"I've seen the brightest sun, and I've seen the coldest ice, paladin, you have no idea what kind of force you're up against. You have no idea who your opponent is. ”

Frost sorrow struck like a cold light, and a storm enveloped the skies over Lordaeron, an endless cold winter and darkness. Ares raised his sword again and again to block, but the light of the Ember Bringer was extinguished, and it kept extinguishing. Eventually, it becomes an ordinary iron sword.

In the endless darkness, Arthas took another step closer, and he was like a messenger of darkness, or rather, he himself was darkness, a shadow. The breath of death wafted around him, and darkness enveloped Lordaeron as well as Ares. He hooked his fingers slightly, and countless ghostly shadows appeared around him.

Ares didn't know if it was his hallucination, or if they had been around him all along, behind the Lich King all along. But none of that matters anymore. Lordaeron is about to fall, and this tenacious nation is doomed.

Ares no longer had the strength to call on the Light, and the untold power of darkness overpowered him, imprisoning him in a shadow realm. He prayed, but the light faded.

"I've conquered countless opponents, including unyielding paladins like you, but in the end, none of them have been able to defeat the wrath of Frost Sorrow."

"Surrender, I will kill you with a sword, and save you from the pain of soul torture."

The Lich King was approaching, and cold and death were floating around him. The fire of the dead burst out of his eyes. Ares felt that his vitality was being taken away by an invisible force, like the hand of the devil, and the infinite shadow rushed towards him.

With a burst of blue light, the Lich King unleashed the final blow.

With instinct, Ares raised his heavy sword to block it. The Ember Bringer was knocked to the ground like a piece of sinking iron. But Frostmourn's attack did not stop, under the dark canopy, the Lich King was like a smug general, Frostmourn hissed in his hands, and indeed, Ares saw the blue light. The deadly blue light.

He reached out to resist, but the blade grazed his palm and stabbed directly into his chest!

It was as if the air had frozen, and time had stood still......

No matter how bright the sun is, there is a time when it sets, and every day is accompanied by night, and at this moment, Ares seems to see the remnant sun like blood, and is finally swallowed by the night. It was as if I heard the sound of the cold wind coming from Icecrown, and in the chilling ice cave, Lordaeron's death knell rang......

Sylvanas screamed almost as they watched the massive runic sword stab into the paladin's chest, but she couldn't save Ares in the Darkest Realm, no one could ...... The Lich King's power is so great that no one can come close. He wants to torture Ares little by little, this "hero" who openly rebels against him?

"Heroes?" The word is so familiar...... Shouldn't that be him? He is the hero of Lordaeron, the savior of Lordaeron. And not this dying mortal in front of him.

Arthas did not kill Ares with a single sword, instead, his sword pierced Ares in the right chest instead of the center of his left chest. He wanted to watch him in pain, he wanted this so-called Grand Master of the Paladin to die slowly in front of him, he wanted his blood to freeze slowly, like a cold wave in the middle of winter sweeping across the earth, devouring the fresh and humble life little by little.

Ares cried out in pain, and the magic sword stirred inside him like an extremely cold ice stone. Warm blood gushed from the wound, the pain of the flesh being torn apart, the cold that penetrated the marrow of the marrow made Ares feel painful. As the Lich King said, he would be better off living than dead. All who openly rebelled against him would die and become his servants.

Ares was still praying, but the light could no longer pierce the dark canopy. Its light is stuck in yesterday.

The mournful song echoed in his ears, Lordaeron's banner fell, and Ares felt his blood freeze, and the cold current continued to permeate all corners of his body, as if every vein was filled with cold.

He was convulsing, blood oozing from his mouth and from his chest, and his lips slowly turned purple and black under the Lich King's smug laughter. The feeling of the passage of life......

Sylvanas, Varian, Valera, Drum, and Gianna all faded before their eyes.

The Lordaeron coalition and the Knights have been cornered, and a tide of the undead is about to overwhelm them.

……

Dark World......

All I could hear was the illusory howling of the cold wind in Northrend......

However, in that most desperate moment, a loud rallying cry sounded from the sky.

Under the dark canopy, the roar of machinery and the neighing of war horses resounded in unison, and a fiery red light appeared in the sky. Amid the smoke of burning oil, the 100,000 allied forces of Stormwind and Ironforge advanced into battle. One by one, the Union's flags appeared on the horizon. Like a pocket array of counter-encirclement, the 100,000 alliance army was like an open mouth, rushing all over the mountains, forming a three-sided attack on the Cataclysmic Legion.

"Quick! For the sake of the Alliance, forward! ”

Varian rode on his tall armored warhorse and shouted at the Stormwind legions behind him. The blue legion behind him suddenly let out a neat roar. The iron armor is sparkling, and the flag is full.

"The real big war begins, old friend."

Riding on a stout goat's mount, Magni said to Varian, who was a round younger than him.

It's been a long, long time since he's been on the battlefield. Today, the armies of Ironforge are here, not only to fulfill their obligations to the Alliance, but also, to take revenge. Magni wants revenge, and he wants to stab the murderer of his brother. Yes, Arthas is here, that traitor, that dark lackey. The Dwarven King is furious, and only a frenzied war can quell the fire of vengeance that burns within him.

"Attack!"

Almost simultaneously, the two kings gave the order to attack in general.

The Dwarven hoplites advanced from the flat ground, and the Stormwind Cavalry charged from the hillside.

Two groups of people poured into the battlefield like two black mudslides.

Their morale is high, their battle songs are loud, and countless banners are fluttering in this valley of death, which is the courage of the brave who does not retreat in the face of the undead, and it is the supreme glory and pride.

"Stay in formation!"

"Ready!"

"Attack!"

War horses galloped, the ground trembled, and five thousand Stormwind heavy cavalry swooped down from the hillside, and behind them, the dust and mist were monstrous, and countless iron armor trembled to form a huge fan, rushing towards the massive army of undead. It forms the most magnificent scene between heaven and earth.