Azeroth Shadow Trail

   Chapter 1360 110. The dark bone will eventually become king

"Do not!!"

  In this messy monastery hall, watching the boundless darkness engulf the shining holy coffin, the power of gloomy cold began to burst out in front of us, like opening a passage to hell.

   Desperate Varian felt an unquenchable rage surge in his heart, and he burst out with the most powerful light he had ever seen, a light so fiery that it even melted the Hammer of Menethil in his hand.

The child king, with red eyes, took off the battle helmet on his face, smashed the rebellious Val'kyr away in an avenger's attitude, stepped on the ground one step at a time with golden melted footprints, and jumped up again. , charged towards Black.

   He's going to kill this bastard!

   A fiery storm of light erupted behind him, blowing the pirate's blond hair, and Blake turned his head, staring at Varian who jumped up with helpless dead fish eyes, clutching the melted warhammer in both hands, and roaring at Varian who smashed at his head.

   He curled his lips and said:

   "If you were still a warrior, my dear Varian. I was dead before I set foot here, but fate is so impermanent, right?

  You still owe me a big favor, angry child king, I rescued you from the temptation of light, but is that how the light taught you to repay? "

"die!"

   To his malicious provocation, Varian's response was only this sentence.

   He will kill him at all costs!

  No one can save him!

nobody!

   But in the face of this vengeance, the pirates didn't even draw their weapons.

   Staring at the falling Hammer of Light as if he were willing to die, he saw little Jaina and Arthas charging towards him in the flash.

   Her little sister's face was full of consternation and determination to save her stinky brother. She even raised the Ebony Chill in her hand to attack Varian.

  Oh, it's still my sister who will feel sorry for giegie.

  Black also saw the spectators behind him rushing in from the gate of the monastery.

   Well, the timing is just right

  The Lich King's enthronement ceremony is about to begin now.

   "clang"

  The pirate closed his eyes and spread his arms like a priest who is dying and like a priest at Mass, to meet Varian's Hammer of Light and Fury, but as darkness erupted behind him like a huge shadow.

   An ice demon blade pierced from the cold storm that erupted from the back of the smelly pirate easily blocked Varian's warhammer. The coldness of death and the blaze of holy light erupted in front of the pirate's eyes, and countless broken lights were flying.

   The blazing rune's sharp blade was only slightly picked, and the angry Varian was sent flying, and the holy light on the child king's armor was almost extinguished by the cold shock.

   He was covered in white death cream all over his body.

   Menethil's power warhammer shattered at the moment of being attacked, Arthas jumped up, and hugged Varian, who flew upside down.

   The two rolled to the ground, and were caught by Maraad, the draenei vigilante commander, with both hands.

  Everyone's eyes turned to look in front of them at this moment.

   Their expressions were ugly and lost, and when so many people gathered, they still let Black Shaw complete his dark things, which was a huge blow.

   But the most troublesome thing now is not to settle the sins of the smelly pirate, but the familiar figure who stood up from the holy coffin behind the pirate.

He was still wearing the armor of the Commander of Stormwind Kingdom that he wore when he was put into the holy coffin. As his body stood up little by little, the black lion on his left shoulder and the eagle's shoulder armor on his right were moving, and were covered with The battle-scarred armor collided with a low sound, and the lion belt on the waist was covered with frost a little bit, just like a special magic shield covering this primitive armor.

   The blood-colored shabby cloak was the decoration he wore during the final battle in Dalaran. The scorch marks and holes on the edge of the cloak did not affect its flying posture.

   Even the bald head of this man will not affect his majesty.

   The man's hands were spread out to the sides.

   As he used to do when he was in command of a large army, he always said that his open hands would reward friends and terrify enemies.

  Anduin Lothar wakes up.

   But it is difficult for him to say that he was once the Marshal Lothar that everyone was willing to follow, because in the left hand of this aging body, he was holding a death blade that shone with boundless darkness.

  Frostmourne hissed.

   That is the song of joy, the **** runes on the icy spine of the sword light up one by one, let the cold wind blow from the invisible, and let fear breed in the heart of the enemy.

   She had never felt so fit with a soul.

   is like a natural couple.

   After being forged in the cold core of the dead world, Frostmourne has been fantasizing about what her future swordsmen will be like.

   He or she needs to be firm enough not to become his own slave at the moment of contact.

