Part VIII: Awakening

"Rise up, Argent Crusaders!" the voice boomed throughout the crowd of soldiers, clad in armor and bearing the tabards of the Argent Crusade. "The hour of justice has come!" The one rallying the soldiers was none other than Highlord Tirion Fordring, himself clad in golden armor, wielding the Ashbringer, a blade that was once corrupted, but now shone with the power of the Light seen on no other person. "Ready the battering ram!" he shouted as a large, wooden structure wheeled its way up to the gates of Icecrown Citadel, and slammed a large stone into the gates, smashing them open. The crusaders, filled with renewed vigor from the words of Fordring, charged in, slaying every Scourge they saw, until they made a foothold within the entrance of the citadel.

"I want a perimeter set up around the room as we press forward; I want no Scourge to get within our foothold!" Tirion commanded the troops, looking around at the small foothold they had made inside the gates. He knew that if they were to make their strike, it would destroy the Lich King's attack and give them more headway into defeating him. However, just as they entered the large foyer, he heard a guttural choking noise as one of his soldiers' neck was cut, blood spewing from the wound.

The crusader collapsed to the ground in front of a death knight, clad in runic armor, and carrying a large, black battleaxe in one hand. The battleaxe glowed with a light-blue aura, and had pulsating runes along its bladed head. The knight himself wore a hood and mask to conceal his face, though his eyes were visible, glowing a sinister light blue. One of the other crusaders foolishly charged at him, and quickly met his end, the battleaxe cleaving upwards, slicing through the crusader's torso and sending his sword flying the other direction. The death knight removed his hood, revealing his auburn hair, tied in the back into a ponytail, which contrasted the rest of his dark armor. He turned his head towards Tirion Fordring, his eyes fierce and unmerciful, and began walking towards him, crusaders charging left and right.

He grinned, and snapped his fingers, signaling for seven more death knights to come to his side. "We will not allow you fools to pass," he spoke in a strong, bellowing voice. "The Lich King has chosen us to be your demise, and I, Wuten Ichibun, will see to it that our master's will be done!" He let out a roar, and the group charged at the crusaders, Wuten swinging his new battleaxe back and forth with wide strokes, cleaving through crusaders left and right with each swing.

"Enough!" Tirion's voice echoed through the halls. "You've allowed your mind to be twisted and reformed into something horrible." He raised Ashbringer above his head, and the blade began to glow. "The Light will show no mercy to you, death knights!" The blade glowed brighter, forcing the death knights to shield their eyes from it, giving the crusaders a chance to strike, attacking the group of death knights, however Wuten would not be killed so easily; he spun himself around, holding the battleaxe in both hands, cleaving through each crusader that dared get near him.

"Kill them all!" the Lich King's voice continued to echo through his head. "Kill them or I swear I'll have you working with the ghouls under the citadel for the rest of your miserable existence!"

"Yes, master," Wuten replied in his head. He pulled the battleaxe back, and began to charge at Fordring, dragging the battleaxe behind him in the air, before swinging it and meeting in contact with the Ashbringer. A light shone forth, and exploded at him, causing him to fly backwards into one of the pillars. He opened his eyes, looking up at Tirion, who shone with a bright light to him.

"Fight the Lich King's hold on you, boy!" Tirion's voice echoed through his head. "He's controlling you; fight it!"

"No! The Lich King… he would never leave me!" Wuten replied, defying Tirion with all his strength.

"Stupid boy, you were sent here to meet your end!" Tirion's voice filled his head. He doubled over in pain, his eyes flaring open as he tried to drive the voices out of his head. "Fight the monster before his hold on your will is solidified!"

A large laughter filled his head now, his body completely collapsing and his hands dropping the battleaxe, gripping his head. "Go, my chosen knight! Bring us victory in this battle! I will give you power, and your name will be known across the land!"

"Damn it, get out of my head, both of you!" Wuten yelled out, his head pulsing in his hands from the pain. "My will is my own!" he roared, his aura coursing through his veins in a crimson red color. He stood himself up, picking up the battleaxe in his hand, and placed it in its holster on his back. "Tirion," he began, walking forward. "I apologize for the trouble I've caused here. I've failed in my mission, and two of my group members are dead."

Tirion sighed. "Your mind is released from the hold of the Lich King. That in and of itself is a feat to behold. You are an example of what can happen if you fight back against the Lich King's hold; he is not all-powerful." He turned to the crusaders. "Let Wuten's realization be an example to you all! This proves that the Lich King's hold is not forever, and that it can be broken by those of strong hearts!" He turned to Wuten once again, and smiled. "You should return to your homeland, Wuten Ichibun." He pointed towards a glowing portal. "That will take you back to Stormwind." Wuten's eyes widened a bit, and he smiled. He was finally going to return home. Return to his life once again.

He turned his head and smiled at Tirion. "Thank you, Highlord, for bringing me back," he said, as he began walking, stepping through the portal to his home once again.

He took a look around, and smiled. His home was just as he left it; nothing had changed.

…Except for him, he realized. He had become a death knight, and there would be no way to hide it from the rest of the Keepers. Or anyone else he came in contact with. He took steps forward, concealing his face by his hood and mask once again, and began walking towards his home.

He opened the door, and looked around; everything was like he left it, though there was a fine film of dust over everything. He smiled; he was finally home. He closed the door behind him, and lit a fire in the fireplace. He stood up, opening a cupboard next to the fireplace, and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. He read the label, smiled, and poured himself a glass before settling down in a chair next to the fireplace.

"I suppose it's not so bad," he thought to himself. "At the very least, I shouldn't let this get in the way of my visions for the future." He grinned, thinking about everything he had planned for in the past: to have his own traveling troupe of entertainers, then one day to settle down with his vast earnings and…

"…What then?" he began to ponder, taking a sip of his bourbon, the taste not quite as strong as it was when he was alive, but still he enjoyed it. A knock came from his door, he wondered who it could be. He stood up, placing his glass on a nearby table, and opened the door.

"…Wuten?" a female's voice came from outside the door. He closed his eyes tightly, turned, and slammed a fist into the wall. How could he have been so foolish? He should have at least worn a covering for his eyes, he thought to himself.