Chapter 160: Frostmourne
[The death of Mal'Ganis was a spur-of-the-moment decision on your part. As a villain, he was tasteless and annoyingly verbose; as a teammate, he was overbearing and bossy—with breath that reeked of sulfur and rotten eggs. On top of that, Mal'Ganis was Kil'jaeden's herald, tasked with monitoring the Lich King. In front of Kil'jaeden, Ner'zhul was like an old dog with its spine ripped out—meek, dull, and uninspiring. You had hoped Mal'Ganis's death might reignite some fire in him.]
[But on April 7, 2020, your hopes were thoroughly dashed. With Mal'Ganis gone, the now aimless Ner'zhul acted like a dog barking madly at monsters on a TV screen—confused, blustery, and ultimately gutless. He asked you to lure Arthas to Northrend, where he could embrace his destined fate.]
[Yet you didn't see Arthas as the optimal "player character" in this game. You've never been one to follow someone else's script. Letting Arthas pull Frostmourne and fall as a Death Knight might have served the Lich King's interests—but why should you play along? No one tells you what to do.]
[You found yourself more intrigued by Varian. Perhaps it was the loss of his kingdom, the years of hardship, or having to rely on others that made him remind you of a certain caped crusader—tenacious, cold, courageous, and filled with a strong sense of justice. After everything he'd endured, he had matured into someone who showed real potential—a shadow of the future High King of the Alliance. But you had a theory: all it takes is one bad day for even the most rational man to lose his mind. You were dying to see what he'd choose when faced with a true life-or-death dilemma.]
[On April 8, just as you predicted, Arthas grew frantic upon learning that the mastermind—i.e., you—was hiding in Stratholme. Without rest, he charged straight for the city. But en route, you ambushed him. Your trusted subordinate, Hogger, led an assault with a swarm of nerubians and a squad of gargoyles. Enhanced by your dark magic, Hogger was now a completely different beast. Arthas's troops suffered heavy casualties, losing over half their number in the blink of an eye. But through the fierce efforts of Arthas, Varian, and Jaina, they emerged victorious. Just as Arthas tried to pursue the retreating Hogger, however, he triggered a trap—gas bombs you'd planted in advance.]
[Predictably, the brash and overconfident young Arthas was the first to charge in—and the first to detonate the trap. Though it wasn't fatal, the plague and poison gas quickly ravaged his body. In a matter of moments, Arthas began his transformation into an undead. You appeared atop the walls of Stratholme and declared that plague barrels had been set up all over the city—and in 15 minutes, they would detonate.]
[Then, you presented Varian and Jaina with two choices. One: evacuate Arthas immediately and rush him to Uther the Lightbringer, who was stationed nearby. There might still be a chance to save him, but it would mean leaving Stratholme's people to die. Two: enter the city and try to dismantle the plague barrels to save the citizens, at the risk of Arthas succumbing to undeath—and likely losing their own lives in the process.]
[It was an impossible decision. Without aid, the soldiers escorting Arthas wouldn't stand a chance against the Scourge, meaning either Jaina or Varian himself would have to go with them. Though furious, Varian made his choice: he ordered Jaina and the soldiers to take Arthas and flee, while he charged into Stratholme alone.]
[Reckless—but very Batman of him. You laughed aloud with delight. "Well done, young king!" you cheered. Once he entered the city, you snapped your fingers, and in an instant, dazzling fireworks lit up the sky. The twist? You'd never planted any plague barrels. In fact, long before Mal'Ganis died, he and Kel'Thuzad had already smuggled plague-tainted grain into Stratholme. Not your doing—but by now, the city had already turned into a shambling corpse-fest.]
[Seeing the devastation, Varian was horrified and overcome with grief. Enraged, he attacked you—but he was still far too green. Dodging his strikes with a jester's flair, you blinked away and taunted, "The Scourge is about to destroy this world—including your Stormwind. Go back and tell Terenas to gather his army and come find me in the icy land of Northrend. Oh, and one more thing—when you introduce me, can you call me the Joker?" You know what they say—this is the moment the wheel of fate began to turn… (You've obtained the Dungeon Summoning Stone: Purge of Stratholme.)]
