"Is Haemerin really that difficult in the Rift?"
Madawc's gaze was somewhat unfocused, watching the projection overhead with contempt.
"You weren't saying that when you were traversing the Rift yourself, Madawc." Talic turned his head and gave Madawc a scornful look.
Haemerin, a named demon, was killed by Olarac, the God of War, but most of the Ancestors present had experienced its formidable difficulty in the Rift. The seemingly endless hordes of rats continuously gnawed at the body. Only by going through that nightmare of a battle could one truly appreciate Olarac's greatness.
Just then, a fighter jet landed smoothly at the foot of Mount Arreat. Hawkeye, with Steve, jumped directly out of the jet.
"This is Mount Arreat?" Steve took his barely repaired shield from his back, asking Hawkeye. Although he had learned about the sacred mountain from S.H.I.E.L.D. files, Captain America was still wary upon arriving here for the first time.
"Cap, I don't think you need to be so guarded." Black Widow Natasha landed behind the two men, shivering slightly in the cold wind due to her tight suit.
"There are warmer clothes and food on the plane. To climb this mountain, you must be completely fearless." Hawkeye spoke softly, then looked up at the projection on the mountaintop with curiosity. The size of the projection was not small; standing at the foot of the mountain, he could still clearly see some of the scenes. Of course, this was true for Hawkeye, whose eyesight was superb.
"Looks like the person we're looking for is up there. Let's move." Steve didn't wait for Natasha to retrieve the cold-weather gear and food from the plane, immediately starting his ascent.
"Looks like we won't need those things." Hawkeye turned and glanced at Natasha, who had ducked back into the plane, then gave a wave and followed Steve.
"Can your combat suits handle the temperature here?" Natasha, putting on a coat, followed behind. Although their suits had temperature-regulating devices, that small amount of warmth was nothing against the cold winds of Mount Arreat. After all, this holy mountain had its own will; it welcomed the brave but never favored those who overthought every detail.
"Let's go. As long as you have no fear, you will naturally be able to climb this peak. Can you see the projection over there? Rumlow's battle can be seen there." Hawkeye was quite considerate of Natasha; the bond between them couldn't be explained by simple professional colleagues. Hawkeye and Black Widow had fought countless battles side-by-side.
Inside the Rift, Rumlow and his two teammates were struggling to clear out the dense swarm of rats. Haemerin, the giant rat, was still lurking in the shadows. Intelligent demons never attack rashly; a creature of Haemerin's caliber, even as a projection, would test the strength of those who came. The back of this large rat was covered with abscess-like sores, holding not pus, but an endless stream of small rats. Spreading pestilence and causing death was their power.
The three men, not having made formal contact with the main body of Haemerin yet, were already showing signs of fatigue. The ocean-like horde of rats clung to their bodies almost non-stop.
"Rumlow!" Luke swung his Fell Cleaver, cutting a gap in the rat swarm, shouting Rumlow's name.
"Shit!" Rumlow cursed, raising his Maul high above his head, then bringing it down hard. This was the countless time Rumlow had used Hammer of the Ancients. As long as the Fury he accumulated during the fight reached the minimum requirement for release, he would smash the heavy hammer down without hesitation. Although Luke and Matthew could also use this combat skill, their strikes were not as effective as Rumlow's Hammer of the Ancients, which was enhanced by the Bracers of the First Men.
As the great hammer landed, a large section of rats was shaken into bloody mist, momentarily breaking the river of rats. Then, the dense rats filled the gap and surged toward the three of them.
"We have to get close to that big rat." Matthew continuously swung the two weapons in his hands, each blow taking out a small pile of rats. But Haemerin's deep gaze made him feel that danger was everywhere.
"How do we get close? These rats can't hurt me, but I can't break through their resistance." Luke crushed a stray rat under his foot, shouting without turning his head.
"I'll clear the path, you follow me." Matthew released Furious Charge again, aiming in the direction of Haemerin. This wasn't his first attempt; the moment Haemerin appeared, he had used the ability, but it had been stopped by a layer of pale green light. After that, the three of them had been swallowed by the rat swarm.
