"Leoric, the choice is yours."
Bul-Kathos spoke without a ripple of emotion. He had nothing to say to Death's pleading tone.
What did Leoric truly desire?
Nothing more than a chance. A single opportunity to shed the hollow husk of the Skeleton King. The wise King of Khanduras was never meant to exist as a rotting piece of the undead. Though the title "Skeleton King" bore the word King, it was nothing more than a cruel mockery. How could a pile of withered bones in a tomb ever find peace?
Beyond the long, eternal dream of a slumber from which he would never wake, all he wanted was his past.
"You ask for my choice? Are you mocking my resolve?!" Leoric roared, his frame shuddering as his bones ground against one another with a dry, grating screech.
One step forward was the Burning Hells—a realm where one's only companion was eternal slaughter. Within those depths stood two dangerous and powerful Prime Evils, one of whom was currently staring him down with murderous intent.
Without looking back, Leoric stepped into the abyss.
The moment his body crossed the barrier formed by the power of Shadowfang, his skeletal remains ignited.
"I am the Skeleton King, but I am not the King of Skeletons!"
Leoric laughed hoarsely, the hellfire of the abyss surging over him in a violent conflagration. With every heavy, rhythmic step, the scorched earth of the Burning Hells beneath his iron boots turned into pale, blighted soil. His white bones began to char, staining a deep, soot-black.
Everywhere the Skeleton King walked, life was eroded by the stench of true death. On the burning floor of the Hells, only three of Leoric's footprints could exist at a time; by the time he took his fourth step, the first would vanish into the heat.
"Bul-Kathos, remember your promise! I will see Khanduras stand tall upon the earth once more!"
Leoric trailed his massive mace in one hand, leaving a pale, jagged scar across the ground. With his other hand, he gently adjusted his crown, the brilliant diamond set within it shimmering with a cold, defiant light.
"Perhaps I cannot be called a hero," Bul-Kathos replied, his voice calm amidst the flickering flames of his own power. "But at the very least, I never let a sacrifice go to waste."
The "Frozen Anger"—an energy that transcended the limits of mortal emotion—kept Bul-Kathos at his absolute peak. Even as he watched Leoric march into the Hells, the blade in his hand, Azurewrath, began to pulse with a radiant glow.
"A hero? Of course you aren't a hero!" Leoric's voice dripped with mockery. "Are you talking about the time you broke into my home, smashed my collection of jars, resurrected me just to kill me again, and then walked away after leaving a pile of worthless white-grade gear on the floor? I usually describe people like that as vagrants! Oh, yes... a 'hero' indeed."
Leoric turned his hollow gaze toward the Hells. "You lot dared to bring the warmth of life into my tomb, disturbing my eternal rest! You picked my old bones out of my kingdom piece by piece... all because you wanted me to become your strength when the time was right! Well, here I am, fulfilling my promise! Bul-Kathos!"
To Leoric, "heroes" were nothing more than a pack of self-righteous fools. No one had saved him. No one had saved his kingdom. They had simply intruded upon his peace.
"Leoric, I assume you are prepared?" Baal watched Leoric approach, his face a mask of utter boredom.
Baal did not value Leoric as an equal; the Skeleton King was merely a tool to facilitate the consumption of Mephisto. Would the Lord of Destruction care for the opinions of a tool?
"I will kill you," Baal stated flatly. "You cannot withstand the power of Destruction."
"And what of it? I am already a dead man," Leoric retorted. "When I am killed again, what do I become? More dead? Or do I simply... live again?! I tell you, Baal! There is only one thing this old bag of bones fears, and that is osteoporosis!"
Without warning, Leoric swung his mace. The massive, gnarled head of the weapon crashed into Baal's skull with a sickening, wet thud. Baal's cold head dented inward under the force of the blow.
In retaliation, Baal's thick, powerful arm clamped down on Leoric's head, his claws digging toward Leoric's only treasure.
"Get your filthy hands off my crown!"
Leoric unleashed his domain within the Burning Hells. In the very birthplace of Demon Lords, the chilling aura of the dead began to spread. It was an agonizing struggle, as difficult as a Demon Lord trying to manifest their power atop the holy peaks of Harrogath, but it was enough to force Baal to withdraw his claw.
Black King's March!
The giant mace swung with a frigid, ghostly air, bringing a momentary chill to the sweltering Hells. After three thunderous collisions, the mace tore through Baal's form and struck the ground. However, after a brief shudder, Baal's body knit itself back together.
