Chapter 1068: And You, Shall Be Crowned King
Four years had passed in Azeroth.
Seven years had passed in the real world.
In these four years, how many upheavals and storms had the world of Azeroth endured? Three years seemed like the blink of an eye, yet also like an eternity.
Four years. Motionless.
Here, Arthas bid farewell to the past, farewell to Ner'zhul, who had always sought to control him, and farewell to his own former humanity.
From this moment onward, he represented only his own will.
He had triumphed.
But just then, a voice echoed in his ears.
"Child."
"When you were born, the forests of Lordaeron whispered your name."
"Arthas."
As the majestic background music swelled, and the familiar figure on the Frozen Throne reappeared, everyone felt their eyes brim with tears.
If the audience were observant, they would notice that the final scenes of these two CG sequences could seamlessly connect—the scenery of the Frozen Throne and Arthas's posture were identical.
At the beginning of the new trailer, the camera slowly zoomed in, much like the final scene of the *Warcraft III: The Frozen Throne* ending CG had slowly zoomed out.
But for the players, after a full seven years of waiting, this scene felt incredibly distant.
A sensation both familiar and strange.
Although seven years ago, Thunder Interactive had earned the title "Thunder Film Studio" for the ultra-high-quality CG of *Warcraft III*, a closer look revealed that this CG's quality seemed even better than any before.
The mighty Lich King Arthas sat upon the Frozen Throne, as if right before their eyes—every texture and detail of his armor was clearly visible.
Surprisingly, as the camera advanced, the voiceover continued to speak.
This voice was filled with justice and honor; it spoke as an elder, earnestly instructing the former Arthas.
And this formed the starkest contrast with the Lich King Arthas, who now sat upon the Frozen Throne, having completely extinguished his own humanity.
It was the voice of the old king who had died beneath Frostmourne's blade—Arthas's father, King Menethil.
Arthas's entire armor was covered in thick ice; he seemed embedded in the Frozen Throne. If an ordinary person unaware of the truth passed by, they might even mistake him for a statue.
But after the name "Arthas" ended, the CG's melody suddenly grew tense.
Beneath the helmet, encased in heavy ice, two points of azure light flickered.
Arthas heard his father's voice. Perhaps the old king was whispering to him from within Frostmourne, or perhaps Arthas recalled the earnest teachings of his father when he was still a child.
At that moment, the hard ice piled on Arthas's body rapidly cracked.
"Arthas."
With this call, the nightmare of Lordaeron, the Eastern Kingdoms, and all of Azeroth opened its eyes.
The scene shifted to the vast snowy plains of Northrend.
As far as the eye could see, everything was pure white. The distant sky was a grayish blue, and sharp, jagged snow peaks pointed toward the heavens like swords. In the snow-covered valleys, not a trace of life was visible.
Arthas's war boots trod on the deep snow, advancing alone through this frozen wasteland. Only the drifting snowflakes and the howling wind accompanied him.
Suddenly, as if sensing something, he bent down, swept away the snow with his right hand, and revealed the ice layer beneath.
Beneath the azure ice, something powerful seemed to be hidden.
The eyes beneath Arthas's helmet glowed blue. He stood up, swept aside his cloak with his left hand, and revealed the legendary blade of death.
Frostmourne.
"Child."
"I watched with pride as you grew day by day, becoming the embodiment of justice."
Arthas drew Frostmourne from his waist, held it level with his right hand, and gazed at the blade.
"Remember."
"We have always ruled this kingdom with wisdom and strength."
Amid the falling snow, faint blue specks of light landed on Frostmourne's edge, like sparks falling into boiling oil.
On Frostmourne's blade, an azure light spread like flames along the sword, slowly igniting the powerful runes etched into the metal.
Terrible power gathered, and under Frostmourne's command, it coalesced into one.
"And I trust that you will use your great power with caution."
Arthas gripped Frostmourne's hilt with both hands and drove it fiercely into the deep ice!
All the icy blue runes on the blade lit up, and immense power flowed through Frostmourne, channeling endlessly into the ice below.
This overwhelming force radiated outward from Frostmourne as its center, instantly sweeping away the thick snow on the ice!
A small snowstorm even formed across the vast plains, and the ice beneath the snow cracked instantly, with spiderweb-like fissures spreading rapidly in all directions!
Arthas stood up and stared into the distance. Behind him, a terrifying monster was breaking free from the ice.
Beneath the shattered remains, blue evil energy connected the dragon's bones into a single entity—a powerful Frost Wyrm, stronger than any of its kind before.
Sindragosa, now only a fearsome skeleton, extended her claws from beneath the thick ice. Her eyes glowed with azure light, which quickly spread across her entire body.
Long, long ago, this mighty blue dragon had crashed onto the frozen soil of the Icecrown Glacier, gravely wounded. Her eyes were blind, and she was near death. She called out to Malygos, wanting to return to the Dragonblight to rest, but only the howling of the bitter wind answered her.
In her dying madness, only hatred remained in her heart. At the moment of death, she swore to take revenge on the entire world...
The Lich King sensed the hatred buried deep beneath the thick ice, resurrected her, and gave her the chance for vengeance.
Sindragosa climbed the towering snow peak, beat her skeletal wings, and dove toward the undead army in the valley below.
"True victory is to inspire the fighting spirit in the hearts of your people."
Sindragosa soared through the sky, her hoarse dragon roar echoing across the heavens.
And the Scourge soldiers on the ground howled back at the sky in unison!
Blue light emanated from their skeletal bodies, and these scattered points of azure soon converged, spreading endlessly—toward the distance, toward Icecrown Citadel, toward the Frozen Throne, toward all of Northrend!
Among the undead army below, many had followed the prince through life and death since their human days. Though the prince had betrayed them and turned them into undead, their loyalty never wavered.
But was this what King Menethil meant by "inspiring fighting spirit"?
Arthas stood atop the high glacier, looking down upon his subjects.
"One day, my life will reach its end."
"And you, shall be crowned king!"
The camera finally froze on Arthas's face—azure eyes, flowing white hair, a sealed helmet with no expression.
By now, he had long been crowned king.
A king who was the complete opposite of his father's expectations.
And the awakened Lich King was about to conquer even broader territories.
At the video's end, the game logo appeared in the center of the screen.
*World of Warcraft*!