Before Rumlow began his treatment, he endured the scrutiny of truth serum. Perhaps due to his recent revelations or Harrogath's mystic power, he passed the interrogation with clear mind and restraint.
As he started healing, Bul-Kathos led Gil toward the New York Sanctum. The Ancient One had already delivered a cow there, and her apprentices had mastered the necessary techniques. Now was the time for Bul-Kathos to transform the beast—the first step to ensuring Gil wouldn't grow up frail, a trait unworthy of a barbarian.
"Uncle, what's this ring for?"
Gil raised his right hand, eyeing the dull ring. Legendary gear didn't glow in use—flashing lights on a battlefield only drew enemies, though barbarians might revel in it. Worn, it looked ordinary, its immense power hidden unless recognized.
"It protects you."
Bul-Kathos spoke absently. He hadn't worn a ring in ages, but for Gil's safety, he donned the Unity ring, long buried in his stash. The unfamiliar weight felt odd.
"That's the New York Sanctum ahead. The mages probably know me."
Holding Gil's hand, he approached the energy-shrouded building. Gil knocked before Bul-Kathos could barge in barbarian-style.
"Wait! We're busy!"
A panting voice came from inside, hinting at physical labor. Bul-Kathos caught the low, stubborn bellow of a cow.
"Looks like your milk supplier's here."
Gil, raised on cheerful education, pictured a cartoonish cow with a comically large head.
The door creaked open, revealing a round-faced, slightly plump middle-aged mage.
"Sorry, it's chaos. Mike's trying to bolt."
The door jolted, trapping the mage's neck. His face reddened instantly.
"I'll handle it."
Bul-Kathos pressed the door lightly, opening it effortlessly. A cow's strength was nothing to a barbarian. Freeing the mage, he led Gil inside.
"I haven't thanked you yet."
The mage, clutching a rope tied to the cow's nose ring, spoke awkwardly, yanking it nervously.
"I'm Chris Wang—call me Wang. The Sorcerer Supreme assigned me here. I've heard about you."
Wang tugged the rope, stumbling as the cow lurched.
"You're not just a mage. You've trained for combat."
Bul-Kathos eyed Wang, noting traces of rigorous training beneath his soft frame.
"I learned martial arts from my teacher. Kung fu—uh, chā nǐ sǐ kōng fù."
Wang's explanation was unnecessary. Bul-Kathos wasn't here for that.
"Is this the cow prepared?"
He approached the restless cow, which calmed instantly. Barbarian and druid ancestors were brothers, making animals trust barbarians. The cow mooed, a greeting.
"Let's make it smarter."
Bul-Kathos pulled a worn urn from his pack, setting it before the cow. Found in Heaven, he'd emptied its white ashes to hold water. When he dipped it in a spring, Imperius had charged him with a steel fork. No angel dared approach the blood-stained barbarian to explain the urns held noble souls' ashes. He didn't care—he wouldn't drink the water.
The cow, sensing the urn's power, eagerly shoved its head inside, ears twitching joyfully. Golden light radiated from its body.
"Is that urn a powerful artifact? I feel holiness and nobility."
Wang muttered, awed. The cow's aura nearly matched his own power.
"Sitting in Heaven for ages, it'd count as powerful by your standards."
Bul-Kathos nodded at the cow's transformation.
"Start collecting. This kid needs nutrition."
He said no more. The mages would handle the yield, ensuring Gil's share, with extras as their pay. Wang's gaze lingered on the urn, but he moved to the cow, applying his new skills.
Gil tugged Bul-Kathos's arm.
"Uncle, can I look around?"
Bul-Kathos glanced at Wang, who nodded before he could speak. The Sanctum housed forty to fifty mages, all briefed by the Ancient One to ignore Bul-Kathos and Gil. Wang's role was to keep these prideful mages from disrespect.
(End of Chapter)
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