Azeroth Shadow Trail

Chapter 1360 110. The Black Bone Will Become King

"Do not!!!"

In this messy monastery hall, watching the boundless darkness engulf the shining holy coffin, the power of coldness began to burst out in front of his eyes, as if opening a passage to hell.

Desperate Varian felt an uncontrollable rage welling up in his heart, and he burst out with the most powerful holy light he had ever seen, so blazing that it even melted the hammer of Menethil's power in his hand.

With red eyes, the child king took off the battle helmet on his face, knocked the rebellious Val'kyr away in the posture of an avenger, stepped on the ground step by step, and jumped up again. , rushed toward Braike.

He wants to kill this bastard!

A fiery storm of light erupted behind him, blowing the pirate's blond hair into the air, and Laike turned his head, staring helplessly at Varian, who jumped up, clutching the molten warhammer in both hands, and roared as he slammed Varian on the head.

He pouted and said:

"If you were still a warrior, my dear Varian... I would have died the moment I set foot here, but fate is like that, isn't it?

You still owe me a great favor, angry boy king, I rescued you from the temptation of the Light, but is this how the Light teaches you to repay a favor? "

"die!"

Varian's only response to his malicious provocation was this one.

He's going to kill him at all costs!

No one can save him!

nobody!

But in the face of this vengeful blow, the pirate didn't even draw his weapon.

Staring at the falling Hammer of Light as if dying generously, he saw Jaina Jr. and Arthas rushing towards him in a flash.

My little sister's face was full of astonishment and determination to save the stinky big brother. She even raised the Ebon Chill in her hand to attack Varian.

Oh, it's still my sister who feels sorry for Giegie.

Bo Laike also saw behind him the spectators rushing in through the monastery gate.

Well, the timing is just right

The enthronement ceremony of the Lich King is about to begin now.

"clang"

The pirate closed his eyes and spread his arms like a priest who was going to die and preaching mass, to meet Varian's Hammer of Lightfury, but then the darkness burst out behind him like a huge shadow.

A icy magic blade pierced from the cold storm erupting from behind the smelly pirate easily blocked Varian's warhammer. The coldness of death and the blaze of holy light erupted in front of the pirates, and countless shattered lights were flying.

With just a flick of the gleaming rune blade, the angry Varian was sent flying, and the holy light on the child king's armor was nearly extinguished by the cold shock.

His whole body was covered with white dead frost.

The hammer of Menethil's power shattered at the moment of being attacked, and Arthas jumped up, hugging Varian who flew upside down in his arms.

The two rolled and fell to the ground, and Maraad, the garrison commander of the draenei, stretched out his hands to catch them.

All eyes are on the front at this moment.

Their expressions were ugly and disappointed. With so many people gathered, they actually allowed Brad Laike Shaw to complete his dark work, which was a huge blow.

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

He was still wearing the Stormwind Kingdom Commander armor he was wearing when he was put into the holy coffin. As his body stood up bit by bit, the black lion shoulder armor on his left shoulder and the eagle shoulder armor on his right shoulder moved, intersecting with the The battle-scarred armor collided with a low sound, and the lion belt around the waist was covered with frost little by little, as if covering this quaint armor with a special magic shield.

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

Just like this person's bald head will not affect his majesty.

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

As he had often done in commanding armies, he always said that his open hands rewarded friends and frightened enemies.

Anduin Lothar awoke.

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

Frostmourne was neighing.

It was a song of joy, and the dominance runes on its icy sword spine lit up one after another, allowing the cold wind to blow from the invisible, allowing fear to grow in the hearts of the enemies.

She had never felt so connected to a soul.

It's almost like a match made in heaven.

After being forged in the cold core of the dead world, Frostmourne has been imagining what her sword-bearer will be like in the future.

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

He or she must be strong enough, both body and soul must be worthy of their own identity.

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 an army to conquer the world.

After all, I am a magic blade forged for the commander, and I am not as immersed in melee confrontation as the rude Tianqi. I am an elegant ruler, and my sword-bearer must be able to control people's hearts.

Such a soul is too hard to find.

But fortunately, Braike Shaw found the most suitable one for her, so Frostmourne decided to give all of her majesty to Anduin Lothar.

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

Lothar didn't show much response to Frostmourne's obedience. He seemed to be in a daze after a long sleep and then suddenly awakened.

He raised his head, his eyes that were already shining with faint blue light swept over everyone 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 little Jaina Proudmoore clutching her staff and looking terrified.

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

"Perhaps you should explain?"

This figure was dry and hoarse, with a hollow echo, as if countless souls were following Lothar's voice and echoing.

It sounds like an old villain.

On the cheeks of Bo Laike, there was a proud and relaxed smile that a fate weaver should have. He stroked his chest, as if he was really frightened by Varian's angry hammer just now.

With standard aristocratic etiquette, he bowed to Marshal Lothar who was holding Frostmourne in front of him, and whispered:

"Although it took a long time, welcome back, His Majesty Lothar, after you fell asleep, many things happened on this land and this world, both good and bad.

If you want, I can tell you exactly what they are.

