Bul-Kathos ultimately chose to return to the Sacred Mountain to adjust his condition.
He needed sufficient time to adapt to Andariel's sudden, shrieking cries.
Thus, at this moment on the Sacred Mountain, Bul-Kathos sat before the Great Gate, watching Madawc build snowmen. The area was filled with various snow sculptures of Madawc striking boastful poses.
This was likely Madawc's form of tenderness; he was doing his best to perform with these exaggerated postures.
Bul-Kathos's poor condition could not be hidden from these Ancients.
When he returned to the Sacred Mountain bearing Andariel's aura, these powerful ancestors understood his choice.
Without exception, Madawc's sculptures were designed to highlight his own strength, while the antagonist in these snowy tableaus was always Talic, who had smashed his work earlier.
There were already seven or eight sculptures depicting scenes like Talic surrendering with hands raised, Talic lying face down in the dirt, or Talic being trampled underfoot.
Fortunately, Talic had not yet returned to the Great Gate of the Sacred Mountain.
Otherwise, Madawc wouldn't have minded using a spectacular brawl to help Bul-Kathos lift his spirits.
This was one of the few ways Madawc could think of to comfort his friend.
"So, you did it in the end."
Vorusk stood in the distance, speaking in a hushed tone. Behind him stood Thor, who had already been beaten three times and was now drifting in and out of consciousness.
In a short span of time, Thor had attempted to flee the Sacred Mountain more than once, and each time, Vorusk had grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him back.
Vorusk wasn't in the mood to ask about Thor's thoughts.
What was that saying? "You run once, I catch you once"?
Vorusk looked at Bul-Kathos, who was now wearing the gauntlets of the Wrath of the Wastes set. His expression appeared somewhat desolate.
Of the heroes who had attempted to imprison the Seven Evils of Hell, none had truly succeeded thus far.
Tal Rasha, Aidan—these heroes all ultimately became failures.
Although Bul-Kathos was somewhat different, Vorusk still felt the outlook was not optimistic.
"How many more Rifts does that Rorschach need to clear?"
Raekor's raspy voice rang out. She stood beside Vorusk, gazing at Bul-Kathos with him.
No one could say for sure how long Bul-Kathos could persist in sealing the Seven Evils, nor could anyone guarantee that Rorschach would grow to Bul-Kathos's level.
But right now, Rorschach was the only one who had appeared capable of shouldering the responsibility of becoming the next cage for the Demon Lords.
They knew this was completely unfair to Rorschach, just as it had been for Bul-Kathos all those years ago.
Sacrifice is noble, but for the person designated to inherit this responsibility, it is also sorrowful.
The compensation Bul-Kathos received was insufficient to make up for what he lost, and it would be the same for Rorschach in the end.
"Another thirteen or fourteen times, and he will be able to meet Leoric through Bul-Kathos's memories," Vorusk whispered.
Raekor only nodded slightly upon hearing this.
Raekor would have preferred to shoulder this burden herself; she had no desire to see others become sacrificial lambs to sorrow.
But she had died long before Leoric was even born, so she was powerless in this matter.
"Just one gauntlet of the Wrath of the Wastes is enough to suppress an extremely weakened Andariel. There is no need to worry for the time being."
Raekor crossed her arms over her chest, then turned and flipped Talic, who was intending to return to guard the gate, onto the ground.
The reason Talic hadn't been able to return to the Great Gate was precisely because Raekor was blocking his path.
Bul-Kathos was still gradually adapting to Andariel's influence; it was not a suitable time to provoke his rage.
To prevent a fight from breaking out between Madawc and Talic in front of Bul-Kathos, Raekor had already flipped Talic over dozens of times.
Talic wanted to fulfill his duty of guarding the Sacred Mountain's gate, but he also didn't want to appear before Bul-Kathos right now.
So, he kept advancing at the slowest possible pace, only to be silently flipped over by Raekor.
This was the choice he made between fulfilling his duty and considering his friend, Bul-Kathos.
The Three Ancients were about the same age as Bul-Kathos, and they were his best friends.
Although they didn't know the full truth of the matter, they were not oblivious.
They simply trusted that their friend could face these challenges.
"Wrath of the Wastes, Might of the Earth, Legacy of Raekor, Immortal King's Call, Horde of the Ninety Savages... that's only five Legendary Sets. At most, they can suppress five Demon Lords restored to their prime. A portion of Bul-Kathos's soul can temporarily block one more, but what about the remaining one?"
Vorusk's eyes held a trace of melancholy.
This was the strategy he and Bul-Kathos had discussed from the very beginning, but that was the extent of it.
Sets like the Sage's Journey or Blackthorne's Battlegear, while full of legend and glory, could not achieve this task, even in their most primal forms.
Because their power could not resonate with Barbarians.
In fact, these sets, usable by anyone, had completely lost the traces of their Primal Ancient origins.
The split soul inherited Bul-Kathos's past, but trying to block a Demon Lord for a long period would be a stretch.
Including the five Primal Barbarian sets, every single piece of Legendary equipment was enough to give a Barbarian the power to wrestle with the Seven Evils. This was the reason Bul-Kathos could use all the sets unconditionally.
Otherwise, why would sets capable of creating five separate powerhouses all be given to Bul-Kathos to dominate?
Even Sonya only possessed replicas forged by Bul-Kathos.
"Diablo alone drove Leoric mad. I can't think of a better way."
Raekor touched the armor on her body, hesitating slightly.
Leoric was originally noble enough, yet the machinations of just a single Demon Lord drove him completely insane.
She wasn't sure if Bul-Kathos was willing to accept her Glorious Legend; Raekor's set had already been refused by Bul-Kathos once.
"What if we wake up that Mad King and seal him into the Black Soulstone together? Do you think that has potential?"
Vorusk rubbed his chin, then turned around and delivered a stone-shattering hammer blow that knocked the sneaking Thor unconscious on the ground.
"You think you can persuade that lunatic?"
Raekor rolled her eyes.
The will of Leoric, the Skeleton King, was indeed worthy of awe, but this was not a feasible method.
"Back then, I wanted Bul-Kathos to seal me inside. Logically speaking, since I could suppress the Seven Evils so much they wouldn't dare show their heads, I was qualified to seal and suppress one Demon Lord. But he refused. He would rather split his own soul," Vorusk mumbled.
"If he had done that, the Barbarians would have been finished, you arrogant yet humble bastard," Raekor accused in a disparaging tone.
Vorusk, who challenged Death itself, brought lasting trouble to the Barbarians because of his arrogance.
Vorusk, who feared death after becoming a spirit and sat motionless on his throne every day, was never worshipped by Raekor.
Raekor respected the Immortal King who dared to challenge Death itself, but she never showed respect to the Vorusk who maintained a boring sense of dignity.
"I'm already dead. To be honest, I was afraid when I faced Death."
Vorusk pinched his bracer, speaking with disappointment.
Vorusk, who had never known fear from the moment of his birth, felt fear for the first time when facing Death.
Because of the hesitation born from fear, Vorusk died in battle.
"You were standing at the door of godhood back then. If only you had won..."
Raekor sighed, walking toward Bul-Kathos.
"I believe the First Ancestor was no weaker than that gloomy fellow Rathma. That is why I hesitated."
Vorusk cracked his neck, grabbed Thor by the belt from the snow, and dragged the completely brainless fool toward the Elder Sanctum.
(End of Chapter)
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