Chapter 431: Master Killing (Part 2)

Arthas snorted coldly and rushed forward, while Uther raised his war hammer high, bathing in the holy light.

"That's it, Fallen, for the Holy Light! For justice!"

The war hammer fell and hit Arthas's abdomen accurately, making him feel as if all the air in his lungs was sucked out of his body. The holy light radiated from the whole body of the paladin, and he had a natural restraint on the undead. Even Arthas's armor was twisted and deformed under the blow of his shining war hammer. It was thanks to this armor that Arthas's life was saved. Arthas was hammered to the ground, and Frostmourne flew away from his hand. Arthas was in great pain, and his breathing was extremely difficult. This was the disadvantage of an incomplete undead like him, and he still had to breathe...

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

The glory that enveloped Uther became stronger and stronger, and the Holy Light burned Arthas's eyes and soul, and Arthas twisted in pain. At this moment, Arthas felt that he was wrong and should not abandon it. What a terrible mistake it was! Its former kindness has now turned into an unquenchable rage. He looked forward, staring into Uther's eyes that were shining with a fiery white light, waiting for the final blow with tears streaming down his face.

Suddenly, Arthas frowned, and Frostmourne was in his hand. Did he grab the sword unconsciously, or did it jump into his hand of its own will? At that moment when his mind was in a mess, Arthas could not tell. He only knew that his hands suddenly grasped Frostmourne, and Selena's teachings once resounded in her mind.

Where there is light, there is shadow, where there is day, there is night. Even the brightest candle flame will eventually go out. So will the brightest life.

He took a deep breath and greedily inhaled the air into his lungs. He has now betrayed the Holy Light, but he has gained 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 used the dark power that he was not very familiar with to perceive everything. Arthas was proficient in everything about the Holy Light, so at this moment, Arthas "saw" that there was a dim spot in the Holy Light that enveloped Uther! That was the weakness!

At this moment, Uther raised his hammer again, ready to give him a fatal blow.

But Arthas was no longer there.

If Uther was a wild bear, huge and powerful; Arthas was a tiger, strong and agile. Uther and his weapon may have the power of the Light, but the warhammer is not a fast weapon, and Uther's fighting style is not known for speed. And Frostmourne, though a massive two-handed rune sword, is so agile that it seems to fight on its own.

Arthas rushed forward again, and this time he did not hesitate, but began to fight in earnest. He attacked Uther the Lightbringer without mercy, leaving his opponent no chance to raise his weapon to charge a heavy blow. Uther's eyes widened in shock, and then narrowed them in determination.

However, the Holy Light that once shone brightly on his strong body was gradually weakening. It dimmed in front of the power given to him by the Lich King.

Frostmourne hit Uther's body.

Arthas struck the shiny head of the hammer with one blow, breaking the handle, but Frostmourne continued to strike Uther's shoulder, hitting the narrow part where the shoulder armor and the neck guard met, cutting deeply into it.

Uther groaned in pain and took several steps back. Blood gushed out of the wound uncontrollably. Frostmourne thirsted for blood, and Arthas wanted to give it more satisfaction.

"Ahhhhhhh!"

Arthas roared like a beast, his white hair flying, and then he rushed forward. Frostmourne nearly severed Uther's arm, the massive hammer gleaming as it fell from his feeble fingers. The powerful blow dented Uther's breastplate, and a second blow from the same spot sliced ​​through the armor, tearing the flesh beneath. Uther the Lightbringer fell heavily to his knees, his badge shattered and fluttered to the snow, the blue and gold emblem of the alliance he had fought for. He raised his head, breathing became labored, and the blood gushing from his mouth wet his beard. Yet there was no sign of surrender on his face.

"I wish there was a place in Hell just for you, Arthas," he coughed, blood foaming from his mouth.

"You can no longer see what my future holds. Uther, meet your fate..." Arthas said coldly, raising Frostmourne for the final blow. The rune sword hummed almost eagerly.

He thrust the rune sword straight down, piercing Uther's throat, cutting off his words of resistance, and then piercing this great heart. Uther died almost immediately. Arthas drew out his longsword, stepped back a few steps and trembled. Of course, this time it might be because of the excitement of killing a powerful enemy.

"I want eternal life, Uther..."

After panting for a while, Arthas knelt down and picked up the urn. He held it in his hands for a long time, then broke the seal, turned the urn over, and poured out the contents. King Terenas' ashes fell like rain, as gray as infected flour, and sprinkled on the snow. Suddenly, the wind changed direction. The last gray powder left by a generation of kings was suddenly blown up, and it splashed towards the Death Knight as if it had life. Arthas took a step back in shock. He instinctively raised his hands to protect his face. The urn fell from his hands and hit the ground with a muffled sound. He closed his eyes and turned around, but he was coughing violently because of the sting. The pungent ashes made him feel suffocated. He was suddenly terrified, and slapped his armored hands on his face, trying to wipe off the fine powder that blocked his mouth and nose and stung his eyes. He spat, and his stomach churned.

Arthas took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. After a moment, he stood up and regained his composure. Even if he still had feelings, he had buried them deep in his heart, where even he could not reach them. After a long time, he returned to the gristle cart filled with Kel'Thuzad's rotten corpse fluid, and with a stern face, he stuffed the can into the hands of a Scourge soldier.

"Put the necromancer in," he ordered.

He mounted the Invincible and looked to the north, Quel'Thalas, there will be another paradise for the Undead Legion!