Bul-Kathos finished cleaning the forge, ready to open its doors. Gil was washing up, now attending school. Milk simmered on the stove, fried eggs and bacon waiting on the table.
Lately, Bul-Kathos realized he should cook breakfast for Gil. As the only adult, he couldn't let a child care for him. It felt wrong, especially since Gil seemed exhausted, his training and schoolwork taxing for a boy just emerging from trauma.
There was still time before the school bus.
Bul-Kathos pushed open the forge's door, freezing at the sight of a middle-aged man glowing purple. Behind him stood a dark-haired woman, dazed.
No one visited the forge this early. Bul-Kathos snapped back, leaving the door open and returning to the table.
"Want to buy something? Wait outside. We're not open," he said, uninterested in hosting. The purple man reeked of hell's filth, like demons Bul-Kathos knew. Not a good guy, but he hadn't done anything yet—Bul-Kathos couldn't just toss him into the unlit furnace.
The woman oozed strangeness, like a witch's thrall, yet her blood debt was heavy. Bul-Kathos ignored her. Wrong was wrong; no one could forgive a killer for their victims.
He just wanted to eat breakfast with Gil and see him onto the bus.
"Jessica, let's go in," the purple man said, imperious, like a rich man's butler, not a true power. His strength came from some odd force, not himself.
"I said wait outside!" Bul-Kathos's cold gaze locked on the doorway. Jessica froze under it, trembling.
"Good. She's still conscious. No need for courtesy," he thought. Enthralled minds didn't halt under his stare, just as crazed demons never feared him.
"Jessica, didn't you hear me? Slap yourself three times," the purple man ordered.
Bul-Kathos nearly punched him as Jessica's eyes flashed pain, delivering three sharp slaps. Something was wrong—her gaze held defiance.
"What are you?" Bul-Kathos sensed a faint substance spreading as the man spoke. Standing, his massive frame loomed at the door, eyeing the purple figure.
If Jessica's body was beyond her control, Bul-Kathos's approach would shift. Watching your body commit evil was torture for a sane mind. Some might grow to enjoy it, but not her, not with that resistant look.
The purple man bristled at Bul-Kathos's words. "Talk to me like that? Grab that hammer and smash your leg until it breaks!"
His smug certainty assumed obedience.
"What nonsense?" Bul-Kathos seized his collar, slamming him to the ground. His size-54 boot pinned the man's head, pressing lightly.
The purple man froze, as if witnessing the impossible. Bul-Kathos couldn't fathom his delusion.
"Uncle, what're you doing?" Gil appeared, fresh from washing, staring as Bul-Kathos pinned the stranger like a toad under a stick by a creek.
"Jessica! Kill him!" The purple man—Zebediah Killgrave—could control others with pheromones, like hypnosis, leaving victims aware but powerless.
His ability was useless against Nephalem.
Jessica swung at Bul-Kathos, her punch strong. He summoned his Unity ring to his inventory, not for his own safety—Gil could get hurt.
With a stomp, the purple man's head was gone. His final command lingered, Jessica's eyes gleaming with relief, yet her body lunged at Bul-Kathos.
He caught her fist, pinning her to the ground with a swift knock, knocking her out.
"Cleaning trash," he told Gil. "Eat breakfast. I'll handle this before the bus."
Poor Killgrave, curious about the odd forge, stumbled into Bul-Kathos's hell-bound express. His malice within arm's reach sealed his fate—Bul-Kathos already despised him.
He didn't care how Killgrave controlled others, but Jessica intrigued him. Her strength rivaled a barbarian recruit, rare in this world, and she wasn't acting willingly.
Dragging her to the basement, he tossed Killgrave's body into the furnace. Once lit, it'd vanish.
(End of Chapter)
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