While Rhodes attacked, the Banshee Queen Sylvanas launched her own assault, firing volleys of Shadow Arrows laced with corrosive death energy at the Dreadlord Varimathras.
The combined pressure from the two forced Varimathras into a state of temporary paralysis, leaving him rigid in the sky. Straker seized the opening. His bone dragon let out a deafening roar, soaring upward once more. While Varimathras was staggered by Sandro's magic and suppressed by Sylvanas's arrows, Straker breached his defenses. Soulshredder swept through the air with a blood-red light that seemed to tear the very fabric of reality, aimed straight at the Dreadlord's throat.
"No!!" Varimathras howled in desperation. He twisted his body with all his might; the greatsword missed his head but sheared one of his massive wings clean off at the root!
Green demonic blood sprayed across the ruins as Varimathras plummeted like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily into the dirt. Sylvanas didn't miss a beat. She leaped from the ruined wall like a phantom, nocking an arrow mid-air. A long-charged Silence Arrow struck the struggling demon with surgical precision, severing his connection to the arcane and shattering his attempt to teleport away.
Simultaneously, Rhodes unleashed a potent frost spell. Waves of glacial energy encased the Dreadlord in ice, and Frost Chains bound him tight, pinning him to the earth. Straker's dragon landed heavily, its massive skeletal talons crushing Varimathras's chest as the tip of Soulshredder came to rest against the demon's throat.
"It seems your 'New Order' couldn't save you, demon. This morning you stood tall before me; now, you are a prisoner at my feet," Straker's voice was as cold as the grave.
Looking up at the three undead leaders surrounding him, Varimathras's eyes flickered with a mix of venom and terror. "No... please, do not kill me! I can help you. I can help you deal with my brothers, if only you spare my life."
Who would have thought a high commander of the Burning Legion would beg for mercy from three undead?
Sylvanas curled her lip into a faint smile. Had "Sandro" not explained the rules of demonic resurrection in the Twisting Nether, she might have actually considered sparing him to use against the other Dreadlords. But the board had changed. Death in Azeroth held no true terror for a Nathrezim; they would simply respawn in the Nether. Sylvanas saw through the ruse: Varimathras wanted to infiltrate them, or perhaps hide in the shadows to continue his subversion of the Alliance or the Horde.
"Are you truly so afraid of death?" Rhodes, playing Sandro, asked with a perfect, mocking smile.
"Of course, my lords! Who does not fear the end? Lord Archimonde has fallen, and we are cornered in this world," Varimathras replied smoothly. "I need a powerful patron, and you new arrivals are the perfect choice. The humans and orcs would never accept one such as I."
In truth, his goal—and that of his brothers—was simple: deceive the local leaders and go to ground. His targets were the free-willed Scourge. Balnazzar's target was the human Paladins. They intended to work from the shadows for the Burning Legion—or rather, for their true master, Sire Denathrius. Varimathras knew he couldn't control the awakening undead much longer, so faking defeat and begging for mercy was his "Plan B."
"You lie, Dreadlord," Rhodes (Sandro) sneered. "Do not think me ignorant of your nature. A demon of the Legion cannot be killed in the physical plane; only in the Twisting Nether can you be truly erased. Your 'defeat' is a performance. Your goal was to infiltrate our ranks and wait for an opening, was it not?"
Rhodes's frost energy tightened, leaving only the demon's head exposed. A powerful aura of Shadow magic radiated from Rhodes, further eroding the Dreadlord's soul and mind. In this moment, Rhodes looked like a classic villain; Shadow energy, like the Light, could be summoned and projected once one mastered the spells.
"What... what nonsense is this? I don't know what you're talking about," Varimathras stammered, his face turning pale. Dammit, how do they know about the Nether? The secret of our immortality is supposed to be strictly guarded!
"Azeroth has studied your kind for a long time. Don't think you're a mystery to us. Now, enjoy the trip back," Rhodes said, patting the Dreadlord's bald head.
"Don't waste your breath, demon. I will never trust you," Sylvanas added. "There is only one path for your kind. When you reach the Twisting Nether, give Kil'jaeden my regards. Tell him that one day, I will have my revenge."
When she first regained her will, her target was only Arthas. But after her talks with Master Sandro, her perspective had shifted. The Burning Legion was the root cause; Silvermoon burned because of their machinations. Now, her hit list included the Legion, specifically the Deceiver himself, Kil'jaeden.
"Hmph... you win this time... but the Legion's fire will turn you to ash... my brothers will avenge me..." Varimathras managed one final threat. Failure mattered little to him; they could always return.
"Then let them come," Sylvanas said coldly. "We will send them back to the Nether one by one until you are all reunited."
Straker didn't wait any longer. He thrust his greatsword down. Varimathras's body convulsed in agony before dissolving into a burst of chaotic fel energy, leaving only a lingering scream in the air.
With their leader gone, the remaining demons and enslaved undead fell into disarray and were quickly mopped up. The demons were banished, while the undead, once freed from the Dreadlord's mental shackles, began to regain their own consciousness.
These newly freed souls were terrified and confused. Sandro, Sylvanas, and Straker moved to calm them, incorporating them into their respective ranks. A few High Elven undead joined Sylvanas, while the majority—humans, dwarves, and specialized constructs—chose to follow Straker. Some humans, unable to accept their new existence as walking corpses, chose to end their lives immediately.
As the battle subsided, Sylvanas exhaled slowly. Even if the demon wasn't "dead" permanently, clearing him from the board solved their immediate crisis and boosted morale. Her "Forsaken" were finally starting to coalesce into a real force.
She turned to Sandro with gratitude and deep curiosity. "Master, your command of Frost and Shadow is masterful. Had you not restrained him, this would have been a much longer ordeal."
"A successful collaboration, my lady," Rhodes (Sandro) bowed slightly. "Your archery and Lord Straker's bravery were the true keys to victory. However, we have sent a clear signal to the other two Dreadlords."
Time was of the essence. Arthas, with Kel'Thuzad's help, was likely already sailing for Northrend—a journey that would take about a month. Much would happen in that month. In the original timeline, Sylvanas used the fool Garithos to take Lordaeron City. Now, thanks to Rhodes, the Forsaken's eyes were on Stratholme, which would prevent an immediate clash with the Alliance.
As for the remaining Dreadlords in Lordaeron City, they were Rhodes's targets. He planned to return to his human persona and lead the human armies to wipe them out. But before that, he intended to head to Outland with Illidan. Once the Black Temple fell, the final war for the Frozen Throne would begin.
"Shall we move against the remaining two now? Or head straight for Stratholme?" Sylvanas asked.
Rhodes shook his head. "No. With Varimathras gone, the others will be on high alert—they might even join forces. We need to consolidate this victory and integrate the newly freed undead first. Then we march on Stratholme. As for the Dreadlords in Lordaeron City... let the gathering human armies deal with them. Let them bleed each other dry."