[On April 10, as expected, the plague could not be cured by medicine. Even holy magic had minimal effect. Arthas, beyond salvation, inevitably succumbed to undeath. With tears in his eyes, King Terenas II reluctantly gave Uther the order to purify Arthas with the Light, reducing him to ashes. Compared to his previous life, this fate was almost merciful. At least he died as an honorable paladin, without the burden of patricide. But when Ner'zhul learned of what happened—even though you swore it was an accident—he raged for three straight hours, cursing you like a broken record. Infuriated and impotent.]
[In May 2020, stricken with grief over his son, King Terenas II quickly resolved to launch a counterattack on Northrend. He assigned Highlord Mograine and Tirion Fordring of the Silver Hand to continue fighting the plague within Lordaeron, and sent Varian and Uther at the head of an expeditionary force bound for Northrend.]
[By late May, before returning to Northrend, you had an audience with Katrana Prestor. The black dragon princess revealed her true identity to you—Onyxia, daughter of Deathwing, the Black Dragon King. Over the past year, she had defeated and imprisoned Bolvar Fordragon and VanCleef, consolidating power over Stormwind. With your subtle encouragement, Onyxia had already grown addicted to power. But now her brother, Nefarian—second ruler of the Black Dragonflight—sought to claim Stormwind for himself. She asked for your help in eliminating him, offering her loyalty in return.]
[You didn't give a damn about her loyalty—it was no more useful to you than toilet paper. But the situation intrigued you. Nefarian didn't escape your trap and died, humiliated, in his Blackwing Lair. While cleaning up, you discovered extensive notes on black dragons and chromatic dragons—including a young dragon bred using Deathwing's genes. You actually regretted killing him. The guy was a bonafide biologist—he could've been useful. (You've obtained the Epic Item: Little Deathwing.)]
[In June 2020, after three days and nights of indulgence with black dragonesses and chromatic dragon women, you headed for Northrend. By then, Lordaeron's army had gathered at Howling Fjord. There, Varian reunited with explorers Tomli Magellas and Muradin Bronzebeard. They informed him that the dwarves were searching for a legendary runeblade of unimaginable power—Frostmourne.]
[With home field advantage, you were practically invincible. Commanding an endless tide of undead, you surrounded the expeditionary force. Even the bravest warriors quailed before the onslaught of ghouls, skeletons, and nerubians.]
[By late June, realizing they were hopelessly outnumbered, Varian set his sights on Frostmourne. He believed that if he could claim the sword, he could turn the tide—and avenge the fallen of Lordaeron and Stormwind. He persuaded Tomli and Muradin to join him on the quest.]
[In July 2020, deep within a cave in northern Dragonblight, the trio finally found Frostmourne's resting place. But at the cave entrance, an ancient ghostly guardian appeared, barring them from entering. It warned that the blade bore a terrible curse, and that anyone who wielded it would suffer eternal torment. But Varian declared, "I'm willing to bear any curse—so long as I gain the power to save the world." How… interesting.]
[At that moment, Frostmourne shattered its own icy seal and soared toward Varian. But you acted first—snatching the sword and stunning everyone present. After all, what fun is it if such an entertaining player just becomes another mindless pawn of the Lich King?]
[Instantly, your hair turned silver. A layer of frost coated your body. A surge of immense power flooded into you—freezing your blood and trying to devour your soul. But you were no ordinary man. A lunatic with a swirling mess of thoughts. Once, even a superhero named Deadman tried to mind-control you—only to nearly be reverse-controlled by your absurd psyche. And now? Same story. After a moment of dazed delirium, you regained your senses. Exhaling a frosty breath, you burst out laughing. Anything that doesn't kill you only makes you stronger! (You've obtained the Legendary Item: Frostmourne.)]
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