With the will of the king's messenger weighing heavily upon him, Uther had finally persuaded the king to order Arthas to bring the expeditionary army back to Lordaeron. But hatred had already consumed Arthas's heart. He had sworn that the blood of the dreaded demon would pay for everything that had happened.
Arthas refused to obey. Instead, driven by the flames of revenge, he secretly devised a plan that completely violated the morality and principles of a Paladin. He hired local indigenous mercenaries and secretly destroyed the expeditionary ships, cutting off the army's only route back to Lordaeron. Once everything had been arranged, he deliberately appeared before the furious soldiers and told them that the enemy had destroyed their ships.
Then, as if that were not enough, Arthas ordered the soldiers to kill every one of the mercenaries. Afterward, he informed the entire expeditionary force that there was now only one way for them to survive. They had to kill the dread demon and destroy the undead. There would be no retreat.
On Northrend, this frozen continent covered in endless snow and ice, Arthas and his expeditionary forces had been completely cut off from the rest of the world.
The snowflakes continued to fall from the darkened sky.
The background melody suddenly became much more oppressive, its low and mournful notes slowly building an unbearable sense of tension.
Holding the Paladin's Warhammer tightly in his hand, Arthas looked back at the expeditionary army with a complicated expression.
Beside him stood his old friend Muradin.
But when Arthas turned around and looked at the soldiers behind him, what he saw was no longer determination.
He saw hatred.
He saw despair.
And he saw an army that had already been pushed to the edge.
Muradin could clearly feel that Arthas had changed. The prince who had once fought for justice and the protection of his people was gradually disappearing, replaced by a man consumed by revenge.
Muradin loudly questioned Arthas's decisions and tried to persuade his old friend to abandon this dangerous path. But in the end, despite his doubts, Muradin still decided to follow Arthas.
Because Arthas had one final objective, he intended to find the legendary artifact known as Frostmourne. Only the legendary Frostmourne could provide Arthas with enough power to complete his revenge. And so, the expedition continued deeper into the frozen wilderness of Northrend.
Finally, deep within the glaciers of the continent, Arthas and Muradin discovered the location where Frostmourne had been sealed.
An ancient cave stood before them. At its deepest point, surrounded by enormous walls of ice, the legendary sword rested in silence. The ancient weapon had been sealed there for countless years. A mysterious and ancient spectral guardian appeared before the entrance.
Yet, unexpectedly, the guardian did not stop Arthas. It simply watched as though it already knew what was about to happen.
Arthas stepped into the cave while Muradin followed closely behind. It was only after entering the chamber that Muradin discovered the truth. Frostmourne carried a powerful and terrifying evil curse. The moment Muradin realized this, he immediately tried to stop Arthas.
But Arthas no longer cared; the fire of revenge had completely blinded him. His old friend's warnings, his companions' concerns, and even the danger surrounding the ancient sword were all meaningless to him. He reached toward Frostmourne.
"Arthas, don't!" Muradin's voice echoed through the frozen chamber, but Arthas ignored him.
His hand closed around the hilt. The instant he pulled the sword from its frozen prison, the entire chamber erupted.
BOOM! The surrounding ice shattered violently, and countless fragments of magical ice exploded outward, sending Muradin flying backward. The ancient seal had been broken, and the legendary Frostmourne had finally been freed.
Muradin lay stunned amid the shattered ice, unable to believe what he had just witnessed while Arthas slowly stood there with Frostmourne now in his hands.
He could feel it. The immense power contained within the sword surged through his body. The artifact was answering him. No. It was claiming him.
Ignoring Muradin's desperate pleas and refusing to listen to the last words of his old friend, Arthas simply turned around. His expression was cold and empty. He carried Frostmourne in his hands and walked out of the cave without looking back.
At that moment, Arthas believed that he had finally gained the power necessary to complete his revenge. He believed that he had become the master of Frostmourne.
But he had never realized the horrifying truth. Frostmourne had never truly belonged to him, its true master was the Lich King.
After obtaining Frostmourne, Arthas regrouped with the main expeditionary forces in Northrend. And the moment he returned, everyone immediately noticed that something had changed.
Arthas was no longer the same prince who had entered the frozen continent; he had become something far more dangerous. When the soldiers witnessed Arthas wielding Frostmourne, the undead creatures that had once seemed terrifying were slaughtered one after another beneath the blade.
The undead fell like fragile insects.
One strike.
Another.
Another.
Every swing of Frostmourne tore through the enemy lines, and the soldiers' morale instantly surged. Their confidence in their prince became stronger than ever.
To them, Arthas had become an unstoppable champion. Even if they had to accompany him for the rest of their lives, they believed it would be worth it.
Because their prince would surely protect them.
Their prince would surely protect Lordaeron.
And with Arthas leading the charge, the Alliance expeditionary army launched an overwhelming assault.
The minions of the Undead Scourge were destroyed one after another.
The battlefield was soon covered with the remains of the undead.
And Arthas finally accomplished the objective that had consumed him for so long.
He personally killed the demon he had sworn to destroy; Mal'Ganis was dead.
Arthas had finally achieved his revenge. The entire sequence had been deliberately orchestrated by Arthas himself, and through it, he also gained a complete understanding of just how terrifying Frostmourne's power truly was.
From a gameplay perspective, this level was almost entirely about allowing the player to experience that power. Once the player took control of Arthas and obtained Frostmourne, there was practically no difficulty left in the level.
Just like in the story, the moment Arthas possessed Frostmourne, the artifact's overwhelming power made him almost completely unmatched.
Every enemy standing in front of him could be crushed with ease.
Every undead creature that attempted to stop him was cut down beneath the legendary blade.
