Bulkathos led Rorschach into the Elders' Temple, where Volusk dozed on his throne.
"Volusk, check out the kid I picked."
Bulkathos's loud voice jolted Volusk awake.
"You're actually showing off?"
Volusk cracked his eyes open, giving Bulkathos a surprised glance.
"This kid's got Tyrael's approval, and he's a lot like I was back then."
Bulkathos pushed the bewildered Rorschach forward, subjecting him to Volusk's scrutiny.
Hearing that Rorschach had Tyrael's endorsement, Volusk sat up straight, sizing him up.
To earn the approval of Justice itself meant trustworthiness.
But Volusk's gaze held a hint of mockery.
"This kid's past growing age. How're you gonna make him taller? Your heir's stuck wielding a dagger like a demon hunter?"
Volusk's jab at Rorschach's appearance was grating.
Rorschach furrowed his brow, irritation flaring.
"Come on, I'm here to fix that. He needs to be at least 1.89 meters, or swinging heavy weapons will be awkward."
Bulkathos rolled his eyes at Volusk, used to his dismissive attitude.
"Kanai's Cube? You gonna toss him in and reforge him?"
Volusk stood, towering over Rorschach like a child.
Rorschach clenched his fists, resolved to make Volusk regret any overstep, even if it cost everything.
"Hah! This kid feels more like Imperius. Unquestionable courage."
Volusk turned to Bulkathos, the Immortal King's Stonebreaker hammer at his waist scraping the ground with a harsh sound.
Bulkathos had returned the weapon to let Volusk wield near-living strength.
Since Bulkathos wouldn't stay on Harrogath forever, a stronger Volusk could handle most threats.
Even a lone Prime Evil would fall to a near-peak Volusk on the Sacred Mountain.
"He's got no shortage of courage. Facing my aura, he still resists. With Tyrael's power, his stance is beyond doubt. He just lacks strength."
Bulkathos approached Kanai's Cube, pulling black bread and a barrel of High Heaven's spring water from his pack, tossing them in.
"You've got such a great artifact…"
"Enough, Volusk. I'm sick of Zolton Kulle's nonsense!"
Bulkathos cut him off. Kanai's Cube could work miracles, but its recipes came from costly trial and error.
Barbarians had similar recipes, like one for passing Nephalem blood.
Bulkathos drew Oathkeeper, slicing his arm, mixing his blood with demon blood and tossing it into the cube.
Angelic and demonic energy, pure Nephalem blood, and a food vessel.
Simple, no risk—just foul-tasting food.
Better than rock-hard, lethal black bread, though.
"So boring. I miss Sescheron. Barbarians were so mighty then!"
Volusk returned to his throne, slumping heavily. His hammer's handle struck the chair's backrest, clanging.
Rorschach watched Bulkathos cradle the floating cube, silent.
He understood Bulkathos's support and appreciation, so compliance wasn't hard.
No evil was apparent yet.
Kanai's Cube chimed, sounding almost displeased.
Inside was a crimson loaf, steaming hot.
Bulkathos grabbed it, handing it to Rorschach.
"What's this?"
"The first step to bearing my bloodline."
Bulkathos glanced at Volusk, continuing.
"To become a barbarian, you'd just enter a trial realm. But to be my heir, you need a foundation."
Volusk closed his eyes, as if hearing nothing.
Bulkathos was unique. As a Stag Tribe barbarian, he shouldn't need such complexity.
But his rise wasn't just effort.
Many barbarians fought more battles than him—Orak alone surpassed him.
Yet only Bulkathos reached this height, leaving even the once-in-centuries genius Sonya in his shadow.
There was a reason.
Volusk knew the secret but wouldn't share.
"Just eat it?"
Rorschach examined the bread.
"What else? Stuff it in Diablo's ass?"
Bulkathos headed to a side hall—a stone room, really.
Constantine was there, unsuited for warriorhood and annoying.
Bulkathos planned to check on him. If awake, he'd send him back to the city.
As Auriel's messenger, the barbarians had repaid him by restoring his soul.
Rorschach glanced at Bulkathos. He didn't know Diablo but caught the crude reference.
Eat it, then!
What else could he do?
The bread felt hard, inedible.
But as it hit his mouth, it melted into energy, surging through his body.
Rorschach's form began to change. Volusk, eyes closed, snapped them open in shock.
Faint blue wings flickered behind Rorschach!
"How? This kid's justice is so resolute Tyrael granted him Justice's wings?"
Volusk had seen wings before—Bulkathos bore Imperius's gift.
But he knew the courage Bulkathos paid for Imperius's approval.
How did this scrawny guy earn the even more stubborn Tyrael's favor?
Tyrael defied his brothers, forsaking all for justice in the mortal realm.
What made this kid worthy of Justice's wings?
Volusk leaned forward, eyes wide.
Rorschach's body transformed under Bulkathos's bloodline.
It stretched, growing taller.
His lean muscles writhed, like clay being molded.
The frantic aura of living in darkness morphed into rage against it, igniting flames around him!
Barbarian innate skill: Battle Rage!
Full fury boosted a barbarian's strength.
At max rage, damage increased by twenty-five percent.
"Unbelievable. If I'd found this guy first…"
Volusk muttered.
"Forget it. Only Bulkathos is different. This kid's better with him."
Despite his shock, Volusk didn't consider stealing the heir.
Barbarians awakening innate skills early were rare but existed.
Rorschach's flames roiled. Normally, rage would fade.
His body grew to 1.96 meters before stopping.
His muscles settled, defined even under scant fat.
