On the Frozen Throne where death surged and frost withered, the great lord looked at the battle helmet and sword in front of him, but he did not immediately reach out to take them.
He took a step back and sat on the Frozen Throne covered with frost fragments. The moment he touched the throne, his spirit seemed to be integrated with the Icecrown Glacier at the feet of the entire Scourge Legion. He could clearly feel
To every wisp of cold wind rolling over this ancient glacier, and every trace of falling snow splashing on the ground.
He seems to be integrated with the cold will of this land. Perhaps if he puts on the Helm of Dominance, he can easily control all the ghosts on this land, control the entire Scourge, and bring them into his control and system.
.
But he won't do that
For Tyrion now, the Helm of Command will be a good collection, but it is no longer necessary, because from the beginning, he has never used coercive means to restrain his brothers and
Warriors, Dark Blade does not need that kind of coercion.
The great lord focused more on the legendary magic sword.
He placed his hands on the armrests of the Ice Throne, and then supported his cheek with his left hand. His ice-blue eyes looked at Frostmourne in front of him and the orc death knight holding Frostmourne. After a moment, he asked:
"I heard that Ner'zhul chose you as the sword bearer of Frostmourne. I also know the importance of a good weapon to a warrior. I believe that you will know how to hold this sword.
What does the sword represent, so Grom, why did you give it up?"
Faced with this problem, a trace of helplessness flashed across the rough cheeks of the Death Knight under the frost helmet. He stroked the cold sword body and blade of Frostmourne with his fingers, and then said in a voice as cold as the north wind:
"As everyone knows, I am a warrior, even after death."
"I can feel the tyrannical power that governs all spirits when I hold this sword, but it doesn't quite fit my style. This sword is very good and powerful, but"
"It's not strong enough, Lord. When I hold it, I feel like I'm holding a crystal sword. I don't even dare to use all my strength to chop it. I know that if I really do that, it will probably break."
There was a sense of helplessness in Grom's voice, and the Frostmourne in his hand kept humming with grievance. There was no way, compared with its brother Apocalypse, Frostmourne was not originally used on the frontal battlefield.
Warrior weapons, if the arrogant Apocalypse is a militant knight, then Frostmourne is a strategizing commander.
Each of the two magic swords has its own advantages, but each also has its own shortcomings.
"Okay, okay."
Grom's reason made it impossible for the high lord to refute. Indeed, among most of the legendary weapons that have appeared in the world, Frostmourne's power is considered to be the top among these weapons, but its sturdiness is estimated to be ranked among the top ten.
If you don't go in, when those ancient Nathrezim demons forged it, they probably didn't even think about holding this sword on the battlefield.
"Then I'm not welcome."
As he spoke, the High Lord stretched out his black-gloved fingers and held them on the hilt of Frostmourne's sword. At the moment of contact, Frostmourne's silent soul was still slightly resistant. It had not forgotten the last time it had a fight with the Great Lord.
The Lord's contact was not a pleasant experience for Frostmourne, but it seemed to know that this was its fate in this world.
Therefore, a second later, the evil soul sword made a low buzz, and endless blue cold air floated on the ice-like body of the sword. There were seven necromantic runes on both sides of the sword.
One after another was lit up. The great lord sat on the Ice Throne, letting the pale cold air wrap around his body. He leaned Frostmourne against his legs, leaning on the hilt of the sword with one hand, looking at it.
Looking ahead, the eternal majesty of the great lord of the death world burst out at this moment.
And in the mid-air on this platform, Moon Claw, the ghost owl tamed by the great lord, this pet that has a connection with the great lord's mind, is holding a magic stone in both claws. Sooner or later, when the great lord's sword merges into one,
The moment when the momentum reached its peak, the scene was accurately captured in the magic stone. A few seconds later, this domineering magical image appeared in front of the Blood Mistress, other death lords, and the Dawn Blade family.
In the magical image sequence of several naughty children.
For a time, various voices sounded in the spiritual thinking of the great lord. To sum up, it is probably the following.
