"Old Jones, aren't you curious what exactly we're transporting?" a Secret Intelligence Agency agent asked, guarding a massive sealed metal box at a secret rendezvous point in Dragonblight.
"Agent Smith, it's best not to ask about things you shouldn't know," the older-looking agent glanced at him before looking straight ahead.
"I know, I know, confidentiality rules."
Agent Smith shrugged. He wasn't new to this line of work, but guarding an iron coffin-like metal box in the icy wilderness was incredibly boring.
It was much more exciting—and better paying—to be responsible for infiltrating and scouting those orcs' camps.
Moreover, this mission posed no danger. The Secret Intelligence Agency's mages handled everything from transport to storage. It was only due to a shortage of personnel that just the two of them were assigned to the final guard duty before the handover.
"I remember the mission intel stated that the handover time is in five minutes, right?" Smith peered through a crack in the hidden cave, looking around, but saw nothing that could transport such a large iron box, like a vehicle or similar.
"Secret Intelligence Agency intelligence has never been wrong."
After Old Jones finished speaking, he subtly frowned. He had been doing this kind of work for decades, and this mission, in a sense, was indeed quite unusual.
But his extremely high professional ethics meant that even if he was full of questions, he wouldn't ask unless someone proactively told him.
There's a basic rule in this business: the less you know that you shouldn't, the longer you're likely to live.
Smith found a comfortable stone, sat on it, and tapped the large iron box, marveling, "The material of this box is not simple. It should be an alloy of refined iron mixed with some magical metals, and it even has enchantments on it. I wonder what's inside."
His eyesight was excellent, and he easily identified the approximate material of the iron box. However, he didn't recognize the enchantments on it, but the intricate patterns and complex runes indicated its high cost.
What Smith didn't notice was that the large iron box maintained an extremely low temperature, but because the temperature in Northrend was already very low, it was normal for iron objects to be cold.
"Why did they tell us to be careful not to stay within five meters of this iron box for too long?"
"I don't know, Smith, and it's best not to know," Old Jones sat there like a statue. "But if you're really bored, you can help me keep watch."
"We just changed shifts less than an hour ago, didn't we?!" Smith blinked, ultimately choosing to stare blankly rather than keep watch.
Although there wasn't much difference between the two activities, if he could slack off, why not?
"Buzz…"
Just as Old Jones was observing the outside to prevent any unexpected occurrences, he suddenly felt the stone he was sitting on begin to shake.
"Smith? What are you doing now?"
Old Jones turned his head helplessly, about to scold Smith for his little antics, when he found Smith looking at him with a bewildered expression.
"It's not me."
The gravel and ice shards on the ground also began to vibrate, and some broken stones from the rock cave sporadically fell down.
"What's going on? An earthquake?" Smith grimaced, quickly pressing himself against the "observation opening" to look outside, but found no abnormalities. There didn't seem to be such vibrations outside.
Old Jones stood up, feeling the strange vibration, "No… it's not an earthquake. Wait… that spot!"
Following Old Jones's finger, Smith saw the rocks in a large open area of the cave suddenly collapse with a loud bang, revealing the frozen ground beneath and a pitch-black void.
Just as Smith was about to go forward to investigate, Old Jones pulled him back and whispered, "Don't move, listen."
That strange buzzing sound entered their ears again, but this time, it was accompanied by another sound.
"This sound is… something is approaching?" Smith's expression changed. Just as he was about to draw his flintlock and dagger, he heard a loud bang enter his ears.
What followed was violent shaking and trembling, their movements were suddenly interrupted, and they leaned against the rock wall, staring at the pitch-black opening.
They already understood that something was about to emerge from that place.
A massive dark shadow protruded from there, shaking off the dirt and debris from its body, revealing its purple carapace and blue-gold runic decorations. Its limbs and sharp claws were bound with blood-stained bandages, and its sharp mouthparts sent shivers down one's spine.
"There are such large bugs even in such a cold place?!" Smith was dumbfounded, even forgetting to take out his weapon.
"I am not a bug, Human," the giant beetle creature actually spoke in human language. "My name is Anub'arak, a loyal servant of the Lich King."
Can speak? Intelligent? The two agents were stunned. After exchanging glances, Old Jones intended to converse with Anub'arak, "Excuse me, we mean no offense. If we have encroached upon your territory, we can leave immediately."
"No need, I'm just here to pick something up," Anub'arak pointed his front claw at the large iron box beside the two agents.
Pick something up?! The two agents were well-traveled, having even seen real Dragons, but facing Anub'arak's oppressive body, they couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive.
Their experience and reason told them that if the monster in front of them wanted to kill them, it would probably take only a few seconds.
But Anub'arak did not attempt to snatch it. Instead, the wings within his carapace vibrated at a special frequency, and a spider creature, much smaller than him but still larger than an adult human, crawled out of the Crypt. His front claws held a package. Under the wary gaze of the two agents, this spider-like fellow walked up to them, set down the package, and skillfully opened it, revealing half of an iron badge inside.
"This is?!" Old Jones picked up the badge, placed it together with the one from his pocket, and the two immediately emitted a faint magical glow.
The old agent suppressed his inner surprise, nodded to Smith, and then said to Anub'arak, "The token is correct. Do you need us to help you transport the goods?"
"No need. My subordinates will be responsible for transporting it. You have worked hard," the Crypt Lord replied to the two agents with great politeness.
