The towering Holy Mountain of Harrogath began to shift, inch by agonizing inch.
A deluge of cerulean radiance swept across the world. Before the eyes of the gathered, the Arreat Holy Mountain—that grand and majestic sanctuary etched into every Barbarian's soul—began to manifest.
The mountain was a titan, a rugged colossus of stone. A landscape of pure white, draped in eternal snow, materialized from the void. This was the manifestation of the Barbarian ancestors' collective heart-image, accompanied by a chorus of thunderous war cries that merged into a single, deafening roar.
The gates of the Holy Mountain remained tightly sealed, but the Three Ancients appeared instantaneously outside them. Standing before them was an infinite, roiling tide of the demonic host.
"So, it's this moment in time? I recall being quite dead by this point," Madawc remarked, rubbing his chin as he stared into the distance. He had expected the reconstructed battle to begin at the very start of the siege.
"It's not so bad. At least this time I don't have to face an endless swarm of demons alone," Talic said, glancing at Korlic, whose face had turned an uncharacteristic shade of green. If memory served, during the height of the original battle, Korlic had been locked in a life-and-death struggle with the Maiden of Lust in some dark corner of the fortress.
"Madawc, if you dare vanish from my sight this time, you won't want to know what I'll do to you!" Korlic growled, tightening his grip on his battle-axe. That particular battle had left him with psychological scars that ran deep.
"When does the show start? I'm getting impatient!" Madawc ignored Korlic's threat, his voice laced with a lazy, dangerous edge. They were waiting for Bul-Kathos to signal the official commencement of the war.
"We have to wait for the fight between Bul-Kathos and Raekor to conclude, at the very least. The final clash is upon them," Talic said, his gaze drifting. He wanted to witness the end of that duel personally, rather than standing like a fool at the gates, staring at the hideous, laughing faces of the demons.
"I'm going to go look—"
"Look at your damn self!"
Madawc didn't get to finish before Korlic's fist connected with the back of his head. The Three Ancients were only at their strongest when they fought as one. Losing even one would turn the tide of the battle against them.
"Raekor, let us begin!"
The most ancient and primordial power began to shimmer across Bul-Kathos's frame. Ripples of force distorted the air around him, making the frigid mountain air boil like a cauldron. Fury leaped and danced in his wake like living embers.
"Bul-Kathos, this is the path you chose!"
Raekor's shoulders dropped. One of her feet sank deep into the frozen earth. She was anchoring herself, gathering every ounce of her essence for the final charge. As for when that world-shattering finishing blow would land, that depended entirely on her choice.
"Recruits! Friends of the Barbarians! Follow me now!"
The old General, Qual-Kehk, stood upon a high vantage point, roaring at Rumlow and his team, who were still paralyzed by the sheer scale of the transformation. As his voice echoed, the sound of ringing metal erupted across the mountain.
On every weapon rack, hand axes, heavy swords, maces, and spears began to vibrate in sympathy. Qual-Kehk, the man every Barbarian called "General," commanded the collective martial might of the Holy Mountain. The fortress was solidifying, its time-worn walls restoring themselves to their pristine, formidable state.
It was time to set the lines.
Ancestors whose names had been lost to history strode forward, their favored weapons slung across their backs. Their eyes burned with a volatile mixture of hatred and hope.
Was this a battle for redemption? No. They knew exactly what this represented. A battle that had already ended was being reawakened—not so they could bask in the hollow glory of a phantom victory, but because the future of the Barbarians was staked on this moment. This was the ladder Bul-Kathos would climb to reach a higher state of existence.
"Is this the battle? I can feel my blood boiling!"
Lia (May Parker) patted Matthew Murdock on the shoulder and marched toward General Qual-Kehk. This was the scene she had hallucinated a thousand times—wishing she could have stood in that original battle and turned the tide with her own hands. A hero's dream. And now, that dream was becoming reality.
"I want to see the outcome of the fight between the King and Raekor," Matthew said, hesitating. Beside him, Rumlow had already followed Qual-Kehk in silence.
"Matthew, you could ask any ancestor here for the result of that fight. But no matter how many you ask, you will only receive one answer: Bul-Kathos is victory," Luke Cage said. He gripped Jessica Jones's hand and strode away.
"Even if you ask Kanuck himself, he would tell you the same thing," Casillas added, shaking his head as he ran to catch up. Even Kanuck, who loved Raekor more than life itself and lived for the glory of the Bull Tribe, did not believe Bul-Kathos could taste the bitterness of defeat.
"Excuse me, but how am I supposed to charge my suit?" Tony Stark, already encased in his Mark armor, swayed as he followed Larzuk.
"Follow me. I was in charge of logistics back then. I know exactly where the energy sources are," Larzuk said, pausing briefly to clasp a heavy hand on Tony's shoulder. He leaned in and whispered, "In the worst-case scenario, even Auntie Mala will pick up a weapon and join the fray. But until every other ancestor is dead, this mountain will remain the safest place in existence. As long as even one recruit draws breath, the demons will not set foot past the gates."
Tony shrugged, following Larzuk toward the forge. The fires were already roaring, and soon, an endless stream of shattered gear would be arriving for repair.
"Mr. Stark, what do we do?" Bruce Banner asked nervously, clutching Betty Ross's hand. He knew the Secret Realm was expanding, but he hadn't expected to be thrust onto a battlefield so abruptly. The scent of danger was overwhelming.
"If you don't want to fight, then stay in the back where it's quiet!" Worusk said, passing them with a look of disdain. To the Immortal King, this battle held no personal value. His job was simply to stand by and eject those who were too weak to survive before they actually died.
Normally, Bul-Kathos or Raekor would handle that task. But looking at them now, Worusk doubted Raekor would have any strength left once the Secret Realm fully opened. Even Bul-Kathos might be severely wounded, a thought that made Worusk irritable.
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