"I protected HOPE!" Bul-Kathos bellowed, spitting blood onto her face as he slammed her into the ground.
"Jere Harash was your husband, your lover! Wynton was my comrade, my friend! I accepted his mistakes, and I was willing to bear that responsibility for a comrade! But what did he do?! Tell me, Raekor! When Jere Harash faced Rorschach, did he hesitate for even a single second?!"
Bul-Kathos roared at the grounded Raekor, wiping the wound on his chest. The black electrical burns left patterns like lightning strikes on his skin, making him look even more ferocious. Blood seeped from the dark wounds, and white frost clung to his torso—the price of Raekor's charge. Even Azmodan's belly armor couldn't withstand her impact.
Bul-Kathos took a violent step forward and kicked Raekor in the chest—a brutal "soccer kick," a move banned even in mortal combat sports because of its lethality. But Barbarian combat was never "civilized," and they were strong enough to take it.
THWACK!
Raekor skidded across the ground, leaving a long trail, blood staining the snow red. Her internal organs were heavily damaged, and she struggled to stand.
"I ended my lover with my own hands! But I don't care about that—he harmed the interests of the Barbarians! But I hate the way you handle things! Is managing things after they happen better than preventing them in the first place?!"
Raekor roared as she finally scrambled up, though blood continued to spill from her mouth. Several ribs were shattered, but Raekor would not yield. She charged again.
With every step, her shoulders swayed. Even Bul-Kathos couldn't tell which side she would strike with. The three elements flickered on her shoulders. By adjusting her footwork, she could choose her element at will.
Bul-Kathos crossed his arms before him, protecting his head with his hardened elbows. His elbows were like battering rams. He met her charge once more. His left elbow flashed with lightning; his right glowed with a white-hot radiance. Between them, a spike of ice formed, sharp enough to pierce Baal's defenses.
CRACK!
The sound of a heavy bone snapping echoed. Bul-Kathos's elbow shattered Raekor's left shoulder. Immediately, he extended his arm, grabbing the back of her neck and pinning her face-first into the snow.
He felt her body twitching, as if she were crying. He kept her pinned. The legendary Barbarian Raekor had never shown weakness to anyone. The three elements continued to leap between them; the impact of that collision hadn't faded. Elements helped Barbarians harm their foes, and they never vanished instantly.
"I know! Of course I know what Jere did! But I killed him myself!" Raekor sobbed as she struggled. Her body fought against Bul-Kathos's strength, but her movements were slowing.
"I gave him a chance! But the future of the Barbarians wasn't worth a single hair on your head in his eyes!" Bul-Kathos slowly let go. His left arm hung limp, swaying with gravity. Facing Raekor's full-strength charge, even he couldn't come away unscathed. His voice wasn't accusing; he was simply stating facts. Jere's choice was a mistake for the tribe and a personal injury to Bul-Kathos, but Bul-Kathos didn't blame him. One couldn't say a man was wrong for doing everything for the woman he loved. He was simply too resolute—he had flatly refused the path of survival Bul-Kathos had laid out for him. Jere Harash was a hero whose courage was entirely for his lover. He truly deserved the name of Hero.
"I know! But why didn't you stop him before it happened?! You knew! You knew what he would do!" Raekor slowly crawled up. Aside from her red-rimmed eyes, there was no trace of tears. She backed away, inch by inch, creating distance.
Bul-Kathos waved his hand; his forearm swung like a piece of wet clay. Worusk stood on the steps of the Immortal Throne, watching the battle in silence. His eyes were half-closed, hiding his thoughts.
Leoric was gone. Worusk felt it. He was sure Bul-Kathos felt it too. But there was no sadness or hesitation in the King's eyes. Bul-Kathos had done his best to protect his comrade; he just hadn't expected the gods of this world to have different ideas. After hearing Death's plea, he had foreseen this possibility. What he hadn't expected was Diablo siding with that god.
What price could Diablo have paid to move Oblivion—the natural enemy of the Skeleton King—to act? Bul-Kathos couldn't fathom it. But it had happened. Fury and venting after the fact were useless. All he could do now was bring a more painful death to Diablo and Oblivion.
The Barbarians and Oblivion were now enemies.
"Raekor, I cannot see fate!" Bul-Kathos turned his body, preparing for the next impact. Who could stop a Barbarian warrior from fighting for their will? Not even Worusk the Immortal King.
Bul-Kathos couldn't see fate; he wasn't a seer. That was how he had escaped fate's control and climbed to the pinnacle of the Barbarians. His fragmented soul allowed him to bypass the limits of the rules and ignore Terror. But he couldn't foresee events like Raekor could.
Raekor's body paused for a moment at his words, but she quickly resumed backing away. There had been three charging collisions now—four, counting the very first. This would be Raekor's final charge.
Raekor's Legend! Every charge integrated the power of all five skill runes: Fire, Lightning, Cold, and pure Physical. Every charge could erupt with ten times her strength, and every charge stacked a fifty-five-fold increase for her next fury-spending attack. She could stack this five times.
When Raekor finished her fifth charge, she would strike with Hammer of the Ancients or Seismic Slam. That strike would be an explosion 275 times more powerful than normal—enough to shatter Azmodan's skull in one blow.
Bul-Kathos was superior in the Furious Charge skill, but he hadn't mastered that specific 275-fold finisher. In pure Hammer of the Ancients, he was the strongest, while Raekor wouldn't even rank in the top three on the Holy Mountain. But that specific combo made her capable of crushing any enemy.
The new recruits and friends who had finally arrived at the scene watched the brutal battle with awe and terror. Rorschach's body trembled from the impact of that power. The sheer weight of it washed the dust from his resolve. The recruits were finally seeing a glimpse of Bul-Kathos's true power. The shock of a charge ten times Raekor's base strength was enough to make them feel suffocated.
"Raekor, you have two attacks left! Then, I will end this!" Bul-Kathos stretched his body. His muscles rippled like waves. Extreme tension didn't produce the most damage; muscles were like springs—the release after tension was when power was truly unleashed. Bul-Kathos could make his muscles soft as water or as hard as iron, so dense that even Diablo's claws couldn't mar his skin. Pure physical attacks meant nothing to him.
Two attacks. Then the curtain would fall. One would be the clash of charges; the other would be the ultimate, final end.
"Worusk! Wake the Secret Realm! Centered on Harrogath! Call it all forth! Let the battlefield filled with Barbarian blood and resolve descend! Our final strike will be unleashed there!" Bul-Kathos roared.
Raekor crouched low, preparing for her final charge.
"As you wish!" Worusk's eyes snapped open. His Immortal King's Call set glowed like a sun.
"Orek! And Zoltun Kulle, you bastard! Draw back the curtain on this stage!" Bul-Kathos laughed wildly.
The Holy Mountain began to vibrate. The pillars outside the Immortal Throne began to rotate. Golden light radiated outward, illuminating the entire mountain like high noon.
"Bul-Kathos! Protect me!" the ancestors shouted in unison.
"In the name of the Bull Tribe! In the name of the Great Raekor!" Kanuck roared from among the ancestors, his voice drowning out the others.
The other ancestors burst into laughter, drawing their weapons and raising them high.
"Kanuck! Let's see who cuts off more demon heads this time!" Madawc shouted.
"Shut up, Madawc! The three of us are guarding the gates of the mountain this time!" Talic grumbled.
Repeating past mistakes? That wasn't a Barbarian problem.
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