Without mercy, without quarter, without a hint of hesitation, Arthas' soldiers, like a ruthless killing machine, madly massacred all of Stratholme.
Countless citizens of Stratholme watched in disbelief; they couldn't believe that Prince Arthas, whom they had once adored, would raise a butcher's knife against them.
The screams of innocent civilians, the wails of women before they were slaughtered, and the cries of children stirred compassion in countless Lordaeron soldiers.
Some soldiers even angrily threw off their helmets and questioned Arthas, "Why are we raising a butcher's knife against our own people?"
Despite repeated explanations, Arthas was speechless at this point; Arthas' heart was on the verge of collapse, or rather, his moral defenses had completely crumbled.
The Dreadlord watching all of this did not want Arthas to fall into such a state. "You must kill, you must slaughter faster."
"Hahaha! Young Prince, your people are destined to be my army; they all want to join the Scourge!" At that moment, a monster over three meters tall, with a pair of giant bat wings, a bald head, and demonic horns, appeared before Arthas.
The newcomer was none other than the Dreadlord Mal'Ganis, the nominal controller of the Scourge at the moment!
He was, in fact, the vanguard of the Burning Legion.
"You damned demon, I swear I will kill you!" Arthas roared, swinging his warhammer at the demon before him, but he struck nothing; the demon before him seemed to be just an illusory image.
"Don't be so impatient, young Prince! Our game has just begun. If you don't want your people to fall into my hands, then kill them all. If you kill faster than I do, then they won't become my army," Mal'Ganis' illusory image let out a strange laugh.
"I would rather kill them all than hand them over to you, demon; you will never get them!" Arthas roared.
"Oh! You'll need to speed up! Being so slow won't do." The Dreadlord's laughter echoed in the sky as his phantom disappeared.
"We have all seen it, soldiers of Lordaeron, if we don't kill them, they will also become undead and be used by that demon!
So, no more hesitation!
I know you are in pain, but I am in a thousand times more pain than you. The only thing we can do now is to let them return to the embrace of the Light, instead of being used by demons. We must eliminate the Dreadlord Mal'Ganis!" Arthas raised his warhammer and addressed all the soldiers.
At this moment, these disheartened soldiers, stimulated by the Dreadlord, finally rekindled their fighting spirit!
That's right! What they were doing now was correct; if they didn't do this, then these innocent citizens would all become monsters of the Dreadlord.
After morale was stabilized, this slaughter competition became even more bloody and cruel. Innocent townspeople hid in their homes, and Arthas ordered his soldiers to set fires, forcing them to either come out and die or be burned alive.
The entire Stratholme became a living hell, with bodies piled high like mountains.
Arthas' hands were stained with the blood of his own people, and the expression on his face became even more savage; he even began to doubt the Light.
Why? Why didn't the Light save his people? Why couldn't the almighty Light heal this plague?
With these doubts, Arthas massacred madly, the blood almost staining his armor red.
This slaughter lasted for three days and three nights, tens of thousands of Stratholme residents were massacred, and only a scattered few escaped outside the city, finding refuge with Jaina and Rhodes, successfully surviving.
However, among the Stratholme residents sheltered by the two, one-third of them later became pawns of the scourge.
Rhodes purified these undead residents with Holy Light Flash!
Finally, the entire Stratholme was burned to ashes, massacred. The Dreadlord waited for Arthas at the docks of Stratholme.
"Demon, it's time to end this, right here." Arthas, with a lot of blood on his face, trembled as he came before the Dreadlord.
Beside him was a large group of human soldiers, with bones scattered everywhere.
"Heh heh! Commendable courage, but unfortunately, it's not over yet. Your journey has just begun, young Little Prince," Mal'Ganis said with a mocking expression.
"Don't think of escaping, monster, I won't let you escape! My soldiers won't allow it, and the spirits here won't allow it!" Arthas' voice was almost a roar!
"That's not up to you. Gather your troops and challenge me again in Northrend, the far north. There, we will see the end of our grievances, and you will understand your true mission," Mal'Ganis said, and his body transformed into countless bats and disappeared.
The surrounding human soldiers were shocked, and even the Dwarf riflemen fired at some of the bats in the sky, but found that these were merely illusory forms of energy.
"Even if you flee to the ends of the earth, I will catch you, do you hear me? Dreadlord, I will kill you, I will kill you!" Arthas let out a desperate, angry, unwilling roar at the sky.
The surrounding human soldiers also cursed the Dreadlord madly; they had been executioners, but the culprit had not received due judgment.
"Warriors! We will embark on an expedition to the continent of Northrend immediately, without any delay!" Arthas roared.
He issued his decision to all the human soldiers.
"Follow Arthas, we will make that demon pay!" Falric said.
"Destroy that demon, make him pay for his blood debts!" Maiev said.
Arthas nodded, making almost no delay, and immediately led tens of thousands of Lordaeron troops, along with a portion of Dwarf forces, to board ships at the port and sail towards the continent of Northrend.
No one could stop his revenge!
After the slaughter ended, Uther, a Paladin of the Knights of the Silver Hand, led a small contingent of Paladins into Stratholme city.
Rhodes and Jaina also came to the city to meet Uther.
Looking at the hell created by his most beloved disciple's own hands, Uther could not stand steady!
He simply couldn't imagine how twisted Arthas must have been to do such a thing.
Militiamen recruited from other places were burning the piled-up bodies in Stratholme; the entire Stratholme was weeping.
In a city of hundreds of thousands, fewer than a thousand people survived.
"There are dead everywhere... I can't believe Arthas did all this," Jaina sighed.