Even outnumbered, Arthas had to attack to complete his mission.
The crown prince's direct guard numbered three hundred, the high elf reinforcements one hundred, and the orc infantry were more numerous, nearly a thousand.
The Silver Hand and the local garrisons combined only had three thousand men; to suppress the undead Scourge and save the civilians, this was an incredible feat.
But no one retreated. As long as it wasn't anti-human, even knowing it was a death trap, the paladins absolutely could not retreat.
It wasn't just a matter of reputation. To watch the crown prince suppress the undead Scourge while they stood by, waiting for him to fall, would be worthy of a hundred trips to the guillotine.
Their doctrine and mission also forbade retreat, and they fearlessly followed Arthas into Stratholme.
On a distant hill, Medivh had returned to the scene. The Horde, not long ago, had sailed across the ocean to Kalimdor under his watchful eye.
Now, the only thing he couldn't let go of was the Eastern Kingdoms. Watching Arthas lead his troops into Stratholme, this was truly a dead end!
"Alas, young prince, how wonderful it would have been if you had listened to me and led your people to Kalimdor?"
"Now, the demise of the Eastern Kingdoms is only a matter of time. I must prepare early."
With that, he transformed into a raven and flew towards Quel'Thalas. He needed to try and give those pink-skinned, long-eared high elves some warning.
"The crown prince is here, we are saved!"
"Cough, cough, I feel so bad, save me, please!"
"Look! It's prince Arthas!"
With Arthas' arrival, hope ignited in the hearts of the townspeople, and they believed the kingdom could eradicate this plague.
In the King's Square, the pure water from the fountain had changed color, carrying a strong stench of defilement.
Many coughing civilians wailed in pain, unaware that they had entered a death countdown.
Using Jaina's magical amplification, Arthas shouted loudly.
"All residents return home, lock your doors and windows, and await rescue."
"There are demons in the city, and the army is sweeping the enemy. Once the enemy is cleared, the kingdom will send priests to treat your plague. Go home!"
This was not the best method, as it could easily lead to uninfected civilians being killed by the infected.
Rather than letting them run around screaming in the streets, spreading fear and panic, it was better to send them home.
Whether they could fight back was up to them. After dealing with the dreadlord, there would still be time to deal with them.
At Arthas' call, even if they didn't believe him, they had to obey.
Just then, several civilians suddenly began to cough violently, and a foul smell of evil necromancy spread.
In just a few breaths, they transformed into zombies with sharp fangs and pale eyes, pouncing on nearby civilians.
Bang!
Arthas brought his hammer down, blasting the heads of these zombies. With high attack power and critical strikes, these fragile bodies couldn't withstand it.
These zombies had around three hundred health points, and guards could kill them in just six hits.
"The Holy Light can't save them, hehe, want to hide?"
Suddenly, a large fire ignited in the distance, with several places catching fire, and the blaze quickly spread.
The civilians hiding within ran out, wailing. A closer look revealed that they all had the 'Infected Civilian' status panel.
Arthas felt a headache and could only shout.
"Go that way, go find the Silver Hand."
"No need to find them, I will turn you all into servants!"
Before Sinestra could search, Tichondrius jumped out himself.
He cast a spell in front of Arthas, freezing five fleeing civilians in place.
Dark magic enveloped these villagers, transforming them into undead in the blink of an eye. These undead were also accompanied by Fel energy and teleported away.
Tichondrius, wielding Frostmourne, feared no one. He even raised his sword and pointed it at Arthas.
"You can protect no one. You, your subordinates, and your woman will all become servants of The Scourge."
"Tremble, mortals, your doomsday has arrived!"
He intended to teleport away.
"Jaina!"
"Leave it to me!"
While the opponent was spouting nonsense, Jaina had already prepared a spatial spell, erasing his spatial coordinates.
The teleportation gate that had just opened vanished instantly, which surprised Tichondrius.
Gripping Frostmourne, he raised it high, and a large number of undead surged from all directions, surrounding the guards.
Ghouls, abominations, gargoyles, crypt fiends, necromancers, these classic units appeared one by one. Except for banshees and frost wyrms, almost all were present.
"It seems you really want to fight me. Do you have the strength? Ignorant human crown prince!"
Tichondrius was full of arrogant disdain. He didn't want to kill Arthas yet; this human was very suitable to be a death knight, serving as the most valiant vanguard to crush the enemies of the Burning Legion.
Wielding the artifact Frostmourne, commanding tens of thousands of undead Scourge soldiers, with infected people in Stratholme constantly being converted into troops, what could his opponent use to fight him?
At this moment, Tichondrius was full of confidence, thinking that his two colleagues were nothing but trash, actually falling into the hands of mortals. This was a disgrace!
In Arthas' view, he didn't fear a strong opponent, only one who fled.
It would be no easy task to ferret out the opponent in the vast Stratholme. Now that he dared to appear before him, that was truly not knowing the height of the sky or the depth of the earth!
"Mograine, be on guard. Jaina, Sylvanas, provide cover. Grom, charge with me."
"Lok'tar Ogar!"
Grom roared, splitting into two mirror images, while his main body charged forward fearlessly.
Aura activated, Scourge Frenzy, open!
Arthas' speed also suddenly increased, covering fifty meters in the blink of an eye.
His warhammer slammed down hard.
"Such a fast attack!"
Tichondrius was not slow either. He was a demon commander who had fought across many planes. He raised his sword to block the attack.
Bang!
Under the sharpness of Frostmourne, the steel warhammer instantly shattered.
Damn it!
Jaina and Sylvanas saw this scene, their hearts clenching, and they each unleashed their strongest attacks and spells for support.
"You're finished, human crown prince!"
Tichondrius sneered, a sickening, repulsive stench emanating from him.
"Is that so? I don't think so! Have you heard the saying?"
Arthas was expressionless. He took a dagger from his backpack and stabbed it fiercely and unexpectedly, with a speed too fast for the naked eye to see, piercing him.
"What?"
"I won't tell you!"
"F***! You brat!"
Tichondrius angrily wanted to curse, but he couldn't utter a word. Waves of dizziness came over him, forcing him to watch himself being stabbed again and again while fully conscious.
Arcane missiles skillfully bypassed obstacles and struck the dreadlord, while magic arrows carrying a cold aura also hit him at an incredible angle, further slowing him down.
Only Grom's eyelids twitched. He was all too familiar with this feeling of being stunned and passively beaten.
Unable to fight back, watching himself being tormented.
It seemed that the crown prince had shown mercy back then; he should be grateful to him.
"Ah!"
In less than two seconds, Tichondrius, who had just been speaking, was forcibly controlled to death, unable to even retaliate once.
His entire body spun into the air, then exploded, turning into a puddle of minced flesh.
Clang!
The artifact greatsword, Frostmourne, emitting a cold aura, also fell to the ground, waiting for Arthas to pick it up.
At that time, the Lich King would be able to twist him into his servant through whispers and mental power!