The barbarian festival drew to a close, and at Bul-Kathos's request, the souls of the barbarian ancestors gradually faded from view.
The vast snowy mountain returned to its silent stillness.
As for Rumlow, upon exiting the secret realm, he received a standard healing potion from the barbarians—a basic concoction that restored health without granting additional enhancements.
Unlike the potion Bul-Kathos had given the Ancient One, this one was a replica crafted in his spare time. It was soul-bound to its recipient, usable only by Rumlow, and restored roughly a tenth of his health—about sixty percent less effective than a true potion—with a one-day cooldown.
This potion, along with a chest of gold coins, was Bul-Kathos's reward for the brave.
The chest of gold alone was a staggering fortune, but for Rumlow, a high-ranking figure like Crossbones, it held little value.
Both S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra ensured a man of his status never wanted for material things.
The potion, however, shook Rumlow's long-held understanding of the world.
A seemingly ordinary liquid that ignored the type of injury and restored a person's condition.
Reusable over time, it was undeniably strange.
It seemed to generate energy from nowhere, defying comprehension.
As everyone knew, energy and matter neither appeared nor vanished without cause.
Yet this potion shattered that human understanding.
Despite their curiosity, neither S.H.I.E.L.D. nor Rumlow planned to inquire further.
Their focus was squarely on Bul-Kathos.
Having gained a basic understanding of him, they began preparing for "cooperation"—whether it would be fair was another matter.
Bul-Kathos showed no inclination to engage with them on equal terms.
…
"You're saying this world has a Hell too?"
Bul-Kathos looked at the Ancient One, who was preparing to leave, his voice tinged with surprise.
When she mentioned dealing with a Hell Lord, he nearly reached for a spare weapon.
The term "Hell Lord" carried a vastly different weight for a barbarian.
It took some effort for the Ancient One to calm the demon-hating barbarian.
After all, this world's Mephisto couldn't even breach her defenses to reach Earth.
Though aided by the protective barriers established by the first Sorcerer Supreme, Agamotto, even in direct combat, a Hell Lord too cautious to appear in person could never defeat her.
"I'm intrigued by this Mephisto. Take me with you!"
Bul-Kathos's thunderous voice echoed through the vast stone structure, reverberating.
Rumlow only caught his two sentences, hearing nothing of the Ancient One's words.
But those words alone sent Rumlow and S.H.I.E.L.D. into a frenzy.
If Hell existed, did that mean God did too?
Did all the myths and legends of this world exist?
What were humans to these beings?
Were humans to them what monkeys were to humans?
Those who received this news spiraled into philosophical musings.
"Then who'll look after Jill?"
The Ancient One said with a hint of a headache. Jill, acting as if he didn't need minding, still betrayed worry in his eyes.
Before Bul-Kathos could respond, she cut in:
"After all, you're the one who snatched his life from Death. If you're not here, I'm worried…"
She didn't need to finish; Bul-Kathos understood.
Death was always fair but notoriously stingy.
It offered the same gift to all, yet never took kindly to those who rejected it.
"I'm not afraid!"
Jill's eyes widened as he spoke to Bul-Kathos.
He'd long understood the fate he should have met—the moment he felt his mother's blood splash on his face, he knew.
He understood what death meant, so he wouldn't trivialize it with phrases like "I slipped."
Facing Jill's vague declaration, Bul-Kathos fell silent.
The Ancient One gently ruffled Jill's hair, her demeanor soft.
"His father…"
Bul-Kathos began but stopped short.
He'd heard the name Frank Castle from the Ancient One. Though he didn't believe taking a child from their kin was right, it was clear the peak human tactician couldn't protect Jill from Death.
Unless he was a protagonist.
This world's humans were too fragile—dying from disease, breaking bones from falls.
Even a minor collision could claim their lives.
The man who would become the Punisher might be a top-tier warrior, but he was still too weak.
"His father will appear, but not yet."
The Ancient One averted her gaze from Jill, speaking softly.
"Of course, if Jill becomes strong, there's a chance."
She offered her opinion.
After all, a vengeance-driven Frank couldn't raise a child while pursuing his vendetta.
"He's too young. Even Sanctuary's recruits don't start formal training until sixteen."
"But he can start by familiarizing himself with weapons."
Their conversation ended there. The Ancient One traced an arc in the air and vanished.
Jill looked at Bul-Kathos with hopeful eyes.
"You need to build up your strength first. I'll think about it."
Their talk stopped abruptly.
…
"Captain, how's your recovery?"
Tess held a cigarette, addressing Rumlow.
"How many times have I told you to control your damn smoking habit on missions? That smell could compromise your stealth!"
Rumlow spoke sternly.
The special ops team's duties weren't just frontal assaults but included covert operations, fire support, and more.
While he didn't demand his team abandon personal habits, anything that impacted performance was strictly forbidden.
"I didn't light it. Also, you need to head down the mountain today for a medical checkup."
The doctors weren't warriors. Though they had the courage to defy death, they lacked the bravery to face danger head-on.
Thus, they couldn't ascend the barbarians' sacred mountain.
---------------------------------------------------------
🚀 Want more?
📖 Unlock 10+ early chapters on my Patreon!
💖 Support me here: patreon.com/DaoistRoeoNQ
🔓 Get ahead of the story today!