Bul-Kathos and Ancient One hastily wrapped up the Asgard banquet. Odin, meanwhile, was left brooding over whether he'd done something outrageous in his youth—like fathering a hammer.
Back at Harrogath, things returned to normal. Volusk occasionally pestered Ancient One about Oshtur, but nothing odd occurred.
Rumlow's team, after talks, joined Steve temporarily. No missions yet—just collecting paychecks from SHIELD, a pleasant gig. SHIELD could afford it.
Luke, with savings, took Jessica sightseeing. Steve, thanks to SHIELD's nudge, finally got his military pension—a rare win after endless debates. They also enrolled the youthful-looking "elder" in insurance and sorted his taxes.
Gill lived with Frank, never removing his Unity Ring. Frank, caring for his son, shed his usual gunpowder scent for a while.
"Natasha, you're a barbarian now," Cassius said, eyeing her. The former vixen's worldly aura had faded. Demons in the secret realm ignored her charm.
"Like being reborn," Natasha said, smiling at Cassius. At Harrogath, she felt unburdened—no brutal training, no infiltrating shady groups for SHIELD. Her only task: grow stronger and find purpose in battle. Life might lack meaning, but existence itself was real.
"Didn't expect you to hold liquor so well. I'm outmatched," Cassius said, incredulous. Yesterday, his bet with Olongus ended. If Natasha beat Hawkeye, she'd drink her fill. Her charm was useless against demons but disarmed Hawkeye. She chatted him into lowering his guard, then struck. Cassius won Bul-Kathos's prized stash from Olongus.
"Maybe, but your stash doesn't match Rorschach's," Natasha teased, brushing her hair.
"Bul-Kathos is the best brewer we've known," Cassius admitted, unbothered. His collection paled in comparison—no reason to argue.
"You really want to fight with fists like me? Your physique lags behind Luke's," Cassius said, concerned. Her choice thrilled him, but not all barbarians suited bare-knuckle combat. Even Leiko couldn't.
"Barbarian weapons are too much," Natasha said, recalling Rumlow's massive hammer. Nephalem blood granted a portable pack, but drawing weapons took time—too slow for her sudden fights.
"Tch, sticking to your old ways? Beauty's useless against demons," Cassius scoffed.
"This world isn't crawling with demons. Human fights are more common," Natasha countered. True, but when the Seven Demon Kings stirred, that'd change.
Cassius, aware, worried. "Ask Bul-Kathos for gauntlets. Say I owe him," he said, grimacing. A barbarian with gauntlets? Laughable. He'd face mockery, but he didn't want Natasha dying weaponless.
"Wayne, you planning to fist-fight like Natasha?" Cassius asked as Bruce Wayne approached.
"No. Korik excels with weapons. They don't mean I can't hold back," Bruce said, Korik trailing.
"You owing Bul-Kathos? Rare," Korik teased, eyeing Cassius like a white raven.
"Let my heir blow out her arms like me?" Cassius snapped.
"Bul-Kathos might not have gauntlet materials," Korik said.
"Blacksmiths always have materials. Karasim used Bul-Kathos's work before Soul of the Dragon," Cassius retorted. Soul of the Dragon gauntlets matched Bul-Kathos's dual blades—class-specific gear. Karasim, a monk, loved their fist-enhancing power.
"Soul of the Dragon boosts based on inner energy. Barbarians don't have that," Korik argued. Natasha and Bruce couldn't get a word in.
"Then make hammer-fists! Solid enough!" Cassius said.
"Heavier weapons are easier!" Korik shot back. Hammer-fists, sturdy but heavy, barely differed from barbarian arms.
"Later. She doesn't need weapons yet. Axes for now," Cassius said, done arguing.
"She might get Immortal King's Iron Fist. Why worry?" Korik said.
Vida, chatting with Olongus, watched Hawkeye hurl an axe at a target, toppling it each time. Olongus, sulking after losing to Cassius, barked, "Harder! Don't let thrown weapons act like hammers!"
Olongus wasn't a great teacher, but Hawkeye's talent shone. "Throw hard! Unless you want demons in your face!" Olongus yelled, still sore. He'd traded fifteen bottles of his stash for five of Bul-Kathos's.
His throws were unmatched—precision was common, but his destruction was legendary.
