"Ha! Is that how Korlic died? Did he really use that thing to skewer the Maiden of Lust?"
Everyone on the mountain could see the images within Bul-Kathos's hammer—the final resting place of the ancestors' glory. The Hammer of the Ancients drew upon their collective power.
"I smashed her head in with my elbow!" Korlic roared from the gate.
Talic shook his head. The mural of his own death was accurate enough. "After you smashed her head, did you... move again?"
Korlic shut his mouth. He knew he was going to be famous for all the wrong reasons after today. This joke would last for years.
"Get ready! The demons are moving!" Madawc coughed, drawing his weapons. His shaking shoulders betrayed how hard he was trying to stifle his laughter.
"Sound the drums of war!"
Bul-Kathos's massive hammer descended like a collapsing sky toward Raekor. Raekor swung her heavy mace upward with everything she had.
The two hammers collided. Bul-Kathos's hammer shattered instantly, the murals scattering across the mountain like stardust. Raekor's mace didn't slow down, hurtling toward Bul-Kathos's jaw.
"Raekor, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I made you make the cruelest choice. But besides you, no one had the right to end Jere Harash."
Bul-Kathos whispered, standing his ground. He didn't even flinch. His aura of fury expanded rapidly, converging into the hands of Zoltun Kulle.
Bul-Kathos won—because Raekor was finally free.
"Bul-Kathos! Hurry up and become the Immortal King! I've had enough of that cowardly fool Worusk!"
Raekor let go. Her hammer dissolved into light, merging with the falling snow. The snowflakes across the sky became crystal clear. Only then did the world-shaking boom of the impact finally ripple outward.
Raekor fell heavily to the ground. The snow gathered her in like a pair of gentle hands. Bul-Kathos watched, but he did not move to catch her. There was only one person's embrace that Raekor belonged in, and that person had long since merged with Harrogath.
"Jere Harash... farewell," Raekor murmured. The levee broke; her tears flowed freely.
"Wynton, the wine I hid is in your chest. You just won't ever get the chance to open it," Bul-Kathos whispered.
Raekor mourned Jere Harash. Bul-Kathos mourned Wynton—the man who always complained that a merchant's income was too low, yet admitted it was better than being an adventurer.
Bul-Kathos pulled out a bottle of strong liquor and downed it. He didn't use a potion to heal his wounds. These scars were the witness of the burden he had taken from Raekor. He would let time heal them.
"I may be a coward, but I am the most defiant Immortal King there is!" Worusk laughed as he left the scene. He had fulfilled his duty as a witness. Now, he would fulfill his duty as the Immortal King. For the future of the Barbarians, the King would lead from the front.
"Is this what you wanted?" Zoltun Kulle asked, looking at the fury and glory in his hands. He thrust the energy into the stone pillars behind him.
Leoric was gone. Bul-Kathos would not be silent. This fury was enough for Zoltun Kulle to give Oblivion a few "surprises."
The world needs to fear the Nephalem, Kulle thought. He was a pure Nephalem. Everything he did was to make his kind the masters of the world, standing higher than the gods themselves. "Human" would become a title more noble than "God." Angels and demons would tremble. Who said humans had to follow the arrangements of heaven? Kulle held such notions in utter contempt.
"Warriors! ARE YOU READY?!" Qual-Kehk roared before the assembled ancestors, swinging his massive axe.
"I've heard this speech before, Qual-Kehk!" General Karga shouted, slamming a fist against his chest.
"Let's go! I can't wait for these demons to see the majesty of Arreat!" Kor looked at the head of his mace, The Gavel of Judgment. Cold fury expanded within him. Hatred? Barbarians never "remembered" hatred; it had long ago transformed into a crushing guilt over their own past impotence. He wasn't fighting for revenge—he was fighting for the glory of the next Immortal King.
The King was invincible. Even in a gamble.
"Talic and the others have already started! Move out!" Kotur rolled his thick neck. Cassius cracked his knuckles in a rhythmic explosion. "They're holding the gate; we're going straight for Baal and Mephisto!"
"Who's looking after the recruits and the friends?" Olungus asked, gripping his Tribal Blade. He still hadn't returned the gear he borrowed from Bul-Kathos. Perhaps the King forgot, or perhaps Olungus forgot. Barbarians tended to forget "insignificant" things.
"That's not your concern. Just crush Baal with the biggest rock you can find!" Qual-Kehk shouted.
The roar of an engine erupted. Mokot and Anda were already tearing toward the gates in a pickup truck.
"Faster! Faster, Mokot! I can't wait to grind those bastards into mincemeat!" Anda roared.
"YOU! SHUT UP! OR! YOU DRIVE!" Mokot yelled back.
"Anda! If you trick little Mala into thinking that demon meat is beef again, I'll twist your head off and roast it!" Heler shouted after them. "Little Mala" referred to Auntie Mala. The kind old woman had grown up under Heler's watchful eye; he had always looked after her like his own child.
"Heler, I'm 'Old Mala' now," Mala said softly, tucking a hand axe into her belt. She wasn't staying behind as a doctor this time. The ancestors didn't need doctors; they needed more soldiers. Dead men don't need medicine, and the living weren't about to stop fighting to seek treatment.
Among the demonic horde, Leah, Nadja, and Danny remained still as the army began its slow advance toward the mountain. Nadja held her son tightly, barely daring to breathe. Terror filled her, and the only thing keeping her sane was the unconscious child in her arms.
"Don't worry. They won't hurt you," Leah said slowly. A divine light was slowly flickering back to life in her eyes. Diablo had stopped manipulating her will, but the power of Terror within the Skysplitter still bound her soul. But for how much longer?
"Who... who are you?" Nadja whispered. A massive Tremor demon lumbered past, its sheer size making her shake.
"Just stay quiet," Sin-Leah said, her pitch-black eyes settling on Nadja before she looked away. The kindness of Leah and the malice of the Prime Evil were interweaving. She was confused, caught in a Secret Realm where the glory of the Barbarians had just saturated the world.
"Do... do you know Mephisto?" Nadja asked tremulously. Mephisto was the most powerful name she could think of. Danny was her child, but he was also the child of the Lord of Hatred.
Leah turned back to her, then looked at the unconscious Danny. "A demon's child? You are the mother of a demon spawn?" She connected the dots, but she didn't understand how this human related to the Lord of Hatred.
"This is his son..."
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