The feeling of invincibility was not simply conveyed through the story, it was directly reflected in Frostmourne's terrifying attributes.
The developers clearly did not want players to suddenly experience a spike in difficulty after the emotional climax of obtaining the artifact. Instead, they wanted players to become completely immersed in Arthas's story. They wanted players to understand the feeling of power that Arthas himself was experiencing.
Therefore, in the design of this level, Arthas was essentially invincible after obtaining Frostmourne.
The player did not need to worry about carefully managing every battle.
There was no need to fear being surrounded.
There was no need to retreat.
The only thing the player needed to do was move forward.
Kill.
Advance.
Destroy everything standing in Arthas's way.
And that was precisely what made the coming tragedy even more frightening.
The screen gradually faded into darkness, and the music became almost inaudible. Then came the strange, seemingly absurd whispers. They were followed by faint, sharp screams that seemed to come from somewhere deep within the darkness.
Before Louis, sitting in front of the computer, could even react, the screen suddenly lit up again, and a new CG animation appeared.
The sound of bells echoed through the royal city, and grand ceremonial music filled the air, its magnificent melody celebrating a great victory. Throughout Lordaeron, countless citizens poured into the streets.
They cheered.
They celebrated.
They welcomed their prince home.
Pink petals drifted through the air, carried by the wind as they floated above the streets of the city.
Everyone had come to welcome Arthas.
Their hero.
Their prince.
The man who had defeated the dread demon and saved them from the Undead Scourge.
But then Arthas entered the city, and everything changed.
The camera slowly moved closer.
Arthas was wrapped in a black cloak. He stretched out his right hand and caught a single pink petal drifting through the air.
He stared at it silently as his thumb slowly rubbed across its delicate surface. Then, without the slightest emotion, he released it, and the petal flew away.
Arthas raised his head and his eyes swept across the cheering citizens and the people gathered on the city walls.
No one noticed.
No one realized.
The golden hair that had once symbolized the proud young prince had already turned deathly pale.
The Paladin's Warhammer, once representing the Knights of the Silver Hand, was gone. In its place was the enormous, ominous blade known as Frostmourne.
The hero who had returned to Lordaeron was no longer the same man who had left, yet the citizens still cheered. They had no idea what had returned to their kingdom.
Inside the magnificent throne room, King Terenas sat upon his throne, waiting for his son.
The enormous doors slowly opened, and Arthas stepped into the hall while his attendants followed behind him.
Terenas immediately noticed something was wrong. His son's golden hair had become pale, his face had lost the warmth it once possessed, and the Paladin's Warhammer in his hand had been replaced by a massive sword radiating an unknown and sinister aura.
Arthas approached the throne, then he slowly lowered himself to one knee.
Terenas stared at him as surprise and confusion appeared across the king's face. He stood from his throne and moved toward his son. "My child!"
But Arthas did not answer, not even a word. Because within Arthas's consciousness, every other voice had already been drowned out, with only Frostmourne remaining. Its voice whispered inside his mind.
You no longer have to sacrifice yourself for your people.
You no longer have to bear the heavy burden of the crown.
I've arranged everything.
The whispers became clearer.
Stronger.
More irresistible.
And Arthas listened.
Driven by Frostmourne's mournful voice, Arthas suddenly stood. He raised the sword, then he walked toward his bewildered father.
The camera shifted. Instead of directly showing the scene, the reflection on the wall behind the throne revealed what was happening.
As Arthas slowly approached Terenas, the king finally realized that something was terribly wrong. "What is this? My child, what are you doing?"
His voice was filled with panic and disbelief, but Arthas's expression remained completely emotionless. In the reflection, he raised Frostmourne high above his head.
Then he spoke with chilling calmness. "Inherit your throne, my father..."
The blade descended, and a scream tore through the throne room.
Frostmourne pierced the king's chest, and Terenas's body collapsed backward onto the throne.
The crown fell from his head, and it rolled down the steps, then it struck the floor.
Clang-! The sound echoed through the silent throne room.
The kingdom had lost its king, and the prince had become his father's murderer.
"This kingdom is going to be destroyed..."
The bells were still ringing outside.
The celebration continued.
The citizens of Lordaeron still believed their hero had returned.
They had no idea that their kingdom had already begun its descent into darkness.
Arthas's cold and merciless voice continued to echo. "A new ruling order will be born from the ruins..."
The camera slowly pulled back, and the throne room became smaller.
Darker.
Colder.
"It will shake the foundation of everything in this world..."
The CG ended, and the screen faded. Then a new chapter appeared. "The Undead = Traveling Through the Ashes."
The game entered its next major chapter.
And in the background of the selection screen, Arthas was no longer the Paladin he had once been. Lordaeron was now dead; the once prosperous kingdom had become a land of death.
Arthas stood there holding Frostmourne. His hair was completely white, and his expression was cold and lifeless. Beneath him stood an old skeletal warhorse, its dead body reduced to bones and its empty eye sockets glowing with an eerie light.
Every detail on the screen symbolized the same horrifying truth: Arthas had changed. He was no longer the Paladin who had sworn to protect his people; he was now a Death Knight.
The new game options were already available for selection, but Louis, sitting in front of the computer, remained completely motionless.
He did not immediately move the mouse.
He did not select the next mission.
He simply stared at the screen.
The shock from the story and the CG cutscenes had completely overwhelmed him. For a long moment, Louis could not say a single word. He had expected the story to become darker. He had expected Arthas to face setbacks.
But he had never expected the game to actually show the fall of a hero in such a direct and brutal way. The prince who had once stood before his soldiers as their greatest hope had now become the very thing they should fear.
And somehow, the most frightening part was that Louis already knew this was only the beginning.