"Is anyone there?"
The gaunt man who had just scaled the Sacred Mountain clutched the brazier and stepped through the gates, shouting loudly.
Having spent over a decade seeking out legendary martial artists, he had never felt as serene as he did now.
"Newcomer? Follow me."
Qual-Kehk happened to be near the mountain's entrance. The old general often lingered by the gates.
"Who are you?"
The gaunt man jolted at the sight of a ghostly figure, startled.
He'd heard whispers of superhumans, but a ghost's existence surpassed his understanding.
"Qual-Kehk, general of the barbarians."
Qual-Kehk was a man of few words, though his battle cries outshone all others.
"Barbarians?"
The man muttered softly, trailing behind Qual-Kehk.
Meanwhile, the conversation between Rumlow and Steve had mostly concluded. Though Rumlow hadn't given a firm answer, progress was promising.
"Rumlow, you'd better talk to Tarik about your plans. That guy can give you some solid advice."
Maddock spoke gruffly. Compared to Matt and Rumlow, his own heir fell short.
Not to mention Matt's guidance under Reko—ancestors didn't determine a barbarian's potential.
But Matt's physical changes were plain to see, and Rumlow's physique was catching up fast.
Luke's talent, while growing, was no longer as standout.
"I will, Ancestor Maddock."
Rumlow responded respectfully. He was always humble toward the barbarian ancestors' guidance.
"Qual-Kehk brought a newcomer! Come look, he's foolishly hugging a brazier!"
Vydia's teasing voice echoed into the room, prompting Kolik to storm out, face sour.
He'd once run to the gates with a brazier himself; Vydia's "foolish" jab demanded a response.
Before Kolik reached them, a chorus of ancestors' booming voices rang out.
"He doesn't look frail—why's he so haggard?"
"Who cares? That brazier looks familiar."
"Isn't that the one Kolik just took out? He's always doing stuff like that to show goodwill."
The man, surrounded by ancestors, felt overwhelmed as they critiqued him like a zoo exhibit.
He glanced up at the projection overhead, intrigued.
"You lot want to fight me?"
Kolik roared. He wasn't petty, but that didn't stop him from settling scores on the spot.
"Kolik, how'd you know someone else would show up? Thought you'd be fetching that brazier soon."
Olongus grinned, only to see Kolik leap with a slashing strike toward him.
"Pfft!"
"Damn it!"
Olongus and Kolik clashed on the spot.
Their seemingly crude punches landed with resounding thuds.
The idle ancestors' jeers soon followed.
"Kolik, your fists are almost as fast as Cassius's!"
"Koutul, you're full of it! Kolik's a hundred of you short of me!"
Cassius, a warrior of the Tag'oth tribe, hailed from a clan that revered the mystical "Pain's Purification."
Among them, Cassius was unmatched, elevating Ignore Pain to heights others couldn't touch, making him the finest hand-to-hand fighter among the ancestors.
Yes, this fool, with just his fists, obliterated the mighty demon Throat-Clutcher.
And shattered his own arms in the process.
He died from untreated wounds, too slow to use a potion.
After him, ancestors taught barbarians to use Ignore Pain cautiously, as painlessness obscured injury.
Cassius's comical death didn't diminish his prowess. In pure technique, even fist-loving Volusk admitted he couldn't beat Cassius.
Roaring, Cassius joined Kolik and Olongus's brawl.
His iron fists and nimble footwork swiftly floored the already-outmatched Olongus, then suppressed Kolik.
"Damn it, Cassius! Bet you can't smash my head with a rock from fifty meters!"
Olongus, rubbing his bruised eye, grumbled and withdrew.
A ranged specialist getting thrashed by a melee master was routine.
"Koutul, you bastard! Help out!"
Olongus dragged the instigator into the mess.
If not for Koutul's flattery, he wouldn't have been pummeled in front of the newcomer.
"Look, I still don't know what this place is."
The gaunt man, eyes on Cassius's ferocious yet precise strikes, felt excitement stir.
Thanks to Cassius holding back and his own trained eye, he caught glimpses of those fists.
A lifelong student of combat, he admired Cassius's masterful technique.
"This is Harrogath, the barbarians' Sacred Mountain."
Koutul stroked his braided beard, bellowing.
Pushing past Qual-Kehk, his sturdy frame—half a head shorter than Bulkathos—strode toward the fray.
Koutul, leader of the Bear Tribe after Orak's death.
Not the tallest among barbarians, but his neck, buried in shoulder muscle, screamed strength.
His bulging shoulders met his skull, his thick waist like a Siegebreaker's pillar.
With limbs stouter than Orak's, his power was undeniable.
A man who wrestled Agren trolls like dumbbells, he feared no shadowy fists.
Even Cassius's full-force jaw strike couldn't budge his mountain-steady head.
Once Koutul grabbed you, you'd be slammed to the ground.
He'd use Ground Stomp to harden the earth, his weapon.
The firmer the ground, the stronger he was.
He seized Cassius's neck, separating the fighters.
"You bastard!"
Kolik, catching his breath, spat blood and drew Bastion's Power.
Roaring, he charged Cassius.
Indeed, barehanded, only Bulkathos and strength-crushing Volusk could beat Cassius.
