"Damn! there are even undead creatures. Medivan closed one eye, and the banshee's piercing scream made him ache all over.

Medivan's body is all spirits, and the banshee restrains the soul, which is still a banshee borrowed by Kel'thugad.

"Hahaha! Even if you win today, you will definitely lose in the future! You will definitely lose!" Medivan, who knew that he could not be spared, simply gave up his resistance and began to curse.

"Noise!" Richard didn't bother with his nonsense, and began to pull Medivan up little by little, but then slowly dragged it into Sargeras's eyes.

"Hehehe! Devil's Vessel!!Stop it, the world will be destroyed because of your desires!"

"Really?"

"I will watch until the day you perish......"

"Then I'm afraid you won't see it in your life. Richard moved his fingers, and countless chains tied him directly. Sleepy and solid, clearly visible in the gemstones.

"Recycling complete, disbanded. ”

Richard everyone nodded, everyone had their own division of labor, and after a while, all traces of this place were canceled, and everyone disappeared.

Medivan was recycled without surprise, and Arthas got what he wanted.

After landing in Northrend, Arthas immediately established a base on the ice field, then rescued Muradin, who was in danger due to his archaeological exploration, and with Muradin's help, he obtained Frostmourn, and finally killed Malganis. During this time, he killed the mercenaries who helped him, and Muradin's fate was uncertain, and he himself became a slave of the Lich King......

Frostmourn, Azeroth's most famous weapon, is not one of them. The one who holds this sword has eternal divine power, and the sharp edge eats blood, snatching the soul and hurting the soul. After all, there is a price to be paid for gaining power, and the price of frost sorrow is an eternal curse, and anyone will be completely degraded.

And the fallen prince is now back.

Now it is the bell that Alsace will never forget. They are ringed only on the occasion of state ceremonies, such as royal weddings, the birth of the crown prince, the funeral of the first king, etc., all of which record the history of a dynasty, and once Alsace fantasized that the bell could be rung for himself and his favorite female companion. Today, the bell did ring, but not for him and his female companions, but for their heroes of battle. For him, Arthas Minethir.

Before he set foot in Lordaeron, Arthas had sent a letter to his father to report that he had killed the plague in Northrend, in the north. To make it more credible, he also sent a horn of Marganis, which was taken by the people as proof of heroism. As Arthas walked along the road to the royal capital, the people greeted their beloved prince with cheers and applause, thanking him for saving the people from disaster and for his extraordinary bravery. He accepted it as a matter of course, but he only wanted to see his father.

Behind him, the soldiers who accompanied him covered their faces under their cloaks and were as silent as he was. The people frantically celebrated the triumph of the army, seemingly unconcerned about their indifference. The huge drawbridge was lowered, and Alsace strode in. There were also cheering crowds, but not ordinary people, but envoys from various countries, nobles and dignitaries of elves, dwarves, and dwarves. Not only did they stand in the courtyard, but they also stood on the viewing platform on a high place. Pink, snow-white, and crimson rose petals rain down on the triumphant heroes. Originally, Sylvanas was supposed to be one of these people, but she was pressed the bed by Richard, so the Ranger General did not come to the scene.

It was here that Arthas had imagined that he would take her hand and walk the path together, and the two of them would receive everyone's blessings together, and then watch her smile bathe in the rain of petals, and raise her head to kiss him.

Arthas closed his eyes and whispered Gianna's name, but unfortunately nothing had happened to the two of them until they separated, and now, they refused to.

Looking at the rain of petals in the sky, Arthas's heart moved, and he stretched out his gloved hand to catch a red petal and gently rubbed it with his thumb, and for a while his thoughts were full of thoughts. The petals faded in his palms, withered and withered, and finally turned brown. Arthas frowned, twisted it slightly, threw away the dead petals, and continued on his way.

Arthas pushed open the door and strode forward into the throne room, which he knew all too well. He glanced at Tenaris quickly and smiled at his father under his cloak. He took Frostmourn to his knees on one knee, the tip of his sword touching the etched stamp on the stone floor, the symbol of their country, very bright.

"Ah, my child. I'm so glad to see you come home safely. Tenaris said, staggering a little.

Tenaris looked in poor health, the old king was old, and the events of the last few months had made him a lot older, and he now had gray hair and tiredness in his eyes.

But now everything will be fine...... You don't have to sacrifice for your people anymore. You don't have to bear the weight of this crown anymore. I'll take care of everything.

Arthas stood up, his armor clanging with the movement. He lifted a hand and lifted the hood that covered his face, watching his father's reaction. Tenaris' eyes widened at the sight of the changes that had taken place in his only son.

Alsace's wheat-yellow hair is now bone-white. He knew that his face was just as pale, without a trace of blood.

It's time. The temptation of frost's sorrow whispered in his mind. Arthas walked over to his father, who was slumped on the throne and dumbfounded. There were several guards in the hall, but they were no match for him, Frostmourn, and the two retinue. Arthas strode over the carpeted steps and grabbed his father.

Arthas withdrew his sword back, the runes of Frost Sorrow shining eagerly. He heard a voice, not from Frost Grief, but from a memory of his own: it was the voice of a dark-haired prince, and it sounded like it was from a previous life......

"He was assassinated. A trusted friend...... She killed him. A sword pierces the heart......"

Then the voice was gone.

"What's going on? what are you doing, Son?" asked Terenus, trembling, for he couldn't earn young Arthas.

"Succession...... Father!" Arthas's expression gradually became filial, and the frost sorrow in his hand stabbed diagonally from the bottom up.

"When Changchang~" The old king's crown was stained with his blood and was crisply worn on the ground......