"Ha, I didn't expect Rumlow's 'help' to be this much trouble. Gotta raise my rates—lawyer time ain't cheap."
Matt swung his mace, smashing the last enemy's skull, then wiped the blood off with his suit jacket.
His once-pristine suit was now a blood-stained mess from the constant fighting.
"Not bad at all."
Bul-Kathos glanced at the corpses and the few maimed agents still groaning, his face expressionless.
Death to the irredeemable was his creed.
Unlike Taric, he lacked the vision to see potential in the hopeless.
So he approved of Matt Murdock's actions.
Matt's ability to sense good and evil was starting to mirror Bul-Kathos's own style, earning the lawyer a nod of respect from the barbarian who'd once doubted him.
"I'm still not strong enough. Let's wrap this up quick—I want to train with Ancestor Rhyker again."
Matt was slightly winded but clearly exhilarated.
It was like the first time he'd walked out of a secret realm with absolute dominance.
"I thought you'd be like Taric, thinking even the worst scum deserved a chance."
Bul-Kathos roughly snapped off the neck of a wine bottle and tossed it to Matt.
"You're more my speed than Taric."
He eyed Matt, nodding in approval.
"I thought I'd be like Ancestor Taric too, sparing everyone, or at least letting them live."
Matt caught the bottle and chugged the red wine he'd bought.
"But in a fight, the stench of those guys' evil pisses me off. How could I hold back?"
"That's why Taric's the gatekeeper of the Holy Mountain. Saving others is easier for him than saving himself. He always picks the hardest path."
Bul-Kathos reached into the furnace, pulling out the fully forged Baalza pendant and tossing it to the ground.
Now, Baalza could only speak when questioned—otherwise, it was just a trinket.
The flames had done enough damage, so he didn't need to cut his arm for a blood vial.
"When you've got time, I'll introduce you to Rayko."
Bul-Kathos waved a hand, stirring a gust that snuffed out the furnace's flames.
"Perfect. Ancestor Rhyker said if no other ancestors picked me, she'd introduce me to Rayko herself."
Matt ditched his usual humility, sounding more like a bold barbarian warrior.
"Hey, Bul-Kathos, why doesn't my blood vial taste like liquor?"
Among barbarians, only the dead or kings were honored with titles. The dead were called Ancestors; kings became the Immortal King—until they died, like Volusk.
"Drink your blood vial, then pour in your favorite liquor. It'll taste like that from then on."
Bul-Kathos stretched his arms, finishing the last sip.
"Your next wave of enemies is here. Go fight."
He turned and headed upstairs to his bedroom. The scene outside reminded him too much of Hell.
His room was stark—a wooden plank for a bed, where he flopped down to rest.
Beside it, a small table held neatly arranged liquor bottles.
This was Bul-Kathos's hobby in his downtime. With no punching bags around, he'd forge iron or stack bottles to pass the time.
"Never a dull moment. Guess I'll charge top-tier lawyer rates then. I am the best, after all."
Matt cracked his neck, yanked off his tie, and hefted the mace as he strode outside.
"I'm the top-tier lawyer who can fight, you scum!"
Matt swung the mace like a golf club, shattering a Hand ninja's katana and turning him to ash.
From the third wave, Hand ninjas had been mixing in with the agents.
Matt had no clue how the Hand got tangled up with them, but whatever—time to fight!
The Hand's ninjas conveniently turned to ash when killed, saving cleanup.
"Ha!"
Matt Murdock, newborn barbarian warrior and lawyer.
Like he said, he was the best!
The top-tier brawler in the lawyer game!
Meanwhile, on Mount Harrogath…
"So, Ancestor Maddoc chose death himself?"
Luke Cage hesitated, staring at Vhydar.
"What is this place?!"
Jessica Jones's voice cut in, yelling at Luke.
"She climbed the Holy Mountain that fast?"
Luke was stunned.
He remembered nearly starving on his own trek up with Matt.
"Ha, she's way more determined than you two were."
Vhydar sized up Jessica Jones.
"Hey, folks, we've got a new prospect!"
He shouted, and a crowd of battle-hardened Ancestors materialized, startling Jessica.
"Ha, a little girl with a coward's heart? How'd she climb the Holy Mountain?"
"Kalga, not everyone can be fearless like you."
"Qual-Kehk! Barbarians don't need cowards! Have you forgotten that fool Nilasek?"
Two Ancestor barbarians bickered.
Kalga, the barbarian vanguard, once skewered three mighty demons with his war banner, grinding their remains into pulp underfoot, a cornerstone of barbarian glory.
Leader of the Night Without Stars campaign, a fearless trailblazer.
Qual-Kehk, general of the Holy Mountain's guards, paced eternally by the town's central fountain, calm and seasoned.
Every guard revered him. His life was spent directing barbarians against demons, a rare master of large-scale combat.
As for Nilasek, when the elders sacrificed their lives for magic, he alone survived.
He later became Baal's lackey, only to die at barbarian hands.
Since then, Kalga despised cowards.
"Look, can you give me the strength to uphold justice?"
Jessica Jones mustered her courage, shouting.
"Enough, Olga. You're sounding like that spiteful jerk Nilasek."
A barbarian, even bigger than Bul-Kathos, pushed through.
"She climbed the Holy Mountain this fast—her resolve's beyond question. I'll take this kid."
His words sent the other Ancestors vanishing.
They wanted heirs too, but they knew they couldn't compete with this giant.
Jessica was led away, leaving Luke staring blankly.
Her shout had struck a chord in him.
"Vhydar, who was that Ancestor?"
Luke turned, eager for an answer.
"Orlak, leader of the Great Bear Tribe, the only barbarian called the God of War."
Vhydar didn't keep him guessing.
"See the weapon at his waist? That's his legend—Warblade!"
(End of Chapter)
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