"You truly are persistent." Luke swung his weapon seemingly haphazardly, turning all the surrounding rats into bloody mist. He then followed closely behind Matthew.
The moment the two finally approached Haemerin, Luke lifted his right leg high and stomped it down fiercely.
Ground Stomp!
Even the most basic Ground Stomp had the power to stun enemies. This move was intended to prevent Haemerin from deploying that annoying green light barrier. Although this was Luke's first attempt to use the skill, he didn't know if his body was strong enough to support the release. But there's a first time for everything, and there was no better way now! The inability to approach Haemerin meant the big rat could not be defeated. During this time of fighting, Luke had already figured out the strategy.
Everything hinged on this single strike!
"Hah!" Rumlow suddenly exerted force with his legs at that moment, raising the massive maul and bringing it down towards Haemerin's head.
Leap Attack!
A flawless execution! Even without mastering the skilled Runic versions, the Leap Attack itself allowed him to get close to the annoying big rat.
Clang! Rumlow landed outside the green light barrier, directly crushing the rats underfoot. The maul smashed onto the barrier, producing the sound of metal colliding. His action was a beat too slow; Haemerin inside had already awoken from the stun! Although Luke's Ground Stomp was successful, the vast disparity in power levels meant Haemerin was only stunned for a fleeting moment.
The deployed barrier divided the three men into two parts: Matthew and Luke faced Haemerin's eyes, which were filled with cruelty and cunning.
"Looks like we fell for it." Matthew said, swinging the weapons in his hands. The axe and mace landed directly on Haemerin's head, tearing an open wound in its incomplete hide.
"So what? Are you going to give up the fight because of that?" Luke swung his Fell Cleaver toward Haemerin's neck.
However, neither of their attacks caused any significant damage!
"Squeak!"
Haemerin let out a roar. The previously feeble and noisy rat squeaks now sounded like a Barbarian's War Cry, full of menace. The abscesses on Haemerin's back writhed, and a swarm of shadow-like rats suddenly dropped to the ground.
"Are you two alright?" Rumlow swung the maul to sweep the ground-crawling rats away, shouting into the barrier.
"Doesn't look like it!" Luke raised his Fell Cleaver and swung again, but the shadow-like rats climbed up his pant legs. These rats didn't feel like solid objects, but the biting pain on his skin made Luke even more irritable.
"Hah!" Matthew aimed for Haemerin's head again, charging with his weapons pointed at the rat's eyes! This was the only skill he could use proficiently now. After guidance from Rekor and Reiko, his charge could not be underestimated!
In a flash, Matthew appeared before Haemerin. The moment his two weapons plunged into Haemerin's eyes, his Fury soared!
Matthew released enormous strength from his arms, flipping the car-sized rat onto its back!
"Hurry up! These little guys seem impossible to kill!" Luke, having failed to destroy the shadow rats, raised his Fell Cleaver and unleashed Hammer of the Ancients on the supine Haemerin! The massive hammer was wreathed in roaring flames, and it landed on the rat's pus-filled abdomen!
Just as he was about to land the decisive blow, a real rat, hidden among the shadows, climbed onto his shoulder and bit open the artery on the side of Luke's neck!
"Luke!" Rumlow turned and smashed his Hammer of the Ancients against the barrier, his eyes filled with urgency.
"I remember that barrier was indestructible, wasn't it?" Madawc tightly gripped his Madawc's Sorrow and stood up, shouting with anger.
"Nothing is indestructible if you are strong enough." Talic looked at the projection in the sky, his voice distant.
"If my heir dies, how do you plan to compensate me?" Madawc spoke through gritted teeth.
"You can't exactly kill Haemerin again; that's just a projection." Korlic, who had been absent for a long time, walked closer with a brazier, speaking to Madawc.
"The Rift is a trial every Barbarian must face. What do you intend to do? Charge in with your great axe, shatter the projection of Haemerin, and then declare that these saplings are worthless?" Talic grabbed Madawc's shoulder, his eyes flashing with anger.
