"Bul-Kathos, I'm worried you might run into some trouble."
The Ancient One used her magic to send her voice directly to Bul-Kathos's ear.
The trouble she spoke of was just that—trouble, nothing more.
Knowing his true strength, she wasn't concerned about him being harmed.
Instead, she feared that if provoked, he might turn this world upside down.
Bul-Kathos glanced at her, understanding now wasn't the time for this discussion.
Barbarians didn't have the means for private transmission; their conversations were bound to be overheard by anyone nearby.
He roughly grasped her meaning.
After all, few in this world could truly be considered troublesome.
The Death of this world was unlikely to appear before him again, so who could pose a problem?
Just some reckless, annoying fools, no doubt.
"As long as they don't do anything despicable in front of me, I don't care to meddle."
Bul-Kathos didn't mind if his words were heard; he was indifferent.
The Ancient One nodded at his response.
She planned to personally visit these potential troublemakers and issue a warning.
The river of time was now a murky mess, its future unreadable.
No longer able to rely on timelines as a guide, she had to face the unknown herself.
But with Bul-Kathos on Earth, the threats she'd foreseen seemed less pressing.
After all, no crisis in this world appeared capable of threatening this mighty barbarian.
So what was there to worry about?
…
"Captain, there's movement up ahead."
The substitute scout spoke to Rumlow, his voice tinged with fear of the potential danger.
Yet the team had calmed somewhat. Enemies they could fight were far easier to handle than intangible specters.
Fear stemmed from the unknown, but so what?
It was just another challenge they'd faced before. Fighting the unknown was nothing new for this special operations team.
Face fear, then claim victory—that was all.
"I want to test my new strength."
Rumlow's expression was odd, almost as if talking to himself.
Feeling this surge of power, he cast aside some of his caution.
With that, he took a few steps toward the source of the noise, hearing the "Rakanishu" cries of Fallen Ones.
Fallen Ones were among Hell's weakest demons, only slightly stronger than the spawn of Araneae, the Spider Queen.
They were akin to goblins in stories—cowardly, prone to fleeing.
But they were still demons, posing a significant threat to humans.
Rumlow tossed his shotgun to a subordinate behind him. Amid their bewildered glances, he strode to the forefront, adopting a fighting stance.
…
"Is that guy trying to make me laugh?"
Vydar chewed his roasted meat, mumbling.
In his view, even with the knuckle-duster, Rumlow couldn't take on a full squad of Fallen Ones alone.
"Did that knuckle-duster give him some misplaced confidence?"
Vydar's voice didn't carry far; the moment he spoke, Mount Harrogath silenced him.
Bul-Kathos shot Vydar a glance, then stood and moved in front of Jill, blocking his view of the projection.
Fallen Ones were among the weakest demons, but their squad included a Fallen Shaman, capable of endlessly reviving its kin—that was why Vydar scoffed at Rumlow.
…
"Rumlow! Get back to your team, and remember your role!"
Nick Fury's voice crackled through the earpiece, urging caution against the monsters.
But Rumlow, as if deaf to the command, continued alone at the forefront.
His teammates, sharing the comms channel, hurried toward him, weapons ready.
Since Rumlow's state was clearly off, they'd close in and assess the situation.
As they moved, the Fallen Ones' figures emerged around the corner ahead.
Their crimson skin and fanged maws marked them as far from benign. Though scrawny, these scarlet creatures weren't small.
Not towering, but standing around five feet tall, their menacing weapons added pressure to Rumlow's team.
The moment contact was made, Rumlow charged toward the enemy.
His reckless move startled his subordinates; this wasn't the cautious Rumlow they knew.
His knuckle-duster-clad fist smashed into the lead Fallen One's head, a crisp crack of breaking bone echoing as he plunged into their encirclement.
Despite Fury's increasingly frantic orders, Rumlow ignored them.
An elite combatant, he felled three of the diminutive creatures in moments.
But wounds appeared on his body.
The Fallen Ones' bone knives and clubs weren't for show. Even at the cost of their lives, they left visible gashes on Rumlow.
Rat-a-tat!
Gunfire erupted, turning a Fallen One facing Rumlow into a sieve. Compared to the Grotesque, their frail bodies fared little better than humans against firearms.
A few extra bullets were all it took.
The Fallen Shaman wielding a staff began to retreat. Rumlow crushed the last Fallen One's head underfoot and gave chase.
His team followed closely, advancing.
"They're done for."
Bul-Kathos muttered discontentedly, his voice crackling like sparks.
The Ancient One placed a piece of meat before Jill, patting his shoulder in comfort.
"I sense more than one type of enemy out there."
"There's also a Champion Wraith—the realm's final guardian."
Bul-Kathos didn't care who overheard, but his voice didn't reach Tess, who was intently recording.
As he spoke with the Ancient One, the fallen Fallen Ones rose in an instant.
Their weapons slashed at the agents nearby, instantly felling two unlucky souls, who were then overwhelmed by a flurry of chaotic attacks.
Gunfire roared again. When the empty road fell silent, nearly everyone was wounded.
Besides the two killed outright, another was critically injured, barely clinging to life.
The survivors began piling the Fallen Ones' corpses, likely planning to destroy them with grenades.
Behind them, a wraith glowing with faint blue light stared at the living, its face twisted.
Indiscernible ripples surged toward Rumlow like a tide.
(End of Chapter)
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