"The boss is domineering!"
“My husband is so handsome!”
"Dad is so cool!"
"Tyrion! When are you going to take me to the Ice Throne? The world of death is so boring!!!"
"Boss, your sword is awesome. I'll trade it with you for my holy sword! It's 80% new! It can also be used to clone/eat souls!"
Tyrion laughed, ignored the congratulatory sentiments, and simply replied to the two beauties who were trying to "trade in the old for the new":
"Oh, don't change it! You still can't control it."
After saying that, he flicked his fingers, and the blue Frostmourne was thrown into the weapon space specially opened by him. There, the bad guy Apocalypse, who had long been unable to bear it, couldn't wait to fight with the one he hadn't seen for a long time.
Brothers "have a chat".
He stood up, reached out to take the Helm of Command, and then said to Grom in front of him:
"I don't take yours for nothing. After completing the transformation of the heroic spirit, go to the logistics office to find Gatheris. He will give you enough materials. Then go to the Molten Core to find Magni and Thaurissan. The two of them will
Make you a battle ax that fits your hand."
"The legendary weapon of the Order is called Shadowmourne. What a stupid name! Your battle ax is called"
"Blood Roar!"
Grom interrupted the overlord's interest in naming the weapons. The stubborn orc said frankly:
"The battle ax of the Hellscream family has only one name, and it's called Bloodhowl!"
"Okay, it's up to you."
The high lord shrugged. He glanced at the spirit Ner'zhul suspended in mid-air behind him and said:
"Grokush has always been reluctant to represent the orc civilization in Forgotten Kings. He is essentially a warrior and belongs to the frontline battlefield. He doesn't like to be exposed to politics. Therefore, after you complete the conversion, Ner'zhul, Forgotten Kings
If you are offered a chair in the parliament, will you refuse?"
The old orc Ner'zhul, whose body was illusory in mid-air, bent down and made a gesture of bowing. He said in a relieved voice:
"Then, as you wish."
"Well, very good."
The High Lord walked to the edge of the ice ring platform of the Ice Throne. He stood on the towering platform and looked at the dead Icecap Glacier below. After a few seconds, he waved his hand:
"The Scourge Legion will be reorganized from today, and the most powerful undead in this frost land will be selected to join the Dark Blade's combat system. This matter will be done by the Seven Heroes of Draenor. I will give you 7 places for the war group to be abolished.
All the undead souls are sent to the world of death, waiting for the Tree of Reincarnation to re-inject them into the living world and then release the fog of death to completely block the Icecrown Glacier!"
"From now on, this will be the only entrance from Azeroth to the hell dimension of death!"
"Keep away from the living!"
"It hurts so much!"
"It hurts so much!"
"End it, end it! It hurts so much!"
Helpless and painful roars came from the mutilated soul in the hands of the great lord. Only the fragmented core of this originally powerful soul was left, as if it had been cruelly thrown into a meat grinder, tearing the entire soul into pieces.
, glued, shredded again, glued again, and it seemed that several important pieces were taken out as trophies, preventing it from becoming complete.
The soul of this eredar demon was distorted beyond appearance. It was obvious that the person who tortured him had an extremely terrible hatred for him. Otherwise, no soul with a mind would torture a defeated person like this.
He is Kil'jaeden, the Archdemon of the Burning Legion, the true Demon King, and the Hand of the Dark Titan.
At the dawn of Suramar's fall, the Deceiver's body was completely destroyed by the Scourge Knight, and his soul should have completely perished on the land that had been infected by the Twisting Nether, but he did not.
The Deceiver's always shrewd and cunning personality, and his tendency to find an escape route in advance, saved his soul. At the moment when the evil energy in his body exploded and he died, his soul was torn open, with a small half being crushed by Velen and the other half.
Then he was sent back to his loyal servants.
But it's a pity that the big devil's plan could not really save him, because
His servants have never been loyal to him from the beginning of this vile game, even before it began.
"It's so miserable."