He summoned more spider creatures in the same way. Those creatures worked together to weave a large net, sealed the iron box, and dragged it underground.
Smith and Jones listened as the dull scraping sound of the iron box grew fainter, moving at an extremely fast speed through the underground passage.
After the iron box entered the underground passage, Anub'arak did not linger, also burrowing underground. After a series of vibrations, the cave returned to its original calm.
Smith swallowed, still reeling from the recent experience. After a long while, he finally spoke, "Do we even have trade relations with these magical creatures?"
Old Jones replied thoughtfully, "I'm afraid it's not a trade relationship, but our mission is over. Let's quickly return to Daggercap Bay dock and prepare to sail back."
"Phew… When I get back, I'm definitely going to have a large mug of Dwarf ale at the tavern. This job was much more exciting than looking for orcs."
...
A few hours later, Frozen Throne.
"Master, this is what those two Humans brought," Anub'arak said in a deep voice, placing the huge iron box on the ground.
"Very good, Anub'arak, would you like to see how the Scourge's champions are resurrected?" Arthas had already removed the Helm of Domination and placed it beside the throne.
"It would be my honor, Your Majesty."
He picked up Frostmourne and slowly walked down the steps, stopping in front of the large box.
"The magical metal developed by Dalaran has excellent energy containment properties. Containers made from it can store many fragile magical items."
"But the most important thing is the enchantment on it—the outside is only a small part. The true main part is inside the box, which can freeze the contents, prevent them from decaying, and also absorb necromantic essence to strengthen the 'things' inside."
Arthas patted the box, explaining to Anub'arak.
"The human magical civilization seems to have developed to an extremely high level." Anub'arak's words were sincere, because the development of a magical civilization is not just about how many world-destroying spells it possesses, but more about its magical system and the impact of magic on the entire civilization.
Like the Elven civilization, tools and instruments made of magic are everywhere, and there are even specialized magical servants for cleaning streets, which is still evident in today's Quel'Thalas.
For a magical civilization, magic is not only a method of attack, but also their means and tools for exploring the truth of the world. If magic cannot provide a positive impetus for the entire civilization, then magic would not be so prosperous in Azeroth.
"This is also the foundation of our resistance against the Burning Legion and all evil forces that intend to lay claim to Azeroth."
But Humans alone cannot resist those ferocious enemies. Just the orcs, misled by the Legion and used as cannon fodder, almost wiped out the entire Eastern Kingdoms.
The Burning Legion's methods were ruthless. They didn't directly send a world-ending crisis, because in that case, all races on Azeroth would be in the same boat, with one move affecting everything.
Azeroth would unite, temporarily put aside disputes, and work together to resist the external enemy; but the orcs, while highly threatening, were not a world-ending crisis, so the Human Kingdoms had the leisure to fight for their own interests endlessly.
If they hadn't finally realized the seriousness of the problem, they might have truly capsized in the ditch.
And in Arthas's view, uniting all the forces in Azeroth that could be united was one preparation, but he must also be able to command a powerful force capable of turning the tide. The Scourge was an excellent choice.
One must know that the future Lich King was a troublesome fellow even Kil'jaeden found difficult to deal with. Although it was inconvenient for him to act personally, it also showed that the extreme development of the Undead was a major destabilizing factor in Kil'jaeden's eyes.
After all, the world of the Undead, the Shadowlands, is a projection of the material world, and it has intricate connections with the life and death of all things in the material world.
As he spoke, Arthas gently traced the blade of Frostmourne across the ice. The surrounding snowflakes moved without wind, obediently scattering to the side under the power of the demonic sword, revealing a massive ritual magic circle carved by the souls of Elven mages.
Undead resurrected using necromantic magic circles and the power of the Frozen Throne would certainly be more powerful than those resurrected directly.
Under Arthas's guidance, a massive amount of Death energy filled the entire formation through the conduits of the ritual magic circle. During the period of energy convergence, he pressed a slot on the iron box, causing it to open with a "bang," and an even colder aura than the upper layers of the glacier rushed out.
As the chilling frost-white mist gradually dispersed, three pitch-black sarcophagi were revealed.
Anub'arak quietly watched this scene, and from one of the sarcophagi, he felt a familiar aura, immediately understanding the identity of that person.
As the Death energy flowed in, the magic circle's glow grew brighter. Seeing that the time was ripe, Arthas used dark magic to pull open two of the sarcophagi.
Two long-deceased bodies were lifted by Arthas's power and gently placed in the center of the magic circle.
Frostmourne, summoned by its master, had runes on its blade flickering, gathering powerful and pure soul energy, ready to resurrect the two.
"Darkness will grant you new life."
"You are the shadow swords of Azeroth, the merciless blades of the Scourge."
"Never pity, never fear, never grieve. Frost and blood are your banners."
"Death is your companion, oppressing all living things."
"You—are Death Knights!"
"Awaken, vanguards of death, sharp blades of slaughter!"
The death whispers that seeped into their souls poured immense power and vast dark knowledge into these two long-deceased bodies. Their bodies gradually became less rigid, growing stronger and more perfect than they were in life.
As the Crypt Lord bowed to Arthas's power, he also began to anticipate what kind of perfect warriors such energy and rituals could forge.
The Scourge, under Arthas's leadership, might truly embark on a completely different path.
Death, indeed, was new life.