"As you wish!"
Arthas raised his head, and the smile on his face sent a shiver down Tichondrius' spine.
The next second, Frostmourne pierced his heart. He could feel his soul essence being siphoned away, which would leave him utterly depleted, unable to resurrect even in the Twisting Nether!
"Why?"
Arthas grabbed his neck, one foot pressing down on his body, and twisted the longsword deeper.
"Because Ner'zhul betrayed you all!"
Regardless of whether the other party could resurrect, he would plant a seed of discord now.
If it could explode, that would be for the best. If not, it didn't matter; there was no loss.
Tichondrius died with immense regret, sending a message back before his death that he would surely resurrect!
After absorbing the soul essence, the previously suppressed soul power was also purified.
The skull mark on the hilt was cleansed, transforming into a blossoming flower.
The cold, dark aura vanished, replaced not by Holy Light, Holy Light could save no one.
What the soul brought was a completely new energy, belonging neither to Holy Light nor to death, and certainly not arcane or frost, but pure soul power.
'Task completed. The reward, the Holy Frostmourne, has been transformed.'
Holy Frostmourne: A magical weapon that requires absorbing souls to unlock abilities. Current Anima: 0.
1. No attack power bonus, doubles attributes. Unlocked.
2. Spellbreaker, consumes Anima to destroy any magic. Requires 2000 Anima to unlock.
3. Self-repair, consumes Anima to repair the weapon. Requires 3000 Anima to unlock.
4. Soul Control, consumes Anima to resurrect the dead, making them loyal to you. Requires 5000 Anima to unlock.
No attack power?
That didn't matter; doubling attributes was already far stronger than a fixed attack power.
The next three all required Anima, and they seemed quite good.
"Sinestra, are there any other altars in Stratholme?"
Arthas walked out again, seeing that Sylvanas was still unconscious, unsure what had happened to her.
"Prince Arthas, there are no more altars in this city capable of resurrection. The undead are retreating by boat, heading north."
The dragon queen clasped her hands in front of her lower abdomen. With her beautiful elven appearance, graceful and dignified, she maintained the poise of a noblewoman even in this blood-soaked and defiled place.
"Help me take care of her. Jaina, use frost magic to slow the undead, no need for lethality. I will deal with them."
Arthas handed Sylvanas to the dragon queen, looking at the rampaging undead who had lost control. These were all Anima!
The undead were merely dead, but that didn't mean they had no souls.
"Yes, Prince Arthas."
"Leave it to me."
He still needed to kill five hundred converted zombies; he would complete that task first before considering anything else.
At the same time, the Lich King also activated a contingency plan.
Using the influence of House Barov and the hidden Cult of the Damned, he instigated a plague rebellion.
Most of Stromgarde's residents turned into undead, advancing towards Gilneas.
The Dwarves of Aerie Peak also suffered losses, unable to provide any support to the Alliance.
Even Lordaeron Royal City experienced an undead crisis, though thankfully not extensive, and it was suppressed in time.
These hidden Cult of the Damned members could have caused greater harm and influence while concealed, but now that they were all exposed, people would prioritize eradicating and defending against them.
However, the Eastweald region was the most heavily infiltrated and the most severely affected by the plague.
Aside from the Chapel of the Light and Darrowshire, almost all areas had fallen, overrun by the undead.
After slaughtering the civilians and converting them into undead, they all marched north, towards the high elf kingdom.
This was also good news, at least with the zombies gone, it would greatly help in retaking Eastweald, the great granary.
These events unfolded in sync with the undead's northern retreat. The purification of Stratholme finally concluded at dawn the next day.
Fires blazed in burning houses everywhere, undead corpses lay scattered, and civilians wept, clutching their deceased loved ones.
The Silver Hand, covered in blood, had fewer than three hundred survivors.
When they entered the city to fight the undead, there were over three thousand men; now, after just one night, only a tenth remained.
Even those who survived were wounded, some even crippled.
Fordring pursued them all the way to the dock area, slaughtering the last boatload of undead before finally collapsing from exhaustion and dying.
Uther had lost an arm, and priests were attempting to reattach it using Holy Light to stitch it back.
The undead were not defeated and routed but retreated in an orderly fashion. Apart from some frenzied undead they killed, the rest escaped.
If the undead had not retreated, the Silver Hand might truly have been annihilated here.
A heavy tread approached. It was a soldier from the prince's guard, who saluted him before reporting.
"Prince Arthas ordered all undead corpses to be gathered and burned to prevent re-animation."
"I understand. Is prince Arthas well?"
Uther felt a bitter pang in his heart. He had been wrong, terribly wrong.
Yesterday, he had only thought that the undead were not terrifying, that they would kill as many as came.
But after witnessing the speed at which the undead were converted, and their suicidal tide tactics, if not for the elite troops here, he would probably have died long ago.
"Prince Arthas is well, rest assured."
Meanwhile, in the residential area.
Arthas slew the last undead, incidentally saving a family hiding in a house.
The family came out and kowtowed in gratitude, their eyes filled with fanaticism.
"Thank you, Prince Arthas. Without your rescue, we would probably have become food for those ugly monsters."
It was a family of five; surviving the turbulent night in Stratholme was extremely fortunate.
"You are my people; it is my duty to protect you."
Arthas saw Jaina approaching, and after regaining a little strength, he stood up.
"Do not eat any food or water that has not been inspected by the army. The plague is spread through grain."
"Live well. The future revitalization of Stratholme will require your help."
Watching Arthas and Jaina walk away, a paladin and a Mage, they looked like a perfect match when standing together!
Sally Whitemane clasped her hands, looking at the departing prince.
"Prince Arthas, thank you. I will diligently train to become a priestess, a nun, to offer my humble strength to you."
That fervent belief, inadvertently leading to an epiphany, a ray of Holy Light descended, and at that moment, she became a Holy Light user!
Holy Light is not about faith alone; it only requires an unwavering heart. Even a murderous fiend, as long as he firmly believes himself to be righteous, can still wield Holy Light.
Even Arthas had not expected that he had inadvertently saved the future Grand Inquisitor of the Scarlet Crusade and Holy Light High Priestess.
The long-legged, fair-skinned, beautiful, and elegant Sally Whitemane, the most striking figure of the sixties, from the Scarlet Monastery!