Johanna's voice rang out as she arrived on her celestial warhorse. Her face was pale with shock. "And... Leah?"
Johanna's voice softened instantly. She couldn't see their faces, but Tyrael's terror told her everything she needed to know about Bul-Kathos's state. She understood the choices he had made in the past, and thus, she felt his agony more than anyone. But what could a Crusader do? Recite the Laws of Hope? Kill the innocent Leah?
She was helpless. At that moment, Johanna finally understood what Bul-Kathos meant by "strength." Endurance wasn't strength; the truly strong didn't need to endure. But here, in this tragedy, no one was strong.
Tyrael couldn't meet Bul-Kathos's gaze. Bul-Kathos couldn't save Leah's soul. Leah herself was a prisoner of her own spirit.
"Bul-Kathos... can you feel my warmth?"
Leah continued her monologue, ignoring Johanna. She babbled about their first meeting, about Cain, the Cathedral, searching for Tyrael, Adria... and the High Heavens.
"Bul-Kathos, I'm dead... but you can still feel me, right?" She finished her story with a sickeningly sweet tone, rubbing her head against his. Her short hair brushed against Bul-Kathos's scarred, contorted face. Her arms wound around his neck again, her hands gently touching his cheeks. Her tall frame clung to him like a child.
"Leah..." Johanna whispered in grief. Any Nephalem who had fought alongside the girl knew this soul was hers.
"BUL-KATHOS!" Tyrael's voice shook. He watched as Bul-Kathos's face became even more terrifying under Leah's touch. His teeth were bared, his jaw locked so tight the friction of his canines made a grinding sound.
Kanai's soul was still churning in the Cube. Vorusk had left his legend at the grave and taken up the burden of the mountain. Who was the winner of this battle?
There were no winners. In a tragedy this deep, there is only the repetition of the cycle. Kanai had sacrificed himself. Vorusk had done the same. This meeting turned Kanai into a memory; the next time Bul-Kathos saw Vorusk, it would likely be the end of the Second Immortal King.
Mt. Harrogath lacked the divine power of Mt. Arreat. Its existence was a miracle built on the backs of ancestors who willingly walked into the dark. Vorusk was next. And after him?
Bul-Kathos's beard bristled. Parting was the ultimate pain. He felt his very soul shudder.
"Now is not the time," Bul-Kathos forced the words out through gritted teeth.
He could feel the other half of his soul within the Black Soulstone. If he wished, he could become whole and tear through any obstacle. But now was not the time. As long as Diablo existed, a heart plagued by fear meant certain defeat. Enough people had died. Bul-Kathos was going to end this cycle of sacrifice.
Kanai had said it: their only wish was to be the last one. Vorusk still had a chance. If Bul-Kathos could become a God of Creation before that arrogant, cowardly man was forgotten, he would have the power to fix everything.
"Hahaha! 'Now is not the time'? Are you still afraid?"
Andariel couldn't contain her laughter anymore. It was the sound of a scavenging rat mocking a dying lion. To Bul-Kathos, she was too weak to even fight, kept alive only because he had yet to claim the power of the Archangel of Justice.
"Andariel, you will feel the pain you so crave," Bul-Kathos whispered. His tone wasn't angry. He didn't want to scare Leah. He didn't want to hurt the innocent girl on his back.
"I'm counting on it! I can't wait for the pain to hit me! I want to taste it, to find the joy in it! I want to feel my skin peeled away, to feel the blood rushing out of me! Let me feel it! Let me feel the agony of losing everything, the horror of watching the ones I love rush into the abyss of sacrifice! Let me know exactly what you're feeling right now! SHARE IT WITH ME, BUL-KATHOS!"
Andariel's shriek wasn't confined to his mind this time. She screamed with the most deranged, hateful malice she could muster. Every soul on Harrogath heard it. Every Barbarian's eyes turned blood-red. Even if they didn't know of Vorusk's choice, Kanai's departure was still fresh in their hearts.
"ANDARIEL!!!"
Madawc let out a primal roar. He launched a Leap attack, breaking the defensive line of the Three Ancients. Madawc, the Battle Prophet, who had lost his foresight in death, charged blindly into the fray. His calculated, cautious style was gone. He was a whirlwind of rage, the ground boiling beneath his feet, his mind set on one goal: the annihilation of all demons.
Andariel had insulted their King and their race. She needed a lesson. Even if Madawc suffered the same soul-rending damage as Wenda before him, he had made his choice.
"I knew it! Dammit!" Korlic bellowed. He charged into the demonic tide like a bolt of lightning. Madawc had broken formation again; the Three Ancients were back to fighting alone.
"A testament to our shame! Tell me, in all these years, what have we actually saved?!" Talic cursed, planting himself like a massive shield before the gates of the Holy Mountain. Like before, Talic would face the endless swarm alone. "I just hope Korlic doesn't run into the Maiden of Lust again."
Talic spat on the ground and hoisted his heavy sword onto his shoulder. "Come on, you hell-born filth! I've been waiting to slaughter you all for a long time!"
The demons surged forward like starving wolves.
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