"Why so hesitant? Weren't you the fearless barbarian who crashed into Azmodan's gut?" Vida whispered.
He knew Kanuk wouldn't pursue Leiko, but wanted the reason.
"Rushing in isn't bravery, Vida! You know nothing!" Kanuk snapped, anger mixed with reluctance.
He was right. Reckless pursuit wasn't courage. Love required bold starts, not harassing a woman loyal to her pain.
"Fine, you've lived longer," Vida said, flipping his bread over the fire.
"You'll just wait like this forever?"
"I'm waiting, not hoping or guarding. It's just what I should do," Kanuk said, calming, glancing at Vida.
"You could've moved on long ago," Kanuk said gravely.
"Like you all cling to this place, I have my reasons," Vida grinned, eyes vanishing in his smile.
"You were the most gifted barbarian," Kanuk noted.
"Past glory. Being a merchant's nice—no daily demon gore. That life sucked," Vida said, focusing on his bread. Once a mighty adventurer, he chose trade.
"You clenched your fists watching recruits repair weapons," Kanuk said, eyes down.
"Old glory stirs me. Seeing fiery warriors recalls those days," Vida replied, dodging the topic.
Bul-Kathos descended the cliff, approaching Rorschach. "Got plans, Rorschach?"
His voice, usually gruff, was calm despite its volume. Rorschach, body newly changed, swung his weapon with fervor, venting past frustrations. His wrathflame burned brighter.
"No plans. Just a city drifter. No one looks for me," Rorschach said, finishing his swings and facing Bul-Kathos.
"Then enter the secret realm. The first one's rewarding," Bul-Kathos said, eyeing him. "You'll control that wrathflame."
He led Rorschach to the Elder Temple plaza. Wrathflame fueled barbarian rage but offered little in battle. It might intimidate cowards, but crafted demons knew no fear.
Bul-Kathos's first fight was against ghouls—easier than Orak's but still perilous. Luck might yield Athul's Light of Life, a weapon that healed by slaying undead. Rorschach, with Berserk Wrath and Vendetta Unresolved, ranked among top recruits. Not Matt's match with Frenzy Charge, but he could trade blows with Rumlow.
As Bul-Kathos's heir with Stag Tribe blood, Rorschach could soon wield Ancestral Hammer—less potent than Rumlow's amplified version but strong enough to crush ghouls in two hits.
"Secret realm?" Rorschach pondered, following silently. He hadn't seen Bul-Kathos's past, unaware it was unusual, so he felt no curiosity. Otherwise, he'd be writing in his diary, though he'd stopped after teasing, wary of exposing Harrogath.
"It's a fight. Winners grow stronger," Bul-Kathos said.
They reached the temple. Volusk stood at the gate, watching. "This soon?"
"I've waited too long," Bul-Kathos replied. Their talk ended, perhaps sparing Rorschach.
Bul-Kathos struck a pillar, igniting a flame atop it. His realm differed from others'. A gold-and-black portal opened behind him. "Go, Rorschach!"
Volusk's eyes flickered with tension, lips sealed. Rorschach, unyielding in his justice, stepped through, driven by righteousness, consequences be damned.
"You couldn't wait? I thought you'd become Immortal King first," Volusk said once Rorschach was gone, lifting a floor tile to reveal a golden chest.
"No one found your treasure because it's under the temple," Bul-Kathos said, sidestepping.
Volusk's hoard was a known secret. "Like your chest under black bread no one eats," Volusk retorted, pulling out ornate bottles. Bul-Kathos's stash held legendary gear, buried under uneaten bread.
The bottles bore time's marks, aged over 1,900 years since Volusk's death. "Won't be long, old friend," Bul-Kathos said.
"You're barely 400, so eager?" Volusk tossed him a bottle.
"Drink sparingly. I stole these from a fortress I can't recall. Good times," Volusk said.
"Why didn't you or Leiko show when Mephisto came?" Bul-Kathos asked, carefully opening the bottle—a rare act for him.
"I stopped the others. Only you were worth trusting. Sonya's too green," Volusk said, fishing a ring from the chest and resealing it.
"Bul-Kathos's Wedding Band," he said, tossing it. "Doubt you'll need it."
The ring, crafted by the first Immortal King, drained life from nearby "enemies"—anyone close. "First one's?"
"Your body's not fully healed," Volusk said, looking down from the steps. "Death's shadow lingers. It's life itself."
"Mephisto found death's end, not life's essence. Life's every Nephalem's domain. He only grasped its close," Bul-Kathos said, stowing the ring. It could heal him by draining others.
Mephisto, even devouring demon kings and archangels, couldn't reach Creator status without full life's authority. Neither Bul-Kathos nor Volusk feared him much. No one was omnipotent. Omniscience? Maybe. Could a Creator make a stone too heavy to lift? That ended the debate.