But we should get to the point.

The Burning Legion from the stars has locked this sad world, and they are about to launch a devastating offensive in the near future. I don't think Azeroth can survive the catastrophic war now.

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

But war is calling, my dear Marshal. "

Bu Laike whispered:

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

I have been honored to have witnessed and personally contributed to the rise of the Lich King. "

"Weapon, Soldier"

Lothar glanced at the docile magic sword in his hand.

He could feel that his soul, which was missing and broken due to the curse of Deathwing in the Battle of Dalaran, was being repaired, and he could feel that his will was continuously extending outward along with the sword in his hand.

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

They are waiting for their orders.

Those cold souls come back from the dead, they can raze a country overnight, they can cleanse the land in a short time.

Their number is endless, they will not be afraid, will not shrink back, and will not bargain with themselves, and every will of their own can be perfectly executed.

This is the Legion that every commander dreams of.

he can call more

As Lothar's mind moved a little, in the cemetery behind the North County Abbey, one after another the tombs began to stir, and the ground was torn open with the hands of the eroded gauntlet under the call of the marshal.

Those buried here, heroes of Stormwind's countless pasts, answered Lothar's call, and even several sarcophagi were placed in the monastery hall.

As Varian and others looked on desperately, a sarcophagus adorned with a crown was shaken and pushed away, and a man who stunned everyone stood up from inside.

The man was wearing black armor and an exquisite crown. His thin cheeks were 70% similar to Varian's, and he had a very elegant beard.

"Lane."

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."

"Is that why you disturbed my rest?"

Ryan Wrynn, who stood up from the king's sarcophagus, raised his head. The face of the deceased was dotted with the faint blue soul fire. He was very angry at first, but he calmed down soon.

He said in the hoarse voice of the deceased:

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

The human kingdom who died at the beginning of the orc war turned to look at the young child king. He looked up and down the embarrassed Varian. After a few seconds, he said:

"It's different from what I imagined. You who converted to the Holy Light are a little less brave, but a little more kind. Maybe that's good."

"Father. No."

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

Double despair.

And everyone behind him has drawn their weapons. They saw Lothar resurrecting the dead without doing anything, which has exceeded the limit that most people can bear.

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

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

Sun King Anasterian yelled 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, just like this pirate carefully planned all this.

put it down!

I can feel that you are not fully occupied by it.

You are still saved! "

Lothar ignored the persuasion, as if he didn't hear it at all.

He looked over the crowd, and saw the archmage Antonidas who was sitting on a bench covering his wound behind him, his face was already pale and he was on the verge of death.

The marshal felt life passing by.

He felt death eating away at this painful old friend, and he felt that he could manipulate that power, that he could "help" his friend out of weariness and pain.

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

Lothar said something 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 suddenly felt a force strangling his neck and his soul.

In the movement of Lothar raising his hand, the struggling Antonidas was lifted from the chair and dragged into the air bit by bit.

This scene terrified everyone.

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

But he reacted very quickly. Seeing that the archmage was about to be strangled to death by Lothar's 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 past without hurting Lothar in the slightest. The dark magic sword was lifted up, slashed forward with precision, and then controlled the cold wind to annihilate the fireball in the air.

"I need your help, old friend."

Lothar whispered.

The moment the fingers were fully 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 to death, but also the wounds left by the stinky pirates broke out at this moment.

The gushing blood almost stained the archmage into a bloody man.

His life disappeared very quickly, and the process of death came so quickly that life was completely expelled without too much pain.

The ruling rune of Frostmourne was shining, banishing life and at the same time imposing the blessing of death on the old body of the archmage, Antonidas' body shaking when lifted into the air.

His dim eyes looked towards the sky, as if he could see that the door to the world of death had opened to him, and the world of the dead was calling him.

But another force "protects" itself from being engulfed by everything in front of it.

He saw the world behind the curtain, he saw the kingdom of the dead, and the knowledge belonging to the dead was generously endowed into Antonidas' soul in the tumbling of low magic power.

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

His eyes lost all their brilliance and were lit up again in the next moment. The dark blue soul fire flickered in the archmage's eyes, and the death aura from the shadow world enveloped him.

As Bo Laike and the other spellcasters watched in amazement, the dead archmage passed through the complicated and tedious ascension ritual, and was reshaped into a newborn lich by 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, Bo Laike stood beside Lothar with his hands tied. He suggested to the Lich King in a malicious tone:

"In addition to the alien female warriors I carefully selected for you, there are already three of your Four Horsemen 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 will be so lucky? "

"Walk!"

Bu Laike's words enveloped everyone in front of him like a gust of cold wind.

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

But neither Bu Laike, Lothar, nor the new Lich Antonidas chose to stop them.

The streamer of arcane teleportation left only three dead people and Bu Laike, the living person, in the hall. Afterwards, the cold death sword was raised and pressed against Bu Laike's neck.

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

"The Miraculous Black Prophet Bu Laike Shaw"

Lothar whispered in that wicked tone:

"I need an excellent and evil lieutenant like you to help me win this war. Are you willing to be my death knight?"

(end of this chapter)