"I am merely hesitant about the unknown outcome." Madawc looked into those angry eyes and sat back down.
"You are no longer the Seer, Madawc! You used to take the new recruits you favored into the Rift, but how many were bitten to death by those rats that were far beyond their level? Excessive care always leads to unexpected death. Haven't you gotten over it yet?" Bul-Kathos stepped down from the platform and stood beside Madawc. He looked up at Luke, who was squeezing the rat to death and pressing on the wound on his neck.
"I remember you always used to sneak that boy into the Rift, even wanting him to be your heir. That kid really looked like you." Bul-Kathos picked up a bottle of liquor, took a swig, and tossed it to the somewhat dejected Madawc.
Madawc grabbed the bottle and frantically tried to drink, but the liquor passed through his ethereal body and fell onto the ground.
"I wanted to show him how powerful I was, so powerful that even Baal would be wary of my existence." Madawc crushed the bottle, roaring in a low voice.
"That boy wasn't your son. You should know that clearly." Talic said softly, looking at the liquor spilled on the snow. This was the quietest voice he could manage.
"Yes! I left nothing behind to protect the Holy Mountain." Madawc plunged the great axe into the ground and looked up at the battle in the Rift.
"Keep fighting! Don't mind me!" Luke shouted, swinging his Fell Cleaver with one hand, then raising his leg again. Shadow rats had covered his lower body, occasionally revealing patches of his limbs. There was no flesh visible anymore, only white bone. Haemerin's shadow rats. Before they attacked, anyone would have mistaken them for illusions. Haemerin, as a named demon, was never a waste that could only summon rats.
When Olarac discovered that the shadow rats couldn't be eliminated, he sacrificed everything to cleave Haemerin's head off. But he himself ultimately perished in the jaws of these dangerous and bizarre rats.
The Rift wouldn't leave the Barbarians without a chance of survival, so the moment Haemerin's projection died, the rat swarm would vanish. But even if Bul-Kathos entered this Rift, while the rat swarm couldn't harm his powerful body, he couldn't kill these cruel little things either.
"Bang!" Luke's leg, now just white bone, stomped heavily on the ground. This time, he had mastered the key to releasing Ground Stomp, and Haemerin's projection was stunned instantly! With Haemerin's stun, the green light barrier also disappeared.
"Xia!" Rumlow raised his Two-Handed Maul and brought it down hard on Haemerin's head. The Hammer of the Ancients, amplified by the Bracers of the First Men, directly embedded itself into Haemerin's lower jaw.
"Drink the potion!" Matthew yelled, charging forward. This time, his two weapons sliced through Haemerin's pus-filled belly like a plow, sending lumps of yellowish-green pus and a large puddle of unformed rat embryos tumbling to the ground.
"Madawc, I shouldn't have allowed you to do that back then." Talic said with some loss, watching the projection. He had always seen Madawc's actions but had never stopped the practice that violated tradition. A seasoned Barbarian leading a new recruit on an adventure could quickly help the recruit master the strength in their bloodline. But no Barbarian from such a path had ever forged a legend. And the child Madawc chose died at the mouth of a rat hiding in a corner before he could become strong.
"That child had a brighter future. He shouldn't have died at the hands of those demons trapped in the Rift." Korlic said coldly, without any intention of comforting Madawc. His words were like the howling cold wind on the mountain peak. Korlic hadn't known about it at the time. By the time he found out, Madawc was already sitting alone by the great gate of the Holy Mountain. Had he known, he would have definitely stopped Madawc.
"I know! It was my fault! After that, I never chose another person to be my heir!" Madawc slammed his fist onto the great axe. His hand, now a soul-body, was cut by the legendary weapon called "Madawc's Sorrow," and ethereal liquid flowed out like blood.
"You finally made a choice, my brother." Bul-Kathos sat directly beside Madawc, speaking loudly.
"Squeak!!!"
