Luke gazed at the shimmering portal before him and stepped through without a word.
As a barbarian, Harrogath's Sacred Mountain shielded him from its harsh climate. The mountain protected every barbarian who stood upon it.
"What was that?"
Jessica, who had silently watched Bul-Kathos and Luke's exchange, finally gave in to her curiosity and spoke.
"It's a place where warriors learn justice and kindness."
Bul-Kathos eyed the demon's head in the forge, his reply to Jessica slightly dismissive.
He felt a pang of pity for the unfortunate girl.
Barbarians had the heart to accommodate a child who knew pain and still yearned for the light.
Fueled by reckless impulse, Jessica charged into the portal.
Bul-Kathos could have closed it after Luke passed through, but he gave her a chance.
Losing the will to fight wasn't uncommon among Harrogath's ancestor spirits.
Take Vidor, the merchant's soul, or Rasuk, who chose the simple life of a blacksmith.
Yet they still clung to justice, bearing a glory no less than any warrior's.
Bul-Kathos planned to check on the mountain after finishing his forging.
Crafting an interesting tool wouldn't take long—just a step above a toy.
"Luke, back so soon? Weren't you and Matthew off to deal with that Hand business?"
The first ancestor to spot Luke was Vidor, the merchant's soul, the most talkative on the mountain.
From prior chats, Vidor knew their goals. Seeing Luke return so quickly piqued his curiosity.
"Ancestor Vidor, I'm here for answers."
Luke touched the warblade at his waist, his words halting.
"Ha! Everyone, look! A barbarian with doubts!"
Vidor acted as if he'd heard a rare joke, calling out to the other spirits. In the end, only he remained.
"It's about Mardoc, isn't it?"
Vidor dropped his theatrics, his voice soft, carried faintly by the mountain's wind.
"I want to know why Ancestor Mardoc chose me and about his past glories."
Luke faced Vidor's translucent form, his tone calm but resolute. Vidor could tell Luke was serious.
"I'm just a merchant's soul. You shouldn't ask me about such things."
Vidor spoke quietly.
"Every soul on Harrogath is steeped in glory. I believe you're no exception."
"You sure know how to flatter," Vidor said, his smile grim and almost menacing. "I can tell you the well-known tales about Mardoc, but for his full story, you'll need to ask him yourself."
"Oh, and who's that woman climbing the mountain so fast? Another one Bul-Kathos sent?"
Vidor peered toward the foothills, where a figure ascended with determined strides.
"Probably. But before she gets here, let's talk about Mardoc's story."
Luke didn't care much for Jessica Jones. They'd only crossed paths, never spoken.
On the mountain's other side, Leiko and Leikou stood before a pile of firewood.
After the last ritual, the ancestors had prepared for the next, leaving them mostly idle.
"Your heir passed your secret realm. How do you plan to train him?"
Leikou's eyes were vacant, as if nothing could stir her interest.
"I might recommend him to other ancestors, so he can go further on this path."
Leiko gazed at her direct ancestor with reverence.
Leikou, a towering legend among barbarians.
In her lifetime, she was second only to Volusk in strength.
Though she never faced Mardoc at her peak, he and others admitted they were no match for her.
Her power was undeniable, immortalized in the legendary armor set named after her.
The barbarians had five primal legendary sets.
The Earth Set, embodying their ancient worship of nature; the Wasteland Set, marking their rise from ruin.
The Immortal King Set, bearing Volusk's glory and the barbarians' path to greatness; and Leikou's Charge Set, symbolizing endless fury and unyielding resolve.
Finally, the Ninety Savages Set, the embodiment of the fearless elite barbarian legion.
All but Leikou's Charge Set, which she still guarded, were held by Bul-Kathos.
Even Sonya hadn't received a single set from him.
These sets were a testament to the barbarians' history, their marks of glory.
The original pieces remained on Harrogath's Sacred Mountain.
Every class's legendary sets stayed where they were born.
Always.
"Who do you want him to inherit from?"
Leikou's face remained expressionless. Since earning the title of Battle Master, she'd shown no emotion to others.
Perhaps only with her beloved did she reveal a trace of tenderness.
Legends were always fraught with hardship, each a bitter tale too heavy to tell.
"I haven't decided, but he should earn the other ancestors' approval by now."
Leiko spoke with doubt.
Matthew Murdock's sense of justice had long been recognized by the ancestors, but his blind eyes made them hesitate.
No blind warrior had ever risen among the barbarians. Their clan wasn't skilled at sensing the battlefield.
Lacking sight meant such a warrior would fall early, never becoming a legend.
Barbarians weren't monks or mages; their strength was meant to empower themselves.
"If no other ancestor chooses him, bring him to me."
Leikou turned, leaving those words before vanishing.
(Chapter End)
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