Chapter Fifty: The Old King Is Dead

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“What a laughable trick.”

Once his vision returned to normal, Ner’zhul easily detected Arthas’s little ploy.

The prince held an engraved rifle forged by the dwarves, which he had personally consecrated with the Holy Light. It possessed additional destructive power against undead and demons.

Yet such an attack posed almost no threat to Ner’zhul. Even with Holy Light inscriptions carved into the thorium bullet, stopping it would have been no difficult task.

The Lich King extended a portion of his soul power, condensing it into a solid wall. But just as he thought he could block the shot with ease, the instant the bullet touched the soul barrier, its thorium casing suddenly split open.

It was not a blessing engraved upon the bullet, but an extremely unstable Holy Light bomb.

The slightest stimulation from magic or any other energy would cause it to explode, igniting the Holy Light within.

Blazing radiance erupted forth, triggering a tremendous explosion of considerable power. Even so, Ner’zhul did not panic. He calmly reinforced his defenses.

But at the very instant the soul barrier came into contact with the Holy Light, Arthas shot forward like lightning. The sudden burst of speed cracked the ground beneath his feet.

Ner’zhul’s movements faltered. He had never imagined that Arthas had concealed part of his strength throughout the battle.

Under the cover of the Holy Light, Arthas swung his warhammer and completely shattered Ner’zhul’s defenses. He ignored the ice pillars and spells flying toward him, for a semicircular shield of Holy Light had formed before him.

Ner’zhul immediately withdrew the portion of his soul controlling the Scourge. An immense tide of soul power surged toward Arthas like a collapsing mountain and a raging sea, attempting to annihilate him completely.

Beneath the Frozen Throne, Anub’Rekhan was fighting Anub’arak when he suddenly slowed. He allowed the Crypt Lord’s foreclaws to pierce his body without offering any resistance.

“Stop… stop! The Lich King isn’t controlling me anymore!”

Anub’Rekhan’s body could not move for the moment, but he was still able to speak. Seeing that his old king was about to tear him to pieces, he hurriedly tried to stop Anub’arak.

Anub’arak was preparing to continue his attack, but he froze when he heard those words. He had no concern that Anub’Rekhan was attempting some deception, for the other’s body truly remained motionless.

The other undead belonging to the Scourge also fell into chaos once the Lich King withdrew the will that controlled them. Many high-ranking undead who had broken free of his control either stood dazed like Anub’Rekhan or immediately turned against the Lich King loyalists beside them.

The situation on the battlefield changed in an instant. Anub’arak’s side had originally been at a disadvantage, barely managing to hold back the undead army. Now, however, the uncontrolled Scourge had become a complete mess.

Anub’Rekhan struggled desperately to regain control of his body. Although the Lich King was no longer directly enslaving them, the flaws within their souls still made it extremely difficult for him to move.

It was a safeguard the Lich King had implanted in his more powerful servants, preventing them from immediately turning against him should they escape his control.

“Has our master succeeded?”

Anub’arak raised his head and gazed toward the summit of the Frozen Throne. There, a clear and immense disturbance in the soul suddenly erupted. The suffocating pressure caused the soul flames of many lesser undead to flicker wildly.

“I’m afraid not… That is the Lich King’s soul fluctuation. That human may be in grave danger.” Anub’Rekhan also felt the natural suppression emanating from the Lich King’s soul. While struggling to reclaim his freedom, he spoke to Anub’arak.

It was this very power that had defeated them when they had once resisted the Lich King and his minions.

Though the insectoid people were mighty in both body and magic, the disparity at the level of their souls had caught many of them completely off guard.

And now… the Lich King’s power was clearly even greater. Perhaps even the few dreadlords were no longer his match.

“I have to go help.” Anub’arak intended to assist Arthas in killing the Lich King.

But Anub’Rekhan gave his advice in a buzzing voice. “You’d better not. We are undead now. We have little ability to resist the Lich King.”

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The Crypt Lord fell silent. Anub’Rekhan was right. Upon the Frozen Throne, the Lich King’s power surpassed anything they had imagined.

…

At the summit of the glacier, Arthas felt his breathing halt for a moment as the tsunami-like pressure of souls swept toward him. Ner’zhul truly was an old master of treachery, adept at concealing his true strength.

He had even deceived the Nathrezim, who had remained unaware that Ner’zhul’s power had already escaped their control while he expanded the Scourge.

Yet despite being in mortal danger, Arthas showed no sign of panic. A faint blue radiance lit up at his waist.

As the light extended, Frostmourne sprang free of his side of its own accord and stood before Arthas, greedily devouring the soul power unleashed by the Lich King.

“What?!”

Ner’zhul immediately realized that Arthas had deliberately allowed him to withdraw his control over the Scourge. That way, when Ner’zhul gathered his souls together, Arthas could use Frostmourne to seize his authority over the Scourge.

This did more than weaken his control over the Scourge. It directly weakened Ner’zhul himself, for his own power was strengthened through the feedback of the undead.

Ner’zhul tried to withdraw his power, but Frostmourne clung to it like a starving wolf sinking its teeth into prey and refusing to let go. Nourished by the souls, the runeblade’s power gradually grew stronger, entering into a fierce tug-of-war with Ner’zhul.

When his attempt to reclaim his power failed, Ner’zhul immediately tried to use the safeguard he had left within Frostmourne to break the deadlock. But when he attempted to guide the blade through his runes and make it stop, Frostmourne gave no response.

How could this be?

Had Ner’zhul still possessed a body, his expression would have been hideous. He suddenly realized that he might be the one who had been outmaneuvered.

But… how had this human learned of my existence? He seems to understand everything about me… even the Scourge itself.

