"Matthew, look what I got!" Luke held a sleek, astronaut-like helmet, shouting to Matthew. He'd passed the fourth trial, battling hordes of rancid zombies. Their putrid fluids, splattering his face as he swung his blade, nearly made him retch his first meal. Sewers smelled better.
"You got gear too?" Matthew asked, swinging an axe in a clearing, occasionally charging forward.
The Star Helm wasn't a barbarian favorite—not bad, but not great. Its rounded shape clashed with their rugged style, and smiths swore it wasn't forged by hammer. "Hey, catch!" Luke tossed it.
It was his first earned gear, a full-face helmet perfect for hiding his identity. Matthew paused, catching it by sound, feeling its shape. "Feels like an astronaut's helmet," he said, puzzled, recalling pre-blindness images, especially the base clasp.
"What, astronauts in Diablo's world? Come on, Matthew! Just a fluke. It's comfy!" Luke grabbed it back, donning it. "No breathing issues, and it protects my eyes. You don't know how gross it was when zombies pinned me, clawing at them." His voice muffled, he shivered.
The zombies' tactics—using terrain to tackle him—proved their intelligence. The Star Helm was alien to that world, falling in a fiery streak. Humans called it High Heaven's gift, but even angels didn't know its origin.
"Besides these gloves, I've got nothing else, but I'm close to mastering Charge," Matthew said, demonstrating. Snow sprayed from his footsteps.
"Who're those two?" Rumlow asked Talic, spotting Luke and Matthew chatting.
"Thrown up here by Bul-Kathos a while back," Talic said curtly. They weren't his concern—Rumlow was his chosen heir. Talic, the Defender, was the most open to giving chances.
"You'd be stronger than that helmeted fool if you stayed," Talic urged. He'd waited long for an heir to wield Proof of Shame, and Rumlow fit best.
"If I do right and greedy fools climb the mountain, what'll you do?" Rumlow asked, gazing at Harrogath's endless snow. He doubted they'd harm the mountain but loathed their filthy steps.
"If your cause is just, barbarians fear nothing!" Talic replied. Without Hell lords, Harrogath was unassailable. Countless ancestor spirits, bound to the mountain, could manifest fully, undeterred by demonic domains. Though less mighty than in life, hundreds could crush Dormammu.
"Bear your sins and shame, and do what's right," Talic said, eyeing Rumlow like a mentor. Barbarians never lacked resolve, and Rumlow's redemption pleased him.
"What's with this mountain?" Hawkeye led the team toward the peak, frustrated. An unseen force pushed them back, halting progress. Courage wasn't the issue—S.H.I.E.L.D. agents lived with danger. Climbing Harrogath demanded pure, fearless intent or a blank mind. Rumlow's first climb succeeded only because cold dulled his team's senses.
"Agent Barton, isn't Rumlow acting odd?" a Hydra agent, backed by Pierce, asked. Pierce's goal mirrored Fury's—find Rumlow's "attacker" while probing his loyalty. Rumlow's frequent meetings with Dugan raised suspicions, though Pierce figured betrayal would've earned him a bullet.
"That's not your concern," Hawkeye snapped, his sharp eyes pinning the agent. Fury's vetted team came with his warning: watch everyone closely. Typical Fury. Hawkeye found Rumlow's actions odd but kept it to himself.
(Chapter End)