The Prince of Lordaeron bravely enters Azeroth

My name is Arthas Menethil, and I have just been ambushed.

I know him, the dark afterimage that I saw by chance before I fell down with a sword.

I knew it... maybe I should have known it... or maybe that was what I thought in my heart...

It's just speculation at the moment, and I can't make a final approval so early because what I saw was the person I once had resentment towards.

The sudden "collapse of my spiritual heart" made me lose my previous state of mind and did things that I would never normally do.

However, all the self-denial was nothing but pressure that led me to the path of "depression"!

"Depression", I never thought I would have this symptom.

Because... in the final analysis, this is a human problem, a question of whether people have enough knowledge.

I have endured the pain of life and death time and time again, and have come to where I am today step by step.

Haha, my system is... temporarily gone, and I have become the "me" who resurrected the "invincible".

The Cursed Road, how ironic! Even if I travel through time, do I have to go through what happened to Arthas Menethil?

But I am who I am, Arthas Menethil, a different firework!

I'm a living death knight, this is so...

I am no longer the boy who once yearned for "me"... It's really painful, this dead but living body full of life.

Frostmourne... Ner'zhul's whispers are really annoying...

"It is yours now, Death Knight."

"Before your eyes, it stood up again and remained loyal to you forever."

Yes, Invincible stood before me, and I was terribly disappointed because of its death...

The hope for his resurrection is far higher in my heart than mine… It should have been not long ago…

A horse brings me more sadness than my father's death... shivering... it's so ridiculous!

It is clearly... a "rebellious" smile, a "liberated" smile, a "self" smile.

Excuse, I think this is just an excuse of "me"!

The "me" who rose with the Lich King is far inferior to the "me" who marched north to Northrend out of anger and hatred towards the Scourge of Lordaeron, and is even inferior to the Death Knight who is the "chosen one".

Hiding the wild laughter in his heart, Arthas raised his hand and gently wiped the smile from his pale face.

He hated this smile that didn't belong to him, just like the Azeroth he had imagined, where everyone was selfless and responsible...

Isn't the desire for selflessness a hidden form of selfishness?

"Wudi, do you still remember me?"

Looking at the resurrected deathhorse in front of him, Arthas said nothing and threw off his cloak.

The cloak was covered in dark blood stains, which showed how many people he had slaughtered along the way before he arrived at the Invincible Tomb.

He didn't care about Wudi's next reaction, revealed his pale and scattered white hair, and jumped onto the horse.

Now that he was here, he wanted to see what familiar tricks "Mal'Ganis" and Ner'zhul would play.

With a clang, Arthas drew out a magic sword that was not as familiar as usual and pointed it to the north.

"Follow your heart, obey your desire, and do what you want, Death Knight."

He could feel the Icecrown and the Frozen Throne in Northrend, even without the help of the system.

"The king is doomed to fall..."

Pulling the reins with his left hand, Arthas took control of the invincibility with familiarity and awkwardness.

The two hooves that were reconnected by spiritualism were facing the sky, the horse's head with skull horns was neighing towards the sky, and the horse's body without bat wings exuded a dark aura of death.

Unlike the Invincible that Arthas had before, the "beloved horse" Invincible that he was riding at this moment was more like an ordinary death warhorse.

However, the rune vest on its body alone is wider, more mysterious, and heavier than the armor of the other resurrected war horses.

Awakening from the remains of its former grave, the power of death had reconstructed it, making it so tall and mighty that it was worthy of its master in the saddle.

"The king has fallen, and your crown will be yours."

Death has come, and the world has changed drastically, but...

"And from these ruins, a new order will be born, the order that I want!"

"Yes, only the order you want, Death Knight."

Quickly sheathing his sword, Arthas gripped the reins tightly with both hands and said, "Invincible, lead me south."

"That palace belongs only to my kingdom. I want to witness the destruction of the kingdom and its rebirth with my own eyes!"

"I will fulfill my long-cherished wish and become king... and dominate."

The warhorse neighed again, and although its sound was hoarse and hollow, it was still carrying out its master's orders with invincible loyalty.

Heading south, we headed non-stop towards the royal city of Lordaeron.

"Go, Death Knight."

"Go in the direction you want to go, and establish a new order, and trample on everything that is alive."

There were so many whispers, but Arthas felt...

If everything goes well, he is looking forward to it... Invincible roared to the sky, announcing the return of Arthas to the Scourge.

"Falric, Marwyn, where are my guards?"

Seeing the two dead men wearing heavy armor, Arthas stopped his horse and asked.

Coming to this dilapidated palace, he became indifferent to the tragedy that “he” had caused himself.

Turning to look at the Death Knight, the two lieutenants said hoarsely in unison: "Follow...your orders...your majesty."

