Archmage Angela?"
Archmage Angela is the mage consultant for the Argent Crusade and the Scarlet Crusade, and also the most senior and powerful mage in the entire organization. If she hadn't personally volunteered, the Argent Crusade would not have rashly allowed such an important member to venture into Stratholme.
But Archmage Angela's reason was simple: among the Argent Crusade and the Scarlet Crusade, which are mainly composed of paladins, almost no one except her could solve those difficult magical problems. If this anomaly was driven by members of the Scourge, it would inevitably leave behind a large number of dark magic traces.
Angela said that only by being present herself could she better detect those subtle anomalies and draw more accurate conclusions.
Originally, she wanted to enter the urban area herself, but Maxwell firmly refused, so she settled for being part of the support team for this operation.
And now, the three members of the action team had indeed encountered a problem that only a mage could solve.
"There are no hidden undead in the urban area; we have already scouted it, and the environment is even safer than when we came last time."
One team member offered his opinion. He looked at the magic barrier not far away and believed that only Archmage Angela could help them solve this problem now. Otherwise, their laborious operation would ultimately only reveal that a barrier had appeared in Stratholme and that all the undead in the city had mysteriously disappeared, with no other useful information.
The captain hesitated for a moment, then gave the order, "First, leave Stratholme and gather with Archmage and the others outside."
With a clear objective, the three immediately took action, leaving the urban area of Stratholme in a very short time.
At this moment, Archmage and the others waiting outside were anxiously awaiting news from inside. At the same time, to ensure the safety of the surroundings, Angela was ceaselessly patrolling and scouting the area with magic-created familiars.
And she was also the first to discover the three men retreating from the city. Seeing the three Silver Hands intact, Angela also breathed a sigh of relief and said to the two Argent Crusade members beside her, "They have left safely. Prepare to receive them."
Soon, the six successfully met at a hidden vantage point outside Stratholme, the entire process so smooth that they themselves could hardly believe it.
Angela immediately asked, "What is the situation in Stratholme now? Which areas have you scouted?"
The captain reported their reconnaissance findings to Angela in detail, and the Archmage's expression grew more serious until she heard them say that Slaughter Square, where the entire Old Stratholme Cathedral was located, was enveloped by a massive magic barrier. She then unhesitatingly said to the two support team members beside her, "You two immediately go back and report the situation here to Maxwell."
"I want to go back into the city with them and see what exactly that magic barrier is."
"Tell Maxwell not to worry about my safety. The existence of a magic barrier of that scale indicates that the city's ley lines are no longer as chaotic as before. If we encounter danger, I am confident I can lead them to a safe retreat."
Angela observed the magical barrier before her and made a very confident judgment, "This casting method… it's Kirin Tor, alright."
As an experienced Archmage, Angela didn't take much effort to confirm the technical origin of this magical barrier. It was clearly the orthodox Kirin Tor path from Dalaran, and the other party had no intention of concealing their skills, making it easy to confirm this point.
However, this did not mean that the magical barrier was completely without problems. After the Third War, the destruction of Dalaran's old city district left many mages who originally lived in the city displaced. Some Kirin Tor members also did not return to Dalaran, so even obvious traces of a Dalaran mage's hand did not necessarily represent the barrier creator's stance.
As a fellow Archmage, Angela could well understand her former colleagues. Any excellent Archmage has a common characteristic: a very high curiosity about Arcane truth. If one doesn't even have the desire to explore magic, no matter how high their talent, it's impossible to reach a very high level on the Arcane path.
And setting up this barrier meant that the other party wanted to hide something. What in Stratholme could make an Archmage of such a caliber curious?
The answer to this question was not pleasant at all.
Ever since its destruction by Arthas, Stratholme had almost become synonymous with disaster. There was nothing new on this land except hatred, resentment, and curses.
Angela was worried that the Archmage who set up this array was looking for the legacy left by the Scourge, and within the cursed Slaughter Square, there was an extremely evil array, a ritual used to corrupt the holy ones who died bravely in battle.
Although the Silver Hand once dispatched brave adventurers to defeat Baron Rivendare, who was stationed here, and to some extent purified the evil of the Slaughter Square, and that array should have been destroyed, it was later reoccupied by the Scourge, so no one knew whether those evil things had truly been cleaned up.
So she made up her mind to see what secret this magical barrier was hiding.
