The sun rose swiftly, painting the sky red.
Rorschach's trial was over. The stubborn man passed the secret realm, though luck denied him Athul's Light of Life. Near death, he emerged victorious.
Now, Bul-Kathos and Ancient One headed to Asgard.
Asgard was ready. A grand banquet awaited—Asgardians loved feasts, and this one was especially lavish.
"Odin, how will you handle this unknown powerhouse?" Frigga asked, her tone heavy.
Bul-Kathos's aura had stirred fear in both her and Odin, unsettling even Frigga, who could outmatch Ancient One.
"Bul-Kathos? Ancient One says he's a just warrior. Shouldn't cause trouble, right?" Odin's confidence wavered.
"Who sits with us?" Frigga asked, rolling her eyes.
Asgard's banquets filled one hall, no private rooms. The head table held significance, but Odin left it unset to honor Bul-Kathos—his aura was too daunting.
"Thor, Tyr. Just them," Odin said, stroking his beard, tangling it, still rattled.
"Tyr's fine, but Thor's arrogant," Frigga said, omitting Loki. She wanted him included but knew his mischief wasn't ready for this level. Thor, groomed as heir, was brash but good-hearted, yet to see beyond the Nine Realms.
"Tyr'll keep him in check. Thor's our hope; meeting a true powerhouse will do him good," Odin said, half-lidded eye uncertain. Thor learning caution from a barbarian? Unlikely. Hopefully, he'd just avoid lopping off heads.
"Loki should meet the Sorcerer Supreme. He needs awe and knowledge," Frigga whispered. Loki, though far from her equal, had outgrown her teachings. He needed a new guide.
"I'll mention it at the banquet. They're almost here," Odin said, rising. His armor gleamed, Gungnir glowing. Frigga followed, her ornate staff in hand. Tyr trailed as an attendant.
"Brother, who's the big shot today? Look at the honor guard!" Loki said, grinning, eyes flickering.
Frigga had warned him against mischief, and out of love, he'd comply—no pranks, just curiosity.
"No clue. Tyr said Father's hosting, and I'm to sit with him," Thor laughed, face alight with excitement. He loved a crowd.
Loki turned, hiding his eyes. Sitting at the head table was a rare signal, and he caught it faster than Thor, who was distracted by the guard.
Woo-woo-woo! Horns blared as Asgard's soldiers heralded the guests.
Bul-Kathos, in Immortal King armor, strode onto Asgard's soil, an ancient stonebreaker hammer at his waist—Volusk's returned. Ancient One floated beside him, half a step behind, signaling his lead.
"Barbarian King, Demon Slayer, Destined Immortal King! Bul-Kathos, honored guest!" Odin descended the palace steps, greeting openly.
Frigga bowed slightly. Ancient One had briefed him on Bul-Kathos, avoiding awkward silence.
"God-King, temporary wielder of prophecy, sovereignty, wisdom, healing, magic, poetry, war, and death—Odin. Pleased to meet you," Bul-Kathos said, sizing him up. Odin touched these domains but didn't master them, merely borrowing slivers of power.
He skipped diplomatic fluff. "Temporary wielder" wasn't an insult—manipulating domains was no small feat.
"Your knowledge surprises me," Odin said, laughing, shooting a glare at Thor, who bristled at the words.
"A gift," Bul-Kathos said. Odin, as a warrior, earned his respect, if not as a king. He pulled a spear and staff from his pack: "Akanesh, Herald of Justice and Maros's Focusing Staff."
He handed them to Odin and Frigga. Akanesh, wielded by the Templar Grandmaster, slew demons and innocents alike, lacking legendary power but boosting holy strength by 20%. Maros's Staff instilled fear, forcing enemies to flee. Both were Bul-Kathos's masterfully crafted ancient replicas.
Odin's Gungnir was legendary, slightly above ancient but below these. Frigga's staff, merely a casting aid, paled in comparison.