The high lord leaned on his black iron throne. This somewhat old throne suited him. The Frozen Throne looked mighty and domineering, but it was really uncomfortable to sit on. At this time, he was holding a cup in his left hand.
Okay, add ice blood wine, and look at the miserable remnant soul in the other hand, and at the deceiver Kil'jaeden who has truly come to the end.
"Ner'zhul is really a ruthless man. He really does what he says."
Tyrion poured the cold wine into his mouth, savoring the sweet and fishy taste, and said:
"He took revenge and returned to you ten times the torture you inflicted on his soul. If it weren't for the fact that I still have some questions to ask you, I'm afraid he could chop your soul into pieces. Go
Feed the lowly ghoul, so, in a sense, I saved you."
As he spoke, the great lord stretched out his fingers and touched the remnant soul in front of him. With the injection of cold and pure soul power, Tyrion used the method of death to fill up the incomplete soul in front of him bit by bit.
, just like a master of miniature sculpting, with superb techniques, he managed to piece together the chaotic soul fragments in his hands after a few minutes.
But this soul is missing a lot of fragments. It seems that Ner'zhul still intercepted some things from Kil'jaeden's soul as a "souvenir". Of course, it doesn't matter. It doesn't hurt anyway, and Tyrion has no compulsion.
He didn't need Kil'jaeden's soul to be completely intact, he just needed him to regain his sanity and answer a few of his little questions, that's all.
"Hey, stop howling, man."
Tyrion whispered:
"Sober up, I want to ask you a few questions."
The will of the great lord blew away the confusion of Kil'jaeden's soul like the cold winter wind, allowing the illusory and insignificant soul of the great demon to raise his head the next moment, and the last trace of pain in his eyes disappeared, replaced by
It's a gnashing of teeth hatred.
"Tyrion! You vicious bastard!"
The Deceiver stood on the palm of the great lord, and he roared:
"You have corrupted the great legion with darkness. Your evil deeds will inevitably lead to destruction! My death is nothing at all. The master of the devil will come to complete what we failed to complete. You cannot protect your miserable world!
"
"The Dark Pantheon is coming! Hahahaha!"
The remnant soul of this big demon seemed to be crazy, and he screamed:
"Ner'zhul is your lackey, right? You win. I really didn't calculate that, but it doesn't matter. That idiot thought he won? You thought you won? Go to hell!"
"I have sent all your conspiracies back to Argus! Lord Aggramar already knows everything!"
"You! Ner'zhul! Kasanatil and its stupid traitors! Those two bitches Salorath and Oreses! Everything! All your plots! I have told the Corruption
Titan, Dark Titan will know all this soon! You are finished!"
"You're done! Did you hear that? Kill me! Kill me, my death will bring your doom, and I will watch you suffer in hell! Hahahaha! I am the final winner!"
This series of roars was like a real provocation to the death, but unfortunately, when the Deceiver threw his last counterattack at the High Lord, he failed to see a trace of fear on Tyrion's face. On the contrary
, there is still a touch of calmness in those ice-blue eyes.
It seemed like all this was in his plan.
"Finished?"
The great lord put the red wine glass to his lips and asked softly:
"Did you really tell Aggramar and Sargeras everything? Do you have the ability?"
"Ha! You underestimate me!"
The fraudster gritted his teeth, and his soul, which had been completely transformed into a demonic form, snorted coldly:
"My connection with Argus is as deep as the soul. Everything I see, Argus will know! You are finished! Be afraid and enjoy your final victory, because the end is coming!"
"very nice"
The great lord drank up the blood wine in the wine glass. He nodded with satisfaction. He leaned on the throne in a more comfortable posture. He looked at the fraudster and said:
"Thank you"
"I have completed the last piece of the puzzle for this decisive battle. I have been worried about how to bring the Dark Pantheon of Sargeras here. You have helped me a lot, man."
"Besides, look at you, you still naively think you will go to hell? Don't be stupid."
The high lord shrugged:
"Hell is in my hands, and I'll tell you"
"You, fraudster, you will never get the real thing"