The potion issuance process didn't take much time; it was just a special trip to the Elders' Temple.
During this period, Natasha and Hawkeye had roughly grasped how to use waypoints and portals. If things went smoothly, they'd master it in a few days.
"Volusk, how's it going over there?"
Bul-Kathos's beard twitched as he asked Volusk, rolling his shoulders to shake off boredom.
"That kid? I threw him into a secret realm. From the look of him, there's power in his body."
Volusk straightened up on the shattered throne, saying casually.
"You mean that thunder power? Don't tell me you can't see he's not far off from Odin's son's hammer—he's still a bit short compared to that hammer."
Bul-Kathos glanced at Rorschach walking over and chatted with Volusk.
"Ancestor Bul-Kathos, I want to enter the secret realm."
Rorschach opened his mouth demanding battle in the realm. This young man's pursuit of strength was far stronger than other recruits.
"You sure you want to go now? I can tell you in advance: this time, you'll face a replica of Leoric, the first manufactured Holy Order King."
Bul-Kathos frowned seriously at Rorschach.
Back in the day, Bul-Kathos had encountered a tough demon at this stage—not Leoric himself, but named Holy Order King! Diablo's prototype after stealing powers from other Hell Lords. No life desecration, but still a pain.
Even as Diablo's trial product, it was much tougher than Rorschach's previous foes. Especially since this Holy Order King had mastered a sliver of Leoric's power in Diablo's imitation: "Black King's March" and "Bone Strike."
That style of unleashing pure Skeleton King force wasn't easy to withstand.
This Holy Order King was far from the later powerful ones—just Diablo's experiment on Leoric.
Even for current Rorschach, facing that monster was extremely dangerous.
"Can you tell me more?"
Rorschach looked at Bul-Kathos, fiddling with his hand axe. Though the recruit axe felt light now, luck hadn't given him better.
"Black King's March and Bone Strike. When you see the big skeleton prepping a big wind-up attack, dodge. Only approach after it swings the scepter three times or stands still for two breaths."
Bul-Kathos hesitated briefly, then shared. Rorschach just needed to reach that secret for unimpeded growth. Strength was inevitable.
He only wanted to ensure Rorschach didn't die young before then.
"Black King's March" was one of Leoric's trump cards: three consecutive Mad King Scepter swings, each carrying world-destroying force.
If not for the stiff weakness from power Leoric himself couldn't fully control, he'd have had a shot at flipping Diablo.
The Hell Seven outpowered Leoric raw, but Skeleton King Leoric's greatest strength was desecrating life itself.
Anything alive couldn't ignore it. Whether Bul-Kathos or Archdemon Diablo, one hit left hard-to-heal wounds.
Even against this trial Holy Order King, that life-desecrating aura was just a whiff.
Still dangerous, but not certain death.
"In that case, let me go."
Rorschach glanced at Bul-Kathos and said resolutely.
Bul-Kathos walked to the Elders' Temple door; Volusk shooed others away. Bul-Kathos's realms weren't for onlookers—best not even nearby.
Bul-Kathos punched the pillar: golden-yellow portal with bloody red.
Rorschach entered wordlessly, ready for the challenge.
Not long till he learned the truth—at most half a year; at his growth rate, he'd touch that unspoken realm.
"Bul-Kathos, no offense, but I have to ask: you sure he's the one you're waiting for?"
Volusk eyed the unusual portal, whispering.
"I could go on like this forever, but I can't grow stronger. Massail needs facing, and now, only I remain."
Bul-Kathos's eyes drooped, muttering to himself.
In Sanctuary, even if Bul-Kathos couldn't beat Hell Lords, no big worry—Nephalem weren't just him.
But facing Massail for real, seemingly only he had the chance now.
"Tch, you always worry too much. Or think Rathma can't stall Massail? Or only one Bul-Kathos in the world?"
Volusk said nonchalantly on purpose.
The Bul-Kathos before him inherited the first ancestor's Wasteland set, but not the primal twin blades.
Damaged in Massail fight: near-perfect replicas.
If he'd legend-imbued his own, no destruction.
Primal legendaries: indestructible.
"Don't care, but Massail's coming soon—Rathma himself ain't as kind as his priests."
Bul-Kathos shook his head, recalling why necromancers were unpopular.
Adventurer: "I lost my brother, I swear vengeance!"
Companions oath together.
"My sword with you!"
"And my magic!"
"My fists!"
Necromancer steps up: what to say?
"And your dead brother!"
Most couldn't accept necromancer ways.