  He or she has to be strong enough to be worthy of his own identity, whether in body or soul.

  He or she must have great ambitions, not short-sighted or lying flat, let alone confining sad dreams to mortal thoughts.

  He or she must be majestic enough to command the army and conquer the world.

   After all, he is a magic blade forged for the commander. He is not as immersed in melee confrontation as the rude Apocalypse.

   Such a soul is too hard to find.

   But fortunately, Blake Shaw found the most suitable one for her, so Frostmourne decided to hand over all her majesty to Anduin Lothar.

  Come, Anduin Lothar, Lich King, and begin your reign.

  Lothar didn't show much response to Frostmourne's obedience, he would still seem to be in a daze after being slumbered for a long time and then suddenly awakened.

   He raised his head, those eyes that were already shining blue light swept across the crowd in front of him, he saw many old friends and some new friends he didn't know.

   He saw Varian and Arthas in despair, and also saw little Jaina Proudmoore clutching her staff in terror.

  Finally, in the dead silence, Lothar cast a gaze cold enough to freeze his soul on Blake in front of him, and he said:

   "Maybe you should explain?"

  This figure is dry and hoarse, and it has a hollow echo, like the echoes of countless souls following Lothar's voice.

   sounds like an old villain.

   On Blake's cheeks, there was a smug and relaxed smile that a Weaver of Fate should have. He stroked his chest, as if he was really frightened by Varian's angry hammer just now.

   He bowed to Marshal Lothar, who was holding Frostmourne in front of him with a standard noble etiquette, and said in a low voice:

   "Although it's been a long time, welcome back, Your Majesty Lothar, after you fell asleep, many things have happened in this world, good and bad.

  I can tell you them exactly if you want.

   But we should get to the point.

  The Burning Legion from the stars has locked on this sad world, and they are about to launch a devastating offensive. I do not think that Azeroth can survive the disaster of war.

   In order to give this world a little more life, I have to disturb your sleep.

   But war is calling, my dear Marshal. "

   Black whispered:

   "I have prepared for you weapons that will frighten the enemy, prepared soldiers ready to go, prepared preparations for you before the war begins, and even prepared objects for you to practice.

   I am honored to witness and personally promote the rise of the Lich King. "

   "weapon, soldier"

  Lothar glanced at the docile magic sword in his hand.

   He could feel that his broken soul, which was missing due to the curse of Deathwing in the battle of Dalaran, was being repaired, and he could feel that his will continued to extend outward from the sword in his hand.

   He could feel every undead outside the monastery, and he could feel that the dead were allegiance to him.

   They were waiting for their orders.

   Those cold souls come back from the dead, they can raze a kingdom overnight, they can sweep the land in a very short time.

  The number of them is endless, they will not fear, will not shrink, nor will they bargain with themselves, and every will of theirs can be perfectly executed.

   This is the legion that all commanders dream of.

   He can call for more

   As Lothar's thoughts moved a little, in the cemetery behind the Northshire Abbey, one tomb after another began to restless, tearing the ground with a hand with corrosive gauntlets at the call of the marshal.

   Those who were buried here and belonged to the heroes of Stormwind's innumerable past times answered Lothar's call, and even several sarcophagi were placed in the monastery hall.

   Under the desperate gazes of Varian and the others, a sarcophagus embellished with a crown was pushed open in the shock, and a man who stunned everyone rose from inside.

   The man was wearing black armor and a delicate crown. His cheeks were thin but seven-points like Varian's, and he had a very elegant beard.

   "Ryan."

  Lothar looked back at the friend who was awakened from death, and he said dryly:

   "I'm going to fight a war and I need an adjutant."

   "That's why you disturb my rest?"

  Lian Wrynn, who stood up from the king's sarcophagus, raised his head, the face of the deceased was adorned with blue soul fire, he was angry at first, but quickly calmed down.

   He said in the hoarse voice of the dead:

   "Well, I'll help you, as we were when we were young. You! Are you Varian?"

  The human kingdom that died in the early days of the orc war turned to look at the young child king, he looked up and down the embarrassed Varian, and after a few seconds, he said:

   "It's not the same as I imagined. You who converted to the Holy Light are a little less brave, but a little more kind, maybe that's fine."

   "Father. No."

  Varian looked at his father, who had come back from the dead, and he felt hopeless.

