Uther the Lightbringer!
Unlike his father, who was indifferent to his family, demanding everything from his son, and who had been on the throne for decades, in Arthas' heart, he was a perfect elder.
Arthas could have a lot of dissatisfaction with his father, King Terenas. For example, he almost sold his sister Kalia for the land of Alterac. For example, he firmly held onto power and stubbornly refused all new things. For example …
But for Uther, the only regret he had was that Uther did not support him during the orphanage incident.
He could find ten thousand reasons to kill his father, but not one reason to kill Uther.
He was honest, he was brave, he was universal, he was pious, and he taught Arthas everything he knew.
Arthas had thought that after falling, he could easily raise his sword against Uther.
However, when [Frostmourne] pierced through his father's ruined remains, pierced through Uther's armor, and stabbed the demonic sword into Uther's chest, Arthas realized that he could not accept the fact that he had killed Uther.
Suddenly, he cried.
The undead had no tears.
What squeezed out of his dry tear ducts was the power of darkness, as black as ink.
The evil black power condensed into liquid and flowed on Arthas' chiseled face.
Arthas knew that his face was scary.
He also knew that he would be mocked by the Dreadlord later.
He just could not help it.
However, the initial pain only lasted for a short moment. What followed was the increase in power.
Right!
A deeper fall, a stronger evil!
[Frostmourne] was cheering. The evil from the entire city of death was resonating with this demonic sword, gathering power on Arthas.
The purer and more powerful power of darkness made every molecule in his soul rejoice in joy.
Arthas kicked Uther, who had lost his strength and was starting to fall, and raised [Frostmourne] high up in the air as she screamed.
"Hahahaha! Hahahahaha! Is this the sweetness of power? Haha! Is this the power that is enough to defeat Duke Marcus and sweep away everything in the world? "The strong contrast made the pleasure in Arthis's heart more and more obvious, and more and more intense.
It was the thrill of turning into thousands of bubbles that could melt one's brain and soul!
At this moment, the fallen prince suddenly heard a sneer.
That was Uther!
"Hehe! Poor child … "
Arthis lowered his head in astonishment. He expected to see anger, fear, panic, or even regret in the dying Uther's eyes.
Who knew that all he saw was … pity!
That's right!
It was a pity that would only be shown to the weak.
This feeling completely destroyed Arthis's good mood.
"You! Here! Smile! What! Is that so?! "Arthis didn't even need to look to know that her expression was going to be hideous.
"Looks like … I won't be able to complete … your salvation! But you said … you can defeat Duque … I can't help but want to laugh! " Blood began to gush out the moment the fallen prince pulled out the demonic sword. Wuther was weakening at a speed visible to the naked eye.
"Why? Why!? "Arthis angrily grabbed the top of Wuther's breastplate and dragged him up.
"There are many who are stronger than Duque, but none of them can defeat him … Orgrim can't … Ner 'zhul can't … Sargeras can't … and you can't. Whoosh! Hahaha! Hahaha! "
"No! I am the strongest! I … No! Bastard, don't die so soon! "Arthis was shocked to find that Wuther had already breathed his last while laughing.
Feeling that [Frostmourne] had imprisoned Wuther's soul, Arthis decided to turn Wuther into a Death Knight.
"Corrode! Fall! My master! "In the eyes of the fallen prince, this should have been a very easy thing to do.
Soon, Arthis' face showed shock again.
Among the tens of thousands of souls that had been forcefully crushed by the Demon Sword, Arthis easily found the soul that only belonged to Wuther, shining with golden light.
However, no matter how he drove the demonic sword to corrode and drown Wuther's soul, pouring in the wailing and fear of a thousand people, ten thousand people, a hundred thousand people, Wuther's holy soul still stubbornly refused him and the power of [Frostmourne], resisting his and the Lich King's terrifying will.
"No —" the prince screamed! He angrily killed all the living paladins in the palace, and then turned them all into Death Knights with thousands of times more magic power.
These paladins had a strong holy faith when they were alive, but in the end, their souls were still contaminated.
He was very sure that the power of the demonic sword had not weakened.
But!
No matter what he did, he could not make Wuther's soul yield!
The holy light had dissipated from Wuther's body, which had begun to turn cold. Of course, Arthis could turn Wuther's body into the dirtiest zombies or skeleton soldiers.
But that was meaningless!
A body without a soul could only become the lowest level of the undead.
This could only prove that he still lost!
Lost to Wuther's stubbornness!
Lost to Wuther's will!
Lost to Wuther's persistence!
This strong sense of defeat accumulated in Arthis's chest. It made him feel like he was going crazy!
For a moment, Arthis almost wanted to dismember Wuther's body to vent his anger.
In the end …
Arthis looked up to the sky and roared unwillingly.
Summoning a disciple of the Church of the Damned, Arthis ordered, "Throw Wuther's body out. Throw it far away from Lordaeron City. "
This disciple carried out Arthis's order perfectly. When he returned to Caer Darrow's Scholomance Academy, he threw Wuther's body to the side of the road.
After that, it was the famous tomb of Wuther …
But at this moment, Arthis was venting the anger in his heart, until the two Dreadlords stepped into the throne room with a sinister smile.
"Although the result is not very good for you, you have completed the Lich King's task well! Very good! "Tichondrius laughed.
His laughter made Arthis feel disgusted.
"When are we going to attack the Dalajan again?" Stand up where you fall. Arthis believed in this iron rule.
"The Dalajan? The Dalajan is no longer a problem. " Accompanied by Tichondrius' laughter, the Dreadlord's wings flapped continuously, adding a huge shadow to the room.
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