But in a deathmatch, Cassius was merely first-rate—outclassed by Kolik.
"My bad!"
Koutul tossed Cassius back, muscles bulging as he rushed Kolik.
He took on all blame, as always, absorbing errors with his body.
Kolik hastily pulled his strike, but Koutul trapped the axe in his waist muscles, pinning the bruised Kolik.
He'd hurt himself on purpose; Kolik wasn't one to swing unchecked. This was Koutul's apology.
"You always pull this pointless crap!"
Kolik sheathed his weapon, eyeing Koutul.
This straightforward fool, lured by a strength contest, wrestled Throat-Clutcher, won, and died to its venom.
Cassius avenged him by obliterating the demon.
"Why'd you bring me here?"
The long-ignored man spoke calmly.
"We didn't bring you. The mountain summoned you."
Qual-Kehk stepped forward, pacing.
"Alright, boys. Who wants to train this kid?"
On the mountain, Qual-Kehk held sway. Anyone could've said it, but only he got a quiet audience.
"He doesn't look like a demon-smasher with thrown weapons."
Olongus, still rubbing his eye, muttered.
"I'd teach him fists. His body's seen plenty of combat training. So…"
Cassius, just up from the ground, was cut off by Koutul's glare.
"He came with Kolik's goodwill."
Koutul glanced at the brazier, then at Kolik.
Qual-Kehk nodded and left.
Nearby, Steve, Rumlow, and the others had just arrived.
Olongus eyed the group, zeroing in on Hawkeye.
Barton's gear marked him as a mid-to-long-range fighter. Olongus, unimpressed by bows, still wanted an heir.
Cassius locked eyes with Olongus, then approached Natasha.
"My heir'll crush yours. Your pebbles? Five punches max!"
Cassius hadn't forgotten Olongus's fifty-meter rock taunt. Ever-competitive, he never backed down.
Even now, he challenged Bulkathos.
"One month?"
Olongus sneered, confident his throws wouldn't be stopped.
Barbarian throws were about raw power and weight.
His strength outstripped Cassius's by twenty percent. If not for his melee weakness, he wouldn't get thrashed.
Olongus calculated a month wouldn't let a melee fighter breach ranged defenses, and Cassius would bite.
Fighting was Cassius's biggest flaw.
"Deal! Loser begs Bulkathos for five bottles of his reserve!"
Neither considered refusal, but offering strength to Hawkeye and Natasha? The agents wouldn't say no.
Their goodness wasn't pure, but acceptable.
More barbarians were needed for when Malthael and his Reaver Legion struck.
"Kid, what's your name?"
Kolik stood before the haggard man, rubbing his bruised face.
"Bruce Wayne."
Bruce's eyes flicked to Cassius's back, still captivated by that refined fistwork.
"Cassius's iron fists are sharp, but I'm stronger!"
Kolik spoke plainly, hiding nothing.
Never boastful or deceitful, he was the mountain's most honest, never flaunting.
Honor was a barbarian's must.
Kolik held the highest standard, never broken.
"Be my heir, and I'll show you the path to strength."
Kolik met Bruce's eyes, sincere yet comical with his battered face.
"Can I think it over?"
Bruce was tempted but cautious by nature, avoiding rash choices.
He craved power—enough to change everything.
But he needed to understand this place and its people first.
Preparation was key to his goals.
"Of course."
Kolik gave Bruce Wayne a deep look.
"I'll arrange a place for you. There are other recruits training there."
Kolik turned to lead. Bruce glanced at the projection.
The trembling girl's metal door now had a slit, yellowish light seeping through.
And those chaotic roars.
"What's she doing?"
Bruce clenched his fists, a touch anxious.
She was clearly in danger.
"She's seeking redemption. Only surviving earns the right to wash blood from her hands with deeds."
Kolik glanced at the projection. "But heart's stains don't wash out. She'll spend her life reflecting."
Bruce grasped the gist; Kolik had said enough.
He studied Jessica's fearful face in the projection, then quickened his pace behind Kolik.
"Will I face such a trial for power?"
"After basic training."
They headed toward the dorms.
Rumlow's dorm wasn't full; another person would liven it up.
Now the "three stooges" were back on equal footing. With heirs chosen, their rivalry would shift to their protégés.
Kolik believed his pick, guided by the mountain, would prevail.
To avoid debate, a quick note.
At this stage, Master Wayne still seeks strength, driven by conviction and effort.
His gear exists because he's not strong enough, so he arms himself. Faced with a transcendent opportunity, not evil, his interest feels natural.
On not killing… early Batman did kill. His initial persona mixed with Red Hood's, wielding dual guns. The no-kill rule came later, birthing Red Hood.
The no-kill charm is fixed, but enemies aren't just human. Not killing doesn't conflict with slaying creatures, right?
He has allies who kill to end evil. Influenced by barbarians, Wayne wouldn't impose his standards on others.
I believe a底线 (bottom line) is personal, not universal.
His calculated nature is a necessity—an ordinary man against the supernatural relies on wit and caution.
His unyieldin matches Kolik's. Kolik would save a life despite enmity, steadfast in kindness and justice.
Kolik, saving foes from monsters, values life above all, making him Wayne's ideal barbarian match.
(Chapter End)
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