Arthas snorted and rushed away, while Uther raised his hammer and bathed in light.

"That's it, Fallen, for the Light!

The hammer fell, striking Arthas in the abdomen with precision, instantly making him feel as if the air in his lungs had been drained. The paladin's body radiated a holy light and his natural restraint against the undead, and even Arthas's armor was twisted and deformed under the blow of his shining hammer, and it was thanks to this armor that Arthas's life was saved. Arthas was hammered to the ground, and Frostmourn flown to the side. Arthas was in great pain, and his breathing was extremely difficult, which was the disadvantage of an incomplete undead like him, and he had to breathe

Arthas lay on the ground and looked at Uther, whose body was so majestic. This is the power of the Light. And the Holy Light Arthas had abandoned it and betrayed it. Now the punishment has finally come, through the hand of its greatest warrior, Arthas's former mentor, the lightbringer Uther, with its purest light and will.

The brighter the light that enveloped Uther, the brighter it grew, and the light scorched Arthas's eyes and soul, and Arthas writhed in pain. At this moment, Arthas sensed that he was wrong, that he ought not to have turned his back on it, what a terrible mistake! What a love it once had turned into an unquenchable rage. He looked ahead, staring into Uther's glowing white eyes, tears streaming down his face as he waited for the final blow.

Suddenly, Arthas frowned, Frost Grief in his hands. Did he unconsciously grasp the sword, or did it leap into his hand of its own volition? All he knew was that his hands suddenly grasped Frost Sorrow, and Serena's teachings rang in her mind.

Where there is light, there is darkness, and where there is day, there is night. Even the brightest candle flame goes out at times. The same is true of the brightest of life.

He took a deep breath and greedily inhaled the air into his lungs. He has now betrayed the Light, but he has reaped the darkness that is the opposite of the light, since you Uther use the light, then I will use the darkness! Arthas closed his eyes and perceived everything with the impure dark power he used, Arthas was well versed in all things of the Light, so in this moment, Arthas "saw" that the Light that enveloped Uther was dim!

At this moment, Uther raised the hammer again, ready to deliver the fatal blow to him.

But Alsace is no longer in place.

If Uther is a wild bear, the huge and powerful Arthas is a tiger, strong and agile. Uther and his weapons may have the power of the Light's blessings, but the Warhammer is not a fast weapon, and Uther's fighting style is not known for being fast. Frostmourn, though a giant two-handed rune sword, is as nimble as if it can fight on its own.

Arthas rushed forward again, and this time he did not hesitate, but began to fight in earnest. He unceremoniously attacked Uther, the Lightbringer, leaving no chance for his opponent to raise his weapon and charge a heavy blow. Uther's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed again resolutely.

However, the light that once shone brightly on his strong body was gradually diminishing. Darkened in the face of the power bestowed upon him by the Lich King.

Frostmourn struck Uther's body.

Arthas struck Warhammer's shiny head with a blow that shattered the handle, and Frostmourn continued to slash at Uther's shoulder, slicing deep into the narrow part of the shoulder armor and neck guard.

Uther snorted in pain and took several steps back. Blood gushed out of the wound uncontrollably. Frost Sorrow craves blood, and Arthas wants to give it more satisfaction.

"Ahh

Arthas let out a beastly roar, his head flying white, and then stormed forward. Frostmourn nearly severed Uther's arm, and a massive warhammer glittered and fell from between his feeble fingers. A ferocious blow dented Uther's breastplate, and then a second blow from the same position sliced through the armor, tearing the flesh underneath. Uther the Lightbringer fell to his knees, his badge shattering and falling on the snow, the blue and gold emblem symbolizing the alliance he had fought for. He looked up, his breathing becoming difficult, and the blood gushing from his mouth wet his beard. However, there was no sign of surrender on his face.

"I wish there was a place in hell for you, Arthas. He coughed, foaming blood from his mouth.

"You can't see what my future holds. Uther, meet your fate," Arthas said coldly, raising Frost Grief for the final blow. The rune sword groaned almost longingly.

He stabbed the runic sword straight down, piercing Uther's throat, cutting off his words of defiance, and then piercing the great heart. Uther died almost immediately. Arthas drew his sword, took a few steps back and trembled. Of course, this time it may be because of the excitement of killing a strong enemy.

"I want eternal life, Uther"

After a moment's breath, Arthas knelt down and picked up the urn, holding it in his hand for a long time, then broke the seal and turned the jar over, pouring out the contents. King Tenaris's ashes rained down like plagued flour on the snow. Suddenly, the wind turned. The last remaining gray powder of a generation of kings was suddenly blown up, and it was poured on the Death Knight like a living being. Arthas took a step back in shock, instinctively raising his hand to protect his face, and the urn fell from his hand, slamming to the ground with a muffled thud. He closed his eyes and turned away, only to be choked and coughed, suffocating by the pungent ashes. He suddenly became frightened, his armored hands flapping against his face, trying to wipe away the fine powder that was blocking his mouth and nose and stinging eyes. He spat and churned in his stomach.

Arthas took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. After a few moments, he stood up and regained his composure again. Even if he still has feelings, he has buried them in the deepest part of his heart, where even he can't reach them. After a long time, he returned to the meat grinder containing the rotten corpse fluid of Kel'thugad, and shoved the jar into the hands of a scourge soldier with a straight face.

"Put the necromancer in. He ordered.

He stepped onto the Invincible and looked to the north, Quel'Salas, which would be another paradise for the Legion of the Undead!