"Casillas got roughed up?" Vida grinned, loving gossip. Kanuk's "thought correction" had left Casillas nearly speechless.
"Kanuk's business. If it fails, send him to Talic for a Proof of Shame set," Olongus said.
"Talic won't meddle. Casillas is just stubborn, maybe selfish?" Vida said.
"Egoist. Stop talking," Olongus grunted, eyeing Hawkeye's swollen arm.
"When's his fifth trial? His boss is antsy," Vida said, playing with snow.
"Few days. He can't beat that elite beast yet," Olongus sighed. The low-tier elite was nothing to him but a mountain for Hawkeye.
"Affix?" Vida asked.
"Overlord," Olongus spat. Vida's smile faded. Overlord elites—stronger, faster, deadlier—were steps from a demon king's naming.
"Keep training. Maybe team with Rorschach?" Vida suggested.
"Rorschach's a monster. Half a month, and he's at Matt's level," Olongus muttered. Rorschach, after three trials, matched Matt's combat prowess.
"Forget it. An heir who can't do what we did has no future. I'll wait years if needed," Olongus said. Vida smirked—Olongus, patient? Unlikely.
Kanuk drilled Casillas nearby, a grim scene. "When someone's stronger, what do you do?" Kanuk roared.
"Train harder! Surpass them!" Casillas shouted, teeth missing, voice leaking.
"Louder!"
"Train! Surpass!" Casillas screamed, voice cracking.
"Someone gets legendary gear—what do you do?"
"Fight in the realm!" Casillas answered, near breaking, shouting louder, almost crying.
"See something unjust?"
"Uphold justice! Keep fairness!" Casillas's voice broke like a faulty whistle.
"Good! Keep it up!" Kanuk said. Casillas collapsed, drained.
"See someone pick up money?" Kanuk asked softly.
"Check for more—" Casillas started, cut off by a black bread stuffed in his mouth and an uppercut. Crunch. He bit through, first on Harrogath to break bread with his gums, setting a record.
"Wrong. Do your own thing. Don't chase free gains," Kanuk said. Casillas, out cold, didn't hear.
Qual-Kehk, watching, shook his head. This wasn't proper teaching—more like Stockholm syndrome. Casillas's greed needed extreme measures. Kanuk sought Qual-Kehk's help, and he couldn't refuse. Lost teeth? Regrowable with potions.
Bul-Kathos sat on the Elder Temple steps, neglecting his forge. He checked on Gill daily, ensuring milk and training progress. Frank struggled with parenting homework.
"Sending troublemakers here works," Ancient One said, sipping canned tea through a straw.
"Why always that robe?" Bul-Kathos asked, genuinely curious.
"It's an artifact, like your armor," she replied, glancing at Casillas, now in tattered cloth, lying in snow. Trial-hardened, he was immune to Harrogath's cold.
"Guess we caused a stir in Asgard," Bul-Kathos said.
"Odin and Frigga are fine. Thor's shaken. He's got Son of Odin now—Mjolnir won't leave it," Ancient One said.
Bul-Kathos didn't grasp Thor's turmoil but missed his primal legendary. Nephalem were collectors or obsessive; his case was mild.
"I scouted. No signs of the Seven Demon Kings," Ancient One said, pulling food from a portal.
"Get internet up here," she added.
"For what? Takeout? Who delivers to a mountain?" Bul-Kathos scoffed.
Lasuk and Mokot drove by, their forgeries done. "At least entertain the ancestors. Internet kills boredom," Ancient One said, nostalgic for pre-web days of training and books. Recent years were livelier.
"No one's climbing here for a signal tower," Bul-Kathos said, watching Rorschach, now controlling his wrathflame, no longer a torch.
"Tony's due back. I'll ask if he'll take my mantle," Ancient One said.
"Retiring?" Bul-Kathos scratched his arm, sipping a new blood potion—his latest brew was stellar.
"Vishanti says I train a successor, then we fight for the Sorcerer Supreme title," she said.
"No leads on the demon kings?"
"Universe is too vast."
"They're cautious after one crisis," Bul-Kathos said.
Meanwhile, Tony Stark escaped his cave, riding in Rhodey's jeep, craving a New York cheeseburger.
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