"Thank you!" Odin passed Akanesh to Tyr, leading Bul-Kathos and Ancient One inside. Gifting upfront broke protocol, but Odin, aware of Bul-Kathos's nature, let it slide.
They'd discuss Ancient One's dire future warnings before the feast. Odin, unaware the Time Stone's river was now murky, trusted her fully.
"Powerful staff," Frigga marveled, feeling its energy. Her outburst was rude, but Bul-Kathos didn't care.
Barbarian kings were leaders and warriors, not regal posturers. "Heard of your might, Sorcerer Supreme. We've been discourteous," Odin said, walking.
"We've only a banquet, no grand gifts, but Asgard always welcomes you," he added, caught off-guard. He couldn't offer Gungnir.
Bul-Kathos didn't notice. "I was rash. Don't mind it," he said, uneasy.
He wanted to ask about Son of Odin but sensed it'd spark trouble. Frigga, goddess of marriage, wouldn't take kindly to a hammer tied to Thor's essence, especially publicly. It'd be a scandal.
"Let's discuss business. The feast needs prep," Odin said, standing left with Frigga. Bul-Kathos stood right, Ancient One beside him, slightly back, her status secondary today.
"Brother, let's find Tyr. That spear's got me curious. Mother lost it over that staff—aren't you intrigued?" Loki whispered.
"You trying to trick me? You never call me 'brother,'" Thor said, frowning. He wasn't dumb; Loki's closeness raised flags.
Trust let Thor fall for Loki's pranks, like love's blind trust. When tricks failed, love faded.
"Not curious?" Loki pressed.
Thor eyed Tyr, directing the guard's withdrawal, Akanesh in hand. "Fine, but no trouble," Thor said warily. He wouldn't defy Odin during this critical banquet.
"Of course, dear Thor," Loki grinned, planning light mischief.
They headed to the banquet hall, where Tyr would soon go. As Asgard's steward, he managed the palace in Odin's absence.
"Greetings, Bul-Kathos," Odin said, sitting across with Frigga, cautious now, free from public eyes.
"Drop the formalities. Barbarians don't care for them. Respect or fear's in the heart, not words," Bul-Kathos said, removing his Immortal King's Triumph. Helmets annoyed him. Volusk had insisted on barbarian grandeur, or he'd have come shirtless in kilt and boots.
He reached for a Water of Life, paused, and swapped it for four red crystal bottles. "Hold on, my finest brew."
Crafted from premium grain, High Heaven's freshest spring, and Diablo's blood, enhanced in Kanai's Cube with a ruby and flawless gem, it was his masterpiece.
"This power," Frigga said, awed by the bottles' energy.
"You're a headache," Ancient One said, pinching her brow. The wine's energy could birth a Ghost Rider, though it offered little to them.
"Isn't good taste the point?" Bul-Kathos said, missing their concern. He hadn't explained its creation.
The wine's flavor cost much of its power. Diablo's blood, enough to corrupt an angel, was neutralized by nearly draining a heavenly spring—done in Imperius's face, who couldn't stop him.
"The demon kings?" Odin asked, uneasy with Bul-Kathos's shifts but unwilling to provoke a friendly powerhouse.
"Why else am I here? I grabbed the wrong wine," Bul-Kathos said. Volusk urged dignity in crowds, but alone, he dropped pretense. Barbarians ignored others' views—mockery didn't stop them from making demon sauce.
He popped a cork, filling the hall with potent aroma. "I told Ancient One everything. Nothing more but the Seven Demon Kings."
He urged them to drink before he changed his mind. Ancient One opened a bottle, followed by Odin and Frigga.
"Asgardians hold their liquor. One bottle won't floor you," Bul-Kathos said, clinking with Odin, then all, and chugging.
"Drink," Ancient One prompted the stunned pair, sipping cautiously, wary of barbarian spirits.
------------------------------
Thank you for enjoying my stories! If you want to go further and support my work, Patreon is the best way to do it — many of the newest chapters will be posted there!
👉 pat*eon*com/DaoistRoeoNQ