"Alright, let's head back."
Bul-Kathos's face was grim. Whatever the truth behind Auriel's presence, it spelled immense trouble.
Her appearance suggested the barriers between worlds were no longer separate. If a passage had opened, a cataclysmic disaster loomed on the horizon.
Bul-Kathos lost all interest in sparring, his mind consumed by thoughts of the seven Demon Lords and the five Archangels.
In this world, aside from the entity known as Death, he hadn't encountered anything rivaling the Demon Lords' stature.
That alone was a dangerous omen.
He'd defeated Demon Lords before, even severed the head of Diablo, the unified Great Demon. But he knew well that, alone, he couldn't pin them down forever. They had countless ways to evade him.
This world wasn't his own. The Demon Lords had endless places to hide.
Even if he hunted them down one by one, the pain they'd inflict would be inevitable.
The Death of this world, despite bearing Malthael's stature, lacked the battle-hardened experience of the Archangels and Demon Lords, who'd clashed for eons in wars rivaling the Eternal Conflict.
To Bul-Kathos, this world's embodiment of rules stood little chance against the Demon Lords.
"Bul-Kathos, I think—"
"You're coming with me to the Holy Mountain. I'll take you to Rakanoth," Bul-Kathos cut Matthew off.
If his fears were correct, training more Nephalem was the best course of action.
Hellboy panted heavily, as if savoring the world's fleeting beauty. The heat from his breath lent him a lingering ferocity.
His stone arm dragged Johnny Blaze toward the wreckage of his RV. The unlucky driver, spared by Gabriel's protection during the all-consuming flames, lay on the ground, eyes shut tight, praying fervently.
"So you just brought Matthew back?" the Ancient One said, her voice calm, as if discussing something trivial.
But she knew full well the implications if Bul-Kathos's fears came true.
Having glimpsed fragments of his memories, she understood what the seven Demon Lords and five Archangels represented.
"This Odin—I should make time to meet him," Bul-Kathos said, watching Matthew charge repeatedly under Rakanoth's guidance, his expression stern.
"Maybe forging more allies is the best approach. You can't bear the burden of two worlds alone," the Ancient One said, the Eye of Agamotto at her chest glowing gold, betraying the unease beneath her composure.
"I don't want this world to become a mirror of the one in my memories."
Bul-Kathos stood and strode toward the Elders' Sanctuary.
Inside, Kanai's Cube pulsed with a mysterious rhythm, as if whispering secrets.
Constantine sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at the cold, dimly lit walls. The torches lining the Elders' Sanctuary burned eternally, but their light was always faint.
A strange place, a foreign tribe, and a power so vast it cowed even the Demon Lords he knew.
It was enough to inspire fear.
Fear stemmed from the unknown, and though Constantine had long sealed away his soul's cowardice, that emotion now gnawed at him.
The thud of Bul-Kathos's war boots echoed, and Constantine turned to face him.
"What do you want from me?" Constantine asked, his voice uncharacteristically grave, stripped of its usual flippancy.
His preemptive question couldn't mask his unease.
"I want to trace the source of that power," Bul-Kathos said, his voice cold, echoing Qual-Kehk's tone when drilling soldiers.
"If the Demon Lords have come to this world, what's your plan?" Vorusk's voice roared through the Sanctuary like a lion's growl.
Though anyone could enter this place, Vorusk was usually the only one who lingered.
Seated high on the Immortal King's throne, he would remain until Bul-Kathos claimed that honor.
"I'll take my twin blades and send them back to Hell, one by one!" Bul-Kathos declared, locking eyes with Vorusk.
The seven Demon Lords were embodiments of rules—Nephalem, no matter how powerful, couldn't destroy them.
"You? A guardian god of this world? Don't make me laugh!" Vorusk rose from the throne, his aura blazing. His golden hair and beard stirred as if caught in a wind, like a lion's mane.
"What, then? Let those bastards crush the world?" Bul-Kathos snapped, his white hair flaring. The two stood like rival lion kings before a battle.
Constantine, caught in the storm of their presence, clung to the ground like a sapling in a hurricane, on the verge of passing out.
"Look at your white hair! You haven't escaped Death's shadow, so what gives you the right to boast?" Vorusk taunted, his voice dripping with the haughty, languid grandeur of the Immortal King.
"Death can't take my will!"
"But it can make you a frail old man!"
The armor of the Immortal King's glory materialized on Bul-Kathos, clanking with each tremble of his frame.
The same armor appeared on Vorusk, resonating with a metallic clang.
"You're not the Immortal King yet."
"But I'm the strongest!" Bul-Kathos proclaimed.
Vorusk's aura subsided. He couldn't refute the truth.
After Bul-Kathos felled the Great Demon's head, his claim was undeniable.
"If I were still alive—"
"You'd still be no match for me," Bul-Kathos said, lowering his head slightly, his eagle-like gaze fixed on Vorusk.
"This time, Justice isn't on your side."
Vorusk's armor faded to transparency, his eyes calm as they met Bul-Kathos's.
"Tyrael is Justice, but Justice isn't just Tyrael."
Bul-Kathos tossed his Stonebreaker hammer to Vorusk and turned toward Kanai's Cube.
He didn't know if Auriel's power held a message, but he trusted the Archangel of Hope wouldn't act without purpose.
Next, he'd shove Constantine's soul into Kanai's Cube, using a Soul of Oblivion to extract that power.
Bul-Kathos needed to know Auriel's true intent.
(Chapter End)
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