The sudden appearance of the Dreadlord caught the leaders of both camps off guard, but they reacted instantly.
Sylvanas and her Banshees immediately notched dark arrows, aiming directly at the demon. Under Straker's command, the Blood Dread Death Knights began sharpening their blades, the metallic rasp filling the air. The Wight-Banshees swarmed around the interloper, waiting only for a single command from their master to unleash their mana-drain ability and give the Dreadlord a painful lesson.
However, Rhodes, lurking nearby, keenly observed that the Dreadlord before them was not present in the flesh; it was merely a phantom projection—an image. Dreadlords were masters of such ruse; they never placed themselves in actual danger unless they were being raided in a dungeon. Under normal circumstances, they chose to act through mirror images.
"Lackey of the Burning Legion, you dare show your face here?" Straker roared, lifting his greatsword, Soulshredder.
"Peace, mighty Banshee Queen, and you, High Deathlord Straker. I have come to offer my congratulations," the Dreadlord Varimathras said, immediately raising his hands in a placating gesture.
"Spare us your hypocrisy, demon. If we have become these monstrosities, it is by the 'grace' of your Burning Legion," Sylvanas said, her bowstring pulled taut, her expression feral.
To her, they were nothing but tortured slaves. Their only path to redemption was to kill Arthas and exact vengeance upon the Scourge and the Burning Legion alike. That was her ultimate goal for remaining in this world.
"Lord Straker, Lady Sylvanas, my brothers and I have watched your recent performance closely. We are most satisfied. I am here to formally invite you to join our New Order," Varimathras said with a slick smile.
Watching from the shadows, Rhodes sneered. Dreadlords were the ultimate masters of lies and deception. Their so-called "New Order" was nothing more than a desire to continue enslaving the undead.
"How laughable. Your 'New Order' is simply asking us to serve the Burning Legion again? We have broken free from the Scourge; we will not acknowledge any new masters," Sylvanas declared.
"I stand with Sylvanas on this," Straker added. "You demons are the root of this catastrophe. Don't even dream of enslaving us again."
"I advise you to speak with caution, Banshee Queen, High Deathlord," Varimathras's tone shifted, losing its warmth. "I came with a sincere invitation, yet you dare ignore this blessing? To refuse the Burning Legion means becoming nothing more than wandering ghosts on this desolate land. You have two choices: join us and rule, or be annihilated by the human forces gathering here. There is no other way."
He felt he had been cordial enough, but these two were refusing the "toast" only to be forced to drink the "forfeit." They had managed to subvert Arthas's rule, yet these two generals dared to be so ungrateful.
"We have been enslaved long enough, fool. You think we would put on shackles for you? You're dreaming," Sylvanas spat.
"It seems the Banshee Queen refuses our kindness. And you, High Deathlord? What is your choice?" Varimathras turned his gaze toward Straker.
"If you weren't a mere projection, my blade would already be through your skull," Straker snorted. The meaning was crystal clear.
"Two incorrigible fools. So be it. We shall see who prevails," Varimathras hissed. His phantom image shattered instantly, dissolving into several energy bats that flickered and vanished.
"It seems we have a new problem," Sylvanas said. "Before we set out for Stratholme, we should deal with this Dreadlord. He controls a vast host of undead that can replenish our ranks, and eliminating him secures our rear."
"No problem, Banshee Queen. We shall take the demon's head together and send him back to the Twisting Nether to await rebirth," Straker said with a cold laugh.
"Send him to the Twisting Nether for rebirth? What do you mean by that? Can they not be truly killed?" Sylvanas asked, her brow furrowed.
(In the lore, demons of the Burning Legion cannot be truly killed outside of the Twisting Nether. This secret was known to very few. For instance, after Sylvanas captured Varimathras at the end of the campaign, she forced him to join her by threatening his life, unaware that he would simply respawn in the Nether.)
"It seems you know very little of these demons, my lady. If you wish, I can tell you more about their nature." At that moment, Rhodes, standing beside Straker, finally spoke.
Rhodes was currently disguised as an undead—specifically, a Necromancer through the use of high-level *Disguise* magic. For the upcoming operations, he intended to adopt a fake identity within the Forsaken.
"Won't you introduce me, Straker? Who is this Archmage?" Sylvanas asked, looking at the Necromancer. Under the layers of high-tier magic, very few could see through Rhodes's mask. To Sylvanas, he looked and smelled like a thoroughbred undead.
"This is the Necromancer Sandro. A powerful master of the dead whose strength is not inferior to my own," Straker introduced him briefly.
Just two days prior, Rhodes had selected his third Hero—a top-tier unit. This was one of the central protagonists of the *Heroes of Might and Magic III* series, the mastermind of the *Shadow of Death* expansion: the Necromancer Sandro.
After summoning Sandro, Rhodes immediately had him visit special buildings and begin using magic-learning techniques to master Azeroth's death and frost magics. Sandro's specialty is Sorcery, making him a powerhouse magic hero. While he might not start as strong as a specialized Skeleton Prince, his magical lethality becomes terrifying at higher levels.
The real Sandro was currently hidden in Shadowfane Bastion. Rhodes would use the name for now, and once Rhodes eventually departed, the real Sandro would step in to assist Straker in the political games with the Queen. Rhodes felt that while Straker was confident, they needed a high-intelligence Hero to shoulder the burden of leadership. Rhodes had hired him from the tavern for 2,500 gold without a second thought.
"Sandro? I have never heard of you, not even among the human magi. Yet, I can feel the immense magical power within you. Are you Straker's subordinate?" the Banshee Queen asked.
She had expected a two-way power struggle, but now it looked like a triumvirate. This Necromancer was as strong as she or Straker, and as a mage, he was likely more adept at manipulating the dark arts.
"Let's call it a partnership for now," Rhodes (as Sandro) replied. "I am not of the Scourge. I transformed myself into an undead through death magic a thousand years ago. I study the deep arts, and my will is naturally resistant to the Lich King. I have emerged now to help build a kingdom for the dead; that is why I am here."
Sylvanas nodded thoughtfully. She was over a thousand years old herself, yet she didn't recall the name Sandro. A mage of this caliber should have been known to the Elves of Quel'Thalas. Was he another "primordial" undead created by the Titans?
"Then welcome. We are indeed in need of a top-tier spellcaster. There are many magi among the awakened undead; perhaps you can gather them and train suitable Necromancers for our Forsaken," Sylvanas said.
"It would be my honor. I am here to ensure our success," Sandro said with a smile.
"Then back to our previous topic, Master Sandro. Tell me about the Dreadlords."
"Of course, my lady. Put simply, all creatures transformed into demons are immortal within the physical universe. Even if their bodies are destroyed, they return to the Twisting Nether to reform. So, when we defeat this Dreadlord, no matter how he begs, we must simply kill him. It will banish him to the Nether, ensuring he cannot bother Azeroth for a very long time."
"I appreciate the insight, Master Sandro. Let us go and destroy this demon. I look forward to seeing your magical prowess in action," Sylvanas said.
"The pleasure is mine, my lady," Rhodes smiled. He figured taking a Dreadlord's head might drop some new world resources or unlock a special building.