The undead in Stratholme split into two groups: one went to besiege Arthas and the Silver Hand, while the other left by boat or portal.
Evidently, the backup plan required these undead as cannon fodder, and it seemed they were heading towards the high elf kingdom of Quel'Thalas.
"Before I leave, I'll give you a little gift!" Banehollow sneered, ordering the Necromancers to jointly cast a super-large auxiliary spell, Scourge Frenzy.
The already berserk undead became even more agitated, attacking with all their might, unafraid of muscle strain or fatigue, as they felt no pain.
For a time, the Silver Hand knights, led by Uther and Fordring, were divided into several sections, fighting independently, unable to relay commands.
Even worse, infected citizens who hadn't been stopped ran over, transforming into ghouls midway and joining the undead army to besiege the knights.
At once, they had to defend against the undead Scourge and protect the uninfected villagers, and even with the support of the Holy Light, they gradually began to fall behind.
"The Holy Light is with us!" Fordring unleashed a powerful Holy Light, his Ashbringer cleaving through all the undead before him.
The slain undead spontaneously combusted, leaving only ashes, which even Necromancers could not resurrect!
"Sir, there are too many undead; we can't hold them off. Should we retreat into the houses first?"
"Hold on, let the civilians go in first!" Uther remained remarkably calm, his warhammer smashing a ghoul's head, but he himself was clawed.
A commotion erupted behind him, and he turned to see that infected individuals had infiltrated the protected civilians, transforming into ghouls under the influence of necromancy and slaughtering people in the crowd.
The panicked civilians began to push against the knights' protection. Facing the undead head-on was already a struggle, but the commotion from behind, with ghouls ambushing them from the rear, made things worse.
Many soldiers died instantly. The two original paladins, witnessing this, were filled with rage.
In that moment, they felt anger, anger at the cunning of these undead, and anger at themselves for not agreeing with Mograine's method of killing the infected first.
Now, at the most crucial moment of the battle, it was these infected individuals who struck from behind, dismantling their defenses.
The Silver Hand knights, who had been arrayed to face the enemy, were fragmented into many sections, each struggling desperately.
"The Holy Light protects me! Ah!" A priest uttered a final prayer and was instantly overwhelmed.
When he rose again, he was a ghoul, his body gnawed and incomplete!
This scene was playing out repeatedly; such was the consequence of venturing deep into Stratholme alone.
It was also fortunate that the undead were in the process of relocating; otherwise, if all of them had pressed forward, even Fordring, wielding Ashbringer, would have been swamped by the sea of undead.
They couldn't kill them all; there were simply too many!
If not for Arthas' various aura supports, which further increased the warriors' damage resistance and boosted the priests' mana regeneration to cast several more spells, it would have been a complete rout long ago.
Even so, the entire battle line was shattered into pieces.
Not everyone could be like Arthas; they were merely mortals, and their perseverance until now was already remarkable.
Taelan furiously hacked down several ghouls, but a soldier beside him screamed as ghouls gnawed his legs down to bone.
"Sir, save me!"
"No! Freddy!"
"Damn undead! The Holy Light protects me! Ah!" Taelan called upon the Holy Light again, but this time, before the Holy Light descended, a sharp claw pierced his chest.
He stared in disbelief at the claw that crushed his heart, then lost consciousness and plunged into darkness.
Banehollow sneered, lifting him up. His nearly three-meter height made him stand out.
"Mortals! This is your end, ha ha ha!"
"No!" Fordring, seeing this scene from afar, his son dying before his eyes, was enraged. A powerful Holy Light erupted from him again, and his strength surged once more.
Wielding Ashbringer, he cut his way through, leaving only ashes in his wake!
Splat! An arm, along with half a wing, was severed. Banehollow, in pain, retaliated by flinging a putrid swarm of Fel-reeking insects, repelling Fordring.
He opened a portal and departed, taking Taelan's corpse with him.
"No, no, no! Stay, Taelan!" The enraged Fordring, ignoring his fatigue, glowed with a Holy Light so intense it was blinding to look at directly.
The emotionless undead around him actually felt a flicker of fear, screaming as they tried to flee.
But they hadn't run far before they screamed and turned to ash.
His beloved son's brutal death before his eyes caused Fordring to go berserk. In that moment, whether undead Scourge or infected civilians, all were indiscriminately attacked and completely purified!
The Silver Hand knights, who had been on the verge of collapse, were able to regroup and reform their defensive formation.
Uther was also filled with bitterness. He had once guided Taelan to become a paladin, and now he had died before him.
Self-reproach and regret caused his adherence to the Holy Light's teachings to waver. If he had agreed to purge the city earlier, would Taelan still be alive?
But there were no 'ifs.' The fanatical undead surged like a tide, leaving him no time for regret.
It was a question of whether he could even survive this endless tide of corpses.
Arthas, who had already locked onto his target, arrived at the Holy Light Church in the back of the city. No one would have expected the altar for resurrecting the dreadlord to be located here.
If not for Sinestra's information, he would never have found it in a city overrun by undead, even if he racked his brains.
What a perfect example of 'the darkest place is under the lamp'!
"The exterior is protected by a magical barrier. We just need to destroy the energy crystals that maintain the barrier. They're in those three locations." Sinestra marked them with magic, then slapped the enormous abomination, a flesh giant, sending it flying.
Her dragon form also possessed great strength; did they truly think she was a delicate mage?
"Good, you take care of the east side. Jaina, Sylvanas, you two handle the west side. I'll take care of the very center." Arthas watched the Necromancer tower guarded by Baron Rivendare in the distance, walking towards it step by step, Frostmourne in hand.
The three agreed and split up.
Countless undead swarmed Arthas. As he attacked the undead, other ghouls would seize the opportunity to claw and even bite him with their fangs.
But they only slightly delayed his advance; they couldn't stop this humanoid killing machine at all!
Baron Rivendare raised his longsword, riding his transformed undead skeletal steed, with a massive horde of undead surging behind him.
There were Nerubians, transformed soldiers, civilians, and countless, densely packed flying gargoyles in the sky.
"Oh, Prince Arthas, it's an honor to meet you."
"This path is closed. You should calmly become one of us and pledge allegiance to our master."
"Behold the taste of eternal life; this is something the Holy Light cannot provide." As a traitor to his race and kingdom, he showed no panic but rather smugness, his expression sickening.
"I'm curious how you came to pledge allegiance to the undead Scourge?" Arthas cleaved a meat wagon to pieces. Bash activated, and the entire wagon exploded, flesh and blood flying everywhere, the pungent stench making one gag.
Seemingly confident of victory, and completely unaware of how the dreadlords had met their gruesome end, Baron Rivendare felt he should grant the prince's dying wish.
"Alright, I'll be kind enough to tell you: it was Kel'Thuzad!"
"He and I are good friends, and he told me the secret of eternal life and introduced me to the master."
"I also funded the Cult of the Damned; all of this is my achievement! Haha, when Lordaeron falls, I will replace you as king!" His eyes were filled with fanaticism; after becoming undead, he became even more arrogant and reckless!