Under the "escort" of the Banshees and Dark Rangers, Arthas spurred his horse into the heart of a great canyon.
"Where is Sylvanas? Where are her troops?" Arthas demanded, pulling the reins tight and gripping Frostmourne.
The Dark Ranger leading the way came to a halt and turned around. The feigned respect on her face vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, mocking look of vengeful joy.
"Troops? Of course we have them, King Arthas." She slowly drew her longbow, dark energy coiling around the arrowhead. "We are the troops here to 'see you off.'"
Before she had even finished speaking, countless figures emerged on the rocky cliffs on both sides—more Dark Rangers with notched arrows and Banshees letting out shrill, mocking laughs, their eyes burning with the same fire of hatred.
*A trap!* Arthas realized in a heartbeat.
*"You've been deceived, you fool! Get to me, find a way to escape!"* In Arthas' mind, the Lich King's voice continued to bark through the link of Frostmourne.
A mix of betrayed fury and the ice of desperation surged in his chest. He had actually believed in the loyalty of an elf he had personally destroyed and turned into a slave!
"Sylvanas! Show yourself!" Arthas roared, Frostmourne erupting with a bone-chilling frost.
"Arthas, I hope you've been well."
A cold, mocking voice drifted down from above. Sylvanas Windrunner appeared on a protruding rock, looking down at the cornered Death Knight like a beast in a pit. Her lips curled into a smirk; today was the day she had dreamed of.
"In this place, your master cannot save you. Just as I could not save the people of Silvermoon, could not save Quel'Thalas, and could not save... myself."
"Traitor! The Lich King will punish you for this!" Arthas bellowed.
"Punish? Hahaha!" Sylvanas laughed as if she'd heard the funniest joke in the world. "That wretch who can barely save himself? Today, the tables have turned. As for you... Arthas, today you pay for everything you did to me, my home, and my people!"
She swept her hand down: "Kill him!"
In an instant, a rain of shadow arrows poured down from the cliffs. The wails of the Banshees struck Arthas' soul like physical shockwaves. Arthas swung Frostmourne to parry, sending out waves of ice that shattered some arrows, but more found their mark on him and Invincible.
Invincible let out a pained neigh as its undead form was corroded by shadow energy. Arthas himself was struck repeatedly. Though his undead body was dull to pain, the loss of strength was real. He tried to charge, but the Dark Rangers retreated nimbly, keeping their distance and wearing him down with the rain of arrows.
"Is this all you have, Arthas?" Sylvanas sneered, drawing her own bow. An arrow condensed with powerful dark energy whistled toward Arthas' head. "Without the Lich King's power, you are nothing!"
Arthas dodged the fatal blow with difficulty; the arrow grazed his shoulder plate, leaving a trail of freezing death. He felt a weakness and humiliation he had never known.
Just as he was about to be overwhelmed by the endless ranged assault, a heavy, rhythmic, and terrifying thundering of hooves echoed from the other end of the canyon.
**Thump! Thump! Thump!**
Like war drums from hell, every step hit like a heartbeat. Even Sylvanas' troops paused their attack. Both Arthas and Sylvanas looked toward the source. At the canyon's exit, a silent line of black-armored knights advanced like a wall of steel.
They wore heavy Saronite plate shimmering with blood-light, their undead steeds breathing icy mist. The lead knight was exceptionally massive, carrying a runic greatsword, his gaze glowing like twin fires of the netherworld.
It was the Death Knight **Straker** and his fifty newly transformed **Blood Dread Death Knights**.
Arthas froze, a ridiculous spark of hope rising in his mind—was this another reinforcement sent by the Lich King? Or arranged by Kel'Thuzad? But he failed to notice the mocking look Sylvanas gave him. Straker's next words shattered his illusions.
"Arthas!" Straker's voice was booming and full of scorn. "The champion of the Lich King? Look at you—like a stray dog abandoned by its master and chased by wild curs!"
"The Banshee Queen is right. Without Frostmourne, you really are a waste. You can't even handle a pack of women and ghosts. You're an embarrassment to all Death Knights! I told you long ago, you should have given the title of First Death Knight to me. You only rely on that sword; it's not that you ride Frostmourne, it's that you're Frostmourne's mount!"
Arthas' face turned ashen. "Straker! You would betray me too? Betray the Great Lich King!"
"Betray?" Straker grinned, raising his crimson greatsword toward Arthas. "I never served you, Arthas. And I never served the Lich King."
"I serve a far greater existence, the Great Lord Rhodes. You and the Lich King? You're nothing."
"But don't worry," Straker continued with extreme arrogance. "Everyone here is just an observer. This time, I'm going to duel you. If you can defeat me, I'll let you leave. I am a man of my word."
Sylvanas, playing along, gestured for her Banshees and Rangers to pull back, making a "please" motion to Straker. She figured she'd save her poison for Straker; Arthas couldn't possibly win in this state. *It's a shame,* she thought, *I wanted them to kill each other.*
"Arrogance!" Arthas roared. Despite his fading power, his pride and the strength of Frostmourne wouldn't allow this insult. He spurred Invincible forward, swinging his blade to send a freezing shockwave at Straker.
Straker didn't even flinch. He let out a roar as a thick, viscous **Blood Shield** appeared around him. The frost wave shattered against the shield without leaving a scratch.
Arthas felt his heart sink halfway into his boots. He couldn't win a duel, and he couldn't win a brawl. *Is this my end? No! I am eternal!*
"Hahaha! Please, Arthas. This kind of attack can't even break my defense. Winning like this wouldn't be very glorious. How about this? To be fair, I'll heal you first. I wouldn't want people saying I bullied you."
Sylvanas' smile froze instantly. She turned her head slowly, looking at Straker with a look of utter disbelief. Her expression screamed: *Are you kidding me? A duel is one thing, but you're going to HEAL him?!*
"Don't look at me like that, Banshee Queen. Beating Arthas in this state isn't exactly something to brag about, is it?" Straker said.
"Fine. Suit yourself," Sylvanas sighed helplessly. *Fine, if he kills Straker, I'll just kill a tired Arthas and take Straker's Death Knights for myself.*
Hope rekindled in Arthas' eyes. If he could truly recover his strength, he might still have a chance to win—or at least escape. "I admit, I underestimated your character, Straker. So, how do you intend to 'heal' me?"
"I'll heal you right now, Arthas," Straker said. He cast the Tier 1 magic: **Cure**.
In the game system, **Cure** is miraculous; it can restore any unit, including the undead, constructs, or elementals. Straker's own power was low, only able to restore about 20 HP, but Rhodes was hidden among the troops. As Straker cast the spell, Rhodes simultaneously cast **Cure** with his Power of 14 and Intermediate Water Magic.
Arthas was instantly bathed in a brilliant green light. He felt over 100 HP return instantly. The spell also stripped away his negative status effects. While not back to his absolute peak, he no longer looked like a battered corpse.
He felt his strength surging back. It wasn't the overwhelming tide the Lich King provided, but it was infinitely better than a moment ago. A cold smirk appeared on Arthas' face.
*There really is always a way out!*