The moment Bul-Kathos gripped Hit-Monkey's neck, he sensed demonic corruption. A mere monkey couldn't grasp ballistics or wind speed, even if it mimicked shooting. It had been altered by demons long ago.
So Bul-Kathos destroyed its body, leaving a corpse, and brought it back to see if it could persist in another form.
"No need to rush back. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mess is done," Bul-Kathos said casually. "Got any booze?"
He tossed his Endless Chaos Potion to Rumlow. The vial could teleport its user randomly, farther with worse injuries. Bul-Kathos' usual scrapes barely triggered it. Rumlow, lucky, only shifted three meters. Any farther, and Bul-Kathos might've had to leap out a window to catch him.
Like Orak of the Bear Tribe, who, after defeating the demon Maul, drank the potion while gravely wounded and appeared in Hammerdin's lair, staring down a sore-backed rat. Swarmed and killed brutally, Orak took Hammerdin with him, but his death was grim.
"I'll go buy some," Coulson said, trusting Bul-Kathos. As an exposed agent on the run, how else could he return to S.H.I.E.L.D.?
Bul-Kathos tossed Hit-Monkey's corpse onto a table, pondering how to preserve its existence. A monkey with near-human intellect and combat skills wasn't common—not just ten pounds of meat paste.
He glanced outside. "Matt! Your meat sauce splattered my car!"
"You can't expect a blind guy to wash it—I can't see the dirt!" Matt laughed, smashing the last ninja and strolling over.
"Why'd you only give us axes? I think blunt weapons suit me better."
"Every barbarian starts with an axe, unless you borrow a spear from Kormac," Bul-Kathos grumbled.
"Is Rumlow badly hurt?" Matt whispered.
"Louder, Matt! You're a barbarian! What can't you say boldly?" Bul-Kathos slapped his shoulder.
"Fine! Rumlow's messed up, nearly died, but he's fixed and coming back."
"What're you gonna do with me?" Bucky yelled, rubbing off the cloth gagging him.
"Why'd you gag him?" Bul-Kathos asked.
"He was noisy, yammering about 'Steve, I failed Howard.' I don't like distractions in a fight," Matt said, tucking his mace under his arm.
"Maybe I should've handed you to Mokot instead of Raiko," Bul-Kathos mused, his expression odd.
Matt's chatter resembled Mokot's from their early days—talkative, hating noise in battle beyond war cries and clashing weapons. But after Tyrael razed the Sacred Mountain, Mokot grew silent.
"I'd rather train with Raiko. She was nearly your equal," Matt said.
"Raiko told you that? She was born decades after I hit the battlefield. She never saw Raiko's power," Bul-Kathos said, stomping lightly to flatten the blood-soaked ground, then sitting.
"Raiko was older than Volusk. Few ancestors saw her strength, and none could measure her against me. They just know I'm stronger."
"I need a drink," Bul-Kathos added, craving booze.
"At first, you seemed too lofty for us. Why so down-to-earth now?" Matt laughed.
"What's the point of airs? Useless against demons. Besides Volusk, which barbarian postures? No one knows when death comes—empty pride's worthless. You recruits, if you weren't barbarian seedlings, I wouldn't bother with you. Always causing trouble."
"You're just restless, hating to see good people die and scum live," Matt said, tapping his mace on the ground.
"This world's nice. Feels like I lived in one like it—no demons, no angels."
"I don't care about your dreams. I just want to smash every jerk's skull," Bul-Kathos said.
Matt's hammer clanged on the ground.
"Dreaming's good. Better than swinging weapons in your sleep," Bul-Kathos said, his tone softening for the first time.
A golden portal opened. Ancient One leapt out, holding a young mage by the neck.
"Bul-Kathos, remember offering to discipline my wayward student?" The mage, rolling his eyes, gasped for air.
"I also said you're barbarian-like, yet you haven't braved the secret realm," Bul-Kathos shot back, squinting.
"He's yours. Train him hard. His name's Casilius." Ancient One grabbed a stool from the portal, sitting beside Bul-Kathos.
Casilius landed in a blood puddle. "What's this fool? Weaker than the monkey," Bul-Kathos remarked, noting the Dark Dimension's taint on him—neither evil nor good, but resolute.
"Screech!" Hit-Monkey's soul appeared at Bul-Kathos' "praise," grabbing his head and tugging his hair.
"No lice up there, dumb monkey," Bul-Kathos said, pulling the soul off and shoving it into Matt's arms.
(End of Chapter)
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