Haemerin's badly damaged body was continuously trembling, letting out a hysterical shriek! A projection adapted to Matthew and his team's limits would not be so strong as to leave the three utterly helpless. But killing it completely was no easy feat!
"Hurry!" Luke shouted loudly. He could already feel the gnawing pain transmitted from his internal organs! The sensation of constantly recovering and being bitten was driving him mad. He couldn't change his current state even with a healing potion, because the shadow rats had adhered to his body. No matter how he struggled, these cruel, vicious little things wouldn't leave him.
Luke suddenly threw the Fell Cleaver in his hand towards Haemerin, then roared with Fury. Although his body was not yet capable of using the Throwing Weapon skill, simply throwing the weapon was not a problem. With his training, he still had some accuracy. Although Luke hadn't felt the arrival of death yet, the grim reaper was already beckoning nearby.
"Hah!" Matthew's roar was somewhat piercing, but no one was in the mood to mock his cracking voice. He pressed his two weapons down on both sides, and a flash of green light crossed his body!
Overpower! A Barbarian skill. It attacks the enemy by channeling bursting Fury into pressure. Matthew's strike, delivered while standing on Haemerin's belly, caused the rat's upper abdomen to collapse inwards. The explosive pressure made Haemerin sound like a crushed can, letting out an indescribable noise before pus and blood splattered everywhere! The yellowish-green sludge, mixed with unformed rat embryos, looked as disgusting as golden bile mixed with fragments. A concentrated foul stench rushed toward Matthew's sharp nostrils.
The not-so-slow shadow rats had already latched onto Matthew, but the power Haemerin could supply them with began to fade as the demon weakened. Blood splashed from Matthew's legs, sprinkling onto Haemerin's body. The shadow rats could no longer completely devour everything they bit. Haemerin's death was imminent!
"Die!" Rumlow raised his maul again and brought it down heavily on Haemerin's head. This time, the Hammer of the Ancients completely pulverized Haemerin's head into a puddle of gore. Then, everything created by Haemerin turned to ash in an instant! The shadow rats clinging to Luke instantly vanished, revealing his bloodied chest cavity and the white bones of his legs, stained red by the flowing blood.
He still stood firmly in place, but the bleeding was incessant.
"Madawc, I don't understand why you would be so downcast about this." Bul-Kathos took out another bottle of liquor and drank from it.
"If a child trusted you, looked up to your strength, and then died due to your negligence, could you still say that?" Madawc looked up at Bul-Kathos.
"I don't know, but I know I can't save everyone." Bul-Kathos was not concerned with Madawc's question. Should a hero save everyone? No hero has ever been able to achieve this; the path to saving the world is always accompanied by sacrifice.
"I failed to save Deckard Cain, I failed to save Leah, and now everyone in Sanctuary is displaced, hiding from Malthael's half-hearted search." Bul-Kathos took a deep drink. "But can you say I changed nothing? I will mourn, but I won't create a legend named after sorrow, Madawc! Sorrow for its own sake has never had value."
Bul-Kathos put down the wine bottle and walked towards the golden portal leading to the Rift. Rumlow and his team had won, but they were covered in wounds and needed help. Interfering after the Rift ended was not considered a violation of the rules. Healing potions are not omnipotent; thirty seconds is long enough for them to watch a life slip away.
Rumlow and his team were now true Barbarian warriors.
"Why can you ignore these things?" Madawc clutched the handle of the great axe and shouted at Bul-Kathos.
"Because I am not the Seer. I only fight until the last moment when death is unavoidable. You, however, still have the choice before you meet an unbeatable foe." Bul-Kathos's figure disappeared completely into the Rift, leaving Madawc staring at the projection overhead.
When the roles of Seer and Warrior merged, it was not necessarily a good thing for a Barbarian. Even though Madawc never avoided battle, his ability to know the outcome in advance always gave him a choice that others lacked. Choice breeds hesitation, and a hesitant person is always likely to become irreversibly immersed in the past.