"Leoric, you insult the Lords of Hell!"
Mephisto finally struck. Having been wounded—perhaps intentionally—by Baal earlier, the Lord of Hatred vented his fury upon the Skeleton King. His hateful claws, backed by the weight of a skeletal wing, raked across Leoric's ribs. The sound was like nails dragging across frosted glass, a screech so piercing it bred instant resentment in the soul.
"A madman's best choice is to stay quiet and wait for the end," Mephisto hissed, pinning Leoric to the ground. He thrust his serpent-like spine through Leoric's chest, impaling the Skeleton King against the floor of the Hells.
Leoric's white bones began to smoke and stain under the demonic fire.
"The peasants said I was mad... said I was paranoid! Is it truly paranoia to think everyone is out to kill you? Is it? Really? ...Oh, I suppose it is. But in the end, they did kill me, didn't they?"
Leoric used his mace to prop himself up, slowly straightening his skeletal frame. His ribs grated against the spine impaling him, making a horrific, strained creaking sound. Then, he reached out toward Mephisto with a hand wreathed in the mists of death.
A connection formed. Mephisto's own essence began to fuel Leoric's existence within the Hells.
Leoric would not submit. He had never submitted. He had never given up. He was still the wise King of Khanduras—and if he was to be the Skeleton King, then he would be Khanduras's King until the very end.
"Leoric," Bul-Kathos whispered, no longer watching the one-sided struggle. "If we meet again, I'll remember to knock before I come looking for you."
The battle was destined to be a cycle of Leoric being crushed and rising again. In the heart of the Hells, the most he could do was stall the two Prime Evils.
Death, the entity, had vanished from the gates the moment Leoric made his choice. She was powerless now. With eyes brimming with a liquid like tears, she retreated, her figure fading into the scorching air as she returned to the Realm of the Dead.
"Hah!"
Bul-Kathos let out a Primal Roar, his body wreathed in the Wrath of the Berserker. He brought Azurewrath down upon the shimmering Shadowfang barrier before him.
It was a strike as swift as lightning, as sudden as a thunderclap in a clear sky! He struck while Baal and Mephisto were distracted by Leoric, before the Demon Lords could hide Shadowfang deeper within the Hells.
He poured every ounce of his strength into the blow. The Burning Hells shook. The ground beneath his feet disintegrated as the blade of Azurewrath collided with the void-essence of Shadowfang.
"For the justice of the High Heavens!"
The air seemed to echo with the voice of Izual from the days when he was still an angel. Radiant light clashed against the abyssal vacuum of the dark blade. There was no sound, only the trembling of reality. Cracks spiderwebbed across the ground, but this time, no endless army of demons poured forth. It was like the moment the Great Conflict saw Diablo's foot stomp upon the Crystal Arch.
"Screw the High Heavens! This is for unyielding courage and human justice!" Bul-Kathos growled, his fury fueling the blade.
The towering silhouette of Izual manifested behind him, his ghostly hands gripping the hilt of Azurewrath alongside Bul-Kathos.
"Bul-Kathos, I hate humans! You are half-demon!" Izual's voice echoed.
"I hate angels even more! Always preaching, always hesitating. Only you and Imperius are worth looking at!"
Bul-Kathos's rage washed over the blade like a tidal wave. The cold aura transformed into a blinding flash of sword-light.
"Tch. Izual! Your legend is too weak!"
As the words left his mouth, Azurewrath shattered.
A crisp crack echoed. Half the blade, carried by the momentum of Bul-Kathos's fist, smashed through the final defense of the Burning Hells. The other half fell limply to the ground, dissolving into dust.
"Perhaps so. It is time I returned to the High Heavens," Izual's image began to dissipate. "Thank you, Barbarian. You have redeemed my soul."
"Get lost, Izual! You ruined my loot!" Bul-Kathos snapped, his Berserker form fading. He gritted his teeth as he tucked the hilt and the remaining shards of the legendary blade into his bag.
Izual's legend carried the stubbornness of an angel. Even though his body had been corrupted into a demonic minion, his soul had remained noble. Izual was free, but the legendary weapon had reached its end. It was the trophy Bul-Kathos had claimed by beheading the corrupted Izual, and now it was gone. An original legendary was not something a mere replica could replace.
"Bul-Kathos! You have made a mistake!" Baal roared, his hand still pinned to Leoric's skull, ignoring the Skeleton King's mace repeatedly smashing into his fingers.
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