Question after question flashed through Ner’zhul’s mind. There was still much he could not understand, but clearly, Arthas had no intention of giving him the time.

Carrying his warhammer, Arthas walked to the ice imprisoning Ner’zhul.

“Wait! Perhaps we can make a deal—something concerning those demons, for instance—”

Arthas ignored him completely. His warhammer crashed down upon the ice, and a crack immediately appeared across the solid shadowfrost.

Ner’zhul instantly sensed part of his power flowing outward through the fissure at an even faster rate. Frostmourne seemed to notice as well and intensified its devouring grasp.

Bang!

The second blow fell without hesitation. Arthas had only one purpose: to smash apart the ice and utterly destroy Ner’zhul’s evil soul upon the Frozen Throne.

“Do you not care about the future of this world? If you kill me, you will never be able to defeat them!”

The Lich King truly panicked. Arthas was like a stone, utterly unmoved by anything he said, intent only on delivering one devastating blow after another.

“You can still stop! I swear I will never threaten the safety of the Eastern Kingdoms again! I can even secretly help you become the most powerful being in the Eastern Kingdoms!”

Ner’zhul continued to pour out tempting promises, trying to make Arthas cease.

When Arthas heard those words, his motion paused. Ner’zhul’s heart leaped, believing that Arthas had fallen for his trap. He immediately began infusing his words with corrupting power.

But Arthas merely replied in a calm voice, “Keep your gifts for Hell. Offer them as compensation to your kinsmen. Perhaps they will forgive you there.”

Arthas’s words froze Ner’zhul’s thoughts. He once again remembered the devastation wrought upon Draenor by his own arrogance: countless orcs cast into the void by the disordered gravity, while those left upon the ground were swallowed by the sundered earth.

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The wails of his dead people were among the few nightmares that remained in Ner’zhul’s heart, and Arthas’s words had stirred those agonizing memories.

While Ner’zhul was distracted, Arthas’s final blow came crashing down. Shattered crystals of shadow ice fell one after another, and the block of ice imprisoning the Lich King broke apart completely.

As the shadow crystal was destroyed, the souls Ner’zhul had absorbed and consumed within his body began to erupt into turmoil. Through his increasingly blurred vision, he vaguely saw the tranquil valleys of his homeland and the bright moon that never set.

It was the homeland of the Shadowmoon clan, Shadowmoon Valley on Draenor. Ner’zhul seemed to see his wife and his people once more, following the path of shamanism in that peaceful valley and living ordinary lives.

As death drew near, Ner’zhul, in his guise as the Lich King, also glimpsed visions from the border between life and death.

“You…”

Only upon the Frozen Throne—the place where the Lich King had been created—could he be destroyed completely. This time, he had truly died, forever, with no chance of resurrection.

Ner’zhul did not even manage to finish his final words. All his regret and hatred dissolved amid the upheaval of souls triggered by Arthas through Frostmourne. Frostmourne itself had no time to absorb his soul before the vortex of souls tore Ner’zhul apart.

Once he sensed that Ner’zhul’s soul had vanished completely, Arthas let out a long breath. In every respect, Ner’zhul had been the most dangerous enemy he had ever encountered.

Yet Ner’zhul was also an enemy that had to be erased from his plans. So long as that man remained alive for even a single day, he would pose a tremendous threat to the Eastern Kingdoms—and to Azeroth as a whole.

Several metallic clanks came from within the pile of ice. Arthas broke through the shattered frost and picked up the armor that had once been possessed by Ner’zhul’s soul.

Ner’zhul’s influence had vanished with his destruction, but this armor, forged from an unknown metal, was no equipment that any mortal could wear.

Arthas crouched and lifted the helmet from the ground. A pitch-black gem was set in the center of its crown-like design, yet when examined closely, its color seemed to lie somewhere between deep blue and pale gray.

The Helm of Domination was the most important part of the Lich King’s armor. This helmet was an artifact forged by Kil’jaeden, infused with power drawn from the Shadowlands.

It could magnify the wearer’s thoughts, and Ner’zhul’s ability to control so many undead had been closely connected to it.

Now, however, the Lich King’s death would bring about a consequence: the undead he had enslaved and summoned into the physical world would run amok. That was why a Lich King had to exist.

Any undead left without control would develop hatred toward the living. It was the instinct of the dead, unless someone could control their minds at the very root.

The masterless Scourge would only become more deranged. Moreover, because of what Ner’zhul had done, the boundary between life and death in Icecrown had already become blurred. Here, the living could die, while the dead could “live” again.

Holding the helmet, Arthas raised it before him and placed the “crown” upon his head.

The instant he donned it, blue “flames” ignited within Arthas’s eye sockets. He felt his thoughts suddenly stretch far into the distance, allowing him to observe the world from a strange perspective.

His gaze seemed to sweep down from the heavens, taking all things in at once. He could even see himself placing the crown upon his head.

He caught Frostmourne as it floated toward him, brushed away the shattered ice blocking the throne, and sat down upon it. He rested Frostmourne against his leg and propped his head up with one hand.

The moment Arthas took his seat, nearly every undead received the same command:

Be still. Eliminate the Lich King’s most loyal minions.

The undead who had been slaughtering one another like mad machines suddenly stopped. They slowly turned their heads toward several necromancers still attempting to command ghouls—the Lich King’s hounds.

Amid their screams, the inhuman necromancers were swallowed by a sea of undead.

Scenes like this unfolded throughout Northrend. All the undead, whether they had willingly pledged themselves to the Lich King or been forced to obey Ner’zhul, realized one thing:

The Scourge had a new master.

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