"Alright, Madawc, your heir did well." Talic reached out and placed his hand on Madawc's shoulder, watching Bul-Kathos on the projection put a healing potion into Luke's mouth.
"Madawc, you need to know that Nilathak made wrong choices through overly complex thinking. A Barbarian doesn't need so much thought; just knowing what is right and walking that path is enough." Korlic, holding the brazier, walked toward the great gate of the Holy Mountain. As the most dedicated gatekeeper of the Holy Mountain, he was going to meet the new visitors. The Holy Mountain told him that among those people, there was someone somewhat similar to him, and he planned to see if he could find an heir.
"Olarac, do you really dislike this girl? She's done quite well so far." Barnar didn't join the conversation about the Holy Mountain Gatekeepers. He knew all about Madawc's past and expressed disdain for it. Just as he always looked down on the Elders, Barnar the Berserker only loved battle, the kind of battle that required no thought!
"Who can constantly turn the tide? Bul-Kathos?" Olarac watched Jessica Jones on the projection hide in the underground maze, feeling somewhat shaken. Everything Jessica was encountering was almost identical to his own experience. What happened next would be the real test. The pain of being blocked by the corpse horde and almost suffocating moved Olarac.
"Death that rushes in leaves little pain. Despair begins when death slowly approaches." Olarac muttered casually, his face falling into shadow as he lowered his head.
"Die!" Jessica roared somewhat frantically, smashing the head of the nearest walking corpse with a punch, then cutting off the arm reaching for her with an axe. Forced to retreat into the house by the corpse horde, Jessica luckily discovered a trapdoor hidden beneath the rug; she had tripped on the rug upon entering the house, leading her to discover this chance for survival. Jessica crawled into the maze and pulled the trapdoor shut, then listened in the darkness to the dense scraping sounds coming from the door. The sound was as grating as fingernails dragging across an old-fashioned school chalkboard. In the darkness, these subtle noises were amplified, and Jessica felt intense anxiety.
Jessica gripped her weapon tightly. The rotten fluids from the corpses made the axe handle slippery, but the pervasive stench was no longer worth worrying about. Through constant fighting, Jessica had gotten used to the smell. Underground mazes usually have hidden ventilation shafts, but this place was different. Jessica could feel the oppressive deadness, and her breathing was becoming restricted.
"That maze doesn't look like it's been fixed yet; there aren't even torches." Barnar said, making a "tsk-tsk" sound while looking at the projection processed by the Holy Mountain.
"That place has no ventilation shafts. The only way to survive is to kill all the corpses." Olarac said emotionlessly, watching Jessica's look of lingering fear on the projection.
"How long did that door hold back the corpses for you back then?" Barnar's eyes were slightly red; this was his best chance to understand his idol.
"I don't know, but corpses obviously can't open the trapdoor. If she just waits there, she will only gradually weaken until she dies." Olarac's first choice after entering the maze was to push open the trapdoor, putting himself in a situation where he only had to face a small number of corpses simultaneously. He would shift position once the corpse pile reached his shins, and then repeat the process. If Jessica chose to stay behind the trapdoor and wait for death without acting, the Ancestors wouldn't be interested in watching a human slowly waste away.
"Those guys don't need to breathe, so how did you manage to retreat all the way to the end without suffocating?" Barnar looked at the silently sitting Olarac, curious.
"By using Bash to smash crevices in the walls. After being buried two or three times, the air in here would start to circulate." Olarac said coldly. Barnar would always make time to talk to him after his death. This idle chatting continued until Barnar appeared on the Holy Mountain in spirit form. Two dead men no longer needed to discuss fighting techniques, as there was no longer any necessity for it. After all, a soul could not grow stronger after death.
Thus, the two Ancestors hadn't chatted together for a long time.
"Which tribe did Bul-Kathos originate from? I've never heard anyone mention it." Barnar, watching Jessica's panicked expression on the overhead projection, idly began to search for a topic. "Wilder? Thunder? Or Great Bear Tribe? That guy is always chatting with Korlic, loves to use Whirlwind, and has such a powerful physique."