Beyond creepy combat, their unclear stance.
Life-death blurring power: dangerous.
True life-desecrator, death-boundary blurrer: Leoric!
Rathma himself: more elusive than priests, motives unknown.
Necromancer Nephalem ultimately under Justice's banner, fighting for humanity.
But Rathma left no battle legends—powerful, but exploration-obsessed; no one knew what he sought.
More observer than participant.
"Whatever, death can't kill a soul twice. Our lives ended; Massail can't touch us."
Volusk fingered his waist's stone hammer calmly, face poor.
Death: life's end. Killing the ended again? Beyond Death's authority.
Unless Massail got full Life authority.
"But he can ignore you. Dead can't defy death itself. You know death better than I."
Bul-Kathos glanced at Volusk.
Raekor stood afar watching, fists clenched.
Volusk: second-gen Immortal King. In his era, strongest Nephalem any class.
Others couldn't see his back.
No mage named Li Min then.
Hell Seven daring frontal? Defeat and seal only.
Yet such powerful Volusk died in battle.
Foe: not demon or angel—death rule itself.
Pride ignored High Heavens' aid, rejected Destiny Angel's light wings.
Volusk's laziness: nothing could beat him, so casual to all.
His composure.
Despised Imperius, mocked Courage Angel's courage worthless face-to-face, left Imperius no fight will.
Ignored Justice Angel's advice, cursed then-Wisdom Angel Massail's dissuasion, shook off Hope Angel's blessing.
Volusk lost Fate, Hope, Courage, Wisdom, Justice's favor—as life, warred on death rule.
Like questioning world's reality.
Then challenging death rule as life: lost.
Thereafter Imperius stared courage true, birthed obsession sans fear.
Massail endlessly searched libraries pondering; Tyrael no more compromise.
Itherael no more words; Auriel no abandon.
Volusk's existence shone brighter than first ancestors!
His challenge forced barbarian tribes to danger.
Orak war-dead, Banal war-dead.
All post-Death wrath—to continue barbarians.
Era-oppressing Immortal King Volusk ultimately soul, watching wife and child vanish under death's ravage.
Son: one year old, no glory shaped, died crying.
Wife: trembled facing death, to continue Volusk's blood, dignity-less begged death to live.
Thus wife lost Harrogath appearance chance.
Harrogath shelters no beggars' souls.
Watching all, Volusk finally dropped his untouchable air—from lazy domineering to current look.
This barbarian tragedy lasted till Raekor's emergence.
Raekor lost love, step-by-step battled for barbarian survival space, peaked using own death for death rule's calm.
Raekor's price: Hope's grant.
Thereafter barbarians finally free from death's harshness.
Current mount's strongest barbarians all fought death—to date, zero wins!
"Death is a rule about to birth will. Give it more time, death descends as life form."
Volusk muttered softly.
Death itself should personify like five archangels or Hell Seven.
But Massail seemed to find death's position in great library, forcibly erased immature death personality, successfully replaced.
"You should be glad—if death truly born, it'd be called Life."
Bul-Kathos said casually, reaching into backpack.
Whenever this mount taboo no ancestor willing to mention, he wanted to drink himself senseless.
"I still feel guilty for your sacrifice."
Volusk said softly:
"Maybe I shouldn't have drunk your brew then, wouldn't have spilled those damn pasts."
Volusk rarely bitter-smiled, burly body looking desolate.
"Facing death, wasn't it fated? When that time comes, I'll usurp that authority."
Bul-Kathos didn't pull wine—his stash buried under Harrogath's ground.
"You know, no matter your glory, legends created, after death you can't appear on Harrogath."
Raekor handed Bul-Kathos a bottle—her wedding leftovers.
Representing her life's happiest time.
"That doesn't scare me—I'm immortal!"
Bul-Kathos roared loudly!
"Don't give that lame 'never died since birth' excuse—we all know people die. Like death completes life's cycle."
Raekor's hoarse voice carried anger.
On the mount, only Raekor and Volusk knew what Bul-Kathos paid.
Those knowing all—even scouring Sanctuary—add only Imperius, Tyrael, Leoric. At most Itherael.
That mad king probably turned it all to chaotic memories, continuing madness.
Next knower: grown Rorschach only.
Rorschach: Bul-Kathos's chosen heir. If Bul-Kathos fails, Rorschach next hope.
Bul-Kathos: only barbarian who can choose heir while alive.
Harrogath's will—barbarians never forget hatred!
(End of Chapter)
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