Chapter 54: The Undead's Hatred, I Will Make You Smile Once, Banshee Queen

As a group of free undead, what is the main reason the Forsaken hate Arthas so much?

Because Arthas killed his own father, because Arthas destroyed Lordaeron? Because Arthas killed them? Actually, none of these are the main reason.

After becoming undead and being enslaved, although you have self-awareness and can move, you must watch your body rot day by day; no matter how thirsty, you cannot drink sweet spring water; no matter how hungry, eating food brings no feeling of fullness.

As undead, they have no sensation from life, feel no fear, know no fatigue, yet they possess free will; even seeing the most beautiful opposite sex, they are powerless.

Perhaps female undead still have that ability, but they no longer have that feeling; male undead simply lack it entirely.

While still serving as Ranger General, Sylvanas maintained an ambiguous relationship with her ranger apprentice, Nazanoth.

She even spent the night at his home, completing the feat of enduring wind and rain through the night.

Enslaved by Arthas, the moment she regained her free will, Sylvanas found her former apprentice and used her own deathly power to restore his free will as well.

But the two could never return to the past; Nazanoth now calls himself her queen, and his eyes hold only admiration and loyalty toward her, with nothing else.

Now, besides seeking revenge on Arthas, the Banshee Queen wants nothing else; her eyes hold only revenge.

Love, friendship, kinship—none of these exist anymore.

Only vengeance is her belief in living; the Forsaken she leads remain in this world solely because of that belief.

But now! Upon seeing herself, an undead actually had a nosebleed, and even the white bone of her face showed a blush—such a shy expression.

Although he clearly has no eyeballs, Sylvanas can feel his gaze locked on her indescribable parts, and he even asks her for her underwear.

That fiery passion, those wonderful nights between man and woman—undead cannot feel them, and she will never feel them again.

"Miss, I can tell you're very sad; is that something by your eyes a tear stain?" Buluke said.

Sylvanas let out a cold snort, clenched her tiny fist, and hammered it hard into the skeleton's skull.

"This is none of your business! What are you?" the Banshee Queen shouted, growing angrier as she swung her tiny fists, relentlessly pounding that skeleton.

"Ow! That hurts! But being beaten by such a beautiful lady is still wonderful, yoohoohoohoo!" Even when struck, Buluke let out a cry of supreme happiness.

Then, in the stunned gaze of everyone, all the Forsaken, the skeleton's skull actually swelled up with a large bump.

"My Holy Light!" an undead who had been a priest or paladin in life exclaimed in utter astonishment.

Are you kidding? Are you kidding? You're just weird, that's all.

But but you're a skeleton, you're a skeleton, you have a nosebleed, your skull can swell up—where does your blood come from? Where does the flesh on that swollen bump come from?

"The Holy Light is indeed wonderful! I've been bathed in Holy Light—it's an extremely comfortable feeling, like returning to a mother's embrace, or like being immersed in a warm ocean." Buluke turned his head to the undead warrior praising the Holy Light and said.

At this moment, some undead who still believed in the Holy Light from life felt hope rekindle in their hearts. "What are you? What are you! Tell me—is this some deceptive illusion magic? Is it a spell I've never seen? You're basically a living person." Sylvanas, somewhat agitated, pressed Buluke to the ground, grabbed his collar, and roared angrily.

But her vision is that of the Shadow Realm, the sight of the dead; some illusions cannot deceive her, the Banshee Queen.

The skeleton before her had no flesh anywhere, yet his head indeed had a bump and was bleeding from the nose.

He looks like an undead, but his behavior is that of a living person.

The more this is so, the more Sylvanas hates and rages—what right do you have to feel that way?

Not being able to eat, drink, or sleep—these can actually be endured.

The instinct to propagate is life's most fundamental purpose; the pain of being unable to reproduce—who truly knows it? As a female High Elf who has lived over a thousand years, how could she possibly have lacked a mate in some way?

Even her ranger apprentice was not the first to share her bed.

Even her older sister Aurelia, before meeting Turalyon, also had close relations with some male elves.

This isn't love; this relation is merely the instinctual need for propagation.

Even her three sisters are relatively conservative; in Silvermoon City, the female elves who have lived for thousands of lead lives of such decadence it's simply shocking.

Her own people's conduct—she knows it well; every Blood Elf, male or female, is an expert in this.

This is why her three sisters all chose humans as partners.

"I'm Buluke, the one who ate the Yellow Spring Fruit, miss! I sense your endless sorrow—you must have a truly tragic past, right?" Buluke, now beaten into a pig's head, still managed to crack open his skull‑mouth and reveal a grim smile.

"Don't bother me, you ugly freak." Damn bastard, who doesn't know why I ended up like this? Arthas's slaughter of Quel'Thalas—you don't know that?

"Please let me play a tune for you! I'm a musician; my music might not erase your sorrow, but at least it could lift your spirits a bit." Buluke said.

"Only Arthas's death will make me feel pleased." the Banshee Queen said, her face twisted with fury.

"Actually, you should smile—you haven't had a happy laugh in a long time, have you?"

"Decided—before I leave here and meet my own captain, miss, I will definitely make you smile sincerely, yoohoohoohoo!" Buluke said.

"Roar! Ah! Wow!" Sylvanas flew into mid‑air, let out a sharp howl, transformed into a terrifying banshee form, her whole face beginning to twist, becoming horribly frightful and gloomy.

"That day will never come; I am the Banshee Queen, my heart holds only hatred—I will lock him in a dungeon, then chain him up, and make you feel the pain of the Forsaken."

(End of Chapter)