Chapter 428: Invincible

The most filial son of Azeroth raised his butcher knife, and the end of Lordaeron was destined to be a tragedy.

This was an extremely crazy scene, the carnival turned into chaos, and the celebration turned into an escape. There were only a handful of survivors. Most of those who had lined up for hours to welcome the prince's return were now dead on the spot, the blood from the terrible wounds had already coagulated, and the broken limbs and bodies were scattered all over the ground. No matter the rich or the poor, no matter the men or women, no matter the old or the young, everyone was equal in the face of death.

Arthas didn't care about their final fate, whether to feed the crows or become his new subjects, that was all left to his captain, Falric, who was as pale as Arthas, but more ruthless than him, so he felt relieved to leave it to him. Arthas strode forward along the way he came, with only one goal in mind.

After clearing all the corpses in the courtyard, he immediately ran wildly. Now no horse could carry him, and the animals were afraid of his breath and that of the Army of the Dead. But he found that he was not tired at all, as long as Frostmourne was whispering to him, as long as the Lich King was talking to him through the rune sword.

Arthas was very fast, not at all like those undead creatures, and soon he came to a place he had not been to for many years.

Countless voices echoed in his mind, they were fragments of words in his memory.

"You can't ride it yet." This was his old father who he had just killed.

"You skipped classes again, Arthas, and went to train the pony again." Similar words were said by Uther and Selena.

However, what was louder in his mind was the miserable cry of his beloved warhorse before it died...

Arthas walked into the farm, his undead servants had already arrived there, and now there were only a few corpses lying there. Alsace recognized them at a glance, a man, a woman, and a young man about his age. These three were slaves who raised horses for him. For Alsace, it was a blessing for them to die like this. They could also raise horses for him with their corpses.

Alsace looked around. This year's snapdragons were very lush and grew like crazy. Alsace walked closer and stretched out a hand to touch the beautiful tall blue-purple flowers. Then, he remembered the rose petal and stopped hesitantly. He was not here to destroy the flowers. His beloved mount loved snapdragons the most.

He slowly walked to a grave that was several years old. It was covered with weeds, but the tombstone was still clearly visible. In fact, even if there was nothing left, Arthas knew what was buried inside.

He stood there quietly, and his grief for the dead in the tomb was greater than that for his father who had just been lost.

Just as Arthas was grieving, Frostmourne spoke, saying, "This power belongs to you, do whatever you want..."

Arthas held Frostmourne tightly, and stretched out his other hand. The dark light flowed around his hand, gradually speeding up, and then rolled and snaked along his fingers, plunging into the ground.

Arthas felt that this energy was connected to the skeletons underground. He felt ecstatic, and tears stung his eyes. He raised his hand and called up the thing that had said goodbye to death from its seven-year slumber beneath the cold, dark earth.

"Get up!" he shouted.

The grave cracked open, and the dirt splashed everywhere. The long legs of the skeleton kicked, and the horse's hooves sought support in the surging earth, and its skull poked forward through the earth. Alsace watched this scene with bated breath, and a smile appeared on his pale face.

"I watched you being born with my own eyes." Alsace smiled as he recalled the little life squirming in the membrane. "I personally brought you into this world, and I personally sent you away... Now, in my hands, you are reborn."

The skeleton horse struggled to break out of the ground. It stood up on its front legs, and red flames burned in its empty eye sockets. It shook its head and leaped up. Although the rest of its body had long since decayed and no longer existed, the skeleton horse still let out a neighing sound that was icy and bone-chilling.

Alsace trembled and reached out to the undead creature. It neighed and rubbed his hand with its mouth and nose, which was only left with bones. Seven years ago, he had caused the horse's death; seven years ago, he wiped the frozen tears from his face and thrust his sword through the heart of his beloved warhorse.

He had always felt guilty about it, but now he knew it was just part of his fate. If he hadn't killed the horse, he would have lost it now. Living horses would have feared him, even him. But the undead was different, its eyes were on fire, its bones were held together by necromancy, and Arthas was grateful for the gift from the mysterious lich king. Because now, horse and rider were finally together, as if they were meant to be together, just as if he had been the one who delivered it. What happened seven years ago was not a mistake, he never made a mistake. Not then, and not now. Never. Here is the proof.

Frostmourne still carries the red blood of Terenas. Menethil, and he now rules this realm. Death is coming, and the world is changing.

"This kingdom will perish!" He threw his cloak and rode on his horse, promising his beloved warhorse, "And from these ruins will be born a new order that will shake the world!"

The warhorse neighed. The army of the undead will surely be invincible.

As the horse's name suggests, invincible.

After destroying Lordaeron, Arthas did not stop. He rode on the back of his loyal skeleton warhorse Invincible, thinking as he rode towards Andorhal. It was a great irony that he was the one who had killed the necromancer Kel'Thuzad, but now he was responsible for resurrecting him.

Frostmourne continued to whisper to him, but he did not need its voice, or the voice of the Lich King, to comfort him. He was no longer human, and there was no turning back, nor did he want to.

Since the fall of the capital, Arthas began his dark pilgrimage. He rode to all corners of the kingdom, leading his new subjects to roam from city to town, allowing them to massacre civilians at will. The Scourge Legion, he felt that the name given by Kel'Thuzad was very appropriate. Some non-mainstream religious groups use this word to refer to the tools they use to whip themselves during penance to purify their impurities. And his natural disasters will purify the world of the living. Arthas straddles the realms of life and death. His body is still half of a living person, but the Lich King's gentle voice calls him a death knight. His hair, skin, and eyes have faded, but he doesn't care. He only knows that he is the Lich King's favorite general, and is only responsible for commanding the entire natural disaster legion.