His clothes, tattered from growth, looked far from shabby.
The wings flickered and vanished. Tyrael's gift would manifest fully when Rorschach was strong enough.
Then his justice would be clear to all.
But his flames still burned!
"Damn it, vengeance unfulfilled!"
Blood Feud, a rare barbarian talent!
Rage didn't decay but grew over time!
This talent let barbarians strike their strongest blow anytime.
No need to build rage, no worry of lacking it in sudden fights, generating fury faster in battle!
Sonya was a prodigy but mastered skills gradually.
Rorschach, upon awakening, claimed Battle Rage and Blood Feud.
Volusk stood, his Stonebreaker hammer striking his millennia-old throne, chipping it.
He didn't care about the worn seat, despite past revelry on it.
His eyes locked on Rorschach.
"Bulkathos! Give me this kid! I'll make him the next Immortal King!"
Volusk roared, unable to contain his excitement.
His shout echoed across Harrogath, shaking the sturdy temple, stones grinding, pebbles falling.
Ancestors dropped their tasks, racing to the temple.
They couldn't recall Volusk's last such fervor.
Even when Sonya mastered all barbarian skills, he wasn't this thrilled.
Bulkathos had done it first, but Volusk hadn't made such a claim then!
Who could inspire Volusk to declare them the next Immortal King after Bulkathos?
"No way!"
Bulkathos's roar followed, Rorschach his chosen heir. Becoming Volusk's equal wasn't unthinkable.
But only Rorschach, backed by Justice, could bear Bulkathos's duty.
Only he could carry Bulkathos's secret.
Wielding legendary Oathkeeper and Warrior's Blood, Bulkathos charged, Wasteland armor ablaze with fury.
His war banner appeared. If Imperius's wings emerged, he'd be at full strength.
"Give him to me!"
Volusk's Immortal King armor materialized, massive dragon wings casting an oppressive shadow!
"Hah!"
Volusk roared, raising his Stonebreaker hammer, slamming it toward Bulkathos!
"Xia!"
Bulkathos's war cry answered, feet shifting as he spun, blades crackling with lightning, whirlwinds rising!
His dual blades arced overhead, clashing upward against Volusk's hammer!
The ground quaked, Harrogath's snow surged!
Clouds shattered, sparks from the clash lit the temple!
Kanai's Cube flashed, sealing the temple in a golden dome, barely preserving the ancient site.
Harrogath's dark blue barrier rose outside the cube's shield!
The battle's cataclysmic force tore the cube's protection, cracking the mountain's barrier.
…
"Damn it! What's that immortal bastard doing now!"
In Death's palace, the skeletal lady's voice trembled with rage.
She felt Bulkathos's aura, his deathly presence gone, now radiating lion-like majesty and avalanche-like fury.
Though masked by Kanai's Cube and Harrogath, it still spread!
"May he live forever in plague and pain!"
Death spat her vilest curse.
A figure, containing countless worlds, shuddered as if sickened by a foreign intrusion.
…
"Bulkathos!"
In the Crimson Cosmos, Belial, coaxing Cyttorak, let out a shrill scream!
Cyttorak swatted him away.
Sensing the aura, Belial was mid-bedtime story, his persuasion gaining traction, but the scream irked the Crimson Cosmos's lord.
That swat delayed Belial's revival indefinitely…
In Hell, Nightmare's resurrecting form quivered, its black mass swelling briefly.
Baal, sensing a familiar aura, trembled.
He leaked stolen Hell power from Nightmare.
Nightmare's consciousness stirred, then shrank back.
Baal, regaining composure, stealthily reclaimed the lost power.
He wasn't ready to face Bulkathos—that aura spooked him…
…
Feeling the aura, Ancient One hastily opened a portal, its edges jagged from nerves.
She rushed through but was blocked.
The portal aimed for Bulkathos, but Harrogath sealed him off.
Thinking, she drew another circle, landing on the temple's plaza without issue.
Volusk had stopped…
Not by choice…
Harrogath cut his power, and Bulkathos's blades sent him sprawling.
"Give him to me! I can make him stronger!"
Volusk, propped on his elbows, shouted.
His Stonebreaker hammer thudded to the ground.
His armor and dragon wings vanished as Harrogath withdrew its power.
"He can bear my duty! Can you teach him what that takes?"
Bulkathos's banner faded, but his Wasteland armor remained.
His ancient blades, cracked from the clash, couldn't withstand another fight until repaired.
"I! Pfft!"
Volusk's voice went from defiant to feeble.
The "I" roared boldly; the "pfft" was barely audible.
"Can I ask what I'm supposed to do?"
Rorschach, outside the dome, regained awareness. His flames still burned.
As the closest witness, the battle's soul-searing intensity left him trembling.
But his eyes locked firmly on Bulkathos.
"When you clear my fortieth trial, you'll understand."
Bulkathos sheathed his power, armor fading, blades stowed.
"Damn it! I XXXXX!"
Volusk, cursing, gave up rising, slumping heavily.
He'd lost to Bulkathos again, but he was used to it.
Alive, he might've matched him. Dead, even with the Stonebreaker, victory was impossible.
So be it.
He was no longer the demon-quelling Immortal King, just a soul on Harrogath.
An ancestor, but a dead one.
"Looks like Volusk lost again. Not happy about it."
Vidia's voice came from outside, unusually serious.
"Bulkathos picked his heir? Chosen or trial-bound?"
Maddock rambled, showing no real curiosity.
The fight caused no ripples; ancestors buried their questions.
This wasn't mere sparring.
(Chapter End)
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