The next day, Bul-Kathos rose from the floor and opened the smithy's door.
It wasn't that the mages had given him a lodging without a bed; as a barbarian, he never bothered seeking out a proper place to sleep in safe surroundings.
Most barbarians simply collapsed wherever exhaustion struck.
Returning to the smithy to sleep was already a concession to his status, a restraint born of consideration.
After all, when he'd lopped off the head of the Prime Evil Diablo, Bul-Kathos had promptly collapsed atop the demon's corpse for a full day's slumber.
The rescued angels had even thought he'd perished alongside the fiend.
Only after becoming the new Barbarian King did Bul-Kathos begin to mind his behavior—at least under the incessant nagging of the ancestral spirits, he'd learned to return to his room before sleeping.
For someone as unimaginably robust as Bul-Kathos, sleeping on a bed of blades or a soft mattress made little difference.
He simply didn't care.
"Another brand-new day. Rare to see such a clear blue sky."
Standing at the doorway, Bul-Kathos gazed at the horizon. This remote park was nearly deserted at any hour.
For a barbarian, that might be a blessing.
"Sir Bul-Kathos, I heard you were quite upset yesterday?"
The Ancient One's voice arrived timely. The remarkable woman held a box containing food and a brand-new tablet computer.
After all, if mages in the Himalayas had Wi-Fi, providing Bul-Kathos with an electronic device wasn't so strange.
"Oh, I'm not angry anymore. No need to beat around the bush to test me. As long as I'm not provoked, I won't cause any messes in this world that you can't handle."
Bul-Kathos glanced at the Ancient One before turning his gaze back to the rising sun.
In the world of Diablo, though day and night existed, the grand invasion of Hell had shrouded everything in sulfurous haze.
It had been ages since he'd seen the sun.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?"
The Ancient One set the box on the ground and stepped to Bul-Kathos's side.
Their prior talks as Supreme Sorcerer and Barbarian King were done; now, it was just the Ancient One and Bul-Kathos.
The conversation could be less formal, less cautious.
To ordinary people, the Ancient One was tall, but beside Bul-Kathos, she seemed strikingly petite.
"Nothing needs doing. Just keep busy as you are. I'll get used to this world in time."
Bul-Kathos didn't look at her, his eyes fixed on the sun.
"It's the fourth day already. The sun's always magnificent, no matter when."
He tried to soften his tone as best he could, but his voice remained grating.
Decades of battlefield habits couldn't be undone in mere days.
His body was always poised to draw a weapon and fight, a reflex etched into his soul.
"Then we'll leave you be from now on."
The Ancient One followed his gaze to the sun on the horizon.
To her, it was the same as ever, unchanged.
No matter how grand, it stirred no ripples in her heart.
"Alright, then." Bul-Kathos pulled a hefty handful of gold coins from his pack and handed them to her.
"These are coins from my world—precious metal, I assume? Could you exchange them for this world's currency? I'll give you a tenth as thanks. Consider it a friend's request."
The pile of gold coins in his hand was substantial—enough, once converted to dollars, to sustain him here for years.
Eating, sleeping, forging—that was all Bul-Kathos had to occupy him now, and it left him restless.
He'd yet to find anyone in this world who could match him. As for the Ancient One?
He could sense she was far below his level—nowhere near his realm of power.
His blunt barbarian mind completely overlooked the miracles of the Time Stone.
But that didn't matter. Nephalem power knew no limits.
"By the way, I've noticed your world's mages fight in a way that's more like barbarians than mages."
Bul-Kathos remarked offhandedly.
Compared to the mages he knew, who teleported constantly and wielded arcane elements, these ones merely conjured weapons for melee combat—a pitiful display.
"Let me give you a weapon to try."
He drew a longsword in an Eastern style from the forge and handed it to the Ancient One.
Modeled after the legendary Yin's Blade, it wasn't forged with materials from the Diablo world but with this world's native metals.
Though it lacked the original's mystical powers, Bul-Kathos's unique forging technique imbued it with exceptional energy-conducting properties.
No matter how you looked at it, a weapon formed purely from energy couldn't outperform the same energy channeled through a physical blade.
As long as the material didn't reject energy, a weapon's utility remained unmatched.
This was a small gesture of goodwill from Bul-Kathos, though his disdain for mages kept him from expressing any gratitude to the Ancient One.
She took the still-warm Eastern-style longsword and made a few deft swings.
Her movements were fluid, her swordsmanship undeniably masterful.
"I never imagined your forging skills would be this remarkable."
"I told you—I'm the best blacksmith!"
Bul-Kathos boomed, then unhooked the flask from his waist.
As he prepared to bite his tongue, the Ancient One stopped him.
"Then, as a friend, I should return the gesture."
She traced a portal in the air, revealing a wine cellar of untold age.
"When I was young, I found this cellar and hid it well. Now it's yours."
A serene smile graced her face as she reached through the portal, retrieving a bottle and handing it to Bul-Kathos.
"I'll have the rest sent to you later."
With a slight bow, she bid him farewell.
Her figure passed through the portal, leaving the sweltering smithy behind.
"This mage is far more pleasant than Li-Ming."
Bul-Kathos grumbled about the young mage who always clashed with him, then turned back inside.
"Joking aside, you call those mages in this world mages?"
"Charging in with conjured weapons—that's more barbarian than anything."
"Why not take these mages to Mount Harrogath? See if any could earn the ancestors' approval. The barbarian legacy can't end with me."
He muttered to himself, unsure what had become of his original world.
Had the Nephalem, as in the original tale, gained the aid of those souls to defy death's threat?
Had they cornered Malthael in the depths of the Chaos Fortress and beaten him senseless?
"The Black Soulstone was shattered. Even those fools couldn't lose to a Malthael stripped of Hell's power, could they?"
Recalling Malthael's origins as the Archangel of Wisdom, Bul-Kathos felt a twinge of worry.
"Forget it. I can't return to that world, so why dwell on it?"
Shaking his head, he returned to the forge, drawing out a new metal ingot. This time, he added a material called Death's Breath.
In terms of rarity, Death's Breath surpassed white, blue, and yellow materials, but it could never be used alone.
More an adhesive for blending powers than a forging material, it was essential for adjusting gear attributes with mystics or harnessing Kanai's Cube.
Bul-Kathos's weapon, bearing his name, was nearing the final stages of forging.
This was merely a trial, however. His twin blades were the first Immortal King's weapons. Now, he forged for himself—the second Bul-Kathos, the third Immortal King's glory.
When complete, he intended to name them Bul-Kathos's Death and Bul-Kathos's Fury.
If given the chance, he wanted to face Malthael again with weapons truly his own.
"If I get the opportunity, I'll shove Fury and Death down that damned Angel of Death's throat!"
(End of Chapter)