Bul-Kathos felt a growing irritation, akin to the unease before Leah was deceived by Adria. A conspiracy, harmless to him but infuriating, seemed afoot. Yet, he couldn't pinpoint who was foolish enough to provoke him. To avenge Leah, he'd hacked Adria into a bloody mist for ten minutes straight.
S.H.I.E.L.D.? Barely a nuisance, not worth his attention. On Harrogath's sacred mountain, Ancient One had said they'd investigate thoroughly before acting. Two brief meetings didn't count as reconnaissance. Barbarians might shun scheming, but they knew battle. "Investigate thoroughly," ancestors' spirits drilled into every barbarian. Check a demon's magical sigils multiple times before striking—only then attack. Many ignored this, dying for it, but the lesson stuck. Bul-Kathos shook off the feeling.
Luke and the blind man were nearing their first training milestone. Perhaps he'd visit Harrogath.
"Bul-Kathos, care to see some other-dimensional demon gods?" Ancient One appeared, noting his idle state by the lit forge.
"Other dimensions?" Bul-Kathos perked up. To him, they were like Hell's demon lords expanding their domains. High Heaven might count as a true other dimension, but Hell? Too vast to fully explore, even for him. He wondered how High Heaven, so small, resisted Hell for eons. Was it just Imperius's strength, slightly below the Great Demon? He suspected Rathma or the previous Bul-Kathos restrained Hell's forces, or perhaps Amazons and Druids fought in unseen realms.
"Yes, a being called Dormammu. He's immortal in the Dark Dimension, so I plan to reason with him," Ancient One said, implying physical reasoning.
Bul-Kathos eyed her. "Your dark energy doesn't work on him?"
He stood, rolling his shoulders. Days without worthy fights left him rusty. Ancient One had been "reasoning" with Dormammu lately—not with raw energy but with Vishanti spells, effective enough. Unlike Doctor Strange, who bargained with the Time Stone, she could handle Dormammu. Lately, she'd grown fond of the squelching sound of her butcher's knife piercing his face, favoring physical arguments.
Bul-Kathos drew Oathkeeper and Merciless. "What're we waiting for? Let's go."
He wanted to see if this dimensional demon matched Hell's lords. Ancient One tilted her head, opened a portal to the Dark Dimension, and followed as he strode through, dual blades ready.
"You wretched thief!" A furious roar greeted Bul-Kathos's arrival, irking him. No one outshouted a barbarian.
"Xia!"
His Frightening Shout: Harvest of Terror erupted, a savage cry laced with soul-shaking dread. It often sapped enemies' courage, sometimes draining their life as a bonus. The Dark Dimension floor bloomed with red life-orbs—Dormammu's boundless vitality, tied to the dimension, spilled like never before, even surpassing Azmodan's yield.
Bul-Kathos, thrilled to find a worthy punching bag, charged the shadowy face. Dormammu, stunned by the shout, nearly snapped, "Why yell so loud?" Unfamiliar with barbarians, he faltered as Bul-Kathos leapt at him.
The Dark Dimension held only endless dark energy, but barbarians needed no familiar terrain. Darkness was just another element. As long as it wasn't a void, he could fight. His boots slammed onto a solidified dark-energy floor, launching him like a cannonball.
Leap Attack: Death from Above.
He landed hard on Dormammu's conjured nose, the impact so jarring it brought tears to the demon's essence. Dormammu, lacking a human body, shouldn't feel such pain, yet barbarian skills struck the soul too. The blow dazed him.
A perfect target: endless health, but seemingly no real fight. Bul-Kathos, bored without battle, twisted his waist, blades spinning in a radiant arc.
Whirlwind: Lacerate. A mystical skill that bled anything—demon, stone, or otherwise. The Dark Dimension oozed crimson, blood manifesting Dormammu's leaking life force.
Ancient One, just entering, stood dumbfounded at the chaos.
(Chapter End)