"Your personal guards... are right here... and will be there soon..."

"Immediately, my adjutant...I want immediately, and right away!"

An extremely cold light flashed, and he raised Frostmourne. The eerie frost aura spread toward the dark and silent sky.

As a Death Knight, he can do this even without "his" memories.

He silently ordered the Scourge to stop killing and quickly gather at his location.

Now, he wasn't sure how many survivors there would be, but he had stopped the killing.

Now, he will follow the thread of fate and go to that starting point.

By then, he would try it with his own hands to see to whom Frostmourne really belongs.

However, he will also control the Scourge who are truly loyal to him and do what he wants at the moment.

There is a gap in this sword, which is not 100% connected to Ner'zhul's magic sword, and can be drilled at any time.

"Death Knight, the living will not..."

"Ner'zhul, I will be the 'king' of the living and the dead."

He emphasized the word "king" and Arthas showed his white teeth in a sinister smile.

"I don't need your guidance for now, because I will just crush all the rebels in front of me with my own hands."

"Frostmourne is hungry."

"Then, as you wish, Death Knight."

Soon, Falric and Marwyn came to Arthas with a group of silent black-armored knights.

The next second, this terrifying and eerie team of knights all knelt down on one knee.

"Your Majesty, we are here to obey your orders."

Around this group of dead who still resembled humans, there were crawling ghouls, kneeling skeleton soldiers, and stitched monsters with their heads bowed...

There were only a few necromancers, wearing tattered or not-so-tattered robes, hunched over and looking up at their king.

Now, the Scourge around Arthas not only has no Cult of the Damned, but also no Undead Spiders, let alone the familiar Undead Air Force in the game.

The only one beside him was "him"... no, it was him.

He personally converted or indirectly converted the Northrend expeditionary force, as well as the "lucky ones" who died in the royal city of Lordaeron.

"Your Majesty, we are here."

As always, they bowed to their "Prince Royal Highness" without the slightest hesitation.

The undead, this scourge army that has not yet broken away from the control of the Lich King, only obeys the orders of Arthas... Frostmourne.

Although the words of some loyal warriors are not as fluent as they were in life, sometimes pausing, sometimes hoarse, sometimes...

However, they all shouted "Your Majesty", the new owner of the ruins was called "Your Majesty".

"Where's my lieutenant, Thassarian?"

After receiving the order, Falric and Marwyn led the knights on the left and right to make way.

Looking at the Death Knight who was as silent as the others, they both said in unison, "Your Majesty, he is here."

"Well, Thassarian, where is your mother?"

Opening his stiff mouth, Sassarian lowered his head and said, "Your Majesty, she was rescued before."

"Oh, you saw it with your own eyes?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Haha...hahaha! Very good, Thassarian."

Holding the hilt of the sword, Arthas rode forward and placed the sword against his shoulder, saying, "Death Knight, rise."

As the tip of Frostmourne rose, Thassarian looked up at Arthas without saying a word.

As one of the dead who were resurrected in the Northrend Expeditionary Camp, all he has left is loyalty, but no "humanity".

"Return to the team, Thassarian."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

In a moment, Arthas, holding the re-sheathed Hungry Sword, looked up at the ruined city gate.

Without a crown on his head, in this dead silent ruin, his long pale hair moved with the wind of death and fluttered in the wind spontaneously.

Recalling... following his habit before going to the King's Road, Arthas felt the wind and the "breath" around him.

He was not used to this habit.

He almost forgot this habit of his past.

The feeling of having to rely on his lieutenant for command was once again recaptured by him today.

In the blink of an eye, he asked aloud, "Farric, has my army been assembled?"

Astride a deathhorse, Falric responded, "Your Majesty, your army."

"All the troops in Lordaeron's capital have been assembled."

"We await your orders, Your Majesty."

Seeing Falric pointing at the orderly armies on both sides who were bowing their heads, Arthas smiled crookedly, grabbed the reins and shouted, "Okay, I understand."

"Warriors of Lordaeron, follow me, and I will lead you to what we deserve."

“I promise… I will guarantee this as the king of the new order and new kingdom born from these ruins… Go!”

Following Arthas's order, Invincible took all four steps, took the initiative to move forward, and quickly strode towards the dilapidated city gate.

Behind him, his two lieutenants, Falric and Marwyn, followed closely.

Behind the adjutant, one after another Death Knights riding on skeleton horses followed.

The same thing happened behind them.

The remaining undead legions ran, walked or crawled, following the horseshoe prints left by their cavalry.

In its place, there remained only a ruined royal city that was becoming increasingly empty.

A quiet deathly silence accompanies it until the footsteps of the living or the breath of life return.

Or, wait for the army of death.

Destroy it and occupy it again.