   Double despair.

   And everyone behind him had drawn their weapons, and they saw Lothar raise the dead without doing anything, more than most people could bear.

   But no one wants the same thing to happen to them.

   "Lothar, put down the sword in your hand!"

   Sun King Anastarian shouted loudly:

   "This is not what Thoradin wants to see. You, who once represented hope and glory, should not be the carrier of evil and darkness. The sword is bewitching you, as this pirate orchestrated it all.

   Drop it!

   I can sense that you are not fully occupied by it yet.

  You are still saved! "

  Lothar ignored the persuasion. He didn't seem to hear it at all.

   His eyes crossed the crowd, and he saw the archmage Antonidas, who was sitting on a bench and covering his wounds, with a pale face and a near-death posture.

   Marshal felt that life was passing.

   He felt that death was eroding this old suffering friend, and he felt that he could manipulate that power, that he could "help" his friend from exhaustion and pain.

   "If I'm going to win the war, I need a good commander."

  Lothar said in a low voice.

   He raised his hand towards the archmage who was looking at him, and made a pinching motion between his fingers.

   A cold wind blew through the crowd, and on the bench behind them, the weak Archmage felt a force grabbing his neck and his soul.

   In the movement of Lothar raising his hand, Antonidas, who was struggling, was pulled up from the chair and dragged into the air little by little.

   This scene terrified everyone.

   Even the Sun King, the most powerful in magic, could not understand how Lothar did such a thing.

   But he reacted very quickly. Seeing that the Archmage was about to be strangled by Lothar with evil means, the Sun King roared and raised his hand and threw a fiery lava fireball.

   He wanted to save Antonidas, but the big fireball flew over without hurting Lothar in the slightest. The dark magic sword lifted up, slashed forward with precision and rode the cold wind to annihilate the fireball in the air.

   "I need your help, old friend."

  Lothar whispered.

   At the moment when his fingers were completely closed, the body of the archmage who was pulled into the air began to twitch violently. Not only was the feeling of suffocation dragging him into death, but also the wounds left by the stinky pirate before also erupted at this moment.

   The gushing blood almost dyed the Archmage into a blood man.

   His life disappeared quickly, and the process of death came so quickly that it even completely expelled life without much pain.

  The rune of Frostmourne shone brightly, casting the blessing of death on the archmage's aged body while expelling life, and Antonidas's body trembled as he was lifted into the air.

   His dim eyes looked to the sky, and he seemed to be able to see that the door to the world of the dead had opened to him, and the world of the dead was calling him.

   But another force "protects" himself from being engulfed by everything in front of him.

   He saw the world behind the veil, he saw the kingdom of the dead, and the knowledge of the dead was generously given to Antonidas' soul in the low magic tumbling.

   He felt that he saw the truth, he felt that he understood everything.

   His eyes lost all luster and lit up in the next instant, the blue soul fire flickered in the eyes of the Archmage, and the death aura from the Shadow Realm enveloped him.

  Under the astonished gaze of Black and the other spellcasters, the dead archmage passed the complicated and tedious ascension ritual and was reshaped into a new lich under the power of Frostmourne.

  It turns out that this is an ominous divination meaning when leaving.

   death, embraced him.

   "Now you have two subordinates."

   In the silent hall, Black stood beside Lothar with his hands tied, and he suggested to the Lich King in a malicious tone:

   "In addition to the alien female warriors that I have carefully selected for you, there are already three of your four knights of the apocalypse, and you still need to choose the last knight that belongs to you among the spectators in front of you.

   So who is so lucky? "

"Walk!"

  Blake's words were like a gust of cold wind, wrapping the crowd in front of him.

  The Sun King reacted very quickly, and started a large-scale teleportation to cover everyone around him and teleport out of this dangerous area that was shrouded in death.

   But neither Black nor Lothar nor the new-born Lich Antonidas chose to stop them.

   Arcane teleportation caused only three dead and Blake, a living person, to remain in the hall. Then, the cold death sword was raised and touched Blake's neck.

  The pirate looked up and saw Lothar's indifferent eyes looking at him.

   "The Magical Black Prophet Blake Shaw"

  Lothar whispered in the voice of the great villain:

   "I need a good and evil adjutant like you to help me win this war, are you willing to be my death knight?"

   (end of this chapter)