"Sounds nice, but you lost," Volusk laughed, his smile warm, unlike most barbarians.
"You didn't beat death either. I'm alive, drinking, while you watch," Bul-Kathos said, wiping the bottle's rim.
"You're Bul-Kathos," Volusk said, slamming his stonebreaker on the temple floor, materializing fully. "Finish and revert, or Maddock'll cry favoritism."
Bul-Kathos's wrathflame fueled Volusk's Ancestral Summon, binding Volusk as his contracted ancestor. Rarely summoned, Volusk triggered it himself to drink.
Two eased sorrow faster—unless they shared the same pain, doubling it into a cycle.
"You want me to just watch?" Volusk drank, tearing the seal recklessly.
"Next time, I'll supply. Big day," Bul-Kathos said, storing the empty bottle.
"Gonna refill it and trick Orak it's mine?" Volusk grinned, less ghostly, more like a jovial neighbor—albeit massive.
"Orak's dream was leading his tribe back to Harrogath, claiming your stash as reward. He idolized you like Banar did him," Bul-Kathos said, pitying Orak, grabbing another bottle.
"He never tasted it, so he wouldn't know," Volusk sighed.
"If he had, he'd have vanished. He knew but stayed silent. You all linger for unfulfilled wishes," Bul-Kathos said, sitting by Volusk, eyeing the portal.
Only Harrogath's gatekeepers endured without wishes, chosen by the mountain, undying unless it fell. Other ancestors clung like desperate spirits.
If Matt had taken Leoric's crown, Leiko would've been the first to fade here. Anya, avenged, vanished before Harrogath arrived. Nilasek, monstrous, died without seeing the mountain. Charsi, fulfilled, left no regrets.
Marla wished to heal her people and the world, lingering to urge recruits' safety. Lasuk, to forge the ultimate weapon, now limited to minor repairs. Vida, to buy his lover's freedom from hell—without demon coins—failed as she faded. Kalga, to see barbarian victories forever, watched from peaks. Kor, to restore Arreat's glory, faced its ruin. Kuchak, to shatter Azmodan's armor, only cracked it before burning. Banar, to see Orak's true heir, sent many to die in his realm. Andakurgas, to end demons; Mokot, to crush Tyrael; Kardju, to block Duriel's strikes; Herab, to beat Bul-Kathos; Olongus, to defeat Cassius; Cassius, to see Kotur humbled; Qual-Kehk, to see barbarians thrive; Leiko, to see her lover once more.
Leiko's love, fulfilled, never returned. She waited, but moving on meant leaving—and never loving Kanuk. Kanuk's wish, her fleeting love, was doomed.
Volusk's wish: to see his journey completed, death's authority defeated.
Bul-Kathos stopped freeing ancestors, despite their pain. "You've never shared your wish," Volusk said.
"Can't remember. Something tied to that event," Bul-Kathos slurred, sober despite the liquor. "Just feel it's big."
"You fought me to keep that heir?" Volusk asked.
"Don't recall. Just a barbarian with too many burdens," Bul-Kathos said, brushing it off.
Volusk gazed at the clear stars, knowing but silent. Bul-Kathos had to remember himself.
"Hope you see it before you die, or you're stuck with us," Volusk said, opening another bottle.
"I said, Natasha and Barton stayed at Harrogath. They've got a shot at the power you want," Steve said, on his apartment sofa, to Fury.
He'd explained everything, but Fury kept probing, irritating him. Noble as he was, Steve felt human frustration.
"I just want to know if they'll switch sides," Fury said, ignoring Steve's mood. Like he said at dinner, who guaranteed Bul-Kathos wouldn't rampage? Who could stop him?
Rumlow's crew took pride in being barbarians. Fury feared Natasha and Hawkeye returning the same.
Barbarians stood for justice, like when they beat Nilasek despite his elder status. Enemies' identity didn't matter—just their location.
"What're you scared of? Hydra's the real threat! Why worry about Bul-Kathos when Hydra's still out there?" Steve snapped.
"Waiting for disaster to plan is too late," Fury countered.
"You didn't see Hydra infiltrate SHIELD!" Steve retorted, tempted to punch the decoy.
"I plan when I see," Fury said, adjusting his numb leg.
"If Bul-Kathos loses it, what's your plan? Rumlow's team fights him?" Steve scoffed. Having faced both, he knew the gap was vast.
"Unrestrained power's dangerous, like SHIELD's checks," Fury said.
"With what? Nukes?" Steve was done with Fury's games.
A soldier, he'd fight hopelessly if needed. Political talk was pointless. He didn't even know where to claim his pension.
"Just confirming your stance," Fury said, hobbling out, avoiding his usual vanishing act—his limp killed the mystique.
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