"The Stag Tribe. Bul-Kathos was born into the Stag Tribe, just like Volusk." Halabr the Conqueror sprang out, speaking to Barnar. Among the Ancestors on the Holy Mountain, none was more familiar with Bul-Kathos than he. Korlic was the leader of the Wilder Tribe before being summoned by the Ancestors, and Whirlwind was the signature skill of the Thunder Tribe. A powerful physique was characteristic of the Great Bear Tribe.
"When he was still called…" Halabr paused and looked around to see no sign of Bul-Kathos before continuing, "When he was still called Bare-Chested Tie-Wearer—God knows why he was named that—he was initially dull and simple, just completing all his training tasks on schedule, then eating, then sleeping, and repeating the next day, not even speaking a word. I always thought he was an idiot, until one day he came running to me first thing in the morning, saying he wanted to change his name. You know, a Barbarian's name can't just be changed arbitrarily. So I refused him. Who knew he would get stronger rapidly, as if killing every demon gave him instant strength? Until decades later, he became Bul-Kathos and started to resemble a Barbarian. That bastard grabbed me and beat me for seven whole days!" Halabr visibly flinched, as if reliving the trauma.
"Since then, the fellow has been like a changed man; he stopped having those strange ideas. Can you believe the first time he met me, he asked me where Bul-Kathos was? If I knew where the Ancestor was, would I still be staying on the Holy Mountain watching Barbarians die constantly at the hands of demons? So I told him, 'Bul-Kathos is in every Barbarian's heart,' and then he went down the mountain." Halabr's endless rambling annoyed Olarac, who snatched the Blade of the God of War and slammed Halabr onto the snow.
"Bul-Kathos is the last member of the Stag Tribe. Before him, the Wanderer, Kaelen Odwali, was believed to be the last survivor of the Stag Tribe, until Bul-Kathos appeared." Olarac glanced at the projection, then spoke to Barnar. "The Stag Tribe is strong and wise, able to quickly master the skills of other tribes—perhaps it is an inheritance of the bloodline. Look at who on the Holy Mountain can master all Barbarian skills like him? He can even master their talents! Even Sonya cannot do this. That is why he was designated as the next Immortal King."
Olarac withdrew the Blade of the God of War from Halabr's head and put it back at his waist, then stood up. He didn't want to wait for Jessica Jones to make a choice anymore. He had only hesitated for a few breaths of time, but after this long chat, Jessica was still cowering behind the trapdoor. It seemed this trial would continue for a long time.
"Am I the only one who doesn't know Bul-Kathos's past?" Barnar asked, helping Halabr up.
"Besides you, no one cares about Bul-Kathos's past. Anyway, he is already the strongest Barbarian; is there anything more that needs to be scrutinized?" Halabr cracked a smile, then sat down in the spot Olarac had previously occupied.
"Sir, what should I call you?" Steve, as he walked, gradually saw the architectural ruins scattered throughout Mount Arreat. He didn't think much of the 'unfinished' construction, simply marking the route in his mind. Before undertaking this mission, he had prepared for battle, carefully studying the information he had gathered. But it seemed that the situation hadn't reached the point of non-stop fighting, which allowed him to slightly lower his guard.
"Korlic, the Gatekeeper of the Holy Mountain." Korlic answered casually, this time not replying with a simple "Aow." There was no need to cling to disappointment; just as he looked down on Madawc for always being steeped in loss. Korlic believed that no emotion needed to be constantly sustained. Love might intensify, but it didn't need to be expressed every moment. Anger accumulates strength, but it cannot be maintained constantly. The stronger the emotion, the harder it is to think clearly.
It was boring how Madawc wouldn't choose an heir because of his mistake. What was the use of an emotion that lasted so long that everyone but himself forgot it? Could hating Diablo for ten thousand years kill the demon? Prolonged emotion serves no purpose other than self-pity.
This was Korlic's form of unconcern. Of course, calling him cold was also accurate.
(End of Chapter)
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