"Give me some time, I can try to pass through this barrier."
"Yes! Brothers, stay alert and protect the Archmage!"
Under the protection of three Silver Hand, Angela began to analyze the magical barrier's operation, attempting to enter the sealed Slaughter Square without damaging the magic.
Time passed minute by minute, and fine beads of sweat appeared on Angela's forehead. The Archmage who cast this barrier was far more skilled than she initially imagined, and she spent more energy and thought to unravel the blocking effects on the array.
Fortunately, the other party did not seem to have cast an absolute prohibition spell. If there truly existed a resistance spell connected to the barrier itself, Angela would only be able to consider breaking through with forceful means.
As a master of defensive magic and an Archmage who had once deciphered the Naxxramas barrier, Angela finally partially deciphered this magical barrier after some time.
She quickly took out some simple materials, then immediately created four magical crystals, leaving counter-spells on them sufficient to allow a user to pass through the magical barrier.
"Take these four crystals and get ready, we're going in to take a look."
Angela distributed the crystals to the others, then quickly checked whether the teleportation magic was still effective. After confirming that there were no anomalies in the surrounding space, she signaled to the captain. The Silver Hand captain, as the vanguard, immediately picked up his shield and walked at the very front, passing through the barrier.
Immediately after, the rest also quickly followed him inside. Angela was protected in the middle of the group, and as soon as she passed through the barrier, she bumped into the back of the person in front.
However, these were all things that could happen when traversing a magical barrier, so she was not surprised, only quickly asking, "What's wrong? Is there any danger ahead?"
The captain did not reply for a moment. He stood frozen in place, like a silent statue.
Angela sensed the anomaly, her gaze moving past the captain to the center of the Slaughter Square.
She too froze in place at that moment, unable to believe her eyes.
The entire Slaughter Square was piled high with undead remains: Ghoul, Crypt Fiend, and even abominations. The bodies of all kinds of undead they had ever seen in their lives were piled there, forming a horrifying mound.
What chilled their souls even more was that at the top of the mountain of corpses, a blade they were all too familiar with was emitting a faint, cold blue light.
"Frost… Frostmourne?"
Angela felt as if her throat was clamped at that instant, almost unable to utter normal syllables.
It turned out that all the undead who had disappeared from Eastern Plaguelands had come here. More than half of Eastern Plaguelands' undead, including all the undead in Stratholme, had gathered here to become offerings for that demonic sword.
Upon witnessing the terrifying scene before them, even those who had experienced countless battles involuntarily tensed their muscles, and their very souls began to tremble. The three Silver Hand dared not look directly at the demonic sword, fearing that a single extra glance would lead to the same fate as those undead, with even their souls being completely drained.
Feeling that something was terribly wrong, Angela immediately prepared to cast a teleportation spell to transport them away.
Without anyone obstructing, the teleportation spell could be cast very quickly—
"Buzz!"
The intense ringing in her ears instantly made Angela dizzy, and the teleportation spell, which required focused guidance, was interrupted in an instant. Her face was slightly pale, and she looked towards Frostmourne with a gaze filled with fear:
That sword sensed their presence and obstructed her spell!
Frostmourne, suspended high above the mountain of corpses, seemed to possess its own will at this moment, floating lightly towards Angela and her group. Yet, the closer it came, the paler Angela and her companions became.
Why was this sword more powerful and terrifying than they had known!
Angela's intelligent brain almost crashed at this moment. Shouldn't this sword have become history along with the Lich King? Why was it now appearing in Stratholme, and why had it, without their knowledge, absorbed the souls of more than half of the undead in Eastern Plaguelands?
However, now was not the time to ponder these questions. They needed to escape from here and relay this message to their Argent Crusade companions—
If the teleportation magic didn't work, then they could only…
Angela suppressed the instinctive tremor caused by directly facing Frostmourne's immense magical power and soul fluctuations, and took out a signal flare: If she fired this signal flare with Arcane magic now… the support team should still be able to see it!
But before she could apply the spell to the signal flare, a strong, powerful hand clamped her wrist, stopping her action.
A gentle voice, which almost made Angela's heart stop, spoke, "Lady Angela, please do not do something that would trouble others."
That voice…
Angela's pupils trembled wildly. She would not be mistaken, it was impossible to be mistaken, this voice…
Arthas Menethil!