"I need to see my teacher!" Cassilias roared, swinging his axe.
"Oh," Kanuk replied, wiping his Aegis Pauldrons, ignoring the mage's demands.
Cassilias's shouts didn't disrupt his precise axe work. Barbarians bellowed in battle; Kanuk wasn't fazed.
"I said, my teacher!"
"Oh," Kanuk said dismissively.
Cassilias wasn't bright, which suited Kanuk. The Bull Tribe's chieftain wasn't a thinker—his reckless style weakened the tribe post-Reiko, though it survived. Kanuk donned his pauldrons, swung a black bread, and muttered, "Feels good." Unlike Matt, who used iron rods with finesse, Kanuk chose bread to avoid killing Cassilias, whose body wasn't as durable as Luke's.
Bulkatho watched from a rock, seeing the talkative mage become a warrior. Not heartwarming, just nostalgic. Before Mephisto's arrival, barbarians trained with ancestors at New Sescheron. Now, only a few remained.
Matt's aura was steady—no danger. Nephalem blood let Bulkatho teleport to any barbarian. A foe worthy of their fury was no bad thing, especially one lacking menace.
"Got a good punching bag. Interested?" Ancient One said, smiling.
Cassilias, her troublesome disciple, had magical talent but lacked wit. The barbarian path suited him better. She'd chosen a target Bulkatho wouldn't destroy—a warrior of order and justice.
"Payment for your apprentice?" Bulkatho stood, stretching.
"He was a warrior, loved battle," Ancient One said, offering rare liquor.
She meant Odin, Asgard's king, who'd shielded Earth often. His body, strained by growing power, needed sleep to delay death. Weaker than Ancient One, now Dark Dimension's ruler, Odin's full might was still fearsome.
"Sounds decent," Bulkatho said, taking the bottle. To barbarians, "warrior" was praise.
His voice echoed. "He's Odin, Asgard's king," Ancient One added, smirking.
"Odin? Hammer's dad?" Bulkatho pulled a lightning-wreathed hammer from his pack—Son of Odin. Its warm, yellow head pulsed. A common find in Sanctuary, usually scrapped, but he held the original. It unleashed lightning and boosted electric power, unhindered by wielder strength.
Ancient One stared, surprised. Its aura outshone Mjolnir, resembling Thor himself. "Maybe…" she muttered, sensing a secret. Did Odin birth a hammer before Thor?
"I've always wondered how he birthed a hammer," Bulkatho said, puzzled. Human births were head-first; was it hammerhead or handle?
Ancient One, amused, agreed. She knew Odin's aura well. She messaged him: spar privately. Unlike Dormammu, Odin deserved courtesy. Challenging an old warrior took finesse.
(Chapter End)
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